I heaved a sigh and got up. After pushing my chair in, I glanced at the Band-Aid on my arm where the pain was pulsing beneath. “I know you and Crush like to give each other hell, but ease up on the dog situation. He refuses to accept help from anyone, and I worry about him being out here alone. Especially with all the enemies I make. A dog is a security system, and he needs a companion. I’m not here as much as I’d like to be.”
Ren stood up and stretched out his arms. “Can’t complain about his mood lately. He’s struttin’ around like a peacock. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since you came back. Besides, it’ll give him exercise.” After finishing his soda, Ren lit up a smoke and moseyed toward the door. “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on him when he goes for those long walks.”
“Why’s that?”
Ren put on his aviators and cracked a smile. “I’d bet my left nut he took that dog up the road to shit in Lou Johnson’s yard. Those two haven’t been on speaking terms since Lou knocked over his mailbox. See ya.”
As I held my spot in the doorway, I noticed Crush ambling back. Harley was trotting alongside him, tail wagging and looking about three pounds lighter.
Chapter 22
“Who is Aaron again?” I asked.
Blue spread out papers on the floor and then handed me one. “Age nineteen. Wolf. Planned to leave his pack but died three days before. They found him lying in a field.”
Blue leaned against the sofa, one elbow on the cushion and her head propped in her hand. We’d been discussing the case for the past two hours, using the floor in Wyatt’s office since it had the best light. Wyatt was at his desk, bopping his head and typing away on his computer while the singer shouted “Stroke me, stroke me” through the speakers. He had all the bright lamps off on his side of the room, but his cylinder desk lamps were set on a purple hue.
“Is your friend here yet?” she asked him.
Wyatt swiveled his chair around. “Nope. Maybe it’s my lucky day and he slipped out the front door and into oblivion.”
Blue yawned and pointed her toes as she stretched. “Those kids wore me out today.”
I leaned against the connecting sofa. “I bet.”
“Switch slept all afternoon so he could guard them tonight. Are you his backup?”
“I guess so, but he didn’t need me last night.”
She swept her long hair to the side and drew up one knee. “That’s gonna wear him down. He can’t sleep a few hours, teach Hunter in the day, and then guard the kids all night. He’ll have to suspend his teaching duties, and that means Shepherd will have to put aside work and look after Hunter.”
Claude strutted in and tossed something at Wyatt. “That’s all there was.”
Wyatt held up the bag. “What the immortal hell is this? Organic kale chips?”
“Is something wrong with your machine?”
“I’m out of chips, and I don’t get my next order until Tuesday.”
Claude plopped down to my right and hooked his long arms over the back of the black sofa. “Take it or leave it. At least she’s buying snacks.”
Wyatt flung the chips into his wastebasket. “Whoever showed her the organic section of the website is going on my hit list.”
I sniffed and turned my head toward Claude. “What’s that smell?”
He smiled lazily, a smile that had certainly seduced many a woman. “Organic mint bodywash. You like?”
“You smell like a Christmas tree. All you need is a star on your head.”
Blue chuckled. “He’s got the shiny gold shorts to match.”
“You slay me.” He leaned forward and gestured to the paper pile. “Any progress?”
I reached back and kneaded my shoulders. “The night is young.”
His hands rested on my shoulders. “May I?”
Blue smiled knowingly. “He’s got magic fingers. Say yes.”
I glared up at him. “Okay, but no funny business.”
Claude wasn’t just an excellent hairstylist—his hands were also made for working out muscle knots. Once he started, all the tension melted away. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and didn’t protest when his thumbs made circles around my shoulder blades.
“Careful, Raven. I’ve heard that’s how he gets women in bed,” Blue quipped.
The purr rumbling in Claude’s throat quickly died. “Pleasing a woman is in my blood, but I have too much respect for the females in this house to seduce anyone.”
This conversation was heading south, so I leaned away. “Okay, that’s enough fingerplay.” I glared at Wyatt. “Can’t you put out an all-points bulletin? If he doesn’t poof his way in here, I’m shutting this case for good. It’s probably not a good idea to accept help from someone we killed. It feels like a trap.”
Wyatt used his heels to walk his chair toward us. “Patience, buttercup. They can sense electricity, so the office is easy to find. Trust me on that one.” He flung his beanie onto the sofa and ran his fingers through his wavy hair. Wyatt looked more like himself again. Not so tired and sickly—his cheeks had color, and his eyes weren’t bloodshot. He glanced over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”
I straightened up, trying in vain to sense an energy change in the room. We followed Wyatt’s gaze as he looked up to his right.
Wyatt signaled me. “Well, tell him what’s up.”
“Maybe you should do it. I don’t like talking to thin air.”
“It’s not like he can’t hear you. Anyhow, this is your case.” Wyatt crossed his leg over his knee and fiddled with his loose sock.
Instead of staring up, I looked at the files on the floor. “Wyatt says you want us to relay a message in exchange for information. We agree to those terms, but we need to have the information up front. You can trust we’ll uphold our end of the bargain.”
Wyatt glared at the empty space beside him. “Because I want you gone, and if we don’t make good, I have to stare at your ugly face every night.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had any complaints from the numerous ladies that—”
Blue snapped her fingers. “Hey! Focus.”
Wyatt’s stubborn mouth stopped moving. For a second at least. “Specterpath,” he mumbled. “It’s a crazy lost soul that doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, that’s what it is.”
Claude reached out and shook Wyatt’s chair. “Silence.”
“We’ve got all these deaths that we think might be connected,” I said, gesturing to the papers. “Lots of young people. It happened all of a sudden, similar symptoms reported in some. That’s why we’re questioning all these Shifters; we’re trying to figure out if there’s something more devious going on. It could be natural causes and accidents, but nobody lived to tell the tale. If there’s something you know about one of these people who might have been in your pack or den or whatever, that’s what we need.”
Wyatt straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “He says that he lived to tell the tale.” Wyatt glanced up. “Technically, you didn’t live.”