“Yeah.” Another sigh. “And I need to pay it Thursday night.”
That pretty much made Aaron’s mind up for him. No matter how much he’d come to enjoy the thrill of the fight, he needed to stop Harry going there before he got into something he couldn’t get out of. “How much?”
“One fifty.”
Aaron gripped his wrist. “Pay the money, and then we’re done there.”
“But—”
“But nothing. It’s too dangerous to keep going there. Sooner or later one of us is going to get into trouble. You’re on their radar now, and after tonight, so am I. In hindsight, we’ve been stupid to ride our luck this long.” Not to mention what they were both doing was illegal. “If we get caught, it could mean banishment from the pack or even prison.”
Harry fidgeted with his beer bottle. “I thought you enjoyed fighting?”
“I do, but not enough to risk being thrown out of the pack or ending up in Krillick Hall. Can you say the same about gambling?” At first he’d hoped Harry would quit going on his own, it wasn’t Aaron’s place to tell his friend what to do, but then Aaron had started fighting there and he hadn’t pressed the issue. But owing Smith, even that small amount, wasn’t something they could ignore.
“Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?” Harry gripped his now-empty bottle and finally met Aaron’s gaze. “I don’t want to owe that wanker, and I don’t want to end up in the bloody shifter prison either.”
“I know.” Aaron gripped Harry’s shoulder. “Me neither. We’ll sort this, don’t worry. I’ll tell Smith I’m not fighting anymore, you pay your debt, and then we never go back.” Squeezing his shoulder, he asked, “Deal?”
Harry managed a small smile. “Deal.”
Aaron relaxed into his seat. They should’ve done this way before now, but at least they’d made the decision finally. He hoped it was as easy to actually see it through.
With their bottles obviously empty, Will sidled over and rested his hands on the bar in front of them. “Can I get you guys a refill?”
Smothering his smile as Harry took a none-too-subtle deep breath, Aaron sat back and let him do the talking.
Harry smiled up at Will. “Same again, please.” He looked over at Aaron, eyebrow raised in question. Aaron nodded. “And two shots of tequila.”
“Coming right up.” Will grinned, tapped his fingers on the bar, and shot Harry a wink before turning away to get their drinks.
Harry’s smile was a mile wide when he faced Aaron, all thoughts of illegal fighting seemingly forgotten. “What?” He hissed when Aaron shook his head at him.
“He knows,” Aaron mouthed and nodded at Will’s back.
“Does not,” Harry mouthed in return, but he had a gleam in his eye that said he wouldn’t care if that turned out to be true.
With their resolutions firmly in place, for the first time in weeks, Aaron felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He spent the rest of the night gossiping about pack goings-on and gently teasing Harry every time he glanced longingly at Will.
Yeah, he’d miss the thrill of the fight, but it would be worth it to feel like this and to see Harry free from the strain and guilt that place put on him.
Things were finally moving in the right direction.
CHAPTER TWO
Detective Sergeant Michael Archer sighed as he got out of the car. Turning to his partner, he shook his head. “This is going to make it three.”
“Maybe.”
Waiting for Frank to lock their car, Michael’s eyebrows rose. “You know they’d never call us unless they were certain.”
They’d been members of the Shifter Crimes Task Force for almost ten years and still faced animosity from some areas of the police force. Their department was neither part of the metropolitan police nor the City police. Rather, SCTF spanned the two, dealing with shifter-related crimes in both the City of London itself and the thirty-two boroughs surrounding it. There were those in both camps that thought the SCTF was a waste of money and resources. Funded partly by the alpha council and London packs—agreed after the pack wars—the SCTF had a nice, shiny building complete with office space and their very own state-of-the-art forensic lab. Their unit was still relatively small in comparison to the rest of the police forces covering London, though, and most of the time they relied on either the City police or the Met detectives to collect the evidence for them. Michael didn’t really blame them for getting pissed off when they did all the legwork and then had to hand it over. But then, none of them wanted to deal with the packs and their alphas, so in that respect, the SCTF were doing them a favour.
Thankfully, the group of haters got smaller each year, but there was still enough to be a pain in the arse.
Since this crime scene fell just inside the one-mile City of London Police limits, they had the pleasure of dealing with Detective Sergeant Ian Miller, CID, as the Senior Investigating Officer. Miller himself was all right, but in Michael’s experience, his partner could be a bit of a knob.
Two police cars blocked off the entrance to the alleyway with a line of crime scene tape behind them.
