Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
RAJ
Milo opens the flat door, inhaling deeply when he sees the enormous pan I’m carrying in both hands, a stack of naans balanced on the upside down lid. “That smells incredible. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” I head towards their open plan kitchen, my feet bare because I couldn’t be bothered to put shoes on simply to go next door.
“Bryn’s just finishing something up. He promised he’d save me leftovers if I answered the door.”
My brow furrows. “You’re not staying?”
Not that I mind having Bryn all to myself, but he suggested that I come over to his flat tonight so that I could get to know Milo better, albeit as Dhiren.
I won’t be undercover forever though, and although Bryn and I haven’t put a label on what we’re doing, getting to know the people in his life feels important.
Which is unusual for me, because I never had that urge with any of the women I dated.
“Change of plan, I’m afraid. A uni friend is unexpectedly in town tonight for work, and I haven’t seen her in months.
I couldn’t say no when she asked me to meet for dinner, although smelling that, I’m tempted to invite her here instead.
” Milo groans as I set the pan on their kitchen worktop.
“Ugh, no, she’s got social anxiety and doesn’t handle meeting new people well. We’ll do this some other time, yeah?”
Bryn looks up from where he’s perched on the sofa, his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, and gives me a distracted wave before refocusing on the screen.
“Of course,” I say to Milo. It’s a shame he can’t stay, but I understand.
“And you’ll cook again?” He eyes the naans longingly.
I smile, always happy to have appreciative mouths to feed. “I will. I even accept requests.”
He grins and lightly smacks me on the shoulder. “You’re my new favourite person. Right, I better skedaddle or I’ll be late. Have fun, and don’t worry, I’ll wear my earplugs when I get home.”
He winks at me then waves goodbye to Bryn, who looks up again as Milo leaves the room. The front door closes a moment later.
Bryn’s brow furrows when he notices the food I brought. ‘I thought I was helping you cook?’
His presence in the kitchen isn’t usually that helpful, but he’s determined to keep trying.
Last night he insisted on doing it all himself and bringing it over to my flat once it was done, which resulted in the most garlicky Bolognese I’ve ever had in my life.
Turned out he’d added three bulbs of garlic instead of three cloves.
‘You could have if you’d come over an hour ago.’ I soften my reply with a smile.
He checks the time on his laptop and winces. ‘Sorry. I got caught up doing something.’
He closes the laptop lid and comes over, his hands immediately reaching for my waist as he presses his lips to mine. He has this way of kissing me that makes me forget everything else, whether it’s intense and passionate, or soft and sensual like now.
I tug him in until we’re pressed together and lose myself in him for a few minutes, pushing all my worries about missing shifters, arms-trafficking fae, and Bryn’s safety to the back of my mind. Of course, it can’t last forever, and all too soon he’s pulling away.
We set the table and dish up, sitting opposite one another. Bryn and Milo’s flat has a much darker aesthetic than mine, and although I would never have chosen something like this, it does give a cosy atmosphere to our meal.
He takes his first bite of chicken shatkora tarkari and naan and closes his eyes, his shoulders relaxing.
He opens them again, quickly tearing off another piece of bread.
I smile as he devours the entire plate and goes for seconds, then thirds, while I eat my own portion more slowly.
Cooking for him always satisfies a quiet need inside of me, especially when he enjoys my food so much that he abandons all conversation.
When he’s finally finished, I get up and clear our plates, setting them down next to the sink and rubbing my forehead. Between my worries about this case and Bryn’s nightmares, this tension headache has become a permanent feature of the past few days.
He stands behind me, massaging my shoulders with confident hands.
I lean into his touch, taking the comfort he freely offers.
My tiger urges me to shift so we can have our fur petted, and although it’s one of the best feelings in the world I ignore the suggestion for now.
Every time I discuss the case with Bryn my mind is clearer by the end of it, and there are updates I want to share. I need hands, not paws, for that.
After another minute or so, I turn around.
‘I finally heard back from the Bristol task force while I was cooking. They’ve confirmed no one matching Valerie’s name or description has ever lived at the address she supposedly emailed her pack, and although the job contract with her name on it is real, she’s never shown up to work there. ’
Valerie is the last of the missing shifters we’ve been waiting to hear back about.
Having a copy of Bryn’s contract to show the penalty for breaching the terms of the mandatory work programme, combined with the official confirmation that Jay is missing, were the final pieces we needed to prove enough of a welfare concern to involve other task forces.
Unfortunately, the response has been the same for each shifter.
There’s no evidence that they were ever in their supposed new homes or jobs.
His eyes are stormy, his hand movements tense. ‘I’d ask if they’re going to help with the search, but chances are Val was never even in Bristol.’
I sigh and lean against the sink. ‘I know. Having this confirmation doesn’t really change anything.’
We were already working under the assumption that everyone was missing, and the attempt to kidnap me cemented that theory in my mind.
I’m holding out hope that these people are still alive somewhere, that even now there’s a chance we can rescue them, but is that realistic after they’ve been missing for so long?
‘We’ll find them,’ he signs, his hand movements confident.
His use of ‘we’ takes the edge off the stress that’s become my constant companion.
I’m not alone in trying to figure this out, and his support means more than he knows.
It also helps that I’ve seen my pack more often since the explosion at the warehouse.
My cover is becoming flimsier by the day, but after the kidnapping attempt on me I can’t bring myself to care.
It seems far safer not to work in isolation right now.
‘There’s more,’ I sign. ‘The Nottingham task force emailed me. They finally managed to question one of the workers at the Far Out Freight warehouse there. Jay was injured like we suspected, but after a few hours spent recovering he left to drive back to Birchester. That’s the last time anyone saw him. ’
I already called Wren to let her know because I promised to keep her updated, but seeing her upset wasn’t easy. Fortunately her husband was with her so she isn’t alone this evening.
Bryn frowns. ‘What took so long? Surely they could’ve figured that out sooner.’
If only it was that simple. ‘The fae in charge of that site refused to let the task force interview anyone, and when they tried questioning employees outside of working hours, no one seemed to know anything. Someone finally came forward today.’
‘Why now?’
‘I asked the same question. Apparently, the employees were threatened with losing their jobs if they talked, but because the supervisors haven’t been around much and the shelves aren’t being restocked, the person who came forward suspects they won’t have a job much longer either way.’
‘Seems like here, this week,’ he signs, echoing my own opinion.
‘Exactly. This potentially happening across the UK arm of the company suggests big changes are coming.’
His frown deepens. ‘It almost feels like they’re winding down the business.’
That’s exactly what it feels like, and the group chat I’m in with the cat shifters at work has been going crazy with speculation. From what Bryn told me about his night at the pub with Harley, the wolves not on the work programme are also concerned about how much longer they’ll have jobs.
‘The question is, why? I don’t think my cover’s been blown, and even if it were, I’d expect to lose my job immediately. There’s been no indication that anyone at Far Out Freight is suspicious of me, not even after Dhiren supposedly called the task force for help.’
‘Could that be it? They suspect a BSG investigation after they failed to kidnap you?’
‘It’s possible, but there was nothing to connect the fae who ran me off the road with Far Out Freight, other than their species, and we’ve been unable to find them—much to Kit’s irritation.
In addition, it’s unlikely a local BSG investigation would cause a successful multinational corporation to preemptively shut down in multiple locations. ’
There’s an unusual caution in his hand movements. ‘I feel like I should be pleased that suspected arms traffickers could be shutting up shop, but it pisses me off that Lance and the others might get away with it.’
‘If you’re worried I’ll judge you for that, don’t be.
I feel the same way—and like I’m running out of time.
’ My hand movements are a little unsteady.
I hate the idea that I might not solve this case before it’s too late.
I’m barely sleeping at night as it is, and I can’t bear the idea that the trail could go cold, that those shifters could be lost forever.
‘I keep coming up with all these crazy theories, like our shifters being kidnapped and taken to the fae realm the way humans used to be in the old stories. Could we be dealing with shifter trafficking? Is that why there’s no sign of them?
And if that’s where they’ve been taken, how do we get them back? ’
‘Is that possible? I thought only fae have the ability to travel between realms.’