Chapter Fourteen

 

Foxfire

 

Someone knocks on the door. Tank and I are in a tangle of limbs.

“Go-way,” I mumble.

“It’s okay, baby. I got it,” Tank whispers, the ghost of his fingers trailing down my back as he leaves the bed.

My mother’s voice mingles with dreams of returning to the fox caves to meet my father, and convincing Jordy to dye her hair blue.

I jerk as Tank’s warm hand covers my shoulder.

“Foxfire, we’ve got a problem.”

I come awake. “What?”

“Someone slashed our tires last night. Your mom was out early this morning and found it.”

“Oh no.”

“The vandals didn’t leave a note or a anything, but the tires’ stink of fox piss.”

I start to get up, and Tank presses my back. “You stay. I’ll handle it. I saw a shop right around the corner.”

“Why would the foxes do this?”

“Send a message. They don’t want us visiting again.”

“By making it hard for us to leave?”

“They may not be the smartest shifters out there. Your father must’ve been the exception.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Rest baby. You need sleep.”

He’s not wrong. The second he’s gone, I’m falling back into my crazy jumbled dreams.

When I finally get up, Tank isn’t back yet, so I shower and do my morning stuff. There are dark circles under my eyes, and I look like I’ve lost weight. Even my normally brilliant plumage droops a little. Maybe I should become a redhead. Or blue—maybe my dream was a sign.

My father’s wallet lies on the bedside table, where I put it last night.

I open it.

“Hey,” I tell my dad. “Look, Sunny says I didn’t want to know you when I was growing up. That’s not true. I wanted to know why the other kids had dads, and I didn’t. I wanted to meet you. But whenever she brought it up, she’s right, I denied it.

“Sunny did her best. I know you did, too. But I wish you had been more selfish. I was a tough kid. I could’ve handled it. I wish I had known you. I have a feeling now I never will.”

I flip the wallet closed. Why did my dad leave his wallet before he skipped town? Was it a message to Jordy?

I search through, and other than a few folded bills, change and a library card, there’s nothing of note. Except, when I search an inner pocket, I discover a brass key. A small piece of tape marks it with a long number. A code? Is this a key to a safe? I tuck the key back carefully. Tank will know. I grab my phone and dial him.

A few rings later I realize his bag is vibrating. He must’ve left his phone here. I go get it, ready to run down and find Tank and tell him what I discovered. He has a few missed calls from last night and this morning. One’s from Garrett. There’s even a text from a “Jared.” “U alive?!?”

Guess Tank has been neglecting his pack to deal with my drama.

As I stand there, holding the phone and feeling guilty, it rings. The caller’s name is “Dad.”

Biting my lip, I answer.

“Tank’s phone. He’s not here right now, but I can take a message.”

“Who’s this?” an older version of Tank’s voice asks.

“I’m Foxfire. Did you want to speak to Tank? He left his phone here but should be back—”

“Is there a reason you’re answering his phone?”

“He just ran out on an errand and left it here. I’ll tell him to call his pack as soon as he gets back—he’s been busy… um… helping me with some family problems.”

Silence. I wince. This is not how I wanted an introduction with Tank’s dad to go.

“I’m a fox shifter,” I offer, then wonder if it was wise to tell him that. “You’re his father? It’s nice to meet you—”

“Look,” the man interrupts. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. Tank has been off with you while his alpha and members of pack were in trouble.”

“What?” The air sucks out of the room.

“I don’t know what he’s doing with you, but his alpha’s back in town, now, and wants answers. Tank needs to wise up and get back to his duties.”

It’s my turn to be silent.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be hard on you. But Tank’s second in the pack. You know what that means? His alpha relies on him. He doesn’t need a woman messing up his place in the pack.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I will my voice not to shake. “We only just met, but I care about your son.”

“If you care for him, you’ll be careful with him. You say you’re a fox shifter?”

“Y-yes.”

“Shifters don’t mix with other species. Tank needs a mate who understands him. He belongs with his kind.”

“I’ll tell Tank you called,” I whisper, and hang up. My body is numb, like I’ve been slammed into the ground.

Shifters don’t mix with other species.

My kin, waving guns at Tank.

Tank needs a mate who understands him.

Tank at the wheel of his truck, trying to explain how a pack works to me.

He belongs with his kind.

Tank’s face, filled with pity as he looks at Jordy. At me.

The missed calls. His insistence he can’t involve his pack. His father’s ugly words, not angry, but worried.

I don’t belong in his world. He definitely doesn’t belong in mine. I’m doing just what his mother did, putting his good pack standing in jeopardy.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. I pack up my stuff and put it in Sunny’s room.

I find out from Sunny where Tank had the car towed. Turns out it’s a short walk from the hotel.

Tank comes around the bus as I approach, rubbing his greasy hands on a rag.

“Tires should be here by noon. I just did an oil change, and I’m going to check a few more things before we go.” He glances at me. “Everything okay?”

My feet falter. I rehearsed what I’m going to say on the way over, but, at the sight of him, biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt, jeans creased with oil stains, proof that he was taking care of my mom’s vehicle even though we didn’t ask, and she probably can’t pay. Tank being Tank.

“So, we’re leaving?”

He shrugs. “It’s up to you. I was thinking we’d stay a few more days, see if we can get any more leads on your dad—”

I shake my head. It’s just like his dad said. I’m a ball and chain, dragging him down.

“You need to go,” I blurt. His head jerks back, brows knotting. “I mean… I think it’s best if you go back to your pack. They need you. My kin won’t talk to me with you around and…” I shrug.

He studies me a moment. “What’s wrong, Foxfire?”

I take a deep breath, and bring out the big guns.

“When were you going to tell me you marked me as mate?”

 

~.~

 

Tank

 

Foxfire rubs her palms on her jeans but stands her ground. Her scent is off, somehow, and she isn’t looking me directly in the eyes.

Until now.

“Well? You marked me, Tank.”

Fuck. “Who told you that?”

“Jordy.” She pulls her hair to the side, baring the red weal. It’s healed up nicely. Shifters heal fast, but the serum in my fangs for claiming a mate makes sure it leaves a mark.

“Foxfire—”

“Why, Tank?” Her voice is hard. I’ve never heard this tone from her before. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone abducted my woman and put an actor in her place.

“I messed up,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I didn’t mean to.”

She closes her eyes.

Fuck.

“Explain.”

“I can’t. My wolf wants you. He’s always wanted you. But it was wrong of me to do it. I should’ve had better control.”

“We don’t belong,” she says. “You’re a wolf, and I’m a fox.”

I start toward her, and she puts her hand out to keep space between us.

“Your dad called.”

I can’t keep up with the change of subject. I realize she’s holding out my cell phone.

“Garrett and the others are wondering where you are. Your pack has been in some trouble.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They need you, Tank.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t need you. Not anymore.”

I search her face. Nothing of Foxfire in there, no light, no excitement. Stony and cold. I marked her without permission. She has a right to be upset.

As soon as I take my cell phone, she turns away. She’s right. My phone is blown up with texts and calls from the pack. My alpha. My dad.

“I took a call from your dad,” she says. “I shouldn’t have done it, but you left your phone, and I didn’t want them worrying. Anyway, he told me your pack needs you.”

Fuck. There’s a text from Garrett to the entire pack. A meeting, tonight. “I should go.”

“I think it’s for the best.” She doesn’t look back at me. “We can give you a ride—”

Dammit. Leaving her—especially now, when she’s pissed at me—goes against every cell in my body—shifter or human. But I can’t shirk my duties to the pack, and she clearly doesn’t want me here. Maybe she just needs some space. I’ll reconnect with her after the pack meeting and get her to talk to me.

“The car shop has a motorcycle I can buy and take back to Tucson. The repairs are all paid for, and the tires should be on before closing. I’ll call when I get to Tucson to make sure you and your mom are all set.”

“We’ll be fine,” she says tightly. “No need to check on us.”

Fuck a goddamn duck. I guess I’m getting a taste of my own goddamn medicine. She’s totally shut me out.

My instincts scream at me not to go, but staying doesn’t make sense. The long motorcycle ride will clear my head. So will reconnecting with my pack.

 

~.~
 

Foxfire

 

I wander through the market, stopping at my dad’s old booth. The scent of fox is fading. Something tells me Jordy won’t be back to run the booth. This is a dead end. This whole trip was.

I choke back a sob. The wind picks up. Old newspapers swirl in the flurries. A gust carries the scent of patchouli oil to me.

“Foxfire?” Sunny approaches. “I just saw Tank—he bought a used motorcycle from the repair shop and is heading back to Tucson. Is everything all right?”

I burst into tears.
 

~.~
 

Back in our hotel room, I tell her everything. Everything except about us being shifters, of course. She grimaces at my description of Johnny’s family but doesn’t seem surprised.
“He told me a little about them. Enough to make it clear I’d never want to meet them. Everyone worked in the family business, with no outside pursuits. The men were domineering, the women shut-ins. Very rigid society, very patriarchal. Your father wasn’t that way at all.”

I show her the wallet, and she smiles at the picture of Johnny.

“I found this.” I pull out the key. “I’m not sure what it opens, but he left it behind when he disappeared.” Or was taken. I don’t know much about shifter society, but if his clan thought he was abducted, I believed them. After all, he’d wandered off before, when he met my mother. This sounded different.

“This probably opens a safety deposit box,” Sunny muses. “Everything he sent me was from the post office here. I already went to visit—very nice people. They remember Johnny.”

“Have they seen him?”

“Not since early last year.”

As I take the key back, I can’t shake the feeling of dread. My father disappeared and left his wallet in a lockbox. Maybe he meant to return and put it there for safekeeping. Or maybe not.

“S-should we…” I stumble over the words because they feel like an acknowledgment Johnny is really gone. For good. “Should we go see what it opens?”

“I think your father left it for someone to find.”
 

~.~

 

Papers, papers, and more papers—everything from handwritten notes to photocopied newspaper clippings. My father wasn’t a fox, he was a packrat.

Hiding my disappointment from Sunny, I dump the contents into a box the nice post office people provide, and return to the hotel. We spread everything out on the bed, and I eat my leftovers from last night as Sunny sifts through it.

“Interesting,” she says. “This looks like... research. Some sort of project.”

A newspaper headline catches my eye. “Missing mother,” I read. “And here’s another. Missing local man.”

I open my father’s notebook and find a corresponding list. Name, date, and an animal name. I read a few before I realize what the animal means. Grizzly, lion, eagle, raven—they’re types of shifters.

“Johnny was looking into missing people,” Sunny says, and starts stacking the newspaper clippings to one side. In the end there are over thirty, with a few more marked on the list in the notebook.

Not just missing people. Missing shifters.

The foxes were right. Shifters are disappearing. And my father was compiling evidence to prove it.

“What’s this?” Sunny lifts a piece of paper, copied from some sort of map. Johnny sketched a few boxes on it, some large, some small, with labels in his neat handwriting.

“Main warehouse, cage area, lab one, lab two,” Sunny reads.

“A compound,” I say, matching the map to my father’s notes. “It’s near the Arizona border, just outside the Ute Mountain Reservation. Looks like total wilderness.” I get my phone out and look up the coordinates, but Google Earth doesn’t show any buildings. “It’s a secret facility.” I raise my head, and meet my mother’s wide eyes. “That’s where the missing people end up. See?” I flip to the end of the notebook, where Johnny has dates and notes of trucks moving in and out of the compound. He even noted license plates. “Delivery, October 26th. He found this place and spied on it for over a year.” I point to the last date. April 24th of last year. “He thought that something fishy was going on, and the compound was ground zero.”

“What does this mean?”

“Johnny didn’t just wander off. Neither did these missing people. If his notes are correct, they’re not just vanishing into thin air.

“They’re being taken.”