Page 13 of Midnight Mate
He’d argued with Bayne for nearly an hour about who should do the recon. Zeppelin had wanted to go himself, but Bayne talked him out of it. Said Zeppelin was known as the alpha of the town and wouldn’t be able to get past the front door.
Maybe Zeppelin had gambled with the wrong man. If Bayne relapsed, he would never forgive himself.
A fresh slice of sunlight angled through the window, bouncing off the silver picture frame on Zeppelin’s desk. He stared at it out of habit. It was a photo of Preston, a month ago, sitting on the back of Zeppelin’s bike, wearing a huge smile and wrapped in a leather jacket twice his size. Mates had been showing up for months, changing everything in their pack home, bringing a warmth that had been absent in the wolves’ lives. Zeppelin wasn’t sure what he would do without Preston in his life. From the moment he’d realized they were mates the human had become his entire world.
A soft tap sounded on the door, and Zeppelin’s head snapped around. He didn’t like being surprised, especially not when the house was as quiet as it was today.
“Yeah?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
Vaughn sauntered in, moving like he hadn’t a care in the world. He wore gym shorts and a faded blue hoodie with the sleeves shoved up, and his hair looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. Underneath the casual walk, every muscle was tight, coiled for trouble. Vaughn scanned the room, eyes landing first on Zeppelin’s clenched fists then on the empty coffee mug by the bed.
It might’ve been months since Vaughn had been kidnapped and tortured by a demon, and being mated helped to keep his head in a healthy space. But even now, Zeppelin knew what his beta was looking for.
Shadows. A passage demon used as a means of travel. The same kind of shadows Vex had used to kidnap Vaughn.
“Something up?” Vaughn slouched against the doorframe. “Or did I interrupt your Zen time?”
“You heard from Bayne?”
The question hung for a moment, heavy as stone. Vaughn’s brow furrowed. “No. Wasn’t he supposed to be back already?” He eased off the door and came farther into the room. “What’s going on?”
“He was supposed to check in by now.” Zeppelin leaned against the dresser, letting the wood take some of his weight. “He went into town two nights ago. Hit that house behind the old factory. The one everyone’s been saying is the base of the drug operation.”
He kept his gaze on Vaughn’s face, watching for any flicker of surprise or fear. Vaughn didn’t flinch. He just crossed his arms and waited for more.
Bayne had convinced Zeppelin that only a lone wolf would be able to walk into a place crawling with pushers and come out again without raising suspicions. Too many wolves together? Everyone would get twitchy. Alone, Bayne could walk right in, act desperate and strung out and ask for the premium stuff. It had been a good plan. Zeppelin had hated it anyway.
“He’s not answering his phone,” he said. “I called three times. Texted him too. I keep telling myself it’s nothing, but that never works.”
Vaughn rubbed his jaw, absorbing the news. “Maybe they keep their cell phones in a bowl by the front door or in some lockbox.”
Zeppelin ran his hand over his beard. “If Bayne handed over his phone, he’d have told me in advance.” On the edge of his thoughts, he heard the faint buzz of a lawnmower from the front of the house then the trill of a bird too close to the open window.
Sunlight heated the room, chasing away the bleakness, but it didn’t erase Zeppelin’s worry. It just made it feel more vivid. He would’ve gone to the place himself, but if Bayne was still gaining their trust, Zeppelin didn’t want to blow the wolf’s cover.
Vaughn exhaled through his nose, his expression turning serious. “You think he went in and got stuck?”
“Either someone inside figured out he wasn’t really an addict or something worse.” He didn’t voice his worry about liquid wrath out loud. He didn’t want Bayne to find out that was a concern. Zeppelin wasn’t going to go full doomsday just yet.
A glimmer of movement caught his attention outside. Logan crossed the lawn, carrying what looked like a plastic tub of tools. Probably on his way to fix the gutter again. No doubt his brother, Sloane, would help.
Life went on, even when everything felt twisted inside.
Vaughn reached for Zeppelin’s shoulder and squeezed, the gesture rough but sincere. “You did the right thing sending him. No one else could’ve pulled off a believable act.”
Zeppelin bristled. “Hopefully not too believable.”
Heat built in his gut as bitter as the last dregs of coffee sitting cold in his mug. This was why he hated sending his men solo. Even the best had off days. Even the best packed a lifetime of regrets.
Bayne never talked about his own, but Zeppelin saw them sometimes in the way he looked at junkies on the street or how he flinched a little whenever a certain car with blacked-out windows rolled through town. He’ d been running from a dark past for years, and Zeppelin prayed it hadn’t caught up to him.
That made him twice as pissed at whoever was flooding Crimson Hollow with drugs. This was his town. His pack. No one got to mess with that.
A warm wind drifted through the open window, carrying the smell of cut grass and the honeysuckle blooming at the edge of the woods. Zeppelin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the scents ground him.
Vaughn moved toward the window, cracking it open a little more. “You need me to go back you up? Two of us could hit the place by noon. Maybe drag Bayne out by his ears if he’s being an idiot.”
Zeppelin’s nerves twisted tighter. If Bayne was high, there’d be no reasoning with him. You had to outmuscle him, hold him down, and hope to hell you didn’t get bit in the process. It was an ugly kind of recovery, but Zeppelin would do it a hundred times if it meant bringing his pack member home alive.
