Page 78 of The Tracker's Revenge

Chapter 26

The SUV’s tires spunfor a bit, tearing the pretty landscaping and sending bits of grass into the air, and, with Stephen at the wheel, they drove away. Something wild stirred in me, wanting to take chase, to keep my eye on Jake, to protect him. But I managed to pull my attention away from the retreating vehicle and whirled on my heel.

Other cars followed, the armed men and werewolves inside them.

Heart pounding, I marched into the building. As I entered the larger room where the refreshments were served, I frantically searched for Rosalina. I spotted her in a matter of seconds and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are they gone?” someone asked to my left.

I could do nothing but nod as I watched Rosalina approach, gratefully unharmed.

It wasn’t until I wrapped her tightly in a hug and she did likewise, that I noticed debris on the floor and bullet holes in the ceiling. But worse of all, a body, a man in a torn suit, blood spilling from his gut. Judging by the state of his clothes, it seemed he’d been mid-shift when Stephen shot him. A woman knelt by his side, sobbing and holding his hand, blood thick on their intertwined fingers.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hatred roiling inside of me, festering like a disease. I felt its effects, bashing me in waves, pushing me to the verge of madness.

“He’ll pay for this,” I said between clenched teeth.

Rosalina pulled away and held me at arm’s length. I didn’t know what I expected to see on her face, but it wasn’t the grim determination that matched mine.

“He will,” she said. “He will.”

“He took Jake,” I managed.

She gasped and squeezed my shoulders, understanding my raw pain better than anyone could. “You have to track him.”

I knew what this could mean for our agency. We might lose our meager two clients if we didn’t deliver in time. She must’ve seen the concern in my expression because she shook me slightly.

“Jake’s life is in danger. Nothing is more important than that.”

And of course, she was right, but I was still grateful for her generous soul which always seemed to know the right thing to do and never shied away from it.

Without any sort of hesitation, she took my hand and led me out of the room. Together we marched toward my Camaro. As we were about to get in, a familiar sedan pulled into a parking space and Eric Cross got out. He was fashionably late.

He glanced around, taking in the frazzled people spilling out of the building and the torn flower bed. When he spotted us, he trotted in our direction.

“What happened?!”

“Stephen was here. Apparently, he didn’t get the dagger from Walter,” I said in a rush of breath, trying to explain as quickly as possible. We had no time to waste. “He showed up with weapons and werewolves and hybrids. He killed a man. Jake went with him, acting as if he’d give him the dagger, but I don’t know if he has it. Or if he was only pretending to stop Stephen from hurting any more people.”

Eric’s blue eyes danced from side to side as he took everything in. At last, he said, “Shit!”

“I need to track him. Now! Can we go to your place?”

His house was closer than any other place where we could go—only ten minutes away. Besides, Jake had stashed a duffel bag there before we went to Wolfskeep.

Eric nodded and ran back to his car. We tore out of the parking lot, Eric leading the way. We broke every speed limit and disobeyed every traffic sign we possibly could and made it there in record time and, luckily, with no cops on our asses despite our reckless driving.

I drove my car into Eric’s garage and was in the training room in a flash, my fleeting ability activating without even thinking. Before I knew it, I was kneeling in front of Jake’s bag, digging out one of his T-shirts and clenching it between my fists.

Eric and Rosalina ran into the room a moment later, wearing matching expressions of surprise. I stared up at them, the T-shirt pressed to my chest as if it were some sort of lifeline.

“Can you sense him?” Eric asked as they cautiously walked closer.