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.