Kyanne stalked along the breezeway, watching the parking lot below, keeping an eye out for trouble.
Maintaining a guard at all times was one thing I insisted on even though the motel seemed safe. I seemed like just an average college-age girl, but that was far from reality.
Gabriel teased me about not trusting anyone. He was very nearly right. I didn’t trust anyone but Gareth. And he was the main reason I didn’t trust myself.
Not far away, another reason I didn’t trust myself—Jessica Gillmansen—was stashed in a forgotten storage shed. Her very existence made me undeniably insane. It had only been an hour since Gabe had delivered her as a belated birthday gift and I needed to decide how everything was going to play out. And decide what—or how—to tell Gareth.
God. I rested my forehead on the door. Where I was raised, kids wore those WWJD bracelets to ask themselves what Jesus would do. My guardians, Phil and Margie, pushed religion on me so hard I rejected it. I was more worried about what Gareth would do.
A door clicked open at my other side and Gabriel came into view, his eyes popping wide when I opened the door before he raised a fist to knock.
“Hello.”
His eyes raked over me, taking in my thin cotton pajamas and pausing so long in his examination of my low-cut top that I thought he had to be memorizing the statement scrawled across my front. “It says, ‘Sleep Is for Quitters.’”
He blinked up at me, his mouth opening. I stopped him before words—or drool—came. “If you’re done staring at my tits, say whatever you came to say.”
He pursed his lips and dropped his line of sight again to piss me off. I smacked him, my fingers tingling in the aftermath of the sudden strike.
He touched his face, my palm hitting the same spot just starting to heal from Jessica’s defensive strike. He worked his jaw, testing it. “You can’t think you’re sleeping tonight … not with her here.…”
I shrugged. “This doesn’t have to go down tonight.” I needed time to think.
He cocked his head, his naturally narrow eyes becoming sparkling slits. “I’m not sure.”
“Not tonight, honey.” The only thing I wanted to think about was getting rid of Jessica without Gareth knowing.
I began to close the door on him, but he wedged his shoe between my door and its frame. “Are you going to screw this up?”
“I don’t screw things up. I make things happen.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “I hope so. This could make big things happen for us. You just have to be ready.”
“I’m ready. I just need…”
“What? What do you still need?”
“Time.”
He snorted. “How much do you think you’ll have before they get here? It won’t take them long to realize she’s missing and then connect us to her disappearance.”
“I need time,” I insisted, shoving him back so I could slam the door shut. Silent and seething, I waited there until I heard him walk away, muttering.
Dread lodged in my gut, I knew I needed to talk to Gareth. Always on my mind and nudging his way into my heart, Gareth was the one I trusted. He’d help me see things clearly, although it seemed whenever I was near him all I could see was him.
Until recently. Now being around him made me think of Pietr Rusakova. And that made me as queasy as knowing that I had Jessica in the shed made me happy.
Alexi
Rio was still racing around the paddock when we arrived at the Gillmansens’ farm. Leon and his youngest daughter, Annabelle Lee, edged toward the horse with soft words and slow gestures.
I caught Leon’s eye, and he nodded toward the barn. He had noticed something inside and wanted us to see it, too.
Max’s nostrils flared when we stepped into the richly scented interior of the barn. I coughed at the hay and the dust motes swirling in the air.
“You might not want to be here,” Max said to Amy, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Why?” Her eyes widened, and her mouth drew into a little “o” of fear. “Why, Max?” She started to move around him, but he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
“There’s blood ahead,” he said, his eyes searching hers.
“Whose blood?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” she whispered. “For you to smell it over here.”
“It is a significant quantity,” he confirmed.
“I want to know whose it is,” she said, determination setting her jaw. “Now.”
“Then stay here and let me work.” He gently pushed her back so she stood at arm’s length from him.
She eyed him a moment and, as he turned toward what must have been the site of the fight, she burst past him with her best runner’s sprint.
He roared, but as fast as she had run past him, that fast again she came to a stop.
“Oh. God.”
It was a substantial amount of blood. It marked the wall, spraying and dripping down its length and leaving sloppy drops at close and regular intervals from there to the barn door. I was on the scene in a moment, searching for clues as Max pressed toward the wall.
“Oh. Look.” Amy pointed to the floor and I squinted to see what she had discovered. My stomach turned on itself. Fingers.
Amy and Max reached a conclusion at the same time. “Not hers.”
We breathed a collective sigh.
“Those are some guy’s fingers,” Amy said. “So who…?” She looked at Max and me for an answer.
“Gabe,” he muttered. “His oily scent is thick here.”
Pietr stiffened. “Gabe’s Marlaena’s second in command. Why would he take Jess?”
Max shrugged. “You piss him off?”
Pietr shook his head.
“Not everything is about Pietr, as much as he might believe the world revolves around him,” I reminded. “Now think. What motivation does Gabriel have? What does Gabriel want?”
“Marlaena?” Max asked with a shrug. “She’s a hot little number.”
“Standing right here, Tiger,” Amy snapped, hands clenching into fists on her hips.
“Not that I noticed,” Max backpedaled. “But what male in a pack wouldn’t want to be the alpha’s partner?”
“Is that what it’s always about?” Amy muttered. “Control?”