Truth be told, I didn’t really give a flying fuck about Sebastian, but discovering Nero was keeping tabs on my Pack changed the dynamics of the situation. We weren’t going to be pawns in Severino’s game.
If Sebastian had reasons for helping us, whatever they were, we’d take all the insider information we could get.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sasha
Aren managed to pull me away from my Internet research long enough to grab sandwiches for lunch in the hotel café. We even laughed a couple of times. If a hired killer hadn’t been lurking in the shadows somewhere waiting for me, it might’ve felt like an actual date.
My phone buzzed just as Aren was paying the bill. I pulled it out and a chill shot down my spine. The text message had no return number listed, and it read simply:
Tell the wolf Barry has been working too hard.
What the hell did that mean?
“What’s wrong?” Aren asked as he slid his wallet in his pocket.
“I’m not sure.” I handed him my phone and watched his jaw tighten as he read.
“Shit.” He gave the phone back to me.
I followed him out of the restaurant into the noisy chaos of the casino. “Are you going to clue me in?”
Aren stopped and turned to face me. “Barry works for me. I’m guessing Fonthill has him, or he’s already dead. Think I’m close?” He rubbed his forehead shaking his head. “Damn it. I should’ve done something. I didn’t realize he’d go after my employees. What could it possibly gain?”
“Hindsight isn’t going to solve anything at this point.” The police detective in me kicked into high gear. “We need to think this through. Fonthill must’ve backtracked to your company, probably looking for the twin he saw yesterday. When your office didn’t lead to a relative he could use for leverage, he took the next best thing.”
He mulled over what I said, but in the end, he groaned. “I can’t think in this place.” Looping his arm around my waist, he ushered me forward. “Let’s get out of here.”
Weaving through the bright flashing lights and dodging scantily clad cocktail waitresses, we made our way toward the exit doors. I couldn’t stand cigarette smoke when I was human, but with my heightened jaguar senses, the odor was stifling, not to mention it stung my eyes. By the time we got back outside my mouth tasted like I’d just licked a dirty ashtray.
I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air for a moment before we settled back into the shit storm that was brewing. Aren was quiet as we walked toward a cab outside the hotel lobby. I didn’t prod him. At this point, I was pretty sure Barry was dead. There was no reason for Fonthill to ransom him. He wasn’t a relative, and kidnapping wasn’t his mission anyway.
He wanted us out in the open. And we were obliging.
“What’s your plan?”
Aren stared straight ahead. “I have to go to my office.”
“That’s what he wants, Aren.”
His expression darkened as he turned. “What if Barry’s still alive? I can’t leave him in the hands of that asshole. He could be torturing him right now.” He rubbed his forehead, his tone softening. “He has a family, Sash. I left him in charge of the office when I took off to help you in Los Angeles. This is my fault.”
Guilt was something I could relate to. I took his hand. “It didn’t occur to me that your employees might be in danger either. It’s not your fault.”
“I can’t just assume he’s dead and not do something.” He stared into the distance. “He’s not a werewolf. He doesn’t stand a chance. How can I leave him to die?”
I didn’t answer. What could I say? Could I walk away if it were an officer being held hostage?
“I get that there’s no reason for him to send that text other than to find us. I get it.” He shook his head. “But if there’s even a sliver of a chance Barry’s still alive, I have to try.”
Every muscle in Aren’s arms tightened. It was obvious he had no intention of leaving his second-in-command at the office behind as a casualty of this battle.
This was the Aren I’d met in that alley behind the library in San Antonio. At the time, I’d thought I was attacking Adam, not knowing he had a twin brother. He’d been cold and calculating, a fierce opponent.
And he’d been willing to die to keep his brother safe.
He let me go on believing I had found my mark. When Adam showed up in that alley and I realized my mistake, I couldn’t take them both at once and fled the scene. I remembered being haunted by the focus and determination in Aren’s green eyes.
I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, and never in a million years did I dream I might see those same eyes sparkle when he smiled at me. Life had definitely tossed me a curveball I’d never seen coming when we ended up on the same team.
Aren hopped into the back of the cab and give the driver the address and an extra twenty.
I slid into the seat beside him. “It’s the weekend. Do you think Barry was at the office?”
“Yeah.” Aren nodded, his gaze never straying from the street as if he could move the traffic with his mind. “Barry was in charge. He had keys. The only way Fonthill could have found him is at the office building. It has my name on it.” He cleared his throat, struggling to keep the growl out of his voice.
“You didn’t know Fonthill would come after your business.”
He let out a pent-up breath. “I was busy worrying about keeping you, the Pack, and the babies safe. I should have protected everyone associated with me. It was a stupid mistake.” He finally turned toward me. “Barry’s a good guy. He’s worked with me for more than five years now.”
He focused forward again. He was right—we should have considered collateral damages when we came back to town. But it was my fault just as much as his. I wanted to comfort him, but this was definitely not my area of expertise. I understood how to be an island, being a team was unexplored territory.
I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh, surprised when he laid his on top. Staring at our fingers, the way his large hand covered mine, I felt my heart pound with emotions that terrified me.
Without removing my hand, I turned and watched the scenery fly past my window. Time to focus. We couldn’t change the past no matter how badly either of us might want to. So I needed to concentrate on the future. I had no intention of letting Fonthill hurt us.
I lowered my voice to keep the driver from hearing. “He’ll probably be watching for us,” I said. “We know he’s got a rifle with a scope so he could pick us off before we ever see him.”
Aren nodded and leaned forward to tell the cabbie to let us out at the next block. The cab pulled around the corner, and we exited.
I glanced up at Aren. “Now what?”
“If we go on foot, we have a better chance of surprising him.”
I pondered it for a moment. “He has your wolf sense of smell. He’ll know we’re coming.”
“If we stay downwind, I’ll find him before he ever realizes we’re there.”
I started to smile. My partner rocked.
We crossed through an empty parking lot across the alley from the Sloan Consulting building. I double-checked my guns—both were loaded and ready to fire. Aren was tucking the Beretta we’d taken from Fonthill in Los Angeles into the waistband of his jeans. He’d have to pull back the slide before he could fire, but at least there was no danger of the weapon going off accidentally. Always a hazard when you don’t have a holster.
I stared up at his office building, checking if I could see Fonthill. The reflective glass building rose up toward the sun, mirroring its surroundings. I couldn’t see shit.