Page 22 of Midnight Mate
Inside, neat stacks of cash sat beside small plastic bags filled with various pills and powders. But what made Zeppelin’s blood run cold was the phone sitting on top. Black case, cracked screen, definitely Bayne’s.
Why would they keep his phone? Unless…
His grip on the coyote’s throat tightened until the shifter’s eyes bulged. “Where is he? And don’t lie to me again.”
The coyote’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. His hands clawed weakly at Zeppelin’s arm, but there was something off about his panic. Too much fear for someone who supposedly didn’t know anything.
“Can’t…breathe.”
Loosening his hold just enough to let the coyote speak, Zeppelin leaned in close. “Start talking.”
“Look, I don’t know where your friend went.” The words tumbled out fast and desperate. “He came here two nights ago, yeah. Acted all twitchy, asking for the hard stuff. We don’t just hand that over to strangers, so we told him to wait while we checked him out.”
The son of a bitch was lying. Bayne would never make such a rookie move.
“And?”
“And he started asking questions about our supplier, who else bought from us. When we wouldn’t answer, he tried to leave. My boys thought he might be a cop, so they…” The coyote’s gaze darted away.
Rage flooded through Zeppelin’s system, his wolf pushing against his control. “So they what?”
“They tried to keep him here. Just to make sure he wasn’t law. But he fought back. Tore through three of my guys before he got out. We kept his phone because we thought maybe we could track him down, make sure he didn’t rat us out.”
Every word made Zeppelin want to tear this man apart. They’d attacked Bayne, forced him to fight his way out. No wonder he hadn’t come back or checked in. Injured, possibly confused from whatever drugs they might’ve forced on him, alone in the dark…
“Which way did he run?”
“East, toward the forest. But that was two nights ago. He could be anywhere—”
The coyote moved faster than expected, hands suddenly at Zeppelin’s throat with claws extended. A desperate move from someone who knew he was already dead. Zeppelin reacted on instinct, twisting sideways while driving his own claws deep into the coyote’s neck.
Warm blood poured over his hands. The coyote’s eyes went wide then vacant. His body slumped, held up only by Zeppelin’s grip for a moment before he let it fall.
Looking down at the corpse, Zeppelin understood. The coyote had known something worse was coming—interrogation, torture maybe, or just the slow realization that he’d signed his own death warrant by touching someone under Zeppelin’s protection.
Quick death was mercy compared to what might’ve been.
But the coyote could’ve been lying. He could’ve sold the “hard stuff” to Bayne. Maybe that was the reason Bayne hadn’t reached out to Zeppelin.
“Burn it.”
His pack moved without question. Gasoline from the generator outside splashed across walls and furniture. The unconscious strangers were dragged out and left on the lawn. They’d wake up to find their operation in ashes and their boss dead.
Message delivered.
Sloane lit the match. Flames caught immediately, racing along gasoline trails, consuming cheap furniture and drug residue with equal hunger. Smoke billowed out through broken windows, black and acrid.
Outside, standing far enough back to avoid the heat, Zeppelin stared at the inferno and tried to piece together what had happened. Bayne had been here, had fought his way out, had run east toward the forest. Injured, probably. Scared, definitely.
But alive. He had to be alive.
“We’ll find him,” Vaughn said quietly beside him.
Zeppelin nodded, not trusting his voice. The forest stretched for miles in that direction, dense and dark. Bayne could be anywhere, could’ve shifted and kept running, could be lying hurt somewhere, waiting for help that might never come.
Or he could be dead, body hidden under leaves and fallen branches, another casualty of this town’s growing drug problem.
No. Zeppelin refused to consider that possibility. Bayne was tough, a survivor. He’d made it through addiction, through the hell that had driven him to their pack in the first place. A few drug dealers wouldn’t be enough to take him down.
