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As we walked down the steps to the subway car, I patted Cameron on the butt. “Have a good day,” I said.

“You too,” she replied, giving me another kiss. “What’s on your schedule today?”

“Ollie messaged me late last night. Asked if I could stop by. I’ll head that way in a few hours.”

“Sounds boring.” She stepped into the train car. “See you tonight. I love you,” she called as the doors slid closed.

“Love you, too!”

Back home, I did the dishes, then folded the laundry.

Doing all these domestic duties was still weird, but in a good way.

My good mood soured slightly. I hadn’t told Cameron exactly why Ollie wanted me to come by.

He was fairly certain he’d found a lead on her father.

Cameron’s hope of finding her father had faded over the last two months, and I didn’t want to get her hopes back up unless it was a legitimate lead.

She hadn’t said anything outright, but she asked about her father less and less. Sometimes, I caught her staring out the window wistfully, then shaking her head sadly. I’d be damned if I gave her more false hope.

“Damn, it’s about time,” Ollie said as I strolled into his office an hour later. “What took you so long?”

I shrugged. “Dishes. Laundry.”

“Christ. You make a great househusband,” Ollie said with a sarcastic grin.

“Very funny, asshole. Tell me what’s up,” I said, pointing to his suspect board.

Ollie had been like a dog with a bone trying to find Cameron’s dad.

He’d put in extra time at night and early in the morning, running down leads and doing research whenever he wasn’t apprehending criminals and investigating crime scenes.

Pictures, maps, and scrawled notes were pinned up on the board and interconnected with red threads.

To anyone other than Ollie, it looked like chaos.

Like a spider had taken to winding a bloody web across the board.

Hell, even I had no idea how to read what he’d created there.

“If you’re going to try and explain this madness,” I said, waving at the board, “you’ll have to wait until I get a degree in logistics and cryptography.”

“You’re an ass, you know that, right?” Ollie said.

Before I could retort, he launched into his news.

“Listen, I’ve been working with Anita. She’s uncovered more stuff on Lincoln and his business dealings in Detroit.

It appears our man didn’t completely leave Detroit behind.

He’s been doing stuff on the down-low there for years after he moved to Toronto.

It seems he’s been using it as a shipping hub. ”

“I’m guessing this pertains to Cameron’s father in some way?” I asked dryly.

“Hold your horses, I’m getting there,” Ollie said with a grimace.

“Anyway, Anita did more digging with the information I gave her from Lincoln’s computers, and we think we’ve found Lincoln’s main supply manager.

The guy who managed all of his shipping.

He’s the CFO of one of Lincoln’s businesses—one of the legitimate ones, that is.

We wouldn’t have found him if I didn’t also have access to Lincoln’s devices.

He’s been under Lincoln’s umbrella from the start. ”

“No shit?” I leaned forward, suddenly excited. “If he’s that tied to Lincoln, he might know what happened with Cameron’s dad.”

“Right,” Ollie said, pointing at me. “Wanna know the best part?”

“Lay it on me.”

“Looks like our guy felt a bit like the new man in charge with Lincoln turned out in the cold. Tried to be the new king of Shit Mountain. Problem is, he’s an idiot when it comes to anything but numbers and illegal shipping.

He was picked up six weeks ago due to fraudulent wire transfers.

He tried to siphon Lincoln’s money away, not realizing JC put a freeze on it.

Some of the shifter folks in the FBI clued him in.

A few calls to Anita, and our boy was behind bars. ”

“We need to head to Detroit, right?” I said, rising from my chair. “Let’s go. If we leave now, we can be there by one o’clock.”

Ollie grinned. “You need to thank JC the next time you see him.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m not sure exactly what his relationship is with Anita,” Ollie said, “but he did some pretty badass sweet-talking. Asshole has been transported across the border and is on his way here.” He looked at his watch. “Should be here in the next thirty minutes.”

“He facilitated an international prisoner transfer?” I asked, incredulous. “He can do that?”

Having never been part of a pack, I only had a cursory understanding of the power an alpha had. I knew it was ironclad within a pack, but if JC was powerful enough to do what Ollie was saying, then I was glad as fuck I’d joined.

“He did indeed,” Ollie said. “I got a text from him last night right before Anita called me.” Ollie chewed at his lower lip, glancing away uncomfortably. “I’m not going to say this was completely legal and aboveboard, but I didn’t think?—”

“It’s fine, Ollie,” I said quickly. “I don’t care how many laws we broke.”

Like clockwork, the prisoner transport van arrived a little less than half an hour later. By the time our guy was placed into an interrogation room, I was practically vibrating with energy.

Ollie grabbed me, leading me down the hall. At the door, he glanced up and down the corridor, ensuring no one was around.

“We should be in the clear, but keep in mind that not everyone is in on this. We ask the questions we need, then we get his ass back to a cell. Got it?” Ollie said.

“Got it,” I said, nodding once.

He unlocked the door, and we entered. A mousy little man sat in a chair, looking both exhausted and scared out of his mind.

He was nothing like what I’d imagined. In my head, Lincoln’s go-to person was a burly, intimidating man, or perhaps even a huge, rotund caricature of a movie mafioso.

This guy? He looked like a middle-aged accountant with his thinning gray-brown hair combed over on his balding pate, a patchy mustache above an almost nonexistent upper lip, and a double chin.

His prison jumpsuit bulged at the middle where his paunch pushed through.

His scent told me he was human, so he most likely had no clue who his boss had been.

I stepped forward and dragged a chair out, taking my seat in front of him.

“This is Eric McDonald,” Ollie said.

“Wh–who are you?” Eric asked, looking at me like a cornered animal. Had this weakling really thought he could take over Lincoln’s business? If so, he was fucking delusional.

“Are…” He hesitated, eyes darting from me to Ollie. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“What?” I asked, surprised by his question.

“I know Lincoln has powerful friends. Did he find out what I did? Is that what this is? Am I gonna get found in my cell with a makeshift noose around my neck?”

I placed my hands on the table and gave him a grin. It wasn’t friendly. More like what a rabbit might see right before a wolf pounced.

“You need to listen to me very carefully, Eric,” I said. “My name is Nate, and if I wanted to hurt you, it would go very badly for you. So, as long as you answer my questions honestly, you’ll get to live out your miserable life in a comfy minimum-security prison. Deal?”

His chin moved back and forth, almost like he was chewing something as he thought. Finally, he nodded.

“What do you want to know?” he asked petulantly, like a spoiled child who was finally being punished.

“Roughly twenty-five years ago, while Lincoln Masters was building his drug empire?—”

“Alleged empire!” Eric blurted.

Sighing, I bit back a retort. “Look at me, Eric,” I said. “Remember what I said? Do you want this to go the easy way or the hard way?”

Eric lowered his eyes again. “Sorry. Uh, old habits die hard. You were saying?”

“Thank you,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Twenty-five years ago, some detective was looking into Lincoln and hired a chemical pathologist to investigate the crystal methamphetamine he was making and selling. His name was Callum Donaldson. Does any of this ring a bell?”

Eric nodded at once, not even hesitating. “The chemist guy?”

Ollie and I shared a look. The steady tremble of butterflies in my stomach roiled within me. Were we getting close?

“The chemist guy?” I prodded. “Who’s that?”

Eric studied the ceiling before answering. “He was a real egghead. Had a degree in chemistry and a doctorate in chemical pathology. Real nosy son of a bitch,” he spat, furrowing his brow. “Almost as bad as the damn cops. It’s why Lincoln conned him into joining the crew.”

Ollie and I sat in thunderstruck silence for a moment. Ollie regained his composure first.

“He worked for Lincoln?” Ollie asked.

Eric gave a casual shrug and smirked. “Not willingly, but yeah. Lincoln said he either worked for us, or he’d kill him, then head down to Mexico and put a bullet in his pretty little lady’s head, and smash his baby’s skull in with a hammer.”

Knowing who he was speaking of sent me into a rage. My wolf growled, and I didn’t bother suppressing it.

Eric flinched back in surprise at the sound. “Jesus Christ!” he yelped. “You sound like Lincoln when he gets pissed. What the hell?”

Swallowing my anger, I did my best to stay professional, but I couldn’t stop seeing the mental picture of a young Lincoln Masters walking into Cameron’s nursery, holding a hammer in one hand, her mother dead on the floor behind him.

“How did Lincoln find out about Callum’s family?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Recovering from his fright, Eric still looked unnerved as he responded. “Well, that part was easy. A few bucks slipped under the table to the right people. Simple as that. We never actually found them, though.”

“ Wait,” I said, slapping my hand on the table in frustration. “You said you were going to kill them. If you were ready to do that, then you had to know?—”