The Epilogues: Part I: Badge of Honor (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 6), Hailey Edwards [year 2 reading books TXT] 📗

I groaned as he queued yet another voicemail.

“This is Franco Morton, Master of Clan Morton.” His title was spoken without hubris, which interested me. I hadn’t met Morton himself, only his ambassador. “I am aware of the disadvantage our people face, given your relationship with shifters in the city, and I do not wish to see my clan punished for the petty actions of a zealous few.” He gave us a moment to absorb that. “I left a gift for you at the Faraday. I hope it will convince you of my commitment to the Atlanta Alliance and my dedication to peaceful cohabitation with other Atlantans.”

A low growl pumped through Midas at the news of a gift, and he stepped aside to call Faraday security.

“The masters have spies within the other clans.” Bishop put away his phone. “When one made a call, the others stepped right up to do the same. No one wanted to be the odd man out.”

“You don’t think Morton’s offer is genuine?”

“He’s smart enough to see two clans eager to take down one another. He’s hoping to emerge on top when the dust clears. With a new potentate BFF, if his gift pans out.” He frowned. “The gauntlet is tomorrow night. He cut his act of altruism close to the wire.”

Meaning he didn’t want the other clans to have time to figure out who tattled on them prior.

The gauntlet.

Tomorrow night.

Goddess knows I had all but forgotten the date.

Midas ended his call with a tight expression and rejoined us. “We have a guest in a holding cell.”

Rubbing my hands together, I set out for the elevator. “Let’s go see what my potential bestie left me.”

An urgent call from HQ distracted Bishop, who waved us on ahead and promised to catch up with us later.

Down in security, a young male escorted us through a reinforced steel door into a dim observation area with one-way mirrored glass overlooking a mini prison-style pod with two levels of cells that extended into the basement alongside the garage.

There were four cells on each floor for a total of eight. The top row was outfitted with metal bars, two in silver and two in bronze. They were meant to accommodate shifters. Gwyllgi and wargs in particular. The bottom row were solid gray boxes of undetermined material outfitted with clear polycarbonate doors to contain vampires, humans, and fae offenders until their faction leader arranged for their release.

That was where we headed now.

Within minutes, I pitied the volunteer, who had looked so proud to be of service only seconds ago.

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Midas kept pace with our guide. “How long has she been here?”

“Apologies, sir.” The male kept his head down. “She was shoved out of a car onto the sidewalk in front of the Faraday about an hour ago with no ID. She was unconscious, so we took her to the infirmary. As soon as Abbott got her eyes open, she attempted to hex him. He drugged her, and we brought her here. Maybe ten minutes ago? We were about to call, but you beat us to it.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at the enforcer. “Can you give us a moment alone with her?”

“Of course.” Eyes on the floor, he retreated. “I’ll be right outside.”

The woman in the cell wore leggings, fuzzy socks, and an oversized tee. Her hair was caught up in a messy bun, and she wore no makeup. There were bright stains on her top from where she had wiped her fingers clean after snacking on cheese curls or another orange-dusted snack.

Clearly, she had not been expecting to get dragged out of her house this time of night.

An intercom was mounted to the wall, and Midas mashed the button.

“It’s about time,” she groused, rising from her cot. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

Given the vampires hadn’t breathed a word about the Billiards, I decided to lean on their witch instead.

“We have reason to believe you’re involved in a plot to kidnap and/or contain the Billiard family.”

“I can’t confirm or deny that accusation.” She huffed limp strands of hair out of her face. “Literally.”

Understanding spread across Midas’s features. “Magically enforced NDA?”

“You know it.” Her smile was tired, as if she had been preparing to go to bed. “I do what I’m paid to do. No more, no less.”

Her laid-back attitude grated on me. “Even if it means imprisoning children beneath a lake?”

“Even if.” She spread her hands. “Now, I assume I’m here for a reason?”

“You were delivered to us, actually.”

“Morton,” she growled his name. “I should have known better than to leave my coffee alone with him.”

Morton must have drugged her to avoid getting himself—or more likely, his henchmen—hexed for their trouble.

Midas zeroed in on her anger. “Do you often perform services for Morton?”

“He handles his business in-house.” She curled her lip. “He’s not a fan of witches. That’s why I took the meeting. I figured he must have seen the light. He was losing ground to his competition because of old prejudices. Contracting our services could have opened a whole new revenue stream for my coven.”

For us to get around the NDA to any valuable intel she possessed, I would have to test its boundaries.

“If you don’t work for Morton,” I began, feeling her out, “then why would he give you to us?”

“For that exact reason. I don’t work for him. None of us do. I have no dirt on him whatsoever.”

“Does that mean you do work for the other Atlanta clans?”

“I do work in Atlanta,” she said carefully. “There are factions in Atlanta who employ black witches.”

“What do you want in exchange for your cooperation?”

“Full immunity.” She yawned, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Give me that, and I’ll tell you who ordered the Billiard family dunked in the lake.”

“What about the NDA?”

“Well, I didn’t mean me. I meant my sister. She can speak freely.” She twisted a ring around her finger. “She might have accidentally overheard