Chapter Thirty-Nine

The day before her ninth birthday, Leah had made an ill-advised decision to venture away from her usually well-done hamburger to a medium-rare one. It's about the flavor, her father had always said. Leah had been skeptical, but she still tried it and immediately regretted it.

How hadn't she died from dehydration, she didn't know. But what she did know besides vowing never to take another sip of Gatorade (electrolytes, be damned), was that food poisoning sucked; it had sucked so much that from that moment own, Leah had identified herself as a strict pescatarian—She could've considered just being a vegetarian, but she had a thing for shrimp and seafood had never done her digestive system wrong.

The point was that from an early age, Leah had entirely accepted the fact that she would never eat a piece of meat (not from the sea) ever again. That was, as fate would have it, until last September.

Things had changed since that night, and she, in her personal and humble opinion, there was nothing like the smell of a good, juicy piece of rarely-cooked steak. Browned to perfection on the outside, pink and red on the inside. Seasoned-well, as well, though if Leah were honest with herself, this mouth-watering piece of 72 oz. deliciousness that was displayed right in front of her, didn't need any.

After much effort, Leah finally turned her attention from the open food container to the man sitting across from her, watching her with extreme amusement.

"What is this for?" Leah asked. Because although she was more than grateful, she knew the steak didn't cost ten bucks. She breathed in the delicious aroma one last time before closing the container. Lunch wouldn't be for another couple of hours.

Jacob's only response was a toothy smile. It was a brilliant one, but it didn't answer Leah's question.

Leah narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"

Jacob gasped, clutching his chest. "You wound me, Clearwater," he said, exaggerating his pain and disappointment. "I was in the mood for some prime ribs, so I stopped at a spot on the West Side—Gotta take you there sometime—Figure I'd bring you something back because that's what friends do, and now you're accusing me of an ulterior motive?"

Leah waved off her partner's accusation. "How much?"

Jacob shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Leah rolled her eyes; she hated it when he did this. "Jacob—"

"Black, Clearwater, get in here!"

Both detectives looked up at their captain, who was standing in his office's doorway, balancing his work phone between the side of his face and shoulder. When he caught of his subordinates, he mouthed "now" before retreating into his office.

Leah and Jacob exchanged a curious look, then did what they were told. When they entered their captain's office, they found Paul still on the phone, leaning back in his chair relaxed, almost jovial. He must have received some terrific news.

Paul gestured the detectives to sit down. "… If you need anything, you know who to reach out to," he said into the phone, genuinely sincere. After exchanging some departing pleasantries, he hung up the phone and sat up in his seat. "That was the ATF," he said, failing to hide his excitement. "This morning, they found and arrested Jackie Chan on international firearms trafficking and possession charges. He's looking at spending at least a couple of decades in the slammer without parole."

Leah brought a hand to her mouth. If this really was true, then she was going to have to find a way to legally deliver a gallon of blood to Benjamin as a gift.

"You're fucking with us," Jacob remarked with disbelief. Just earlier that morning, he and Leah had been convinced that Jackie Chan was lost to them forever. No one had anything on the guy. Except for the ATF, apparently.

"Which means he's willing to cooperate with the feds… and with us."

Leah dragged her hand down from her mouth to her chest. She blinked a couple of times. "With us?"

Jacob shared a quick look with the woman next to him before asking, "No strings attached?"

"Apparently, your ATF-friend has put in a good word for this unit, so none of the usual feds-BS," Paul explained. "No strings attached… well, that's not entirely true. We can't arrest him ourselves, but we can try to extract information from him."

"No state charges."

"What's the deal?" Leah asked.

"Five years with a chance of parole after two," Paul said. He caught onto his detectives' perplexed expression. "I know, that's a damn good deal. A stupid deal. Hence why he's willing to star in a once of a lifetime, one-man concert at the Civic Opera House. So, if I were you, I'd get those tickets ASAP."

"I thought another team was handling Napolitano's?" Leah asked.

"They are." Paul folded his hands on the desk. "I don't you to ask about Napolitano's. I want you to find out if he knew Gianna or about the heist. And why the hell was eight people found in a ditch."

"When's the show?" Jacob asked.

"10:00 am Monday at MCC."

That gave them five days.

Leah faced Jacob; they both nodded and grinned, excited about the new prospect. Finally, something was happening on that front. "We'll be there," she said. "Hell, we'll be there early."

"Recognize this number?"

"Do you?"

"No."

Leah shrugged. "Could be spam," then with a smirk, "Make sure you don't give out your social security number to the IRS. It's the damn IRS. They already have our info."

Jacob gave his partner a thumbs up but picked up the phone anyway. "Black," he said into the mouthpiece, and then his eyes widened with interest. "Old man. Never thought I'd see the day you call at my desk. What's up?"

Leah stopped writing to listen on. Wilson wasn't whispering, but he wasn't yelling. Which could mean he wasn't in trouble. "Don't worry; I'm on a burner… Ever heard of Murder Inc?" she could hear. She blinked a couple of times and caught Jacob's confused gaze. They both shrugged.

Murder Inc? What decade was this, the 1930s?

"I didn't know you were still bumping heads with the mob," Jacob said with a light chuckle. "Of course, I've heard of Murder Inc. What about it?"

"They call themselves the Auferentes. According to Google Translate, that means Removers. Ten of them with supposedly no affiliation to any group to maintain no-bias vow. Species are not an issue. If you kill on the low, you're golden."

Leah brought her eyebrows together. She was still confused; it was as if Wilson was speaking on code, which was usually not his modus operandi. "Who?" she mouthed to her partner. "Murder Inc?"

Jacob shrugged. "So, basically, you're talking about an assassin order."

Wilson made an affirmative sound. "Reminds me of Murder Inc. Because of the so-called no-loyalty rule.

"Who's they?"

They, according to Wilson, was the Velasquez Cartel's hit squad. Sort of. Wilson stressed that they weren't loyal to the cartel, but he did mention that Sancho Alvarez, who was known to be the cartel's main hitman, was a member of it. To be more exact, one of its founding members. Wilson then added that Alvarez wasn't particularly loyal to Maria; it was just that the coven leader had a lot of money and wasn't afraid to spend it.

Leah didn't know what to believe.

"So, the Auferentes to the you-know is what Murder Inc was to The Commission? Got it. So, it was truly just business, huh? The Volturi outsourced the hit to Velasquez, who outsourced it to this group. I feel like I'm back in construction." He wrote down some notes and asked, "So, it was truly just business, huh? Nothing personal."

Wilson was noncommittal.

Leah leaned back in her seat and sighed as the conversation between the men carried on. This was a significant lead, to be honest, they sort of had a name. She did a search Google search on the department's computer. Nothing of note came up except an excerpt from a 1924 article in Italian. Actually, according to Google Translate, Sicilian.

Auferentes, she wrote down in a notepad. She was going to mention the name to Jane during their next meet up. Whenever that would be. Jane had been in the dark for quite some time.

Or she could just ask Rosalie.

"Have you ever heard of the group, Auferentes?" Leah asked Rosalie as she watched the vampire consume her mid-afternoon snack. She and Jacob were able to pay a visit to the downtown office between appointments the day after receiving the information from Wilson.

The conversation was slated for only fifteen minutes, top. Not a second more, the fixer had warned them. After all, she was doing them a favor by accepting to speak with them—In Leah's opinion, Rosalie was doing everything in her power not to get arrested again. An arrest record was bad for business.

Rosalie stopped mid-sip and rose both eyebrows. Clearing her throat, she placed her glass aside. The expression on her face might have been unrecognizable, but there was one thing for certain: she knew that name, and she hadn't expected to hear it coming from the detective's mouth. "I may have," she said with a noncommittal shrug, but she wasn't fooling anyone."

"So, that's a yes," Jacob concluded.

Rosalie sighed and finally finished her cup of blood. "I haven't heard of that name in a very long time," she said. "I was under the impression that it was defunct." She cocked her head to the side. "Now, my question for you: how do you know of that name?"

Leah found Rosalie's wording very interesting. "We were not supposed to?" she carefully asked.

It was an unspoken rule," Rosalie said, looking beyond the detectives. The door was closed behind them, but it appeared she wanted to make sure. She leaned back in her chair and slightly frowned. "Don't tell me they're involved."

"We don't know," Jacob admitted. "But we do know what Alvarez was a member of that group."

"Of course," Rosalie said. "I'm pretty sure he helped found it, but that was so long ago, even before I was in the picture." Her frown returned as she shook her head, disappointed more than upset. "So, she resorted to that…" she trailed off with a sigh.

The detectives shared a split-second glance before Leah asked, "Care to explain?"

"The Auferentes was, or I suppose, is an organization that was created to keep order within the business. Back in the day, the bosses would rely on crooked cops or soldiers who came back home and adjust to get rid of complications… but then after a very controversial incident that remains under wraps, the bosses figured it was too risky…" Rosalie huffed. "They were only supposed to handle disputes between covens."

"The Fangs are not a coven," Jacob said.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "No, they are not."

"But Garrett was a part of one," Leah reminded everyone. "So, I guess the Auferentes were sort of abiding the rules," and then she asked the fixer, "Do the Volturi still have to them?"

"They're the reason I thought group no longer existed," Rosalie said. "And if you're wondering if I can provide ID's, unfortunately, I cannot. Sancho was the only constant. The Auferentes did not promote job security or retirement… I thought they were smarter than this."

Leah still didn't understand why the Auferentes being involved was such a big deal; they were an assassination squad. They executed people. "What is the issue?" she asked. "Really?"

Rosalie let out yet another sigh. "We already have enough drama with our own species. We don't need any more with others. And with all due respect, shapeshifters can be a real pain in the ass."

Jacob made an amused sound and then added, "Well, whatever the case is, we believe that they orchestrated the Ditch murders, and it's our job to bring them to justice. Have them pay for what they did."

"Then you have to catch the big fish first," Rosalie advised, rising from her seat. The fifteen minutes were almost up. "Then the rest of the little fishes will come along… Unless someone decides to talk out of turn, which from the sounds of it, is a tall order."

Leah hated that Rosalie was right. "Unfortunately, they take the concept of not snitching very seriously."

Rosalie snorted. "Pity."

"How did the meetup with Alicia Rivera turn out?"

Benjamin slid his hands down the steering wheel and sighed. He looked more tired than usual. More exhausted than any time while he was officially working undercover as a so-called "triple-agent". But he was here, parked alongside the detectives in yet another barely-lit abandoned parking lot, on another Chicago evening. Leah and Jacob couldn't be more grateful.

"Well, she no longer works at Midway," Benjamin answered Leah's question, adding a quiet humorless laugh. "She and a couple of her buddies… However, to be honest, I think her unemployment is the least of her problems. She entered witness protection at the insistence of everyone and their mother."

That escalated quickly.

Leah smacked her head against the passenger headrest and groaned, "Of course, she is."

Goodness, just how many people linked to the investigation had to put into witness protection? Did everyone know how much that shit cost? And Leah was pretty sure Alicia wouldn't be the last.

Jacob cursed under his breath, and then asked, "What the hell happened?"

"She sang. The moment she got off that flight from Miami, she fucking sang. Claimed she was a part of the conspiracy. All for five grand, which is low-balling if you ask me. But then again, the mastermind did threaten her with her life… so, I guess that's a small consolation prize."

"Which part of the conspiracy?" Jacob wondered because, unfortunately, there were many levels to the heist.

"The first part," Benjamin said. "The actual conspiracy. Not the whole killing thing… speaking of which, according to her, she hasn't seen her cousin for a few months. She thought he was in Mexico. Good news, we do have a profile, and the alias checked out, by the way."

Leah slightly smiled. She knew Heidi would come through. "So, she's not going to jail?"

Benjamin shook his head. "No, but your family's about to be in some deep shit," he told Jacob in an even more serious voice. "People don't take stealing from commercial planes lightly, especially if it involved illegal arms. Unless…"

Jacob cleared his throat. "They make a deal."

"Why isn't anyone making a real move?" Leah asked, frustration evident in her voice. So many people could have been arrested by now. Charged, and maybe even sentenced since the investigation was one of CPD's and the feds' top priorities.

"Everyone's after the Volturi," Benjamin said. "Everything else can fall to the waist side."

"For now," Jacob remarked, turning the key in the ignition. The promised fifteen-minute conversation was coming to an end.

Benjamin nodded and revved up his own engine. "For now."

"You know what I've just realized?" Jacob asked out of the blue as he turned onto Lake Shore Drive. As expected, there was the usual morning rush-hour traffic, but he didn't seem as annoyed than he usually would be at this time.

"What?" Leah asked, only partially paying attention to her partner's comment as she tried to determine which move to make in Candy Crush. She only had two more tries in the round before losing any rights to play another game for fifteen minutes (goodness forbade she would buy more lives. She didn't have that kind of money).

Now, she had no more remaining moves.

God damnit.

Jacob didn't immediately respond. Instead, he turned on the radio to listen for the traffic reports. He stole a glance at Leah and scoffed. "Lost another game?"

"These rounds are becoming harder and harder," Leah grumbled, returning to her phone's home screen to choose another game. She had about a good fifteen traffic to sit through; the games kept her sane (and Jacob, who liked to tease her when she lost). "It's getting on my nerves."

"Aren't you on round 300?"

"399," Leah corrected, and then, "So, what did you realize?"

"I haven't been shot at or flat-out attacked in a while—the whole Enzo-incident doesn't count."

Leah looked up, somewhat alarmed. "I hope you don't see that's a bad thing…"

Jacob shook his head. "No, of course, not," he insisted with a forced chuckle. "It's just that last year, during this time, we would've been prepping for the raid from hell. That entire year was crazy, but this year…"

"Don't jinx it, Black," Leah warned, though she had to agree with him. "I rather not have a repeat of the tunnel raid."

"I don't think no one does," Jacob said. "I don't care what anyone says, but that night made Saint Patrick's look tame."

Leah was surprised at the comment. "Really?" To this day, she heard horror stories about that holiday from hell. "Even though it was the reason why you had to change Paul?"

Jacob shrugged. "Handicap matches with vampires don't exactly have the best chances for survival," he pointed out. "And, at least, all of the drama occurred was outside."

"I never want to step foot into those tunnels again," Leah quietly said, grimacing at the memory. A simple raid during a meeting had turned into chaotic shootout featuring law enforcement, criminal vampires, and the damned Children of the Moon (who, freed from their chains, had a vicious mind of their own).

"You and me both."

Leah pocked her phone. She lost yet another two rounds in under a minute. "You think this investigation will ever end?"

That was indeed the hundred-million-dollar question.

Jacob looked in Leah's direction and gave a weary sigh. "You know when you gave us that video from Jane, the one that shows Demetri delivering the bite, a part of me thought this was all over. After all, we had the evidence, right then and there. Sure, the main suspect had died months before, but still…" He shook his head. "But it's every single time we turn around, there's a twist. A new player. A new death… this shit is for TV shows—I think Embry's writing a script."

"He's writing a tell-all disguised as urban fantasy. Apparently, he already started chapter one, though, if you ask me, he's being a bit premature. We don't even have an ending for this shit—Hey, a little off topic but, tell me something you've never told anyone."

Jacob shot his partner an odd look, but then laughed. "Are we seriously doing this to pass the time?"

Leah lightly chuckled and shrugged. She checked out the traffic ahead; it was now moving, but they were going to be late to work. "You got anything better else to do?" she asked. "I refuse to do anything work-related until we physically step foot into the station… Come on."

Jacob snorted. "Why? So, you can use it against me?"

"I don't know if I have the heart, to be honest. I'm only curious—"

"Sometimes I wonder if I know what the hell I'm doing."

Leah had expected something more salacious. "Like every other person on this planet?" she replied with a smirk. "Human or not?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, with the whole alpha-thing," he quietly admitted. "I'm still confused about how I got to this position."

Leah's twisted grin disappeared. Oh shit, he was serious. "Are you complaining?" she asked, hoping that he wasn't. Based on her conversations with fellow shapeshifter and friend, Tina, losing an alpha and trying to find another one was a pain in the ass. Not that Leah intended to be selfish or anything… but she didn't want the man next to her to have second thoughts about this.

"Not really."

"Look, I know I'm not as well-versed in wolf/shapeshifter life as you are, but I'm pretty sure you can't fake it. People follow you for a reason…" Leah dropped her head to the side. "Seriously? You've never told anyone this?"

"Who wants an alpha who second-guesses himself half the time?"

"People who aren't living in a fantasy-land," Leah remarked, trying to lighten the mood. But she stopped trying because apparently, this was something that had bothered Jacob for quite a time. She could tell. "You live, and you learn. We all gotta do it. Why not you?" She took a deep breath. "So, I'm guessing that you can't simply apply to be an alpha? Take a test or anything?"

"You know how you have that random stray dog or cat who just all of a sudden follows you home, and for some weird reason, you accept them? It's kinda like that."

"So, no application?"

"No application."

"Who was the first?"

"Embry."

"I can't say I'm too surprised. Despite all of the teasing, he looks up to you. They all do."

Jacob finally broke into a smile. "Ha! I'm going to remind him of that… I'm gonna remind everyone about that."

Leah could only imagine the look on Paul's face. "Speaking of everyone, we should have a movie night. With the pack and some friends, maybe? I don't know, this can be some bonding outside of Sag Valley."

Jacob rubbed his chin. "That's not a bad idea…"

Leah snapped her fingers. "We can do like a potluck. But we'll have to convince Embry's girlfriend to cook because that man can't even do pasta, which I don't know how that's possible… and we may need to lay off of Paul's friend's questionable moonshine."

"We have to teach him how to make pasta because that's really sad."

"And introduce him to non-fast food before it's too late."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Too late?"

"We're not vampires, Jacob. We're not going to have the same physique forever. As we grow older, our metabolism drops. And despite what you want to believe, you're not going to be eighty with a six-pack."

Jacob slapped his stomach. "I'm working towards that… You know he refuses to eat salad, right? He says it's against his nature."

"Wolves can eat leaves," Leah said; it was the same fact she had to remind most of the pack save for Quill (the sensible one) when they complained to her about having some greens (or God forbid, salad) on the side. "So, we'll alternate between houses?"

"Sue'll be good with that?"

Leah scoffed. "Oh, please. She'll be offended if we don't host anything over there. We also have a big enough backyard. I mean, obviously, no one can shift, but it's a lot better than your sad-excuse of a balcony."

Jacob chuckled. "I think it's supposed to serve as decoration more than anything."

"Still, if you can't even fit a small grill out there, then what is the point?" Leah teased with a smile, and then an idea came to mind. "Hey, can we make a detour?"

"We're already running late—"

"It's related to work."

"I'm not going to lie. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Despite everything, we still work for the same employer," Leah told her ex-husband, adding a small smile. She was standing in front of Sam's husband, with Jacob not far behind. The squad area was packed, but only a few were paying attention (unfortunately, some rumors never die). "How are you?"

They had one spoken to each other a handful of times; both seemed to be in a much better place than before. Leah was glad for it; she was tired of her former marriage's drama; she just wanted to ask Sam some questions about the case and go on her way. Though, it seemed that Jacob had other ideas; he didn't exactly hide his hardened glares, but in Sam's credit, he never acknowledged the animosity.

Sam's smile was tentative, a bit wary for good reasons. "I can't complain," he said." He then looked behind his ex-wife to where her partner stand. "Black."

"Uley."

Leah suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She was going to have to have a little chat with her partner about his tendency not to hide his feelings when Sam was around (she appreciated the gesture, but this was not the time). "You seem more relaxed," she said. "Seems that you don't miss the craziness that's the Voldemort Unit."

Sam let out a light chuckle. Still wary. "This is the Violent Crimes Unit," he said. "It gets crazy, but then again, there is less you-know-who involved, so I'll take it." He leaned back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what's the impromptu visit for?"

Leah decided to take a seat. "We're having a tough time tracking down those responsible for the Green Lawn Ditch murders," she admitted. "Thought you could provide some insight."

"Everyone says it was the Volturi's doing."

"They outsourced the hit," Jacob told Sam. "The Velasquez are the prime suspects."

Sam slowly nodded. "So, that's why you're here."

"You worked with them intimately," Leah said. "You know them better than we do."

Sam sighed. "I suppose."

"Any mention of a hit squad?" Jacob asked.

Sam snorted as he sat up in his seat. "It's a damn cartel. Of course, there's a hit squad. Two, technically. One entirely loyal to the cartel. The other one, well, if you have the money, they'll do anything," he said. "Never interacted with them… I know, I know, not too helpful, but…" He opened his desk bottom draw and pulled out a file shoved in the back. "Check this out."

Leah took the file and skimmed the contents. Once finished, she looked up at Sam, perplexed. "This was your case back at the Voldemort… Sam."

"Check it out," Sam insisted. "I'm supposed to be dead, remember?" He gave a humorless chuckle. "Maria doesn't like to get her hands wet, for the most part. I wasn't high enough in the ranks to personally get offed by her or her captains. In those cases, she outsources to this group."

"The Auferentes?" Jacob offered.

Sam blinked a couple of times, then shrugged. "Maybe? Everyone called them the A-Team." He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his chin. "My would-be killer was a prospect. You have to do certain things to even consider going to their version of training camp." He sat up and quickly scribbled on a note before handing it to Leah. "He's in prison. Serving twenty-five to life."

"Doesn't sound like a plea deal to me," Leah said, shutting the file closed.

"Because it wasn't. He refused to fold," Sam said. "He was sentenced a few months ago. It wasn't big news because the ditch murders happened around that time." He frowned. "I'm not taking it personally."

How couldn't it be?"

"They're keeping a you-know-who at Cook County?" Jacob asked.

"Oh, he's not a vampire," Sam said. "The important ones are vamps, of course, but I hear they're to employing humans because apparently, we're more disposable." He frowned, then added, "Get through him, and you get the names of your hit squad. The prospects usually do the main members' dirty work. Unless he did everything blind-folded, he should be able to give you some identifiers."

"He could've told us about this earlier," Jacob complained as he and Leah emerged from the police station. Their conversation with Sam was cut short by a call from a dispatcher. A domestic dispute turned deadly. "Much earlier."

Leah glanced at the building behind her before entering the car. "To be fair, the thought of asking Sam had only dawned on me about an hour ago," she said. Not that she wanted to give Sam an out, but Jacob could be petty. It was a personal-thing, she understood that, but Sam did know what he was doing on the professional front. "It was an oversight on multiple fronts."

Jacob's response was a grunt.