by Vella Day
Brandon wasn’t so ready to condemn her. “The Colters usually don’t employ women.”
Sam’s face contorted. “With the way she’s peeking into that empty warehouse, I’m betting she’s looking for the earring we found inside.” It had been their confirmation that Cheryl had been drugged there. Elena, Cheryl’s cage mate, remembered the girl wearing only one earring. Thankfully, The Pack had managed to extract Elena before she was sold.
Brandon was intrigued. “If this woman is snooping around there with Jay Wagner, she might know something about Cheryl’s disappearance.”
Sam straightened. “Then I say we find her.” He looked over at Trax. “Can you give me a copy of that feed? I’ll put it through our facial recognition software at work.”
“Sure. Just give me a sec.”
As he and Sam waited for Trax to copy the video, the General stepped into the room. “Glad I caught you boys. I have something I want to discuss with you.”
Chapter Three
While Brandon was in the living room doing research on John Hood’s house, trying to figure out the best time to get in so they could locate the information the General had requested, Sam had copied a portion of the video feed of Jay Wagner and the woman. He’d emailed it to one of the techs at his day job, who hopefully would be able to tell him her identity.
Working for the sheriff’s department had been a stroke of genius on Sam’s part. Not only could he keep better track of the Colters, he had full access to the department’s national databases. In return, he shared some of the intel secured by his Pack, though he didn’t let on where he’d procured that information. He let everyone think he had the best snitches in town.
No one else on the force was a shifter, so no one had guessed his secret. The biggest drawback to pretending to be fully human was having to fight like one, but that had taught him discipline. It was hard for a werewolf not to shift when adrenaline was coursing through his system, but Sam had learned how to control his body better than most.
His cell rang less than an hour later. The news was good. “I appreciate it, Vern. I owe you one.”
His next call was to Chris Williams, The Pack’s technical guru. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Sam. What can I do for you?”
“Need a favor.” He gave him Mackenzie Wagner’s name and asked him to pull up the basics on her. “I’m guessing since she and Jay share the same last name, they’re related.”
“I’ll get right on it. Give me fifteen minutes.”
While Sam waited, he studied the video again to see if he noticed anything different this time. Jay appeared nervous, almost as if he was expecting trouble, whereas Mackenzie looked curious but frantic. In all honesty, he couldn’t get a read on her. When Chris called ten minutes later, Sam was ready to take notes. He listened carefully, taking down the information.
“I owe you.”
“Anytime. That’s what I’m here for,” Chris said.
Pleased they were one step closer to finding Cheryl, Sam trotted out to the living room. “Her name is Mackenzie Wagner,” Sam announced. “She’s Jay’s cousin on her father’s side.”
Brandon looked up from his laptop. “The lady at the warehouse with Jay Wagner is his cousin?”
“Yup.”
“How did you find out?”
“Facial recognition software. Seems she was arrested a few years back in Washington DC, demonstrating against the building of the Keystone pipeline.”
“Do you know what she’s doing in Gulfside? Is she here for a family reunion, or is she here to snoop around the warehouse district for fun?” Brandon asked.
“Don’t know, but if she’s related to Jay, she can’t be up to much good.”
Despite still having a ton of unanswered questions, this video provided the first real clue they’d had. Sam snatched a beer from the fridge, unscrewed the top, and tossed back the drink. He returned to the living room. “Chris did a little research for us. Turns out Mackenzie Wagner has another cousin on her mother’s side.”
“Cheryl Johnson? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think she had something to do with luring Cheryl down to the warehouse docks?”
Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. Could be Jay asked her to give him a hand in capturing Cheryl. Perhaps it was her job to convince her cousin to go for the interview. Unfortunately, we don’t have proof that Jay’s boss, Paul Statler, was directly involved in the human trafficking arm of the Colter business, but we can’t rule it out either.”
Brandon popped up off the sofa and paced. “Why would this woman come down now? Cheryl’s been in captivity for two weeks.”
“Beats me. Maybe she’s here to blackmail the buyer. Who the hell knows what goes through these bastards’ minds.”
“Mackenzie Wagner might know Cheryl’s location, which means we need to follow her, see where she goes.”
“Wouldn’t that be sweet if she led us right to Cheryl?”
Brandon shoved a hand through his hair. “Do we know where she is now?”
“No, but I found out where Jay Wagner lives. If they were together once, they might be together again.”
“Let’s check him out.”
Sam looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s not quite five, so I’m guessing Jay will either be kissing Statler’s ass or at his day job. I say we scope out his home. A few well-placed bugs should help us locate his cousin.”
“I’m game.”
Once Sam collected his gear, they took off. They parked about a half-mile from Jay’s house and walked around the block, deciding if they could plant some bugs without being seen. If not, they’d come back tonight.
“There’s an alley ’round back. Let’s check it out,” Brandon said. He was the more cautious of the two, which helped balance Sam’s impulsiveness.
As they worked their way to the rear, no one appeared to be watching them, and there wasn’t any scent of wolf nearby. “How about you keep watch, and I’ll do my thing?” Sam asked. He patted the pocket that he’d filled with the needed electronic equipment.
“Sure.”
Sam had to use small microphones so they wouldn’t be easily seen from the inside. The problem with the size was that they could only pick up voices if a person stood near the window. Listening to their conversation wasn’t the main reason for bugging the place—it was to know when Jay arrived home. Then they could return with more sophisticated equipment and listen from a distance if need be.
Sam quickly finished and returned to Brandon who was keeping watch by the alley. Without saying anything, they headed around the block toward the front where a gray Ford Escort was pulling into Jay’s drive. From their angle, they couldn’t see who was inside.
“That’s not Jay’s car,” Sam said. He’d checked the DMV files.
Someone opened the driver’s side door. “Quick. Hide,” Brandon said, rushing down the neighbor’s drive and ducking behind a large clump of pampas grass. Sam joined him. He hoped no one inside this house was looking out. It would appear quite odd to see two grown men crouched behind a bush.
Sam spread the grasses to get a visual. The same tall brunette from the video stepped out from the car. “It’s her,” Sam whispered. “Mackenzie Wagner.”
Brandon nearly stood. “We should talk with her.”
Sam let go of the reeds and jerked Brandon down. Now who was the impulsive one? “And ask her what? Did you have anything to do with drugging your cousin and helping to sell her to some asshole Colter?” Brandon never acted without thinking first.
“Sorry. My head’s spinning right now. It’s as if being near this Colter’s house has my body in a fit.”
“I don’t feel so good either.” Sam’s self-control was wavering, and it scared him a bit. “Let’s get out of here.”
This time, Brandon grabbed his arm. “We can’t just let her go.”
“We can’t afford to blow this. She doesn’t appear to be leaving. Look, she’s headed inside.
She might be staying with her cousin.”
Brandon sank back on his heels. “We have to find a way to get her to talk to us, but I’m not sure I could stomach getting close to her, despite the fact she looks hotter than sin.”
“Me either. I think I’d get sick if I came any closer to this Colter woman.” His cousin’s body was twitching and jerking as if he was getting ready to shift. “Are you okay?”
“Not really. We need to leave. You got any more tracking devices in your kit?”
“Always.” Sam made sure his gear was fully stocked. He carried an array of sophisticated tracking and bugging devices at all times.
“Let’s put a tail on her car. That way we’ll know where she is.”
“Good idea.”
As they’d neared their truck, Sam’s body began to calm. The sensation was nothing like anything he’d experienced before. He unlocked the tailgate, extracted his case, and then plucked the tiny device from its foam holder. He held out the bug. “You want to do the honors?”
“I’d rather sit this one out. It’s like I had a spell put on me a moment ago. I feel better now, but I’m not chancing getting near again.”
Sam felt the same way. “Pussy.”
“Fuck you.”
That cheered Sam up. As he neared Mackenzie Wagner’s car, he kept vigil on the nearby houses. It didn’t appear as if anyone had taken notice of him. Once he reached the drive, he knelt down and as he pretended to tie his shoelaces, he studied his surroundings. Her car was about fifteen feet from the sidewalk. He needed to make sure neither Mackenzie or any neighbor was watching.
Sam could sense her presence, and the feeling was unusually strong. Normally, he couldn’t detect a werewolf if he or she were behind a door or more than ten feet away. Mackenzie had to be near the front of the house. It was the only explanation for this sudden need to shift.
He checked the windows, but no face appeared. Something strange was going on, but he didn’t have time to ponder it.
When the door to the house remained closed, he figured it was safe to plant the device. Keeping low, he slipped the bug under her rear bumper, and then returned to the sidewalk. Instead of returning the way he’d come, Sam continued down the street, rounded the corner, and double-backed through the alley.
He slid into the driver’s side. “Done.” When Brandon didn’t respond, Sam studied him. “What’s wrong?”
“You aren’t going to like it.”
“I don’t like a lot of things. Spill it.”
“I remember what happened to Dirk the first time he got near Elena.”
Elena was Dirk and Clay’s mate—two of their Pack counterparts. “What?”
“He had to work hard not to shift and couldn’t even look at her when he was near. He said the first few times he got close to her were the worst.”
Sam finally looked over at Brandon, his eyes partially glazed over. “What the fuck are you trying to tell me?”
“I think Mackenzie Wagner is our mate.”
Sam barked out a laugh. “No fucking way.”
“Didn’t you feel the need to shift? I bet your bones cracked without any provocation and your equilibrium was off. Right?”
Sam refused to believe it. Yes, he’d felt strange, stranger than he’d ever felt before, but he chalked it up to the beer he’d been drinking and to the sandwich they’d eaten at the Gulfside Deli. “It’s not possible. Our bodies wouldn’t play such a cruel trick on us.”
“Trick or not, she’s the one.”
Sam gripped the wheel. “I’d rather kill myself than spend my life with a Colter.”
Chapter Four
Using Cheryl’s phone records, Mac had tracked down the name of the cab company as well as the name of the man who’d driven her cousin to the docks. After Mac had waited forever for the cabbie to return from his shift, her patience had evaporated. “So you don’t remember Cheryl questioning the destination? Or saying it looked creepy? She just paid you and got out?”
“Lady, I drive my cab where I’m asked. I don’t question my fares about why they want to go there.” He shook his head. “But I do remember your cousin, because she kept pointing to things and asking me questions about the town as if she’d never been in a city before. She sounded a lot like my daughter.”
His sincere attitude gave her hope, but then reason intruded. “You didn’t think it odd that a young, vulnerable girl wanted to be taken to a godforsaken warehouse district?” Shit. She needed to control her attitude. People didn’t open up to jerks.
“She gave me the address, and I drove her there. End of story. I’m not some babysitter.”
“Thanks for your time.” He was a dead end. She handed him her card with the name of her private investigation firm on it. “Call me if you think of anything.”
As soon as she left, she bet he’d trash the information. Mac headed to her rental car and sat with the engine running, air on. It was the middle of December in Florida, and even though the temperature was in the high sixties, she was perspiring.
Cheryl, Cheryl. What had you been thinking?
Clearly, her cousin had requested to be driven to Seaside Drive, and apparently hadn’t freaked out when she arrived, or she would have asked the cabbie to take her back to town. This trip had been a waste. Mac knew no more than when she’d left her house in Indiana, and Jay hadn’t offered any other suggestions either. Her final hope was her aunt again.
Mac called Aunt Hannah. When she answered, Mac told her that she hadn’t found out much. “Did you ever find the name of the law firm?” Her aunt couldn’t remember where she’d put the information.
“Yes, I just found it and sent it to your mom.”
Mom hadn’t forwarded it yet. “Can you read it to me?”
“Hold on.” Footsteps sounded, and then a drawer opened. “Here it is. The name was Statler, Reinhold, and Brokaw. Their office is on Seaside Drive.”
Mac scrambled for the pad she kept in her purse. “Let me write that down.” Once she had the firm’s name copied, she was anxious to find out what happened with the interview. The Seaside Drive address matched Cheryl’s GPS. “Thanks, Aunt Hannah. I’ll call if I learn anything.”
“Thank you, Mackenzie.”
With this new lead, more pep filled her. At her job in Indiana, her male coworkers rarely let her investigate outside the office. She was relegated to finding information on the victim because she was so good at hacking into computers and not getting caught. Her boss never questioned where she got her intel probably because he wouldn’t like the answer. However, her real talent lay in picking locks and opening safes. On occasion, her cohorts were forced to bring her along. She loved the excitement and didn’t let the danger fill her with fear.
Using the app on her phone, she located the real address for the law offices of Statler, Reinhart, and Brokaw. It didn’t surprise her they were in downtown Gulfside instead of in the warehouse district. Hopefully, the hiring manager could explain how the address on the invitation had been wrong.
The elegant building that housed the law office stood five stories tall with a granite and glass façade. She had to park a few streets away and walk a couple of blocks to the entrance because all the spaces close by had been taken. After a short elevator ride, Mac arrived at the imposing door, the name stenciled in gold-leaf lettering. Inside, the place smelled of rich leather with a hint of linen.
Mac had yet to decide how she wanted to pose her question. Should she appear as the distraught cousin, as a seasoned private investigator hired by Cheryl’s mom, or say she was applying for the job of paralegal?
“May I help you?” the pretty blonde secretary asked.
Mac decided on the truth. “I hope so.” She explained about her cousin having a job interview and then disappearing.
The young secretary pushed back her chair. “How tragic. Let me see what I can find out.”
Mac waited while the secretary hurried down the wide corridor. As soon as a door opened at the end, a c
hill rippled up her spine. Werewolves. That shouldn’t bother her. A clan of them had settled in Muncie, Indiana, though her dad never liked to socialize with them, because he believed one of them might get drunk and start bragging about being able to shift. The few shifters she’d met had been doctors, lawyers, and other professionals. So far, none she’d met had exhibited evil tendencies. But bad ones did exist. They’d killed her dad. Not only that, Jay said the Colters were prevalent down in Florida.
“Miss?” A tall man with gray hair, wearing a perfectly tailored blue pinstripe suit approached. “I hear you’re looking for a missing cousin? We’re a law firm, but I’ll help if I can. Let’s speak in private.”
* * *
Brandon pulled down the street from John Hood’s abode, the man who’d been in charge of the human trafficking portion of the Colters’ organization, until his capture last week. Brandon turned off the headlights, and cut the engine. “Let’s do this.”
Sam and Brandon both slipped out, guns secured in their holsters. Werewolves had better than average eyesight, so seeing in the dark wasn’t a problem. The General was convinced that Hood kept a list of clients somewhere—hopefully at his home. His logic was that Hood would need to keep track of those who were willing to pay top dollar for the women. He’d asked Sam and Brandon to sneak in and find those names.
Sam stepped close to Brandon. “You sense anyone?” Sam could have used telepathy to communicate, but that took energy when they were in human form. They didn’t need to run into any of Hood’s men—the few of them who were left.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Sam hoped that since Hood had only been recently incarcerated, no one would have thought to clean out his home office. His fellow Colters probably believed they could break him out like they did his predecessor. Good luck with that. Better measures had been installed to prevent an escape from happening again.
Sam studied the exterior. The mansion was surrounded by a gated entrance and bordered by a large hedge. Given that Hood had only recently become the head of the Colters after Harvey Couch’s death, he might not have had time to install an alarm system, or better yet, believed he even needed one. He was just that kind of fool.
