Page 3 of Back to You (Legendary Shifters #14)

Those words didn’t make sense. Vincent couldn’t imagine his father dying, if anything because he was too much of an asshole for anything bad to happen to him. He was like a cockroach. Nothing touched him. “My father’s dead?”

“Were you not informed?”

“No one told me anything about Fulton dying, no. What happened?” Vincent didn’t really care, but he was curious.

For some reason, Emma had gotten up from her chair and walked around her desk to press a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. He glanced up at her, surprised to see that her gaze was soft and her expression worried. “I’ll talk to Sarah,” she murmured before leaving their shared office.

Sarah was their boss. Vincent had no idea why Emma wanted to talk to her, but right now, he had other things to focus on.

Like the reason his father’s lawyer was calling him.

“I’m sure you’ll be contacted soon.” Mr. Ross cleared his throat again. “Unfortunately, the FBI was involved.”

Vincent snorted. Of course the FBI was involved. Trust his father to die in a way that would make Vincent’s life more complicated. If Vincent hadn’t known that his father thought himself too smart to die, he would’ve thought that Fulton had done it on purpose.

“But I didn’t call you to talk about the FBI,” Mr. Ross continued.

“Why did you call, then?”

“To talk about your father’s will.”

“I don’t want anything to do with my father or his belongings. Whatever he wanted to do with them, you can trash them or set them on fire.”

“I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that. Your father was involved in many things, and while the FBI is still investigating and has frozen some of your father’s accounts, the rest goes to you. That includes the money in several bank accounts.”

Vincent was ready to bet there was a reason the FBI hadn’t frozen those accounts, too, like maybe they weren’t registered under his father’s name or something. It would be like his father to hide money.

That was one more reason not to want anything to do with any of this. He didn’t want his father’s dirty money. He didn’t care how Fulton had earned that money—knowing him, it wasn’t in any legitimate way.

“Why was the FBI involved? What were they investigating him for?” Vincent asked, even though he knew he would regret it.

As far as he was concerned, his father had died when he’d abandoned Vincent and his mother.

No matter how many times Fulton had tried to get back into Vincent’s good graces over the years, Vincent had always told him to fuck off.

It looked like he wouldn’t have to do that anymore.

“I’m sure you understand that even though I was your father’s lawyer, this doesn’t mean I agree with what he did,” Mr. Ross explained.

“Yes, I’m sure you don’t.” Yet he’d been more than happy to take Fulton’s money. Vincent didn’t care about Mr. Ross, though. He didn’t care about his father, either, but he did want to know what the fuck was happening.

“Your father was unfortunately involved in the trafficking of shifters, both rare and not.”

Vincent’s blood turned to ice. His father had been trafficking people? “What the fuck?”

Mr. Ross coughed. “I understand the shock. I had no idea what Mr. Fulton was doing, and of course, if I’d known, I would have told him to find another lawyer. As it is, though, I am responsible for his will.”

“What do you mean, he trafficked people?” Vincent was sure there was more to this.

“Your father had shifters captured and auctioned. The FBI is still investigating, but they’ve frozen all the accounts connected to your father’s name and his businesses.”

“But you said there are other accounts that are mine now.”

“Mr. Fulton was smart enough to organize things in a way that if something were to happen to him, he’d have access to money and the means to flee. Unfortunately, he was unable to use any of this when he ran from the FBI.”

Vincent still didn’t know what had happened to get Fulton killed, but he was sure his father hadn’t died of natural causes. It was hard to imagine the FBI killing him, though. Unless they’d killed him in action? It would be like Fulton to think he could win against the FBI.

“Shouldn’t you be reporting these accounts to the FBI?”

“I can do that if you want me to, but your father was clear. He wanted you to have them.”

Vincent’s instincts were yelling at him to refuse. He didn’t know how much money it was, and he didn’t care. He was comfortable enough with the money he earned at his job.

But what would happen if he did report all of this?

The FBI would seize it, and Vincent would never see it again.

He didn’t want anything to do with the money, but considering what his father had apparently done, maybe Vincent could use it for a good cause.

“I need you to tell me exactly how my father died.”

Vincent was pretty sure that he was making Mr. Ross uncomfortable, but he didn’t care.

He needed all the information he could find on this.

As soon as he could hang up, he’d look it up on the Internet, but he didn’t have any contacts in the FBI or anything like that.

He was just an accountant. He hadn’t heard anything on the news, but maybe someone had said something, and he hadn’t made the connection with his father.

He thought he’d remember hearing about people auctioning rare shifters on the news, though.

“The FBI raided one of your father’s auctions, and your father fled. From what I gathered, he was blaming a certain pack for being caught, and he went there to confront the alpha. I don’t have any details, but I know he was killed by a rare shifter he tried taking hostage.”

“What pack?”

“Mr. Fulton, I don’t think—”

“What pack, Mr. Ross?”

“They’re located in Rosewood.”

It wasn’t an address, but it should make it easier for Vincent to find them.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do with the information.

Going there to talk to them sounded like a bad idea, but Vincent hadn’t been involved with anything his father had done.

If he was going to inherit this money, the least he could do was to pass it on to people who’d been hurt by Fulton.

It wouldn’t heal their wounds, but it could help them get a fresh start in life.

He didn’t know if the pack would accept his help or even if they’d agree to talk to him, but what his father had done was horrifying. If there was anything Vincent could do to help the people Fulton had hurt, he’d do it.

He just hoped he wouldn’t be killed as he did so.

* * * *

RONAN HOVERED IN FRONT of the house. He’d been invited for dinner, so he should climb the porch steps and knock on the door. He could hear voices inside, and through the windows, he could see that other people had already arrived.

He swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here. Why had the alpha invited him for dinner? Cam had made it sound like he was having a meal with friends, but Ronan didn’t qualify as a friend. He barely knew Cam.

But Cam had been trying to make Ronan feel more comfortable with being a pack member, which was probably why Ronan was here.

It wasn’t like Cam wanted to be his new best friend or anything like that.

He just wanted to help a man who had been in a complicated and hellish situation until recently. He probably pitied Ronan.

Ronan didn’t care. He would pity himself if their roles were reversed.

What he’d gone through had been awful, and he was glad he was out of his cage and that Fulton was dead.

Fulton had hurt him and the man he’d loved.

He’d deserved to die. Hell, he’d even deserved to die the way he had—killed by one of the rare shifters he’d so happily trafficked and tortured.

The door opened even though he wasn’t anywhere near it. A short, slender man stood there, watching Ronan. When Ronan didn’t move, Toby gestured at him to come closer.

“I know it’s not that cold yet, but I don’t want you to get chilly,” he explained. “Besides, dinner is almost ready.”

Ronan inclined his head at the alpha mate and climbed the porch steps. He was grateful when Toby didn’t try to hug him. Instead, Toby closed the door and gestured at Ronan to follow him.

“You’re the last one to arrive.”

“I apologize for being late.” Ronan didn’t want Toby to think he was rude. He supposed that he was rude since he was late, but he thought that Toby would understand.

He’d been in Ronan’s place once. Ronan had heard all about how Toby had been rescued from a gang that was using him for his healing abilities. He’d been the odd man out when he’d first arrived in Rosewood, just like Ronan was now.

Ronan wasn’t sure how long it would take him to fully accept that this was his home now, but it would be more than a few weeks. In the meantime, he’d do his best to integrate into the pack, but he already knew that it would be awkward.

As awkward as getting an invitation to dinner from his new alpha.

The sound of voices grew louder as they walked through the house.

They eventually stepped into the kitchen, where several people were gathered.

Cam was in front of the stove, stirring something while talking to a tall blond man.

Two more men were sitting at the counter, and one was standing by it.

Ronan was sure he’d seen them around, but he couldn’t remember their names, and for a moment, he panicked.

“You know who Cam is, of course,” Toby said. “The mountain next to him is Braden.”

Braden wrinkled his nose. “I’m not that tall.”

“Compared to me, you are.” Toby pointed at the other man. “This is Remi, and next to him, his mate, Pembroke. The last one is Mercer, who you’ll be working with since he trains our guards.”

They all nodded at Ronan except for Pembroke, who waved at him. Ronan was relieved that none of them tried to shake his hand or, worse, hug him. He knew he was safe, but he was still a little wary when it came to physical contact with people he barely knew.