Page 9 of Wraith
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s either sleeping or getting mauled by Doc.”
“Doc’s a good man.” Tex laughed. “He would never do that. Tell me what you need.”
“They say knowledge is power.” Wraith eased back in his seat. “Find Leonard.”
“I’ve been trying. His credit cards are silent. So is his bank account. His key card has not accessed his condo and his car hasn’t shown up on any cameras in days.”
“Then this means…” Wraith’s voice cracked.
“Yeah.” Tex tuned from his keyboard to level his gaze on him. “I’ll keep searchin’ in the background for him just in case he’s just in hidin’ but I’m not holdin’ my breath. Tell me what you need right now. What’s the plan?”
“No plan.” Wraith admitted. “Just find me something I can use.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Who’s after the Lala now.”
Tex rubbed his eyes. “Man, I always thought if I never hear that damn name again it’d be too soon. To think a man would bring his child into this mess makes me sick.”
“I know, but focus.”
“I am. I’ll hit you back.”
Before Wraith could say anything else, Tex was gone. Wraith hated when the computer genius popped in and out, but didn’t call back. Instead, he let himself out of the office and wandered through the house. He found Amelia asleep in the sofa in front of the fire with a book lying on her chest. For a moment he watched her, the way the book rose and fell with her breathing. Shaking his head, Wraith grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over her after picking up the book.
Death of a Salesman.
Shit—is this mine or hers?
He set it on the coffee table and watched as Doc stretched himself out in front of the sofa. Wraith knew what the action meant. For some reason, the wolf liked Amelia and he would stay with her. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he turned off the light, ensured the heat was at a tolerable level with the fire slowly dying and made his way to his bedroom. But Wraith knew no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be getting any sleep.
Most of the night was spent standing at the window. A few times he got dressed and trudged through the almost knee-high snow to the main road. He checked his land around the cabin before returning. Amelia was still asleep. The last time he checked on her before morning, Doc was laying by her feet on the sofa.
In the wee hours of the morning, his computer chimed and sprung to life.
“Damn it, man!” Wraith growled. “What’d I tell you about doing that?”
Tex smiled like a shark. “Not like you’d be busy in the carnal sense. So what else would you be doing?”
“Smartass.” Wraith muttered irritably. “Do you have something for me or not?”
“I got a whole bunch of stuff,” Tex said before tapping away at his keyboard. Instantly, his picture slid to the left side of Wraith’s screen and a bunch of information popped up on the right. “Okay. The people who are after the painting are the Russians.”
“The Russians—who specifically?”
A picture phased onto the screen.
“The chatter on dark web says it’s this guy. Vladimir Storogenko. I picked up footage from outside the blackbirds place…”
“How…” Wraith asked.
“Now, you should know better than that.”
“You’re right. I probably don’t wanna know.” Wraith muttered. He should have known better. “Go on.”
Another set of pictures cropped up onto the screen.
