Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
This was happening. Actually happening. I could hardly believe it.
The setting sun shone bright in my eyes as the road turned west, heading toward the coast.
The last time Sophia and I took a road trip together, there was music blaring from the speakers and wind whipping through the windows. There’d been a cooler of drinks in the back and empty snack wrappers littering the floors.
But not this time.
Truth be told, everything about this trip just felt different.
This morning, we’d risen with the sun and wasted no time getting on the road. I’d kept the pedal down as we raced up California’s Central Valley, only stopping for gas, bathroom breaks, and fast food burgers.
I was eager to get to the little northern town we’d be staying in for the next week…and Sophia was just plain anxious.
She’d been that way for a while now. Ever since she’d lost her job.
That was one of the reasons I was so excited to get to work on the podcast. This wasn’t just an opportunity for me, but for her as well. A chance to move beyond the world of hospitality and customer service and be her own boss for a change.
So, I’d made sure that Josh tagged an extra zero on the check he wrote me the night of the gala so I could bring her along as a sound engineer.
It didn’t matter that Sophia knew nothing about recording equipment. She was a quick learner and spent nearly the whole ride watching tutorials.
Well, almost the whole ride.
For the last hour, she’d been tucked up tight in the passenger’s seat, head against the window, fast asleep.
And having some good dreams by the sound of it.
I bit into my lip, swallowing down a laugh, as she gave a little moan…followed by another, not so little one.
Yeah, those were definitely some very good dreams.
And they weren’t the first. I’d heard similar sounds coming from her bedroom for the last few weeks in the middle of the night.
I didn’t want to wake her up. I really didn’t. If anyone deserved to let off a little steam, it was Sophia. But it was getting harder and harder to hold back my giggles as her purrs and cries grew louder and louder.
Eventually, she called out her dream lover’s name, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Laughter burst from my lips.
“Sophia.”
I tried to wake her with a nudge, but she was dead asleep. Her eyes didn’t so much as flicker as I shook her shoulder.
“Sophia, sweetie. You’re dreaming again,” I said, louder this time.
Her eyes flew open.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice groggy. “How long was I out?”
“A little over an hour.”
Sitting up in her seat, she blinked a few times before asking, “How close are we to Goldwood?”
“A few miles.”
“You should have woken me up sooner.”
“Well, I would have,” I said, unable to resist the urge to tease her just a little. “But it sounded like you were enjoying your dream. Like really enjoying it.”
Sophia’s whole face turned bright red. She tried to duck her head down, to keep me from seeing, but it was too late. “Oh, God.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” I giggled. “It’s just us. Besides, I’m glad to hear that you’re getting some—even if it is only in a dream. But I have to admit, there is one thing I’m curious about.”
Sophia looked like she was going to be sick. “What?”
“Who the hell is Kyre?”
She pretended not to know who I was talking about, but I wasn’t buying it. Kyre was too unusual a name for a sleep-soaked brain to come up with on the fly.
But one thing was obvious; whoever this Kyre guy was, Sophia did not want to talk about him.
She didn’t want to talk or joke about guys at all.
So after a few minutes of gentle ribbing, I dropped the subject—just in time to make the turn into the little town of Goldwood…and I do mean little.
The whole town couldn’t have been more than a quarter-mile long. Main Street, with its smattering of shops, ran through the middle.
Most of the buildings looked at least a hundred years old. That might not seem old in the grand scheme of things, but up here on the North Coast, it was practically ancient.
A few of them even looked like they might predate the modern concrete Wall.
I made a mental note to dig up information about that in my research. I couldn’t imagine what life must have been like up here back then, living within a stone’s throw of ferus territory with nothing but a flimsy timber barrier to keep the wolves at bay.
It was a terrifying thought…and a riveting idea for an episode.
My mind spun with ideas as I parked the car in front of the place we were staying—Deke’s Goldwood Tavern.
Immediately, Sophia tensed up beside me. “Felicity, this is a bar.”
“Yeah, a bar that rents out the rooms above it.” I’d had a feeling she wouldn’t be thrilled.
Sophia might be just as broke as I was, but she’d spent the last three years working behind the desk of one of the top luxury hotels in Beverly Hills.
This place, on the other hand, looked so rustic that I’d believe the only bathroom was an old outhouse around the back.
“Besides, it’s the only hotel around for fifty miles. ”
I didn’t blame Sophia for grumbling a little more as she grabbed her bags and followed me inside. I knew I was pushing her way outside her comfort zone, but it was for her own good.
This podcast was our big chance to break free. If it was successful, we could finally stop barely scraping by. We could quit our terrible jobs, working ridiculous hours for demanding bosses. We could live our own lives. Take control of our own futures.
Surely, an opportunity like that was worth a few nights in an old bar.
Determined to keep my eyes on the prize, I lifted my head high as I threw open the door.
There was a nice mix of patrons inside—farmers, soldiers, and regular country folks. From the outside, they all looked friendly enough, but the instant Sophia and I stepped inside, every last one of them stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at us.
Looking around, I met their curious gazes with a smile. One that I hoped read as Yes, we’re friendly, but no, we’re not pushovers.
And miraculously, it worked.
After checking in with the bartender, paying for our room in advance, and getting him to take our bags up to the room, everyone lost interest in us and got back to their conversations.
Jumping up on one of the barstools—a thin cushion covered in cracked vinyl—I motioned to Sophia. “Come on over. Have a drink.”
The glare she shot me could have soured milk. “Felicity, what the hell are you doing? That was a whole month’s rent.”
That’s what she was upset about? The high cost of the room?
Why in the world did she care if the owner was charging $300 a night for half-star accommodations? It wasn’t as if the money was coming out of her bank account.
“Our producer is the one paying the bills, remember?” I reminded her.
Our conversation caught the interest of a middle-aged man with a weathered face, seated a couple of stools down. After introducing himself as Chuck, he asked, “Are you ladies with the news or something?”
Since he seemed genuinely curious, I told him about the podcast.
“Now, why in God’s name would you want to record a show like that?”
It was a fair question. Though somehow I doubted the honest answer, because the opportunity fell in my lap, was likely to satisfy him.
“Have you heard about the photo exhibition that features photos of the Wilds?” I asked instead. “The ones taken by Hannah Carter?”
Chuck shook his head. “Is that the lady who was kidnapped?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Well, it’s bound to be a massive hit. Public interest in her story, in this town, in anyone who had contact with her is about to skyrocket.”
“Ah!” Chuck’s eyes widened as if he suddenly understood everything. “So, you’re here to cash in on our town’s misfortune?”
Not exactly.
If I was cashing in on anybody, it was Josh Caine, but that was between me and him. Besides, so long as Sophia and I delivered a profitable product, he didn’t have anything to complain about.
Still, Chuck’s comment hinted at a far more interesting idea.
“Is the town really that upset about Hannah Carter’s abduction?” I asked.
Chuck took a long swig from his beer before slowly nodding. “And the murder of the soldier she went out there with.”
Murder?
I glanced over at Sophia, but she looked just as baffled as I was.
“We didn’t hear anything about a murder,” I said.
“Of course you didn’t,” Chuck said grimly before signaling for a refill on his beer. “That’s ‘cause the government doesn’t want the news to get out.”
“Why?”
“They’re worried about ‘bad press.'” He made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. “They’d rather sacrifice the memory of a dead hero than let the truth get out.”
A kidnapped woman, a dead soldier, and a murderous alpha? This story was turning out to be true crime gold.
“We could help you get the truth out there,” I offered.
But Chuck didn’t seem interested. “That ain’t work for nice girls like you. Trust me, I know. I used to deal with those alphas. I know what they’re capable of.”
He did? How in the world did he know that?
“What do you mean you dealt with them?” Sophia asked.
“I used to run with a group of guys that worked the Wall a while back.”
Wait…he didn’t mean he was…
“You were a smuggler? Working with real life ferus?”
“Keep yer voice down.” Despite doing his best to look upset, I could tell he was proud. “But yeah, I was.”
“That’s bad ass,” I said. “Do you think any of your friends would be willing to drive us out to where the photographer was taken?”
Chuck hemmed and Sophia hawed, neither of them certain that it was the best idea, but eventually they both relented. Chuck even went so far as to admit that the area around the Wall wasn’t as dangerous as people made it out to be.
“That was the first death in a hundred years,” he said.
But Sophia needed more convincing. “Do you really think we’d be safe out there?”
“I mean nothing’s a hundred percent,” Chuck said with a shrug. “But as long as you’re with someone who is used to dealing with the ferus, you should be fine.”
“Okay, then,” Sophia sighed. “Let’s contact your friends and see if they’ll agree to take us out there.”
But Chuck was one step ahead of her.
“No need. I can take you,” he said. “For a thousand bucks, I’ll take you there right now.”
“Deal!” I shouted before either one of them had the chance to change their minds.