Max returned to the apartment later that day. He strode over to the refrigerator and began readying himself something to eat. He'd left directly after getting the information from Jared and Colin without eating. People like him didn't have much of a palate. Most things tasted like garbage. He stuck to mostly red meat, with the occasional veggie, though that was rare. He couldn't have dairy; made him sick.

He cooked a slab of meat on top of the cook stove while thinking over everything they'd told him.

The guy they wanted was named Joseph Smith. This was his alias after he'd joined the pack, his real name was Jonathan Harper. He joined their pack almost ten years ago and had become a Captain in that time, so he wasn't a small fry. He at least could put up a fight if it came down to it. Turns out, he knew one of the Frontlinesmen in Jackson's territory from before he'd joined up with Mathew's pack and had used that connection to flee. Jackson refused to answer any attempts at diplomacy by Mathew, their Alpha, after Joe, or John, fled to his territory. They didn't have any information about Joe's connection, only that he had one and he was most likely a Frontlinesmen.

Max knew that if the information Joe was providing Jackson's pack was already given, then Joe would already be dead. Though, when he gave the information didn't matter to Max, he was just given the task of retrieving the man within a week. Even if that man was already a corpse.

Joe was probably not staying in the Pack's main compound. He was, after all, an outsider. Jackson didn't trust outsiders. He rarely allowed new members to enter his pack and when he did, they went through an extensive screening process. Most packs would keep new recruits in a probationary position for around five years. Jackson did it for ten. And he hated outsiders entering his territory. The penalty for entering without his explicit consent was death. Always. He never hired Jackals, preferring to rely on his own strength to further his agenda, even if that meant falling behind other nearby packs.

There was a reason for this; Jackson's pack was one of the most loyal and secretive. They were smaller than other packs in the area, but that didn't mean they were any weaker. They were probably pretty middle of the road in terms of strength, which was impressive, considering their numbers. The area they controlled wasn't the largest, but it couldn't be considered small either.

Max would have to find a way to narrow down the possibilities of where Joe was hiding out before he could act. To do that he'd need someone that wasn't a werewolf to go in and check things out.

Max removed his food from the heat, then grabbed a bottle of water and made his way to the living room. He sat down to eat in silence. He pulled the cash and photo from his pocket. He tossed the envelope onto the table and stared down at the photograph.

There were three men in it, though two were blacked out. The only one that wasn't was Joe. He had dark hair and dark eyes. He was smiling; it caused two prominent smile lines to appear on either side of his mouth. His skin was golden from the sun; sun kissed seemed an appropriate description.

On the back, the man's height and weight were scribbled, along with a detailed description. The person that wrote it must have known Joe pretty well. The scrawling on the back of the photo seemed angry. They probably felt betrayed by Joe. Max might have felt the same if he were in their shoes. The guy tried not only to break ties with his pack, but to hurt them too. They wouldn't have been seeking out help from a Jackal if he was a run of the mill rouge. Even if he was a Captain, they still wouldn't have sent someone like Max after him. They might have been angry, but they would have dealt with it internally.

Max shoved the picture back into his pocket as he heard Amanda at the front door. He grabbed the envelope, set aside three hundred from it, then shoved it into his back pocket. He went back to eating his meal. Amanda walked in, threw him a glance, then proceeded toward the kitchen. She was in her work uniform. A knee length pink dress with grey apron and dark panty hose with black shoes. She worked as a waitress in a roadside diner off the interstate. It was a fair distance away, but she couldn't afford the rent of any places closer to work. She didn't seem to mind the commute to and from work, though.

As he heard her walk back into her room and shut the door, Max glanced over. She'd been giving him the silent treatment for the last few days. She'd done it before, but she usually gave it up after a day and was back to her bouncing and eager self after that. Max turned back to his meal and took a swig from his water bottle. She probably wanted more from him. More affection. More information. More everything. Max wasn't going to give it to her. For both of their sakes.