Chapter 11

When Mateo had found her in the store rather than sitting in the car as he’d ordered, Sloane hadn’t known what to expect. Other males she’d known—her father not included—would have yelled and screamed at her blatant disobedience. But not Mateo. If she was honest, one of the reasons she’d gone in, other than to return the huge pile of shoes she’d never wear, was to see how he’d handle it.

She hadn’t been foolish. She’d assessed the situation using her dragon senses to scope out the immediate vicinity. Other than a few humans inside the store, who were likely to be employees, and those Rory and Mateo had been dealing with around the building, the area had been vacant. She’d even brought the keys with her so she could press the alarm button and draw his attention if need be. Of course, she’d left the SUV unlocked so they could get in when they got there, but that was beside the point.

When he’d come barreling through the door, he’d looked as though he was ready to battle the worst kind of demon should anyone be near her, but when he’d seen she was safe, he’d slowed his pace and taken a breath. She couldn’t say he’d relaxed a whole lot, but he hadn’t treated her like a child or reprimanded her for her actions. Being fiercely independent had its drawbacks, but she couldn’t change who she was. She didn’t kid herself into thinking he was pleased with her decision, but his reaction hadn’t been over the top. Both she—and her dragon—approved. You did good, mate.

Mateo’s heat surrounded her, making her eyes droop. Resting her head against the seat, she closed them. Had it not been for his bullet wound, she might have snuggled even closer. Her dragon all but purred at the thought.

What seemed like only seconds later, Mateo’s huge hand warmed her knee. “We’re there, babe. Which of these fine edifices are we going to?” He didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice.

Sloane opened her eyes and got her bearings. “Go to the tallest building on the right. Corner of 183rd and Cambreleng.” She yawned and sat up straighter. If she could have, she’d have warned Wendy of their arrival, but her phone was on a sidewalk in bits and pieces. At least, she hoped it had shattered. She didn’t have a lot of personal information on it, but what little was on there, she didn’t want to share with whoever might have picked it up.

“Parking’s at the back,” she offered, but Rory was already pulling into the drive, heading in the right direction. They parked in a darkened corner of the lot, then Rory got out and made sure the area was safe before they grabbed their bags and headed for the door.

With two large dragon shifters at her sides, Sloane entered the building’s foyer and pressed the buzzer for Wendy’s apartment. If they were lucky, she would still be up playing one of the shooting games she liked with her gamer friends. If they weren’t, she’d be out having a few drinks, and they’d have to find another way to get onto the roof.

None of them spoke as they waited. It didn’t escape Sloane’s notice that the men kept their backs to the security camera, and Mateo remained as a solid wall, blocking her from view, as well. She lifted her hand to press again.

“Hello?” Wendy’s voice came over the static-filled intercom.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said, purposely omitting her name and the fact that she wasn’t alone. She was no expert, but if reality was anything like the action movies on TV, you never knew who could be listening in.

When she’d met Wendy a few months after moving to the city, the girl had been homeless and headed down a road no young woman should travel. Sloane had given her a hand, taken her off the streets, and helped her get back on her feet. Their friendship had grown from there. Now they both looked out for each other.

“Yeah, come on up,” Wendy finally said after a bit of a pause. A second later, the lock clicked on the door.

Rory went in front with Mateo right behind her, all but boxing her in as they started down the hallway. “Um, guys? Unless you know where you’re going, maybe let me see so I can direct you,” she teased.

Rory came to a hard stop by the stairwell. He lifted his chin a little and sniffed the air. A moment later, he pushed through, letting the metal door crash on the cinder block wall behind it, then took the steps two at a time. A soft growl rumbled from him as he rushed forward, not waiting or checking to see if they followed.

“What the hell, man?” Mateo roared when they caught up.

Rory pushed through the fire door on the eighth floor. Mateo made to grab his arm, but he was already on the move again. As sure as if he’d been there a million times before, Rory stopped at Wendy’s door.

He lifted his fist, poised to knock. He shook his head, and his growl deepened before he lowered his hand and took a few steps back.

When he finally turned and looked in her direction, the pain in Rory’s eyes knocked the breath from Sloane’s lungs. She couldn’t remember ever seeing someone so tormented in her life.

Sloane opened her mouth to say something—anything—that would take that lost look from Rory’s eyes, but then Wendy’s door opened, and his attention swung to her friend. He hissed a breath through his teeth, his gaze fixed on her alone.

“What’s his problem?” Wendy asked, her voice a little breathless. She swallowed hard, before pulling her gaze away from Rory, and focusing her attention on Mateo. “I guess dinner ran late?”

Sloane stifled her groan. Wendy never was one to mince words. “It’s a long story. Can we come inside?”

She shifted her weight, and peered at Rory who had yet to say anything. If Wendy noticed the blood on Mateo’s clothing or the fact that he kept his arm to his side, she didn’t mention it. “Yeah, come in.”