Lucky Break by Chloe Neill

Tom the paper. “What trust is he talking about?”
    Tom frowned, handed the paper to Ethan. “Probably the land trust.”
    â€œWhat land trust?” Ethan asked.
    â€œFrom what I understand, Taran’s plot—the property on which the house and guesthouse sit—is held in a revocable trust in Taran’s name.”
    â€œIf Nessa and Taran are married,” I said, “why is it in Taran’s name?”
    â€œThe land has always been in the McKenzies’ names. They filed homesteading claims before the Marchands got to it. That’s one of the reasons for tension in the valley. The shifters have the land; the vampires have the money.”
    â€œCompound interest,” Ethan and I simultaneously said.
    Tom nodded. “And there’s the practical issue—Taran couldn’t have put the trust documents in Nessa’s name—not when she’d never age. It would have been too obvious she was different.”
    â€œAnd put her in danger,” Ethan said.
    Tom nodded.
    â€œSo what was Rowan afraid of?” I asked. “What was he afraid Taran was going to do?”
    â€œI believe,” Tom said, “it’s time to ask him just that.”
    ***
    In comparison to Nessa’s houses, the shifters’ home was humble. Several buildings on a small, fenced acreage, with a dozen cars parked here and there across what would have been lawn. Chickens pecked in the dirt, and weeds and vines scrambled over a chain-link fence on the edges of the property.
    Was that part of the animosity? Jealousy, that the vampires had so much and the shifters had so little? Or did their connection to the earth make the material elements of their existence irrelevant?
    Rowan walked outside, Niall and Darla behind him. Niall and Darla looked surprised—and disappointed—to see us alive.
    â€œSheriff,” Rowan said, his gaze slipping warily to us. “Gabriel. Is there a problem here?”
    Tom paused, looked at Gabriel, who nodded his permission to proceed. I guess Tom had decided his alpha had authority enough.
    â€œFirst things first—are you aware Niall and some of his friends shot at these vampires, burned down the Marchands’ compound, and attempted to burn them out? One of your people also stole some legal papers from Nessa’s house, decided they proved she’d killed her husband.”
    Rowan’s expression stayed blank but for a twitch in his jaw. His gaze found Gabriel’s. “That was not approved by me.”
    â€œWe’ll discuss that later,” Tom said. “In a calm and reasonable fashion, with the Marchands and the McKenzies at the table, we’ll discuss whether reparations are appropriate.”
    Niall opened his mouth to speak, but Rowan silenced him with a hand.
    A surprisingly reasonable approach,
Ethan silently snarked. I had to agree.
    â€œThen why you are here?”
    â€œBecause of this.” Tom walked forward, handed Rowan the paper, now enclosed in an evidence bag.
    Rowan looked at it suspiciously, but his body stiffened with each scan of his eyes across the page.
    â€œI didn’t write this.”
    Tom wasn’t buying it. “It’s got your name on it. It’s from your e-mail address.”
    Rowan offered the paper back to Tom. “Be that as it may, I didn’t write it.”
    â€œYou talked to Taran about the trust?”
    Rowan’s eyes flashed with something. “Yes.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    His jaw worked. He was clearly unhappy about the subject of their talk—or revealing it here. After a moment, with magic settling in the air like dust, he fixed his gaze on Nessa.
    â€œThey were working on their relationship. He thought things were getting better. He was going to change the trust. He wanted to put it in her name, make a gift of it to her. It was supposed to be a promise for their marriage.”
    Nessa’s lips parted with obvious shock, with