The Hale Family Crime Syndicate is one of the most well known and dangerous in the world. Stiles has been obsessed with them since he was a kid, but after his mom died and he moved away, he forgot about them.
Now he is a detective, working out of Portland on run of the mill cases. When he gets a lead on the Hale Family, he is determined to chase it down.
Derek Hale is the enforcer and heir of the Hale Family, an ancient old werewolf pack with ties to every part of society there is. He is in charge of making problems disappear and ensuring they don't come back. But as an Alpha and heir to the family, he needs a mate. One that is loyal to his pack and everything they stand for.
Stiles can never be that, but he also never expected their world to be so complicated. Especially when it's wrapped up in his feelings and his past. Even the goddamn bow ties are involved.
Bookmarked by honey_bee
18 Jan 2018
Someone tried to kill Santino in the middle of the day while he was out soaking in some sun near Fifth Avenue, which, he told his sister later, was a good sign.
“How is it a good sign?” Gianna growled into his ear.
Santino glanced around the carriage as it rumbled and jerked through the subway tunnel. He’d lost his pursuer, whoever it was, though he was now short one cup of coffee and down a nice suit. The hunter after him had come close enough to gouge a gash down part of the back of Santino’s jacket. If Santino hadn’t happened to shift quickly to the side to avoid a seeing-eye dog at the time, the knife could have ended up in his back.
“Means we’re getting close. Close enough that they’re worried.”
Gianna let out a long-suffering sigh, and not for the first time, Santino wished his sister wasn’t the Director of AISE. “That’s a pathetic excuse for logic. Besides, I thought you would have learned subtlety by now.”
Bookmarked by honey_bee
18 Jan 2018
John woke up to Daisy whining in his ear and an armful of grumpy mafioso poking him in the ribs, still half-asleep. “Your fucking dog,” Santino growled, and pulled the covers over his head. John got out of bed, yawning, and followed Daisy out of the bedroom through to Santino’s lavish private chambers. They dodged sculptures and antique furniture to the door, feet and paws sinking into plush carpeting.
Outside, one of the duty guards raised an eyebrow when Daisy shot out, scrambling to the stairs. Still yawning, John followed her out, PJs riding low on his hips as he got her to the verandah. The sun was just rising. Daisy returned, looking relieved, and they headed back at a more sedate clip, Daisy curling up on an armchair while John retreated back to the bed.
Santino cursed him in Italian when John burrowed under the sheets. “It’s ‘bout seven in the a.m.,” John said, merciless. “Rise and shine.”
- Part 2 of Omertà
“The problem,” John said, “is that he really has no concept of money.”
Beside him at the table in the diner, Marie exchanged a long look with Akram. Tall and sturdily built, with a head of tawny, curly hair, Marie Sanchez had retired years before John had, going private with some security firm, where she was presumably finally paid what she was worth. Unlike John, who was in an old shirt and jeans, and Akram, who wore a tattered jacket over slacks, Marie was fashionably dressed. Nice clothes, cute bag. Big enough to hide a pistol, of course.
“You’re the only person in the world who could possibly think that’s a problem,” Akram finally said. It had been over a decade and a half since they’d first met, a lifetime ago in Afghanistan, and the translator didn’t look like he’d aged much. Just a little more silver in his sideburns against his solemn face. “You really haven’t changed, John.”
- Part 2 of Human Nature
“I wasn’t talking about the restaurant,” Gianna said, though she glared murderously at serving staff as they tried to swoop in to re-fold John’s napkin. The staff backed off. Good survival instincts. “I was talking about John. Your new special friend.”
“What about John?”
“Where did you even meet him? Tinder? Grindr?”
“If you really must know, we met at a bar. He bought me a drink. Nice and old-fashioned.”
John had looked surprised when Santino had gone over to talk to him after, out of curiosity, and then had been even more disbelieving afterwards when Santino had invited him home. Good for the ego. One thing had led to another.
“Oh my God. That’s all it took?”
- Part 1 of Human Nature