The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  Exhaling, I dashed out, passing in front of Jake’s place. When I reached my door, I pulled on the handle, but of course, it was locked. Cursing, I started heading back toward Jake’s but froze when I realized someone was watching me from across the street.

  For a moment, I acted as if not moving would make me invisible. Then I swallowed and glanced toward the coffee shop. Willow McNeel, Cup ‘o Java’s owner was staring, her jaw hanging open. I grinned and almost wiggled my fingers in greeting, except my hands were otherwise occupied. She gave no sign of acknowledgment and continued to stare in astonishment.

  This is it. This is how I lose my agency.

  “Sidewalk,” I said under my breath, “open up and swallow me, please.”

  The sidewalk didn’t oblige, so I tore my mortified gaze from Willow, and walking in a dignified fashion, I reached Jake’s door. I said a little prayer under my breath. Almost every time I’d come here, his door had been open. It would be open this time, too. I reached for the handle, twisted it and pulled.

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” I cursed as tears filled my eyes.

  What now? What NOW?!

  “Psst, psst.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Willow hooked a finger and moved it in a come-here motion. Well, she had already seen all my attributes from afar. Time for her to see them up close. After checking for traffic, I ran across the street, my bare feet slapping the blacktop.

  Dexterously, Willow slipped a key in the lock, opened the coffee shop’s door, and stood out of the way as I ran inside and didn’t stop until I reached the bathroom and locked myself inside, shivering from the cold. The mirror over the sink showed me a bleary-eyed woman with a tumbleweed of pink-tipped hair and grease-stained perky breasts.

  What the hell did I get into?!

  I reeked of burnt motor oil. Grimacing, I ran my fingers over the stuff, then proceeded to attack myself with soap and paper towels until my skin was clean and bright red from scrubbing.

  A few moments later, a knock came at the door. “Are you all right, honey?”

  “Um, yes?” I stuffed the black-smeared towels as far as they would go into the garbage can. I’d almost used the entire roll.

  “I have something for you to wear,” Willow said. “Also, you can borrow my cell phone to call Rosalina or whoever you need.”

  Swallowing my pride, which went down my throat like an oversized grapefruit, I opened the door a crack. Willow gave me a gentle smile and passed me her phone along with what looked like one of the green aprons her staff wore.

  “There are two aprons,” Willow said. “I figured you could wear one over the front and one over the back.”

  “Thank you.”

  My face felt as if it were cracking from shame. I checked in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t about to fall off. No, it was still holding on, though maybe not for long.

  I did as she suggested and hung one apron over my neck the right way and tied it at the back. I hung the second one backward, tied a knot at the front, and sighed with relief. The aprons didn’t meet at my sides and left two long gaps, but they were better than nothing.

  Holding my head high, I shuffled out of the bathroom to face Willow. She stood behind the counter, filling the machines with ground coffee, preparing them for rush hour.

  “Thank you,” I said again. “I don’t know what I would have done if...”

  “No worries, sweetheart. It happens to the best of us.” She gave me a complicit smile that made me wonder what she got into when she was young. She was in her late sixties with wiry gray hair that normally fell in a mass of curls all around her, though at the moment, a blue bow held it back in place. She had piercing brown eyes and plenty of laugh lines around them. Today, she’d gone to town on the blue eyeshadow and red lipstick, looking in desperate need of Rosalina’s advice.

  “To be honest, I don’t know what happened,” I said.

  Willow dusted her hands and faced me. Her apron draped over a flower-print dress that made me think of tropical jungles. “That tends to happen when one drinks too much, young girl.” She shook a finger at me. “You have to know your limits.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then decided that drunkenness was the perfect excuse for this debacle. “I... shall endeavor to learn what they are.”

  “You do that.” She shuffled around the shop, replenishing napkins, stirrers, and sugar packets with practiced efficiency while I dialed Rosalina’s number.

  “Hello?” she answered and I could practically hear her frown at the strange number on her caller ID.

  “Rosalina, it’s me.”

  “Toni! Where the hell are you? I’ve been worried to death. I called you like a thousand times and sent you a million text messages.”

  “Wow, I’ll have a time sifting through those.”

  “Don’t mess with me, Antonietta Luna Sunder. I had to call your mother, and I don’t know what the deal is, but she’s frantic. You need to call her back. Right now.”

  Crap! Sometimes, it sucked when people cared about you. Why did Rosalina have to call Mom? She would drill me about this. She knew Rosalina didn’t freak out easily. Plus, I’d been ignoring Mom’s calls for a couple of days.

  “Okay, I’ll call her, but... do you think you could pick me up and... bring me some clothes?”

  A pause. “Where are you?”

  “Willow’s coffee shop.”

  “And why do you need clothes?”

  “Umm, it’s complicated. I can explain later.”

  “Did something happen with Jake? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I swear—Oh, God! Tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

  “No, nothing like that, but hey, do you remember his telephone number?”

  “I don’t. You took the card.”

  And it was in my purse. With my phone. “Never mind. Just come get me.”

  I heaved a sigh as I disconnected the call. I considered calling Mom, but I didn’t want to deal with her at this moment. Who I really wanted to talk to was Jake. I desperately needed to find out what happened.

  I turned to Willow. “Thanks for letting me borrow your phone.”

  “Any time.” She barely glanced at me as she slipped the cell into the front pocket of her apron, then moved around from table to table, using disinfectant wipes on their already-clean surfaces.

  I opened my mouth to ask for a cup of coffee and a muffin when a loud engine rumbled outside, and Jake pulled up in front of his office.

  With a yelp, I dashed out the door and ran across the street. A gust of wind blew up my backside, lifting the apron. I smacked it down, and shuffling awkwardly, made it to the other side.

  “Jake!”

  Startled, he turned to face me. He looked terrible. His hair was in disarray and a bruise with a gash in the middle spread over his jaw. Huge circles ran under his eyes, which drooped with exhaustion.

  “Toni.” He scanned me up and down. “What in the world are you wearing? Where are your shoes?” He stared at my toes, and I wiggled them uncomfortably.

  “Uh, wild party, but never mind that. Stephen, did you find him?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I did. He’s in the hospital. I just came from there. He’s gonna be all right.”

  “Oh, thank God!”

  “It was a hell of a fight. There were vampires and shifters working together. But Ulfen’s pack showed up, and I had some unlikely help.” He frowned, his eyes getting distant for a moment. He snapped out of it and went on. “When the police showed up, everyone ran, though. No one was arrested.”

  “That sucks!” Ulfen had gotten my message, then. Good.

  He nodded, and despite his exhaustion, I could tell a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d found his friend. Alive.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said.

  I batted the comment away and considered telling him I’d followed him to the repair shop after his grandfather had told me wher
e to find him, but something about that entire situation wasn’t sitting right with me—not to mention the fact that I didn’t remember half the night. So instead, I chose recrimination.

  “That wasn’t cool, you leaving me at your grandfather’s,” I said.

  He cocked his head to one side. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with this... PI business.”

  “That’s not fair, and you know it. By then, I was... vested.”

  He made a sound in the back of his throat as if considering, then his eyes found the gaps the aprons left at my sides. Heat traveled up my neck, lighting up my cheeks.

  “I think I like this outfit,” he said. “It’s sort of barista chic. You might start a fashion trend.”

  I refused to be embarrassed by him, so I put my hands around my waist and jutted my hip out. “That, I might.”

  “You should try different colors. Red looks the best on you.”

  “I’ll make sure to have male versions, too.”

  “Ooh, kinky.” He pursed his lips as if he liked the idea.

  My imagination ran with it, and I had to glance away before he could figure out I was picturing him in a loincloth.

  “Toni.” He took a step closer and grabbed my hand.

  My gaze snapped back to his.

  “I want to thank you. Like I said, without your help... Stephen’s life would still be in danger or worse.” His words were low and deep and did something strange to my chest. I let out a hot breath, not knowing what to say. In the beginning, I hadn’t wanted to help. I had been selfish. I didn’t deserve any credit.

  As if reading my mind, he said, “I had no right to drag you into this and turn your life on its head. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t exhausted every other avenue. I’m sorry for not being the easiest person to deal with.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  He chuckled and started tracing small circles on the back of my hand.

  “I’m sorry I was... selfish,” I managed.

  Jake shook his head. “You weren’t. You were doing what was right by you, and I admire that.” He took a tiny step closer, his silver eyes falling to my lips.

  Giant butterflies flapped inside my stomach as I remembered I was wearing nothing under my aprons.

  He leaned closer, reminding me of that moment in his grandfather’s wine cellar.

  I cleared my throat. “Jake, why did you kiss me last night?”

  That seemed to make him realize he was about to kiss me again, and he took a step back and let go of my hand.

  I huffed. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?” I lifted my chin and swallowed the lump that climbed into my throat. I opened my mouth to say something else, something I would’ve regretted, but luckily, Rosalina pulled up in her box car, salsa music playing on the radio totally at odds with my mood. I glanced back at my friend, who narrowed her eyes at my state.

  Resentment heavy on my heart, I backed away from Jake. “My ride’s here.”

  He leaned forward and seemed on the verge of saying something, but in the end, he bit down on his lower lip and gave me a small wave.

  Whirling, I climbed into the car and glanced over at Rosalina. “Let’s go.”

  She pressed her lips into a tight line as she assessed my outfit. To her credit, she said nothing about it and simply drove us home.

  Chapter 38

  The next day was an awesome spring day, sunny, and a perfect seventy-two degrees. I strolled into Barnes-Jewish Hospital, holding two large bouquets—one for Tom and one for Stephen. Both men were doing well, close to being released, which was a relief.

  Yesterday, after my naked debacle, I’d been busy retrieving my purse from behind that dumpster. Fun, fun. At least it had still been there, and only one roach had crawled inside. The repair shop across the street had looked like a nuclear disaster zone in the daylight, but I didn’t linger. I was in and out through the back of the alley before anyone noticed me. Also, I’d spent no small amount of time explaining to Rosalina that I didn’t know how I’d ended up in my birthday suit on top of our office, and now she was as worried as me about that lovely piece of mystery.

  I held my chin high, trying to draw optimism from the beautiful day and my friends’ wellbeing. I had two appointments with two potential clients later today, and I needed all the confidence I could get. None of the people I’d talked to after Celina Morelli’s debacle had panned out, and I had started to get worried. First thing this morning, I’d gone over our budget, trying to figure out how long we had before we defaulted on our loan. We had a couple of months max if we tightened our belts. In fact, after this visit, I would have to call my realtor to tell her the Compton Heights condo was a no go. Shit, it felt like my life was crumbling to pieces.

  Clearing my thoughts, I took the elevator to the second floor and got a smile from an old lady riding with me.

  “Beautiful flowers,” she said.

  “Aren’t they?”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I decided I should see Stephen first. I always liked getting the hardest tasks done first. It would be awkward seeing him again, but it had to be done. Besides, Jake had said Stephen wanted to see me and thank me for my help in his rescue.

  “Can I set these flowers here while I visit my first patient?” I asked a gray-headed nurse at the front station.

  “Sure, honey.”

  “Thank you.”

  I left one bouquet behind, then walked to room 2366 and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” a familiar voice called from within.

  I pushed the door open and was taken aback when Ulfen Erickson greeted me with a tight smile. My surprise was stupid since it was only natural for a father to visit his son after an awful ordeal like the one Stephen had been through—no matter how estranged they had been.

  “Oh, I can come back later.” My eyes met Stephen’s across the length of the room.

  He seemed surprised for a moment, then a smile spread across his lips, erasing the somber expression he’d been wearing.

  “Toni!” he exclaimed from his bed, pushing to his elbow. “Please, come in.”

  I glanced toward Ulfen, unsure.

  “Come on in, Ms. Sunder.” Ulfen waved a hand. “I was about to leave.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Ulfen nodded, graciously inclining his head. He wore a gray suit with a silver tie, his red hair and beard perfectly trimmed. Towering over the bed, all six feet of him, he shook his son’s hand in goodbye. I frowned, bothered by the businesslike quality in his demeanor. “I’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up,” he said, turning toward the door.

  I stepped aside to let him through, standing awkwardly with my flowers and peering over the dense petals. They smelled wonderful, and I had been enjoying their sweet scent ever since I picked them up at the florist. Now, I was enjoying the way they defended me from the mean werewolf.

  Ulfen stopped at the threshold and glanced sideways at me. “I’ve been told you were instrumental in finding my son.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  He ignored my weak protest and added, “I would like to thank you.” His blue eyes were serious, unkind despite his words of thanks, like he hated owing me something.

  I inclined my head slightly and smiled. I hadn’t done it for him. In fact, I hadn’t even done it for Stephen. If Ulfen wanted to thank someone, it should be Jake. I wondered if he had or if he’d been his usual arrogant self.

  With that out of the way, he left the room, his expensive leather shoes tapping firmly. I turned to Stephen, who heaved a sigh of relief and turned his full attention to me.

  “I brought you flowers.” I walked over and set the bouquet by his bedside.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  He peered up at me, his blue eyes so much like his father’s, and yet so different. Genuine kindness filled them, and faint laugh lines sprang from their corners. The resemblance also went beyond the eyes. He had the same red hair and broad shoulders, ex
cept at the moment, he was thin and pale.

  I scanned him over with concern. A yellowish bruise stained his left cheek, spreading to his eye, which was slightly swollen. Bandages covered his left hand, and I had to glance away as I remembered his severed finger.

  Noticing my reaction, he held his hand up. “Won’t be able to properly sport a wedding band. They took the ring finger,” he said with a deprecating laugh.

  “I’m so sorry, Stephen.”

  “Oh, don’t be. It could’ve been worse. Poor Blake didn’t fare so well.” He lowered his head, sadness descending on him. He had grown up with that bodyguard. They’d been the best of friends. Stephen glanced toward the end table on the other side of the bed. Something familiar sat on top of it, which reminded me I had more than just the flowers to give him.

  I reached inside my jeans pocket and pulled out the silver cufflink I’d used to track him, the one Ulfen had given me at his club. Stretching my hand, palm up, I offered it to him. “Here.”

  He snatched it from my hand in surprise. “Where did you get this?”

  “You’re father gave it to me to help me track you.”

  His frown deepened as he grabbed the other cufflink from the end table and laid it on his hand next to the other one, two crescent moons.

  “Blake gave me these as a birthday present last year,” Stephen said in a whisper.

  A lump formed in my throat.

  He rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to think hard on something. “H-how did my father get it?” he asked no one in particular. “I thought... I remember...” He trailed off.

  I leaned forward. “What?”

  Stephen shook his head and chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. “Nothing. I thought I had both cufflinks with me in the van, but my memory has been foggy on all kinds of things. They hit me over the head a few times.”

  My breath hitched as I caught up with his train of thought. If he’d had both cufflinks with him in the van, it would mean that Ulfen got his from the kidnappers. Suddenly, a million questions sent my mind reeling. Was it possible? Could Ulfen have kidnapped his own son to incite a war? Had he sent those men to get me? And if so, why? So I couldn’t spoil his plans? I glanced down at Stephen’s bandaged hand. Was Ulfen responsible for the mutilated finger?