Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires 9)

“It’s the truth, right out of her mouth,” Mallory said. “Maybe it was the final straw for her.”

“Regardless of the reason,” Gabe said, “the timing is suspect. She left precisely when the night brought tragedy to our people, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

He looked up at Damien. “Go to her home. Learn what you can.” Then he looked at Ethan. “As you’ve offered your help, I suggest Merit go with Damien to look for Aline. It wouldn’t be wise for you to leave the estate, all things considered. I suggest you and the sorcerers stay here and help us ensure the safety of the Pack tonight.”

Papa Breck scoffed at the notion he needed protecting, and it was clear Ethan didn’t like the idea of our splitting up. But as plans went, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. We had agreed to investigate, and Ethan couldn’t leave the estate until the coast was clear. Lupercalia was going ahead as planned, so we might as well help the Pack.

“I cannot speak for Catcher or Mallory,” Ethan carefully said. “Merit will go with Damien—but Jeff will go as well.”

Ethan, ever the strategist, had done the math. Damien was an unknown, but Jeff was an ally. We’d literally walked through fire together.

A thin smile played at Gabriel’s lips. “Your terms are acceptable, Sullivan. Damien, Jeff, Merit—go now. And find her.”

I didn’t want to leave Ethan. I (mostly) trusted his safety to Catcher and Mallory, but they’d still be surrounded by shifters who hadn’t decided whether we were friend or foe. And many were leaning toward the latter.

Ethan escorted me to the foyer, where we waited while Jeff and Damien researched Aline’s address. I took the opportunity to play Sentinel.

“Make sure you’re armed in case there’s another attack. Keep your phone on you. And stay in Catcher’s line of sight at all times. He’ll keep you out of harm’s way.”

Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “I do not need a sorcerer to keep me safe.”

“Let’s hope not,” I said. “Because that wouldn’t do much for your hard-ass vamp cred.”

Ethan humphed. “I have all the hard-ass vampire cred.” The ferocity in his eyes was actually pretty convincing. “You’ll stick to Jeff?”

“As close as I can. Do you know anything about Garza?”

“Nothing at all,” Ethan said, sliding his gaze to the tall and rangy shifter, who stood against the opposite wall, arms crossed as he looked down at Jeff.

“This was the best bargain you could make,” I assured Ethan, squeezing his hand. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but I was right; there was no better bargain in the offing.

“Got it,” Jeff said, tucking his phone away and moving back toward us. “We’re good to go.”

“You’ll keep an eye on her?” Ethan asked, giving Jeff the same cool look he’d given me.

“I was hoping she’d keep an eye on me,” he good-naturedly said. We smiled, looking at Damien pleasantly to invite him into the conversation, but his expression stayed blank.

Realizing the joke hadn’t gone far, Jeff grimaced and gestured toward the door. “Let’s forget this happened and get in the car.”

Wordlessly, they walked to the front door and disappeared outside, letting in a swift breeze that swept across the foyer.

Ethan took my lapels in hand and hauled me against him, his body hard and hot against mine. He kissed me slowly, deeply, madly.

“I love you,” he murmured, mouth slipping to my cheek, an electric chill running the length of my body.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself linger against him. “I love you, too.”

He kissed me again and released me. “And Sentinel?”

I glanced up at him, fairly drunk from the kiss.

“For the sake of peace between shifters and vampires, do try to avoid staring at Damien Garza.” With that advice and a sly smile, he slipped back into the room, just in time to avoid catching the blush on my cheeks.

I hadn’t stared.

I’d admired. There was a difference.

In his boots, Damien couldn’t have been a hair under six feet five. He was long and lean, which made the small electric car he pulled up to the front of the Breckenridge house seem like a clown car by comparison.

“This looks . . . energy efficient,” I politely said, as I squeezed into the backseat, katana across my lap.

Jeff climbed into the passenger seat beside Damien, the front of the car small enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

“It is,” Damien said, eyes narrowed at me in the rearview mirror. I smiled politely and couldn’t help imagining the possibility he’d drive Jeff and me to the middle of a cornfield, take us out, and leave our bodies for the crows.

On the other hand, I thought, as he revved the car’s lawn-mower engine, I could probably run faster than the car.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Into town,” Jeff said, glancing back. “Aline’s got a house near downtown.”

“Any friends or relatives she might have gone to visit?”

“Not here in town,” Jeff said. “But she does have a human resources gig at an agricultural company about halfway between here and Chicago.”

“Friends?” I asked.

“Unknown,” Damien said. “She kept to herself.”

“I don’t recall seeing her at the battle,” I said. “We met her before it started. She made a snarky comment about nonshifters and the downfall of the Pack, and then hustled off into the crowd.”

Damien nodded but didn’t say another word.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car into the driveway of a small cottage on a quiet residential street. The surrounding houses were small but the yards were tidy, and probably would have been full of pansies had the weather been warm enough.

Jeff helped me out of the car, and I belted on my katana. Damien gave it a quick glance, lifted his gaze to mine.

“You can use that effectively?”

Not appreciating the tone, I decided to meet it head-on. I rested my fingers on the handle, gave him an appraising glance. “Can you shift effectively?”

When he made a dubious sound—something between a snort, a chuckle, and a grunt—I decided I’d made the right play.

Alert for any sign of life, or harpies with hostages, we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Jeff climbed the stairs, pulled open the metal storm door, and tried the doorknob.