"Al Capone?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you want to get him via taxes."
That would be kind of anticlimactic. And slow. Peter had been hoping for some kind of quick solution.
"It was the quickest to set up." Peter heard Stiles shrug over the phone. "I've more up my sleeve. Trust me, he won't know what hit him."
"What else do you have?" Peter asked, not convinced yet.
"The police is getting anonymous tips on when and where to look," Stiles continued. "Which trucks to stop, which containers to open, which buildings to check out."
"You're betting on the police to do their job?" So far Peter was not impressed.
"I'm betting on certain officers to do their job," Stiles corrected, making Peter wonder what kind of connections he had with the police department. His father was a sheriff which might gain him some points but Stiles' dad was a sheriff on the other side of the country. Besides, wouldn't the cops in the big city laugh at the son of a small-town sheriff?
"While we're at it, I'm working on getting a deal for two inmates," Stiles said, revealing that he had more connections than just a few individual officers. "They have a thing or two to tell on good old Deucalion."
"That's all nice and dandy," Peter said. If this worked out it would mean an immense hit for Deucalion's organization but it would hardly help with getting rid of the blind man. He would cut his losses, maybe pay a fine, and would continue like before. Most likely with a higher price on Peter's head. "But that doesn't solve the problem."
"What would solve the problem?" Stiles asked in a smug tone that told Peter that he hadn't revealed the ace up his sleeve yet.
"Something more permanent."
"That's something I'm not going to discuss over the phone," Stiles said in a tone that send shivers down Peter's spine. He pictured his amber eyes going dark with that tone. Stiles was ready to destroy Deucalion and it went right to Peter's core.
"Peter?" Stiles asked and Peter had to clear his throat before he could answer.
"I'm here," he said a little too rushed. This was not the time to get hard over Stiles planning murder. Peter did not doubt that Stiles was capable of killing someone but he would not be the one pulling the trigger. This was darker. This was better.
"You're a horny teenager," Stiles said, clearly amused. How he'd picked up on Peter's little hormone rush he didn't know, though.
"Your voice is sexy when you're planning to take somebody down," Peter said nonchalantly, he had himself under control again.
"Where are you staying at?" Stiles changed the topic.
"Do you want to come over?" Peter sat up straighter. "You just said that we'll see how and if we continue after Deucalion is taken care of."
"Derek's still at work and I ran out of people to bother so you're the next best thing."
"How nice of you."
"Do you want to know what I'm planning or not?" Stiles asked and how could Peter say no to that?
Half an hour later Stiles knocked at his door.
"You brought beer?" Peter let him in, not sure what to think of the six-pack he was carrying.
"It seemed appropriate for this … establishment." He gestured over the room which even in its best days had been beneath Peter's standards he had to admit. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Winchesters were staying in the room next door."
"Who?" Peter followed him over to the table that had been Peter's office for the last few days. He was more than ready to leave this room and find a decent hotel.
"Guess you didn't watch that show." Stiles gave him an almost disappointed look before he pried two bottles out of the cardboard. "Anyway, do you know how the blind man got blind?"
"I thought he was born that way." Peter took the beer and sat down on the foot of the bed, leaving the only chair in the room for Stiles.
"He was not." Stiles raised his bottle in a salute and took a sip. Peter couldn't help but notice the way his lips wrapped around the rim.
"Back in the days he was the leader of a small gang called the Alpha Pack." Stiles licked a stray droplet off the neck of the bottle.
"You're doing that on purpose." Peter glared at him.
"Hmm?" Stiles gave him an innocent look and let the tip of his tongue swirl around the opening of the bottle.
"Is this teasing going to go somewhere?" Peter asked and took a sip from his own bottle. Just a normal sip, no tongue involved, like a normal person.
"What can I do?" Stiles backed off and just held the bottle in his hand, elbow resting on the table. "I've been cut off too. Your own hand only gets you so far." He let out a sigh. "I shouldn't have come here."
Stiles stood up but Peter stopped him.
"The Alpha Pack?" He asked. "Let me guess, he came up with that name himself."
"Probably." Stiles stood there for a long second but then he sat down again. "There were five or six of those small gangs controlling the area that is now Deucalion's. They were constantly at war, trying to gain power over the other ones' territories. But basically, they were just weakening each other and others were already waiting for the right moment to squash them."
He paused to give Peter a moment to picture the scene.
"Deucalion knew that and asked the other leaders for a meeting," Stiles continued, his long fingers loosely wrapped around the neck of the bottle. This time Peter was convinced that it wasn't intentional.
"What did he want?"
"Truce." Stiles let out a bitter laugh. "At least that's what he told them. That he wanted a truce between them so that they stood a chance against the bigger gangs surrounding them."
"With him as the leader?" Peter guessed.
"That was one of the points they intended to discuss. But it never came to that." Stiles took a long pull out of the bottle. "It was a trap."
"Why am I not surprised?" Peter shook his head. Even as a young man, he couldn't picture Deucalion as somebody who would forge an alliance like that. He would rather look for a way to get rid of the other leaders and take over their gang and territory. "What happened?"
"It was a massacre," Stiles said. "He lured them into an abandoned warehouse and opened fire. The others came with only one or two men as backup, just like they had agreed to, but Deucalion brought more."
"That's exactly what I would have expected if I got an invitation like that." Peter nodded. "It was stupid of them to go. Especially with so little backup."
"They were desperate," Stiles corrected. "While they were fighting each other, they were eaten alive from the outside. This truce was the only way for them to survive. They knew that. Doesn't mean they trusted each other."
"They came armed?" Peter guessed.
"To the teeth," Stiles confirmed. "Only Deucalion knows what went down in that warehouse because he was the only one who made it out alive. Barely. He got shot multiple times and something exploded right in his face."
"Blinding him." Peter had been wondering when that part would come in.
"Yep." Stiles let the word pop and finished his beer with one long pull. Peter watched his Adam's apple bob up and down.
"He had two of his men on the lookout outside," Stiles said. "Two stupid teenagers who didn't know what they'd gotten into. One brought Deucalion to the hospital, the other one was left with the cleanup. Mainly he was supposed to get rid of Deucalion's gun."
"Supposed to?" Peter perked up at that. "Don't tell me you have that gun."
"Of course, I don't have it." Stiles rolled his eyes at him.
"But you know where it is."
Stiles grinned at him.
"The gun won't do you any good if you can't link it back to Deucalion." Peter had to burst his bubble. But then he caught Stiles' expression. "You can."
"I can." Stiles' grin widened. "The guy was not the sharpest tool in the shed but he was clever enough to not touch the gun with his bare hands and put it in a plastic bag instead. It has Deucalion's blood on it and it should have his fingerprints all over it."
"He can't be that smart if he didn't just clean it and throw it away somewhere."
"It's registered to Deucalion."
"What? Why?"
"Because he was a young hotshot who liked to brag about his gun?" Stiles shrugged. "And you might have noticed his ego."
"I noticed that," Peter said absently, he was still busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that there was a gun out there, linked to the death of who knew how many people, that did not only had Deucalion's blood and fingerprints all over it but was also registered to him.
"I didn't mention the best part yet."
"What else can you possibly have?"
"That stupid teenager who needed help getting rid of a hot gun?" Stiles drew this out on purpose. "That guy's name was Ennis."
"Ennis? Like the guy Braeden shot in my warehouse?" What were the odds of that?
"The very same," Stiles confirmed. "Let's just say that the rookie they sat on the case of Ennis' murder to do the pro forma work to close it as quickly as possible was more thorough than he was supposed to be and searched Ennis' place. He might have found the key to a certain locker. Officer Parrish is going to solve the case of his life."
Peter sat there in stunned silence while he let that sink in. It was beautiful. Ennis' death which had started all this came circling back to break Deucalion's neck.
"You're ruthless." Peter raised his bottle in a salute. If they weren't on hiatus with their relationship he would be all over Stiles right now, most likely fucking him against the wall in a minute.
"You like it." Stiles set his bottle aside, watching him with hungry eyes. "It turns you on."
"I appreciate professionalism and competence." Peter tried to play over the fact that he was indeed turned on. Stiles was right, Deucalion wouldn't know what hit him, the blows were coming from every direction and he had no chance to even anticipate the final blow.
"You mean competence porn," Stiles corrected, still watching him. He licked his lips.
"We shouldn't do this." Peter tried to be the reasonable one for once. "You said after Deucalion. Derek …"
"Derek would have invited you for dinner last Sunday if we weren't hosting Isaac that day," Stiles told him. "He's ready to forgive you."
"What about you?" Peter asked.
"I'm running on too much caffeine and way too little sleep for days now," Stiles said in a rush of words. "I want to get rid of some energy but you're off limits and it feels wrong to go back to that club." He didn't know what to do with his hands and his leg started to bounce nervously. He was looking everywhere but Peter.
Peter studied him for a moment but then he strode over to him, dragged him to his feet, and with one swift move he had him pinned to the wall. Before Stiles could react, Peter slipped one leg between his thighs, using his hip to hold Stiles in place. He had Stiles' wrists in a firm grip against the wall above his head, their faces only inches apart.
Stiles didn't struggle against him, quite the opposite. Hungry lips met Peter's. Teeth clicked against teeth and a second later Peter tasted blood but Stiles wasn't backing off. He forced his tongue into Peter's mouth.
"You need it rough?" Peter managed to ask between Stiles' angry kisses.
"Fuck me hard."