Wild About You

Howard suspected, Rhett wielded a huge amount of political power. One Alaskan senator and several congressmen were actually werewolves who had sworn allegiance to the Bleddyn family. Rhett also controlled numerous Lycan politicians at the state and local levels.

Rhett’s financial records revealed a tangled web of businesses and organizations from all over the world. His net worth was easily over two hundred million, with bank accounts not just in Alaska but in Canada, New York, Switzerland, Hong Kong, Australia, and Singapore, as well. The tangled design appeared purposeful, so that money could be shifted around, even hidden, and it would be difficult for Rhett’s business partners and shareholders to know what he was up to.

No doubt, if Howard had broken into one of Rhett’s numerous business offices in Alaska, the records for that business would appear clean. But he’d hacked into Rhett’s personal computer, hoping it would pay off. And it did. After an hour of digging around, he discovered Rhett’s dirty little secret.

Rhett had a hidden bank account in the Cayman Islands under the name of a bogus business. And there, he had been paying himself a salary of five million a year. The account now had fifty million in it, so he’d been embezzling from his other businesses for ten years.

Fifty million. Howard smiled. If he spent some money from the secret account, what could Rhett do? A police investigation would reveal the company as bogus, and he’d be in big trouble. Hoisted by his own petard.

“Thanks for the play money, Rhett.”

Howard compiled a list of all candidates who were running against Rhett’s political puppets, and then, using an untraceable Internet card, he made hefty donations to their campaigns. He chuckled, imagining how Rhett’s puppets would react when they discovered their master was suddenly supporting their opponents.

His friend Harry had been investigating Rhett’s activities, and he’d learned that the bastard had been harassing small towns that were in debt, trying to buy them out so he could turn them into exclusive werewolf communities. The mortals would be given a cruel choice: leave their land or be forced to become werewolves. Howard donated ten million to the towns so they could fight back.

“What else?” he murmured to himself as he tapped his fingers on the desk. A vision of the polar bear rug drifted into his mind and he smiled.

“That’s going to be one expensive rug, Rhett.” He donated five million dollars to a polar bear conservation program.

When he was done, he’d spent over half the money in the secret account. Howard sat back, staring at the computer screen. He needed to muddy the water, make it difficult to trace his movements.

“How about a shell game, Rhett?” For the next thirty minutes, he transferred chunks of money from one account to another, from one country to another. Before it had been a tangled web, but now it was a multiple train wreck. It would take Rhett months to figure out what the hell had happened.

To finish up, Howard e-mailed some incriminating evidence to Harry so the reporter could leak the news to the Northern Lights Sound Bites over the next few days. Harry was a talented enough journalist that he could write for a more prestigious paper, but he enjoyed writing for a tabloid, where he had the freedom to poke fun at Rhett and his minions without fear of being sued or reported for violation of journalistic ethics. No one questioned his claim that werewolves were real, not when his articles were in the same paper with stories about Bigfoot and alien abductions.

Smiling to himself, Howard sauntered into the family room. His grandfather, Walter, was resting in his worn- out recliner, half asleep but with the remote control still clutched in his hand, while Phil sprawled on the nearby couch. An ice chest filled with bottles of beer rested on the floor beside them.

Phil sat up. “Are you done?”

Howard nodded. “I just spent thirty-five million dollars.”

“What?” Walter blinked awake and yanked his recliner into a sitting position. “Where the hell did you get that much money?”

“It was a gift from Rhett Bleddyn.”

Walter snorted and turned off the television. “The only gift he’d give you is a bullet between the eyes.”

Howard’s smile widened. “The feeling is mutual.”

“You spent thirty-five million of Rhett’s money?” Phil asked.

Howard nodded and explained the details.

Phil laughed. “I’d like to see how his political puppets react. It’s going to be a bloody dog fight.”

Walter’s mouth twitched, but he aimed a glare at Howard. “You shouldn’t be stealing, boy. I taught you better than that.”

Boy? Howard groaned inwardly. His grandfather and mom acted like he was still eighteen and had been away only twenty days instead of twenty years. But since a were-bear could easily live for five hundred years, twenty years might not seem that long to his elders. “I only used the money that Rhett had stolen. He started it. Besides, I want to make him suffer.”

Walter nodded with a resigned look. “I can’t blame you for that. The bastard deserves to suffer.”

Phil leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So Rhett killed your girlfriend?”

“It was a long time ago,” Howard replied quickly to stop Phil’s fishing for more information. “Hand me one of those beers. We should be celebrating. Two of Rhett’s houses have been destroyed, and now we’ve done serious damage to his finances and political power.”

“Congratulations.” Phil passed him a cold bottle. “What’s your next move?”

Howard twisted off the top. “Rhett’s planning to run for governor, so we’ll ruin his reputation.” He took a sip. “It won’t be that hard, actually. We’ll just tell the truth about his shady financial deals. I e-mailed the proof to Harry, so he can leak it anonymously to the newspaper.”

With a sigh, Walter opened another bottle of beer. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

“We’re covering our tracks,” Howard assured him. “Rhett won’t be able to prove that we’ve done anything.”

“He doesn’t need proof, son. His family has always been ruthless. They hurt innocent people all the time.”

Howard’s heart stilled in his chest for a few seconds. Had he made an error in his strategy? He’d assumed Rhett would react logically, searching for proof before he retaliated. But what if he flew into a rage and attacked the were-bear community? “Rhett has so many enemies. I thought you would be safe as long as he had no proof.”

Walter regarded him sadly. “All he has to do is think about who hates him the most, and he’ll know it was you.”

Howard closed his eyes briefly. Damn. He’d let his hunger for revenge consume him to the point that he’d blindly assumed he could protect his people.

“You think Rhett will attack these islands?” Phil asked.

“It’s possible.” Howard slumped into the easy chair next to his grandfather. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”

Walter shrugged. “I thought about stopping you, but I’m tired of catering to those bastards.” He drank some beer. “What the hell, Rhett can come here if he wants. I’ve got a shotgun with his name on it.”

Howard frowned. “They outnumber us.”

“Let them try something,” Walter growled. “We’re on a damned island. If they try to land a boat here, we’ll blast them out of the water.”

Howard nodded. “You’re in a good defensive position. Post guards around the island, and make sure no one lands without your approval.” He groaned, thinking about all the innocent were-bears in the community. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

Walter grunted and drank more beer. “We should have done this twenty years ago when Rhett’s father threatened to annihilate us.”

“What exactly happened twenty years ago?” Phil asked.

“Nothing,” Howard said quickly.

“Nothing? We thought you’d killed Rhett.” Walter turned to Phil. “The only way I could stop Rhett’s father from attacking us was to banish my own grandson.” He shook his head, frowning. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“You did the right thing.” Howard patted his grandfather’s arm. “You had the whole community here to protect. You couldn’t put them at risk because of something I had done.”

“Rhett deserved to die,” Walter grumbled. “When I think about what he did to that poor girl—”