by Vella Day
He held up his palms. “How about you two move along?” Brandon said, his voice in total control.
Blondy dragged his hand down her arm, and she jerked it away. “These two are my brothers, okay?”
He mouthed her words. “Don’t have to be so fucking uppity. A single no would have been good.” The man gave her the finger, and they both staggered off.
Yuk. Compared to those creeps, Brandon and his cousin were saints.
Brandon stepped closer. “Good thinking on your feet.”
“Thanks.” Those two drunks wouldn’t have been any match against Brandon and Sam anyway, which was probably why neither had made a move. These two didn’t appear to be hotheads, which made her feel a little better being around them.
She wanted someone to listen to her theory about Cheryl, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust them. Yes, I can. She was highly attracted to both men, which told her these two were okay. “Are you friends with Jay? Is that how you found me?”
“Jay?”
“My cousin.”
“No. Never met the guy.” Brandon glanced around. “I know you want answers, but the truth is, we don’t know where your cousin is. In fact, we were hoping you could help us find her.” His brows rose.
As if he’d stabbed a needle into her balloon of anger, her frustration deflated. “Me? I know nothing. That’s why I was asking you about her.” Mac was taken aback.
It didn’t help that it was really dark out, and the lights from the bar only lit up so much of the parking lot. Her thoughts remained rather jumbled. In fact, she wasn’t all that comfortable being exposed in this scuzzy part of town, but if she left, she might lose a chance to learn about what happened to Cheryl.
“You might know something that don’t even realize is important,” Brandon said.
“I know what kind of person Cheryl is, and that’s all.”
Brandon stepped back as if he understood she needed her space. “What was it about the Barbie Lassiter case that made you think of your cousin? Do you believe Cheryl was murdered?” He hissed out the last word.
“Jay suggested she might have been kidnapped.” The image of Cheryl being possibly drugged or assaulted had her stomach tumbling again. Acid burned deep inside her.
Sam straightened. “Your cousin suggested that Cheryl might have been kidnapped?” She nodded. “Did he give any details?”
“No. He just said Gulfside was a dangerous place, especially for women. He didn’t even want me to come down to Florida, but I had to.”
Sam placed a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “We need to tell her the truth.”
The man’s tone was filled with concern and authority. “Please tell me what you know.” Her pulse raced.
Sam looked around, but the parking lot was empty. “Like I said, I work for the sheriff’s department. The city has hidden cameras installed everywhere. One was recently placed at Seaside Drive.”
Her blood chilled. She never thought to look for them. “You saw what happened to Cheryl?” Hadn’t they said they didn’t know where she was? Why wasn’t anything making sense?
“Not quite. I’m afraid they were installed just last week. The only activity was when you showed up with a man. Was that Jay?”
“Yes.”
“I studied the tape. You started looking in each of the windows, while Jay hung back. We wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but we had some reports of other women being spotted going into the building near there but never coming out. That was why we ran the facial recognition software on both of you. Your name popped up.”
“Mine? How?”
“Because of the incident in Washington, DC, a few years back.” Sam looked contrite, as if he felt bad for having dug into her personal history.
She’d been arrested for protesting, but she’d been processed and released. “Damn. Okay, so that was how you knew who I was.” The facts tumbled into place. “Did you think I was coming back to the scene of the crime?” She had to convince them that she’d never hurt Cheryl. She loved her cousin. Once more a flood of terrible images filled her mind.
“We didn’t know what to think,” Sam said. “We did a quick background check on you, and figured since you were related to the missing woman, you might be able to shed some light on the case.”
That sounded logical. “I wish. That’s why I came here. When I learned what happened to Barbie Lassiter, I wondered if there was a connection between her and Cheryl. Barbie was found near here, so maybe someone saw her with Cheryl.” She told them how Cheryl’s GPS had led her to Seaside Drive. “My cousin had a job interview, only the secretary at Statler, Reinhart, and Brokaw gave her the wrong address, and Cheryl ended up at that warehouse instead of in downtown.”
Her eyes watered. Poor Cheryl. She was so trusting. If only she’d checked the address, she’d be safe and sound now. Sam’s lips pressed together so tightly she thought he might turn into a wolf in front of her. With one exception, her father only shifted when facing danger. The one time she’d witnessed him become unglued was when she told him how some boy had tried, but failed, to rape her. Sam looked like her dad now.
“You’re positive of the name of the firm?” Sam’s words came out even, but hard as steel.
“Yes. I called Cheryl’s mom. She read the email to me.”
“And the email said for Cheryl to have this interview by the docks?”
Finally, someone else seemed to think that was odd. “I know, right? The temporary secretary at the law office apparently gave Cheryl bad directions.”
“How do you know that?” Sam stepped forward.
“I went to the law office and spoke with one of the partners. His name was Paul Statler.” The men glanced to each other, their faces stern. “What is it?”
“How much did you tell him?” Sam’s tone implied she’d committed a crime.
She didn’t understand why he was so upset. “I just asked if Cheryl ever showed up for her interview.”
Sam chewed on his lip, and then dragged a hand down his chin. If the light had been better, she would have been able to tell for sure that his beard was growing.
“Did you say you suspected she might be missing?”
“Kind of. Why?”
“Because Paul Statler now runs the Colter organization.”
Bile raced up her throat. “Oh, my God. He’s the one who has Cheryl?”
“We don’t believe so.”
Sam looked at Brandon. He held the gaze so long she figured they must be communicating. Brandon spoke up. “There’s a lot we need to tell you, but this isn’t the right place. It’s too public. How about coming back to our house, and we’ll tell you more? I think we can help each other figure this out.”
Mac totally got that this information was sensitive in nature, especially if Colters were involved, but she might be too stupid to live if she went to their house. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”
Brandon looked crestfallen. “You don’t trust us?”
He had to be kidding. “Why should I? It’s one thing to chat and flirt in a bar, but it’s another to go home with someone I’ve just met.” She might be able to shoot one of them, but not both if they attacked, though she sensed they wouldn’t harm her.
Brandon blew out a breath. “I’m not asking you to come back to our place so we can have sex, though I’d be up for that if you are.” Sam punched him in the arm, and she almost smiled.
He shook his head. “This is about finding Cheryl. Will you come?”
She was torn. Sam was a deputy; one of the good guys. To be sure, she pulled out her phone and what she thought was fear streamed across his face.
“Who are you calling?” Sam asked, his stance wide and his fists clenched.
“Does it matter?” She swallowed her fear.
He hesitated then glanced at Brandon who slightly nodded. “No.” Damn telepathy.
“I’m calling the sheriff’s department to confirm you are who you say you are. What’s your last n
ame?”
“That’s smart. Call them. My last name is Crenshaw.”
She dialed information and was then connected to the sheriff’s department. When she asked if a deputy by the name of Sam Crenshaw worked there, they told her he did. Her PI cohorts had taught her not to believe everything. “Can you describe him?”
“Ma’am? I don’t understand.”
“I’m with a man claiming to be Sam Crenshaw right now, and I want to know if he’s the one who works at your office.”
The female dispatcher laughed. “Well, honey, if he’s about six foot three, has more muscles than a man deserves, and is hot as sin, he’s your man.”
That about summed him up. “Thank you.” She looked up at Sam. “Seems you have an admirer in dispatch.”
His face colored. “I bet that was Nadeen. She’s older than my momma and has been married so many times, even she’s lost count.”
Mac bet Nadeen was quite the character. Two more cars pulled into the lot, the headlights casting creepy shadows everywhere. Even with Brandon’s jacket over her shoulders, she was getting chilly.
She made her decision. “How about I follow you to your place?”
Brandon nodded. “I’ll ride with you if you don’t mind. Sam, here, can drive a bit too fast. Don’t want you to get lost.”
That meant she couldn’t change her mind. Not that she would. “Okay, but remember I have my gun.”
This time he smiled. She prayed she was doing the right thing, but Mac had to put Cheryl’s well being first.
During the ride, Brandon attempted small talk, but she was too distracted to provide a charming commentary. She told him she was an only child and that her dad had been killed three years ago. There really wasn’t more to her life than that.
“He was murdered?” Pain laced Brandon’s tone.
“Yes. Dad was all about helping others. It’s ironic, really. A teenage girl had gone missing. Tammy’s dad worked with mine, and the family was totally torn up. For days, Dad helped with the search. He’d go out late at night after the others had gone to bed because his senses were sharper then.” She didn’t have to tell Brandon about how a werewolf’s senses were more acute. “Anyway, after a long investigation, Dad figured out who’d taken her. When he went to confront the man, Dad was attacked. The coroner said it looked like a whole pack of wolves got him.” She cleared her throat. Mac hadn’t told that story to anyone in a long time, as the memory was still painful.
“I’m sorry.” Brandon reached out and squeezed her thigh.
Normally, she would have jerked away, but being near him had this odd effect on her, one she wasn’t sure how to deal with.
Less than ten minutes later, after they’d driven through town, they entered a nice neighborhood where the trees reached across the street and touched. The homes were well lit, which added a nice cozy glow to the neighborhood. When no warning chills raced up her spine, she relaxed a bit.
A minute later, Sam drove behind a nice one-story Craftsmen style home, and she followed. A four-piece wicker furniture set sat on the porch, along with three hanging baskets filled with geraniums. Given the age of his truck, she hadn’t expected such a nice home.
“Is this Sam’s house or yours?” She hadn’t thought about whose it would be.
“We both live here. We work a lot, so it makes sense to share.”
She missed having a roommate, but she wasn’t ready to move back in with Mom. That had spelled disaster after she returned home from college.
Sam pulled into a detached garage, jumped out, and trotted over. Before he reached her, Brandon was at her door. It was almost as if they were trying to beat each other. Brandon won. He opened her door and extended his hand to help her out.
She waved it away. “I’m good. I’m twenty-nine, not ninety-nine,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster. The last thing she wanted was to piss them off.
“I like being a gentleman, that’s all,” Brandon said.
Now she felt bad, but she wasn’t ready to tell him she’d pulled away because his touch played havoc with her mind and body. Part of her wanted to jump his bones to satisfy her burgeoning urges, but her common sense told her that it was her fragile emotional state that was messing with her mind. Mac was so desperate to find Cheryl, that she wasn’t her usual logical self.
Brandon and Sam escorted her inside. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Guns on the walls? Clothes strewn all over the place? Other than two half full beer bottles on the counter, the place was neat, clean, and airy. “Nice.”
“Thanks. Can I get you a beer?” Brandon asked.
“Sure.” She could handle her liquor better than most, though the drink was more to calm her nerves than to get him to talk. Her dad said that werewolves held their liquor well. It was a result of their different metabolism.
“I’ll get it,” Sam offered. He grabbed the old beer bottles and disappeared into the kitchen.
Without being invited, she sat at the dining room table. She didn’t want to be on the sofa and give either of them a chance to press up against her. Neither her nerves nor her libido could handle that.
Sam placed a beer in front of her and then sat across from her. Brandon joined them. She liked the coziness of this, but she had to remain focused. She was here for Cheryl and only Cheryl.
Mac lifted her chin. “Tell me what you know about my cousin.”
Brandon smiled. “That’s not how it works, darlin’. You tell me what you know first.”
Typical man. So much for trust, though to be honest, all they knew about her was that she’d been arrested for protesting. That probably didn’t instill a lot of confidence in them. “Fine. My cousin is my mother’s niece. Cheryl has no shifter blood in her, so I didn’t think the Colters had a hand in her disappearance. From what you’ve told me, I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You know everything I do. Now it’s your turn.”
Chapter Eight
Sam rotated his beer on the table, like she often did. He leaned back and looked deep into her eyes. From the way he was tapping his glass, he was stalling. “Here’s what we know. An eyewitness spoke with Cheryl. Her name is Elena Sanchez. She told us that Cheryl told her that when she arrived at the office on Seaside Drive, a brunette stabbed her in the arm with a needle. When she woke up, she was in a cage next to Elena.” Sam’s lip actually curled, as if he was experiencing the same horror she was. “I’m sorry.”
The information churned her stomach. A second later, his words sunk in. “You don’t believe in breaking bad news slowly, do you?”
“I didn’t know how to soften the blow.”
She’d wanted to truth, and she got it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the news she’d hoped for.
Brandon clasped her shoulder. “You look pale. Why don’t you come sit in the living room? The seats are more comfortable. It could be a long night.”
“Okay.” Brandon led her over to the sofa and sat next to her. She twisted toward him, her thoughts scattered. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner about this eye witness? I thought you said you didn’t know where she was.” Her words rushed out too fast.
“Easy there. We don’t know where Cheryl is now. If we did, we’d have rescued her already,” Brandon said.
Sam moved to the chair across from them. “Gulfside is a port city. As such, ships go in and out of here all the time. As much as the customs officials try to check every crate, sometimes drugs are smuggled in, and sometimes people are brought in and others taken out.”
If he was trying to scare her, he was succeeding. “Why don’t you stop them?”
“We’re trying. In fact, we recently caught the two who were responsible for bringing women into the country and then selling them.”
Mac was both outraged and excited at the same time. “So you know who sold Cheryl?” If Mac had the information, she might be able to trace the sale and find out who’d purchased her. It gave her hope that her cousin was still alive.
&nb
sp; “We think we do. The man’s name was John Hood. It was Elena’s disappearance that set us on the road to finding these men. When we learned about Elena never having arrived at her destination in Costa Rica, we searched for her. Eventually, we found out that she’d been drugged and held captive. She was being prepped for an auction where women were sold. In order to rescue her, we sent in an undercover team to pose as potential buyers. At the time, we were only aware of that one woman. These men, Clay and Dirk, purchased Elena, and then set her free.”
As horrifying as this sounded, at least they were getting somewhere. “You said this Elena woman spoke with Cheryl?”
“Yes.”
Before Mac could ask about her cousin’s condition, Brandon raised a finger. “We need to back up here. Elena worked for a man named Harvey Couch who ran what appeared to be a legitimate company that paired nannies with American families. The problem was that he’d bring over more women than there were jobs.”
She could fill in the blanks. “Those not employed were sold to this John Hood.”
“Precisely.”
She felt sick and sipped her beer. “What else?”
Brandon slipped the glass from her fingers, set it down, and then held her hands. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest?”
No. “Yes. I need to.”
He nodded. “Elena had been held captive for two or three weeks before two other girls were brought into this warehouse by the docks.”
Two? “One was Cheryl, right?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach sickened. “Was she okay? Had they…” She couldn’t even say the word raped.
Brandon squeezed her hands. “Assaulted? No. Cheryl was as fine as she could be under the circumstances. She been drugged but that was all. Apparently, she wasn’t there long before some men came and escorted the girls someplace else. Or rather Elena and Cheryl were led elsewhere. The other girl, Barbie Lassiter, had mouthed off to the guard, and was never seen from again.”
“Until they found her body…” Mac’s words trailed off.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Tears streamed down her face. As much as she suspected something bad happened to Cheryl, she hadn’t really pictured it being this horrible. “Do you think I could speak with Elena?”