Aztec Treasure Ch. 51-60

Colletta smiled and reached for my hand. "I did, though I wasn't looking for it. Frank and I just clicked from the first time we met. By the time my wolf figured out he was more than a fling, my human side was already in love."

"Could you talk to our unmated? They need hope, both for those who lost a mate and those whose mate might not be a wolf."

"Of course." That was a fun meeting, with seven females and six males joining us for a frank (pun intended) discussion. We went to bed early, rising at four to return to the airport. We slept most of the way, punching another ticket on the Mile High Club as we passed over Ohio. I loved flying in private aircraft!

A limo met us at the airport to take us downtown. It dropped me off at the FBI Building; Colletta would continue to the White House. "I'll see you tonight," I told her.

"I'll have a car sent for you."

I went through Security and got an escort to the Salazar task force area. The briefing was an eye-opener, as the RV they were driving was a treasure trove of clues. The Javelin missile was very concerning, as the warhead could take out a vehicle or grounded aircraft. The worst part was that it was fire-and-forget from up to two miles away, well outside of the Secret Service protective zone. By the time they reacted, the shooters could already be gone. "How the hell did they get ahold of this?"

"Probably the same pipeline as the Stinger missiles," one of the agents said. "This particular launcher was reported destroyed in Afghanistan during an IED strike."

"Afghanistan? That doesn't sound like a cartel source."

"That's what concerns us, Frank," Director Strickland said as he walked in with the FBI Director, Hugh Patterson. "I can't think of why the missile would be back in the States without the CIA."

"We've been digging through the CIA's operations without much success," Hugh continued. "Everything is compartmentalized, and the leadership is dead or lawyering up. We don't know how far down the rot goes. The CIA could have obtained the missiles, but that isn't the most concerning thing we found."

That didn't sound good. "What else?"

"Detailed information on the President's schedule, movements, and protection strategies over the next two weeks," Hugh replied. "Stuff they only could have gotten from the Secret Service, which has Valerie Grunwald shitting bricks." I could bet; such information was the Holy Grail for anyone targeting the President. "Julio had everything he needed to plan and carry out an assassination of the President."

That wasn't good. "Is there a mole, or is it a security breach?"

"We don't know yet. We've got a team working with the Secret Service to pin down where the information came from and who had access to it. If we can pull the string, we're closer to the conspiracy."

"And it's a big one," I said. "You'd need high-level people and money to do this." I looked around at the people from multiple agencies who were part of the investigation. "You said you needed me, Director. How can I help?"

Director Strickland met my eyes. "You're an expert on the Cartels, Frank. We know Julio and the Sons worked with the Sinaloa Cartel."

"And the Cartel turned on the Sons leadership and killed them," I replied.

"Yes. That doesn't mean Julio didn't have contacts with them or with other Cartels from his time. We both know that they have the money to get anything. A Cartel probably took the Stinger from the Mexican military. The Javelin might be a black market acquisition."

"Mexico hasn't purchased any Javelins," Hugh said.

It was a lot to take at once. "It could be both, you know. The CIA has a long history of working with drug cartels and arms dealers since before Iran-Contra. I've made a few Cartel busts only to have the CIA claim their asset."

Hugh gestured to a cubicle near the office by the window. "Your desk is over here. I'll have Agent Thompson introduce you around." The two directors walked out, probably to a high-level meeting. I turned to shake hands with my new office mates.

This investigation was a shitstorm of epic proportions. At a minimum, senior elements of the Secret Service and other agencies are working with a Cartel.

Worst case? The CIA was actively plotting to kill the President.

Could the Task Force find the people responsible? I wasn't so sure. Hugh was frustrated with the pace of the CIA probe, and there might be compromised agents within the investigation.

It was time to talk to Colletta; we needed to use Spider Monkey, Claire Bennington, Frank Donovan, and other Pack resources to do an independent investigation. We had to find these people before they succeeded in taking out our President.

Ch. 56

Maria Meztli's POV
Hermantown, Minnesota

"Relax, we'll be there in a few minutes," Lance said as I fidgeted behind him on his Harley. His bright red Road King was rumbling under me as I shifted on the seat. It wasn't all nervousness; being so close to Lance and breathing in his scent had me horny, and a Harley is the word's most expensive vibrator when you lean forward enough. I'd orgasmed once on the drive down despite the lingering soreness, and I was close to another. The acceleration from this stoplight might do it.

"I know, I'm just excited to be riding again. I really, REALLY missed this." I hadn't gone this long without being on a Harley since I was five years old. All that time holed up at the cabin or driving a minivan, was torture. I was thankful the nannies at Arrowhead were happy to watch Maritza so often, and she loved being with the other children in their care.

The light changed, Lance gunned the engine, and I got the release I craved. I would have to change my underwear, maybe even my jeans, by the time we got to the dealership. Luckily, I had both in the backpack I wore. Planning is the key, right? I just hoped Roadkill, Possum, and Monica didn't notice how I was shifting my hips to get off. THAT would be embarrassing.

We came to a stop at the next red light. "Monica is going to smell it as soon as you get off the bike, but the old people won't pick up on it unless you've soaked through," Lance said.

"What?"

"How many times have you cum on the ride down? I can smell it over the exhaust." Oh, God, I was surrounded by wolves with zero boundaries.

"Twice," I confessed. "Not a word."

Finally, we arrived at the Harley-Davidson Sports Center. I made an excuse that I needed to use the restroom, putting up with the amused smile from Monica as she volunteered to go along. She started laughing as soon as the Ladies' Room door was closed. "You've got it bad, don't you, girl," she said as I went into a stall. "I can't blame you. Lance is all kinds of yummy."

My cat didn't like how she talked about him and let out a subsonic growl. "He's with ME," I said as I stripped off my jeans before using the toilet.

"I knew it! There's a pool going on for when you two realize you are mates," she teased. "I've got sixteen days from now, so you need to cool it a bit to give me a chance."

"My kind doesn't have mates. We have arranged marriages," I said. "Or we did. I guess since I'm the only adult left, I can do what I want."

"Lance is a good wolf, and I've seen how he looks at you."

"We're just friends with benefits. He's got a mate out there, and I can't be that woman who takes that away from him." I pulled on my new clothing and stuffed the soaked stuff in my backpack.

"There's no wolf of age out there for him, or he'd already be mated. I suppose he might be waiting for a female who hasn't shifted yet, but I think it's you. He just has to figure it out."

I came out and washed my hands. "I guess we'll find out someday, but right now? I want to buy a new ride."

We came back out to find Roadkill talking with the guy at the desk, while Lance had a salesman ready to pounce. "I understand you're looking for a new Harley," he said with a smile. "Are you an experienced rider?"

"Yes," I said. "I plan to do a lot of cruising, so I need a bike with power that is short enough for my legs and light enough for me to handle. I need storage too." I knew what I wanted, but I was testing the salesman. Many salespeople would assume Lance was the bike guy and I was his ditzy girlfriend. His reaction to me would tell.

"For a rider your size with experience, we have a few options with low seats that can work. Most of them do not have hard saddlebags, though."

"I prefer hard bags for security and protection," I said.

"That narrows it down. I have two in stock that could meet your needs." He led me to a Street Glide. "This is the biggest cruiser I'd recommend for a woman your size. The seat height is good for you, just over twenty-six inches, but the weight is at the high end at eight hundred and thirty pounds. It's got plenty of power and storage and is very comfortable on long rides." I got on, making sure I could comfortably get both feet down flat while sitting. He held the bike upright while I checked the seating position. I didn't like the short windshield that ended in my line of sight. It was workable, but I was worried about the weight as I got off.

"The other option in stock is this one." He led us to a gloss-white cruiser with a batwing fairing, full-height windshield, and lots of chrome. "This is a Sport Glide. It's got one of the lower seat heights at under twenty-six inches, and it's a hundred and thirty pounds lighter than the Street Glide. Anything smaller and lighter than this wouldn't be in the cruiser class and wouldn't have the power or storage." I straddled this one, noticing the weight difference. I wouldn't have picked a white bike, but Rori said it was the best base for one of her custom paint jobs. She promised to get to it next winter when she wasn't in wolf form. I'd seen her work, and it was worth waiting on. "Same 107 engine, and already set up for North Shore riding."

"Do you have one I can test ride?"

"I have a demo 2020 model, but it has a bullet fairing and no windshield."

"I'll survive." I had to leave a credit card, and they made a copy of my license to do the test drive. Lance would ride with me, and the others slipped out to get into the Pack van. Thirty minutes later, I was convinced. "How soon can you have that one ready to go?"

"Our mechanic will have it ready by the time you sign the paperwork," he said. "We can register it in Minnesota, but you need to get a Minnesota license within 30 days of moving here."

"We'll stop by the license bureau," Lance promised. It was another thing to do now that I'd moved here. We filled out the paperwork using the address of the Pack House, and then I did some shopping for custom Harley leather. I used the discount they offered to buy a pair of boots, a set of chaps, a new helmet, and a reinforced Harley motorcycle jacket. Minnesota didn't require helmets, but I'd been to too many biker funerals to go without.

Lance was waiting for me as I pulled around from the back, and we quickly synced our Bluetooth systems so we could talk. "I love your bike, but I wish you had to wait a few weeks for it to show up," he said. "I liked having you back there."

"Only the lead dog on the sled team gets fresh air and a good view," I answered. "You have no idea how good this feels to be on my ride again." He pulled out, and I followed with the van behind us as we headed to the mall to look for clothes. "You're lucky," I told Lance ninety minutes later as he carried a half-dozen shopping bags out to the van, with Roadkill carrying the rest. "I'm not one of those shop-till-you-drop girls. I'm more like 'get in, get out, and nobody gets hurt.'"

"Yeah, well, we're hungry," Lance said. "Possum wants to go to Grandma's in the Harbor. We'll be following them."

The drive down the hills and through the city to Canal Park was pretty cool. Duluth was a medium-sized city on the west end of Lake Superior, with steep hills from the top to the water. I didn't see anything the first time through, stuck in the back of the van as I snuck into Arrowhead. "Canal Park has lots of shops and restaurants, plus the Lake Superior Marine Museum," Lance said through our helmet link.

"It's freezing," I said as we got closer.

"Yeah, if you don't like the weather in Duluth, wait a few minutes. The Lake is probably thirty-six degrees right now. One wind shift can drop the temperature forty degrees. It's why I had you dress so warm." I was glad I had my new leathers on over my flannel and hoodie.

We pulled into the lot at Grandma's, a famous saloon a block from the canal, which hosted the namesake marathon race each year through Duluth. "Monica will get our name on the list. Come on; you need to see this." He walked me through the paths to the canal, past the tugboat and the museum, until we joined the crowd on the west pier. "Check that out." A mile or two out, a big ship was heading our way. "Both oceangoing vessels called 'Salties' and Great Lakes-only ships called 'Lakers' come through here into Duluth harbor. Ore, cement, grain, it all goes in and out through this canal."

I looked at the imposing ship, then at the narrow canal. "This thing is what, seventy-five yards wide?"

"Seventy-five meters wide and five hundred and twenty meters long," Lance replied. "The ship coming in is the James R. Barker, over three hundred meters long and thirty-three meters wide. Not a lot of room for error."

"No shit." I looked up at him. "Now, are you some kind of savant, or did you have help?"

"Busted. Monica linked me with the information." He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me, keeping the breeze off as we watched the ship enter the harbor. I'd never been so close to a big vessel; Denver wasn't exactly a port city.

We got back to Grandma's in time to get our table, and we pigged out. Wings, a large tray of famous onion rings, and a cheesesteak made Grandma's style. I finished it off with a turtle brownie sundae, finally leaning back and rubbing my food belly. "That was good," I said.

Possum laughed, having watched me vacuum up twice as much food as she ate. "Are we going to have to load you and the bike in the van so you can sleep it off?"

My eyes got wide. "Nope. I'll be fine." I bought two sweatshirts, one for Maritza to grow into, on the way out. "Time for electronics!"

By the time we finished shopping, my debit card had scorch marks on it. It took three trips to get everything up to my room at Vic's house, but Maritza and I had clothes for a while. I flopped down on the bed with Lance after we finished de-tagging. "I've got so much laundry to do," I said.

"Yep." He reached out his hand for mine, and our fingers slid together. "I hate shopping, but I had fun today."

"I did too. When can we ride again?"

"Next weekend is a border run. We usually get a few dozen for those."

That didn't sound good. "Taco Bell? Yuck."

He laughed. "No, to the Canadian Border. It's about three hours riding each way, and there are waterfalls and cool things to see along the way. With stops and meals, it's an all-day run. It's cold, but the summer traffic isn't here yet."

I hadn't ridden in formation since last fall. "I'm in. Help me with laundry?"

"I'd love to." I stood up, and he peeled off my clothes and tossed them on the pile. We fell back onto the bed and started to kiss. An hour later, the first load was in.

The laundry waited until the morning.

Ch. 57

Colletta Grimes' POV
Rose Garden, White House

I stood about twenty feet from Madam President, one of the honored guests but not her Cabinet or Congressional VIPs. The President of the Senate and the House Speaker were at the lectern, addressing the nation and the world before the six PM news. The Speaker of the House was talking. "Exactly four days ago, President Laura Kettering, under Section Four of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, notified our offices that her temporary inability to perform the duties of her office no longer existed. As the Vice President and the Cabinet have not challenged this declaration in the allotted four days, Congress accepts her declaration as final."

The Senate President took over the microphone. "Welcome back, President Laura Kettering!" The crowd erupted in applause; the shock over the murder of her husband and Air Force One transcended party politics. Polls gave her an approval rating near eighty percent.

President Kettering waved to the crowd and shook the hands of the Congressional leadership before finally taking the microphone. "I would first like to thank Vice President Cartwright and his staff for stepping up when I needed them the most. You have been a true friend and patriot in our time of need." She paused until the applause died down. "The past weeks have been traumatic for me and the country as a whole. Neither of us will ever be the same, nor should we be. The White House will be a bleaker, lonelier place without my husband. I thank you all for your support, your encouragement, and your words of sympathy in my time of grief." She wiped away a tear as the cameras clicked away. "Life is fragile; it can change in a moment, yet we must go on. I took an oath to execute the Office of President and preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. I now accept the duties of the Presidency, effective immediately."

She stepped back and waved as the crowd cheered, then turned to greet the assembled dignitaries. I watched from a distance, observing the hyper-vigilant Secret Service agents doing their work. One of the working dogs in their service was a werewolf from the Adirondack Pack, and she was circling the perimeter with her werewolf handler. The crowd moved inside, but I remained as the press packed up and left. A few reporters tried to get a statement, but this event wasn't about me or my kind.

I'd spoken a few hours earlier at a ceremony honoring the teen girl whose tip led authorities to Julio Salazar. She's chosen the check rather than five bags of cash, which was a disappointment to the press. I'd kept calm as hostile reporters challenged if werewolves and werecats were inherently violent or criminal. We still had a long way to go to gain general acceptance. It reminded me how critical it was for us to keep the President's support.

The car had just picked Frank up from the FBI building, and we talked over the link as I waited for him near the White House gates with two off-duty werewolf Secret Service trainees. I gave him my observations from the day while he updated me on the status of the investigation. When he told me his suspicions, I had to agree, as much as it frightened me. "What are we going to do?"

"It depends on how far the President is willing to go, plus how much cooperation we can get from our people. We are asking a lot of them, and we would be putting them in grave danger. These people kill like some people curse."

"Reflexively and without thinking." They had resources and reach far beyond the biker gang we'd been dealing with thus far. In that, the authority and scope of the US Government had been in our favor.

"Yes. This conspiracy is so much bigger than the Sons. As good as Spider Monkey and her team is, this is a whole other level. The smart play is to walk away."

"What about Maria? If we stop, is she still in danger?"

Frank didn't answer for a bit. "We won't know for sure. The primaries involved with the black site are dead, but who knows how deep that project went? If they still want to train and breed werecat agents, Maria and Maritza are the only remaining targets in the world. It would be safest to stay defensive and let the FBI and Secret Service do the heavy lifting."

"Unless the FBI and Secret Service are compromised." His limousine stopped at the entrance, and we joined him in the back. Since he had the scrambled cellphone, we took a minute to call Arrowhead while we were in traffic. "Hi, Chase," I said when my son picked up.