Page 3 of The Wolf's Kidnapped Mate

“And what’s your name in all this mess?”

He sighed. “I don’t exist right now, remember?”

Neither should I.

Pops should be yelling down the hallway that I have another customer waiting for me at the counter. Oscar should be shedding on the stained carpet of my office. Popcorn paint should be raining from the ceiling where I usually hid in the loft to get what was passable for sleep in those days.

I didn’t exist then. I shouldn’t exist now.

But I did.

I was dragging things out. But who wouldn’t in this situation? “I’m not sure about this.”

“You don’t have to be sure about the plan, Fred. You just have to protect my sister.”

“What if she resists?”

He snickered. “She shouldn’t. Everything should go according to plan.”

“You haven’t told me everything, have you?”

“Don’t sound so unsure.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But if things go wrong, I’m coming for your ass first. Got it?”

“Sure, keep it real, dude.”

“I gotta bounce. Meeting in ten.”

Something about shoving my finger into the red button to end the call felt viscerally satisfying. We just didn’t get the same feelings these days with our technology. Even my computer was one of those archaic boxes that weighed about a hundred tons just to haul from the damn bar to this tiny home behind the greenhouse. I used it because it was reliable, I could swap out the parts easily, and I didn’t have to worry about being tracked by any of that new touch-screen stuff.

I took a breath, inhaling the scent of a freshly built home. Blake wasn’t kidding about their builders being quick. Though the space was compact, it was nice, and it smelled of fresh wood still. They’d built it faster than I could blink, and I was forever grateful even if I was suspicious of the circumstances. Uncertainty like this was not something I would typically carry into the field.

But this wasn’t a typical plan, nor was it a standard mission. This was a personal task handed to me by a close friend. It wasn’t about me. It was about Kylie, who I had watched grow from an awkward teenager into a badass close-combat tactical soldier. I remembered the phone call that had changed it all back when we were too young to understand what we were doing, back when the vampire-wolf wars killed her parents and sent her into fight mode.

Every shifter black ops story started off with some kind of tragedy. Hers wasn’t much different. And I wouldn’t try to pretend that there was a gaping crater of difference between Kylie and me. Because my motivations were similar—no parents, fight mode. I knew that the smile she wore hid horrors unseen by most people—by mostcreatures—because I did the same damn thing.

I knew what kept her up at night. That was why Liam wanted me to protect her. I knew her, and I knew exactly how to make sure she didn’t do anything reckless.

An alarm beeped from the other room. I launched into the living room and smacked the digital clock, resetting the time on it to go off again this evening. That would mark my next task—making sure that Kylie walked home safely from her job.

***

“You’re late.”

I grumbled something under my breath while scooting past Jermaine. Liam wasn’t lying. The bear had a grumpy stick shoved up his backside and it seemed to rigidly twist him around. Blake and Troy sat on opposite sides of the table, putting me squarely in the middle. I felt like I was about to be interrogated.

My salute made Jermaine grunt. He popped open a thick folder and dropped it on the table. “Since our last meeting, I’ve collected intel on every footprint that your Ray Bernadetti character has left in the world.”

I studied the folder. “More than I thought.”

“Much more.” He flipped through a few pages and slid a couple of photographs toward me.

Bernadetti looked just the same, except his hair was thinning on top. Other than that, he had beady black eyes, gray streaks in his black hair, and sun-spotted skin. He was shoving a bagel into his giant mouth in the top photograph.

“Any leads on his exact location?” I slid the picture aside to reveal one grainy-looking security screenshot of Bernadetti at an order counter. “Bakeries, huh?”

“He likes to eat.”

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