by Olivia Arran
“Luis was the last one taken.”
“And he’s the reason you were sent here?” I’d thought it had been because of my note, but from what he’d just told me—
“One of the reasons. It had already been decided when your message reached us.”
I sat back in my chair, my mind racing to process everything he’d just revealed. “So, this team you’re a part of…”
“Freelance Undercover Resolutions, or F.U.R,” he supplied.
“…You do this kind of work all the time?”
“Personal protection, search and rescue, infiltrations, negotiations, and disposal.”
Disposal. If that meant what I thought it did… I shivered, despite the warmth of the cafe.
“How come? I mean, you didn’t just answer an ad in the paper for a job like this.”
His answering grin chased away the lingering cold. “I was recruited by Cole. He likes to think he leads the team, but really, it’s Macey and Jason who have the last say.”
At my questioning look, he elaborated, telling me all about the mysterious-sounding Coyote and his wolf shifter mate.
“So, these guys, they’re like your pack?”
“Exactly. They live in the frat house with me.” His tone was deadpan, reminding me of what I’d wrongly assumed before.
The grin died on my lips, but I pasted it back on. No wonder he wanted to go home. It sounded like he had the perfect life back there. My heart sank a little bit more. I fiddled with my now-empty cup, tracing the outline of a painted flower with a finger.
“Grace, are you okay?”
There was so much concern in his voice that I found myself blinking back a surge of tears that threatened to fall. “I’m fine. Your note says you have a suspect?” I put as much grit and backbone into my voice as I could. This wasn’t the time or the place to fall apart. Elle needed me to stay strong, especially since we had a lead.
“Tell me your story first. How did you get involved in this? How do you know Astrid?”
“My best friend, Elle, is one of the missing people.” Even just saying it out loud brought a lump to my throat. The world blurred. Dammit!
A warm hand covered mine, squeezing. “We’ll find her, I promise.”
Sucking in several deep breaths, I shoved my pain back. There was no place for it here now. “I know. She’d come over to visit me. We’ve been friends since childhood, grew up together. When I moved here after…” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to carry on, “…we talked on the phone, wrote letters, the usual stuff. She’d only been here a couple of days when she went missing.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“I did—”
“Someone close to you. Like your aunt or uncle.”
I knew what he was getting at, and truth be told, I didn’t know. “I wanted to. I thought about it, but when I suspected it was a shifter taking the people, I just…didn’t.” My voice trailed off, revealing my uncertainty.
“You didn’t know who to trust. Did you suspect your family?”
“No! Never! But I did think it could be one of their friends, and what if they took it to the wrong person? They could have gotten hurt, and that would have been my fault!”
“Easy, Grace. No one is getting hurt.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You can leave after this is all finished.” The words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop them. Way to go, Grace! Acting like a petulant child is such an attractive quality!
“When this is over, you and I are going to be having a little talk,” he growled, his eyes fixing on me.
I bristled at his words while trying to ignore the small thrill of excitement his command evoked.
He squeezed my hand again. “You did the right thing…”
And there you go, I was nearly purring like a cat, almost glowing from his praise.
“…But you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”
My jaw dropped, my mouth gaping. “But...but I didn’t!”
He leaned forward, his eyes caressing my mouth with a look that was pure heat.
I snapped my lips closed.
“Are you telling me you haven’t been investigating this on your own?” He raised a hand, halting my reply. “I know you were at the club last night with Jeremy. Don’t try and tell me you like his company now.”
“How do you know—?”
“Tamara.”
“I should have known,” I grumbled, picking up a napkin and running it through my fingers. “Did she tell you how he tried to cop a feel and I put him on his ass?”
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me.”
I glanced up. Either he wasn’t the kind of guy that got jealous, or he felt like he didn’t have anything to be jealous about. And there I went, confusing myself by trying to figure out what he was thinking and feeling…again.
“How did Astrid get involved?”
I tried to catch up with the sudden about turn in topic. “I met Astrid about six months ago, just found myself walking past her shop, and the next thing I knew I was inside. She said that I’d found her because I’d need her soon, that she’d heard it on the wind.”
I laughed at Vin’s skeptical expression.
“She told me that if I ever needed help, to come and see her.” As his skeptical expression deepened, so did my laughter. “She’s a fixer; she trades in secrets.”
“But why did you trust her with this?”
“Do you know what she is?”
From his flinch, I could tell I’d hit a nerve. Or made a dent in his ego.
“Don’t worry... nobody can guess. She hides herself well. She’s a dragon shifter.”
He let out a low whistle, his eyes widening in what looked like surprise. “A dragon shifter? Damn, I never saw that one coming.”
“So now you know. Astrid can be trusted because she’s got enough secrets of her own to keep. She also doesn’t like it when shifters abuse their power.”
“Like abducting their own kind?” He didn’t press me about Astrid’s secrets, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t even sure of the details myself, but something had her hiding in the depths of London, and it certainly wasn’t the weather.
I spread my hands on the table. “So there you go, that’s everything I know. Now, who’s your suspect?” At the dark look on his face, I braced myself.
“Listen, Grace, I might be wrong. I need to speak—”
Foreboding gripped me. “Just tell me,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
“Your uncle.”
The ground moved beneath me, as everything I’d thought I’d known shifted. “My uncle?” I echoed.
“The facts point to him—”
“You’re wrong.”
“Grace—”
I jumped up, sending my chair crashing to the floor. “You’ve got to be!”
The low hum of the cafe fell silent, everyone riveted by my outburst.
Vin stood, regarding me with a wary expression. “Like I said, I might be wrong.” He reached for my arm, and before I knew it, I was crushed against his broad chest, his hands stroking a firm path down my back. “Darling, I hope to God I’m wrong.”
“But you don’t think you are?”
Silence met my timid question. I leaned into him, trying to steal some of his warmth and strength for my own. “Why do they hate you?”
He sighed, his breath tickling my neck. But he didn’t ask who. He didn’t have to. “That’s a long story, and one best saved for another day.”
I’d thought we were done with the avoidance issue, but clearly we weren’t.
“What? You’ll explain it to me by letter once you’re halfway over the Atlantic Ocean?”
“I’m hoping I won’t have to.” His soft reply was nearly lost in my hair.
Hoping he wouldn’t have to what? Explain himself? Or he’d be telling me in person?
I leaned back to get a better read on his face when his lips came crashing down on mine, sweeping away
all questions until I was a puddle of lust.
The sudden round of applause had us breaking apart, heat staining my cheeks. Ducking my head, I snuck a glance at his face.
Our eyes met.
Grabbing my hand, he threw some money on the table and tugged me outside.
Bracing myself against a wall, I gave myself up to hysterical giggles, until I could barely breathe and tears were running down my face. Arms came down around me, caging me in. I looked up into his dark gaze, taking in the wealth of emotions playing over his face. Open. Honest. There for everyone to see. My hand drifted up until my fingers grazed his cheek, tracing a path over his rough stubble. “You’re not what I expected…”
“Same here,” he murmured. “You’re even better than my dreams.”
It was at that point I realized I’d surrendered. I’d do anything to stay in this man’s arms, to have him continue looking at me the way he was now. Our lips were inches away, my eyes flickering back and forth with embarrassing frequency. “So, what now?” Images of him ravishing me while muttering declarations of undying love danced in front of my eyes.
“I have to speak to your uncle.”
My fantasy shattered with a loud pop. “Um, yes, that sounds—”
His hand under my chin forced my eyes back up. “And then we’ll talk. But know this: I’m not ever letting you go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vin
Every time I’d suggested that she stay put, she’d stuck her chin out and given me that glare, the one I was swiftly coming to recognize as her don’t-mess-with-me-if-you-value-your-balls look.
Of course, I’d scowled at her, but inside I was bursting with pride. My true mate was not only kick-ass at Aikido, she had the attitude to match. And she was also shy and honorable and so trusting that it drove me into a state of panic at the thought of her getting hurt.
Which was why I was scowling at her. I turned to her, blocking her way to the front door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s my uncle that you’re going to question. I need to hear what he says.” She reached around me and pushed the door open.
“Just promise me you won’t interfere, and that you’ll let me do my job.”
“Of course I will,” she replied with a huff.
“I’m going to have to be tough on him. It won’t be pretty,” I warned her, still blocking her path.
Her finger poked me square in the chest. “Good. Then when he’s cleared you’ll know it’s for real.”
She shoved past me, and this time I let her. Shit. This wasn’t going to go well at all… “His office?” I whispered, turning in the direction she pointed.
I didn’t knock, not wanting to give Sidney time to prepare.
“What are you doing here?” He was seated behind his desk, a glass of what looked like brandy in his hand. Next to him on the desk sat a pile of papers and a slick-looking computer.
I sniffed the air. Definitely brandy, and a good one from the smell of it. Grace followed me into the room, closing the door with a soft click.
“Grace? Did you bring him here?” Sidney had turned a funny shade of red, his brow furrowing as he glanced between us. “If you’re thinking about asking for my permission to mate with my niece, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“I’m not.”
His bluster silenced, I stalked across the room, taking in the fine furnishings and personal knickknacks. There was a photograph of himself and Sid, his son, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders as they stared proudly into the camera. Another of Sid on his own, this time with a tennis racket in hand and dressed in court whites. And then another, the frames lining the walls, all paying silent homage to his dead son.
I shoved back the surge of guilt, focusing on the task at hand. What was really important.
Recovering, Sidney leaned back in his chair, fixing me with a shrewd gaze. “If you’re not here about that, then you must be here to beg forgiveness. Well, let me tell you—that will never happen.”
“I know that—”
“So get out of my house.”
“Uncle!” Grace stepped forward, confusion plain on her face.
Sidney glanced at her. “Stay out of this, Grace.”
“But—”
“This man is a killer. Worse...he’s a worthless, lying coward. He’s the one responsible for my son’s death.”
“He can’t be!”
Grace’s shocked words hit me in the gut, shame crawling through me and icing my veins. The memories I’d long since buried surged forward: the last night I’d seen Sid, the happy look on his face as he’d told me his plans. A gifted musician, he’d been accepted into the Royal Academy of Music. His lifelong dream had been about to come true. All he had to do was break it to his Father he wasn’t going into the family business. “I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t meant to happen—”
“Vin?” This time Grace’s shock was directed at me.
I turned so I didn’t have to face her. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I was so sure was in her eyes. “We were celebrating him getting into the Royal Academy of Music, just a few drinks at the club, nothing out of the ordinary—”
“Then how come my son didn’t come home, but you did?”
I hung my head. Nothing I could say would make it okay.
“What happened, Vin?” Grace’s quiet voice broke through the silence.
I opened my mouth to tell her the truth, but Sidney beat me to it. “He drugged him, then left him to die.”
Wait! What?
“What? That can’t be right.” Grace voiced my silent questions.
“He did. Your cousin died from an overdose alone in the streets.”
I swung around, my face incredulous. “He died in a fight.” I should know…
Sidney jumped to his feet with a snarl. “He died because you pumped him full of T-Racks and then punched him in the chest!”
“T-Racks?” I’d heard of it, of course I had—a drug blend of human cocaine and heroin with a little extra boatload of amphetamines thrown in for the shifter metabolism. From what I’d heard, and witnessed, shifters still burned through the drug within half an hour of taking it. And anyway… “I’ve never heard of a shifter dying from taking T-Racks.”
“They do if you give them enough and then punch them in the heart.”
There was something he wasn’t telling me. His eyes slid away from mine.
“Did Sid have something else wrong with him?” I demanded.
“You killed him, you son of a bitch, and you’ve got to live with that,” Sidney spat out, his shoulders coiled with barely restrained tension, his hands twitching at his sides, curling and then uncurling.
“Uncle, is he right? Did Sid have something wrong with him?”
Grace’s voice jolted me. I’d been so focused and her so quiet I’d almost forgotten she was there. Witnessing this.
“It doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have given him the drugs.”
“Could he have taken them himself?”
“He wouldn’t have.” Both Sidney and I answered Grace as one. No way on this earth would Sid have dabbled in drugs. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.
“So, we’re in agreement about something,” I muttered while trying to figure out what the hell had gone on.
I remembered drinking with Sid, downing a couple of beers chased by tequila. A little heavier than usual, but we’d been celebrating, having a good time. We’d left the club and I’d noticed Sid’s mood had soured. He’d seemed angry and frustrated, when he was usually a good-natured drunk, all smiles and loud singing and hugging everyone. Halfway home, he’d turned on me, screaming in my face and shoving me. Then he’d swung his fist, missing by a mile. I’d grabbed him, trying to drag him home. He’d gone wild, kicking and punching and snarling, half shifting in the street, his claws slashing and stabbing. I’d backed away, shocked. I remembered thinking, What is he doing shifting in front of the humans? Claws had locked around my
throat, digging in. So, I’d punched him in the stomach, then the chest, just trying to get him off me.
He’d fallen to the ground, and his snarling and growling silenced.
He passed out, I’d thought. Then I’d nudged him with my foot. It had taken me a full minute to notice he wasn’t breathing, that I couldn’t hear his heartbeat.
I’d thought he’d died of a heart attack, or something similar, but I hadn’t hung around for the autopsy. I’d hit him and he’d died. That was all I’d needed to know. I’d killed my best friend. A man one hundred times better than I could ever be.
But I hadn’t given him drugs.
Vertigo hit me, leaving me swaying on my feet, the sudden lightness of finding out I hadn’t killed my friend too much to take in.
“Are you okay?” A hand pressed on my arm, offering support.
I blinked at Grace, the room swimming with colors, her beautiful face blurring in front of my eyes. “I didn’t kill him,” I whispered.
“Of course you didn’t,” she murmured, reaching up and stroking her hand down my cheek.
I nuzzled the palm of her hand, breathing in her sweet scent, using her to center myself.
“You drugged him. Nothing you can say will make me believe otherwise.”
Pressing a kiss into her palm, I drew it down to my side, linking our fingers together. “I didn’t drug him,” I stated, my gaze clashing with his. “Why would I have? I loved him like a brother. Someone else must have, at the club—” I broke off, the events of the evening cycling through my head on a loop. I’d gone to the restroom just before leaving. “It had to have been right at the end of the night, when he was on his own.”
“My son was a powerful shifter. There’s no way a stranger could have gotten close enough to spike his drink.”
Grace’s hand slipped from mine as she darted across the room. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as she rifled through first her coat pockets, and then her purse. “I know it’s in here somewhere…she said I’d know when I heard the question…”
I wasn’t the only one watching her with open-mouthed confusion. Sidney had started toward her when she spun around with a triumphant smile. In her hand she wafted what looked like a photograph.