Page 62 of Secret Mission

“I don’t know what he was doing here in Vandemora. He works for Dark Shield on some kind of black-ops missions, that’s all I know. But that’s enough to know he’s got a lot of enemies.”

He glances quickly toward me across the darkness in the cab. “You two don’t talk, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“I don’t like it. All these fucking loose ends.” Gripping the wheel, his expression turns to granite. “We still don’t know who nearly killed Scout and took Aria. The only clue was that guy’s weird-ass kissing kittens tattoo which we haven’t been able to match on anything.”

There’s a gasp from the back seat. “Wait, rewind that.”

Allison shoves between the front seats. “Who had a tattoo of kissing kittens?”

The fact that she even knows someone with that goddamned tattoo if he’s a fucking kidnapper sets my teeth on edge.

I say, “The man who snatched Scout’s girl right from the compound.”

“Oh, my god,” Allison wheezes, her fingers clutching the base of her throat. “No. This can’t be…”

“What, sweetheart?’

“I need to see a picture.” She glances frantically between us. “Do you have a photograph of the tattoo?”

Beast fishes around in his cargo pocket. He passes his phone to me as he hangs a turn, hot on the ambulance’s tailgate. “Look in the image folder labeled: Evidence.”

I thumb through a few photos of Beast’s girl Camile that are kind of suggestive. “I’m not going to—oh crap—I didn’t need to see that.”

Beast reaches over and wraps his oversized hand around my neck. “Wrong folder, asshole. Evidence.”

I knock his hand away. “That folder was already open.”

“Well, forget what you saw.”

“My eyes are fucking burning. I didn’t take you for a sexter.”

“Just focus.” Beast flips me off, before locking his hand on the wheel again. “Find the damned photo of that tattoo.”

I go back to the hunt, permanently scarred by the sight of Beast’s… well, hisbeast.

“Okay, here you go. This tattoo was on the body of the man who kidnapped Scout’s girl. It’s a very unique identifier, as you can see, unless we don’t know about some kitten gang mark or something. Otherwise, I can’t understand why anyone would have that tattoo.”

Allison is eerily still. The pulse flutters in her neck. Finally, she licks her lips and presses them into a very hard, flat slash.

A thousand things play behind her irises.

And I hate every one of them for her.

“You know him?” I ask.

When her eyes drift away, out the window, the flashing lights from the ambulance catch on the pool of tears bordering her lower lashes. “Did you say her name was Aria?”

“Aria is correct. Why?”

“D-did he hurt her?”

“She got away. You know that guy?”

Beast’s voice is too stern. Too loud.

And I’m about to tell him that he better lay off my girl when Allison starts to talk.

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