Chapter Nineteen
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Devon had a rather frustrating day at work. He’d spoken with Finn a few times, but he hadn’t heard anything about who might have been behind the attack or if any of the robbers had died. Coming up empty-handed was rather unusual for his brother; everyone chatted with a bartender. The only good news he’d learned was the Lake Steakhouse owner would live. He was too drugged up on pain meds at the moment to talk—but he would be alert and able to speak soon enough.
When Devon walked into his house at seven thirty, he was surprised Vinea hadn’t returned from visiting her friend. She’d said the older gentleman was a regular, so maybe they had a lot to chat about. Devon just hoped the man hadn’t taken ill and Vinea hadn’t seen fit to take away his pain. At some point, her healings might be lethal to her, or at the least cause her great discomfort.
Thinking she’d be exhausted when she returned home, he washed up and then scrounged around for something to cook. To his dismay, he’d been so focused on this case that he hadn’t taken the time to shop. The best he could come up with was rather old package of spaghetti and a jar of meat sauce.
Since he wasn’t sure when she would return, he set out the ingredients, ready to cook them once she arrived. By eight fifteen, Devon was becoming increasingly concerned. He figured she wouldn’t mind if he called to check on her. If nothing else, he could ask her what time she would like dinner.
He dialed her number, but when she didn’t answer, his sixth sense shot into high gear.
Her phone went to voicemail. “Vinea, when you get this, call me back immediately.” Devon disconnected and paced, trying to figure out his next move.
She could take care of herself, unless she was too ill to help herself. The best thing to do was to find out where Mr. Sanford lived and head on over there. If she was deep in conversation with her friend, Devon would leave.
The problem was that he had no idea where the man lived, but maybe someone at the Silver Lake Café would know. In case Vinea returned while he was out, he left her a message and placed it on the dining room table.
When he arrived at the café, the inside was dark. Fuck. The sign on the front stated the hours. They closed at six on Monday. Well, damn. How did he not know that? Some investigator he was. Devon would have contacted one of the waitresses if he could remember any of their names. Whenever he came into town, he’d been too busy to pay much attention to what or where he ate.
Sitting in his truck with the heat on medium, he called Jackson. As much as he didn’t like disturbing him, this was important. Jackson could track down anyone.
“Hey, Dev. What’s up?”
“I think Vinea is missing.” That sounded lame, but he didn’t know how else to word it.
“What do you mean she’s missing? Are you sure she didn’t teleport somewhere without telling you?”
He explained that she’d called a little before six saying she was going over to the house of one of her regular customers. Apparently, he hadn’t shown up at his usual time, even though he was to meet a friend there. Worried, Vinea wanted to check on him.
“What do you need from me?” Jackson asked.
“I went to the café to see if anyone knew where he lived, but the place was closed. Do you think you can track him down? His last name is Sanford.”
“Do you know his first name?”
Shit. What kind of mate would he make if he didn’t even take the time to ask Vinea about her work? “No, but she said he’s around seventy.”
“That might narrow it down. Let me check, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Appreciate it.”
Devon put the truck in gear and headed back home. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. If the robbery hadn’t occurred a few days ago, he wouldn’t have thought anything about her visiting a friend. Vinea had taken the time to call and tell him where she was going, so how bad could it be? She didn’t sound under duress, and from the background noise, she’d been at the restaurant when she’d called.
After a few hours at the man’s house, he would have thought she’d at least touch base with him again. So why hadn’t she? His gut said something was wrong.
No sooner had he entered his dark house than his cell rang, jacking up his pulse. It was Jackson. “What did you find?” Devon asked.
“I have an address for a Bill Sanford, aged seventy-one. He lives over on 721 Pine Avenue.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want me and Ainsley to meet you there?”
Devon’s heart nearly stopped. “Why? What are you thinking?”
“Not much, but given the recent events, we should be careful. Safety in numbers, you know.”
Smart. If they drove separately, and nothing sinister had occurred, he’d wave them off. If something had happened, he’d appreciate the backup. “Sounds good. I’ll jump in my truck and head on over now.”
“Meet you there.”
Devon tried to tell himself that nothing had happened to her; he was being overly protective, but until he spoke with Vinea, he couldn’t relax. Surely, if she’d been threatened in any way, she’d just become invisible and return home. His imagination had to be out of control.
Ten minutes later, he approached Mr. Sanford’s house. It sat on a wooded lot with one car in the drive. While winter had taken its toll on the landscaping, many of the bushes leading up to the front door were green. He let out a breath seeing the inside of the home was well lit. Not having the patience to wait for Jackson and Ainsley, Devon jumped out of his truck, rushed up to the front, and knocked.
Thirty long seconds went by before the door opened. The dapper older man was dressed in a beige button down sweater and baggy pants. “Yes?”
“Mr. Sanford?”
“I am. How can I help you?”
“I’m Devon McKinnon and my girlfriend, Vinea Summer, stopped over here tonight, and I was wondering what time—”
The old man held up a hand. “Vinea? I haven’t seen her in days. I heard she was ill.”
Devon’s heart sank, and his wolf began to claw at his insides. The man appeared sharp, and his eye contact was straightforward. “She didn’t stop by tonight?”
“No. I always go to the café every Monday, but someone called and said they had to close early. Something about a gas leak.”
When his teeth began to sharpen, Devon looked away. His wolf was angry and wanted to be released. “If she does stop by, will you tell her to call me?”
“Devon McKinnon, you say?”
“Yes.”
“I sure will.”
As he headed back to his car, Jackson and Ainsley pulled down the driveway. He rushed over to them. “Mr. Sanford said Vinea’s not here, nor did she stop by.”
“I don’t like it. What are you thinking?” Jackson asked.
“The Changelings must have her.”
“Do you have any evidence that they took her?”
“No, but they must have drugged her or something, or else she would have teleported home. Fuck.”
“Call her.”
“I already did,” Devon shot back.
“Try again. Maybe she’s at your house already and you just missed each other.”
He dialed her number, but it went to voicemail again. “Vinea, I’m worried. Really worried. Call me.”
*
When Vinea opened her eyes, it was so dark she could barely see anything. Wherever she was, it was cold, and the floor was hard. She wet her lips and then tried to sit up. Her head throbbed like a bitch, and her back was stiff. When she tried to touch her face to check why her cheek hurt so much, she found her hands tied behind her back. Acid burned in her gut at the constraint. Whoever did this would pay.
The first thing she needed to do was get out of this hellhole. Picturing Devon’s front living room as her destination, she nodded to transport out of there.
But nothing happened.
What the hell? Why hadn’t she teleported? Or become invisible for that matter?
The door creaked open, flooding the room with ambient light. “Well, well. You’re awake.”
That voice was familiar. It belonged to Brother Jacob. Well, fuck. Vinea had to figure out how to play this. Acting scared would only cause more problems, but she could only bluff so much. With her hands and feet tied, she didn’t have much to bargain with. As for her other talents, she couldn’t even change clothes without her hands.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“Because you are a menace. That little stunt you pulled in my office was very dangerous. I’m beginning to suspect you had something to do with the stolen sardonyx too.”
Did he really think she’d cop to that? “What’s sardonyx?”
The slap across her face had her falling backward, slamming her head against the wall. Ouch.
“I saw you in my office. If you can appear and disappear, I’m thinking you followed me to California.”
“Did you see me there?” A bit of the old goddess surfaced.
“How would I if you were invisible?” He kicked her hard in the side and knocked the breath out of her. “I want my sardonyx.”
She would not cry. The problem was that Vinea was not built for abuse. “Fine, I did take it, but I took it to the sheriff’s department for safe keeping.”
Telling him that was probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but maybe he’d realize how talented she was and want to make her a deal. Not that she’d take it, but she needed to stall.
“Who did you give it to, exactly?”
She wasn’t giving up any names. Other than Kalan Murdoch, she didn’t know anyone. “Whoever was at the front desk. I told him I found it and was turning it in. I said I didn’t want any reward, but since it looked valuable, someone must want it.”
That had Brother Jacob looking off to the side. “I have to admit, I didn’t take you for someone who was that stupid.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Did you think I’d try to sell it back to you?”
He huffed out a laugh. “As a matter of fact I did.”
At least he must believe she was still bad. Let him think that. “Now that you know what I’m capable of, why not let me go?”
“Because you’re bait.”
Her stomach clenched. She struggled, but that caused the ropes to dig deeper into her wrists. Even if she could stand, she couldn’t get far with her hands and feet bound.
“Oh, and if you’re wondering,” he said. “I had a witch put a spell on you. You won’t be able to become invisible ever again—or teleport—no matter how hard you try.” He laughed, spun on his heels, and left.
The room became dark once more, sending her soul into despair.
*
Devon drummed his fingers on the conference room table. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night trying to figure out where Vinea could be. Her boss at work said she didn’t tell him she was taking time off. Vinea had mentioned a friend in Billard, but Devon didn’t remember her name either. When he had her in his arms again, things would change.
Connor looked at each of the members of the team. Because Ainsley had come with Jackson last night, she’d insisted on helping. Lexi sat next to Sam, taking notes.
“What do we know?” Connor asked.
“Nothing,” Devon said. “Vinea isn’t answering her phone, and there have been no demands. I get the sense they—meaning the Changelings—will contact us and insist I meet them alone.”
“Why you?” Jackson said. “We’ve all been involved in their demise. You only came onto the scene recently.”
“They might have figured out that Vinea took the sardonyx. If they don’t want me, they might insist that we exchange her for the stone.”
Everyone around the room nodded.
“So now what?” Connor asked to no one in particular.
“I think I should go over to the café and see if anyone knows who called Mr. Sanford and told him the café was closed yesterday afternoon,” Devon said. “That would let us know who has Vinea.”
Connor tossed the pencil he’d been holding onto the table. “The call didn’t come from an employee of the cafe. Jackson already asked. No, the call was really about luring Vinea to a place she thought was safe.”
Connor was right. “Then what do you suggest?” Devon asked.
“I wish I knew.”
Devon looked at Jackson. “How about flying your drone over the Changeling compound with the heat signature equipment attachment?”
“I can do that but it will show hundreds of people moving about. I can’t detect one person from another.”
Devon slammed his hand on the table. “Sorry. It’s just that it’s so frustrating. Why doesn’t she disappear and return home?”
“Maybe she can’t,” Ainsley said. “Even when I’m invisible, you can still touch me. If someone tied me up, even if I became invisible, I couldn’t move.”
Devon shook his head. “Vinea is a goddess. She’s different.” He explained how when they were playacting, she’d held a knife to his throat. “I tried to grab her wrists, but I felt nothing.”
“We don’t have any choice but to storm the place,” Sam said.
He might be a military man, but that could get Vinea killed. “I’d like to try that only as a last resort,” Devon said.
“And do what in the meantime?” Sam shot back.
Devon appreciated that Sam was willing to help, especially considering what Vinea had tried to do to him, but Devon feared his method might not work. “Look, I want to go after her more than any of you, but we need something to go on. We know she’s been in Brother Jacob’s home, so I doubt they’d keep her there. Jackson can send the drone over that house to see if there’s only one signature inside, assuming the man isn’t married, but I’m not confident he’ll find her.”
“Brother Jacob, married? No woman would be committed to that ass,” Sam said with way too much bitterness.
“I’m game to try the drone,” Jackson said.
Connor nodded. “Do it, and let us know what you find. In the meantime, I’ll ask Rye to send out a call for help. If we have the entire shifter community looking for her, we should learn something.” He turned to Devon. “In the meantime, go home in case Vinea returns.”
As much as he didn’t want to, there was a chance she’d be there. “I will, but first I want to speak with someone at the café to alert us if she shows up.”
Connor nodded. “Let us know.”
Now came the hardest part—the wait.