Page 55 of The Tracker's Rage
Before heading toward Rosalina’s place, I texted her and Jake with a couple of thumbs up. They had probably been waiting on pins and needles since we’d left. I knew I would have if I’d been left behind to wait for them to return. I would’ve probably eaten my nails to the quick along with several bags of potato chips. My voracious appetite had only gotten worse since my wolf was set free, and stress eating was a bigger issue than ever. As a matter of fact, I needed to stop by the store to pick up more snacks. I was starting to think that a membership to a wholesale warehouse might make sense.
A moment later, Jake replied with a thumbs up of his own and nothing more, making me wonder if I’d been wrong about him worrying.
When I got to Rosalina’s, she wrapped me in a hug as soon as I stepped through the door.
“I was so worried about you and Damien.” She stepped back and checked me up and down. “Is he also all right?”
“He is, just wait ‘til I tell you what he did.”
We talked it over as I ate a late dinner of reheated beef stew and rice Rosalina had made over the weekend.
“Oh, wow, that’s quite the adventure,” she said when I finished telling her everything. “He must really love his daughter.”
“Yeah, I get that sense, too.”
“Do you think he’ll really manage to make a cure for her and Josh?”
I dipped a piece of bread into my stew. “He seems pretty certain about it.”
“You don’t think he’s deluding himself out of sheer desperation to save his daughter, do you?”
“He doesn’t seem the kind of man to delude himself about anything.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she added as I gathered my dirty dishes.
I cleaned the table and got the dishwasher running, and after that, we sat in front of the TV with tall glasses of wine, and watched old Charmed reruns. It seemed we were both in need of some R&R. Hopefully tomorrow we would be able to focus on our work.
Chapter 20
The next morning, myhopes of focusing on work were dashed when Ulfen Erickson walked through the door into the agency. His red hair was slicked back and perfectly shiny. He wore a suit and tie and polished shoes that reflected the light. His usually arrogant expression was nowhere in sight, which shocked me more than his presence.
“Good morning, Ms. Sunder and...” his blue eyes flicked in Rosalina’s direction.
“López,” my friend said.
“Good morning, Ms. López.”
