Chapter 14

By the time Sloane got to the bottom of the list, she’d contacted most of the people on there and felt good about it. She still had a few names with asterisks next to them, but a lot more had been checked off. She could only hope that those who hadn’t answered were at work, and she’d be able to speak with them after dinner.

Tipping her cup to her lips, she groaned. Nothing but a drop of cold, stale coffee trickled out to greet her. That wouldn’t do. She cracked her neck to one side, then the other, intending on making a fresh pot when she looked at her watch. Four thirty. There wasn’t much more she could do for the time being.

Outside, the sun peeped through the light spattering of clouds. The drizzle from earlier had stopped, and from what she could see from the window, things were looking dryer out there.

Time for some real coffee. A quick search online and a phone call later, she had a cab en route. With her purse in one hand, a cozy mystery she’d plucked from Wendy’s bookshelf and her phone in the other, she headed to the main floor.

Although it had been tough, she’d resisted texting Mateo all afternoon. The last thing she wanted was for him to be distracted while he searched for the hunters, putting him in greater danger. But she had promised to let him know when she left the apartment.

Got through most of the list. One guy went missing yesterday. His wife trying to contact him now. I’ll call her back a little later. I’m heading to Cuppa Joe’s. Taxi’s on its way.

Shit. Who? Mateo texted back a moment later.

Man by the name of William Bradley.

Okay. Be careful. Keep on your toes, Mateo responded almost immediately, making her smile.

She wasn’t an idiot. Dragons were notoriously protective, and newly mated males were the worst of the bunch. Not giving her a hard time about keeping some of her independence had to be killing him, but he didn’t try to stop her.

You, too. I’ll see you around seven.

A prickle of unease raced down her spine as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Halfway down the block, a yellow cab approached. A few people walked about, but none paid her any attention at all. Peering around as discreetly as she could, she couldn’t quite pinpoint what had her creeper vibes resonating.

When the cab pulled up in front of her, she opened the door and slid inside. She was probably just being paranoid. Knowing you were on a crazy woman’s hit list could do that to a girl. It would do her good to do some people watching—and coffee guzzling.

Cuppa Joe’s was always busy, and the after-work crowd lined up at the counter, but at least most of them were heading home, rather than sitting at a table. She should have brought a sweater to claim a seat while she waited for her drink, just in case.

When she arrived at the front of the line, Wendy gave her a weary smile and handed her a tall, steaming cup of heaven. “Busy day?”

“You don’t even want to know,” she said as she blew her pink hair out of her eyes. “Where are your hunky sidekicks?”

Sloane handed over her money and shook her head. Wendy was nothing if not direct. “My mate is out doing the things that need to get done, and Rory is with him.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to mention that she suspected Rory was more than just a passing person in Wendy’s life, but it wasn’t her secret to divulge. If anything, rather than be thrilled with the knowledge, the man had looked both horrified and petrified.

Wendy nodded then sighed when a man behind Sloane obnoxiously cleared his throat.

“I’ll find a spot to sit and do some reading until you get off work,” she said before turning and glaring at the scrawny man behind her.

“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he sneered down his pointy nose, barely missing pushing her aside as he passed. In a place like New York, Sloane knew better than to respond, but boy, did she want to. The smell of stale cigarette smoke slammed into her when he shoved ahead, irritating her sensitive nose, and making her sneeze.

No one offered her a blessing. Not that she’d expected one. Small-town courtesy didn’t exist in the city. Taking comfort in the smell of her coffee, she made her way to a small table in the corner where she could watch everyone and not be bothered when the other seats filled up.

***

Mateo growled. Alexandra had given him the fucking slip—again. She’d checked out of her hotel that morning, and he had yet to find her trail. He would. It was just a matter of time. The minute she used her credit card, he’d pin her down, and she’d pay for all the pain she’d caused.

It didn’t matter that she was a woman, or that she was human. She was using her power to hurt others, and that was something he could not—and would not—abide. He’d seen too much of it as a child. Back then, he’d been puny—helpless. He wasn’t so small anymore, and he sure as shit wasn’t weak.

The file he had on Alexandra was thick. All he had to do was bring her in. Did he believe shifter rights were up to par with human rights? Not by a long shot, but they’d made strides in the last few years. Besides, according to the intel Austin had gathered, her atrocities didn’t stop with dragons. For the things she’d done to humans alone, she’d stare at the inside of a cell for the rest of her natural life.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he swiped his thumb across, ignoring the disappointment when he noticed it was Rory, and not Sloane calling.

“Yeah?” he answered, not bothering with small talk.

“You’re going to want to see this. There’s a body in the park. No head. Smells like a dragon.”

“Fuck. Give me the coordinates.” Mateo hung up and rang for a cab.

Less than ten minutes later, he was standing next to Rory, barely keeping his fury contained. Not wanting to put his fingerprints on anything, he used a stick to drag the man’s wallet out of his back pocket, then flipped it open, recognizing the name from the list.

Mateo hung his head and turned away. He’d failed this man. He hadn’t been quick enough with his warning, hadn’t found him in time.

“We better get out of here,” Rory said at the sound of approaching sirens.

Mateo took one more look at the man’s wallet. The photo of a small woman with mousey brown hair smiled at whoever took the picture. “I have to find her,” he said, more to himself than to Rory as they walked away.