Chapter Twelve
“Oh my goddess, I’m going to be the best cunada ever. Just you wait and see. I’ve always wanted a sister.”
Before coming to La Paloma, Ronan had lost the only true family he’d had—his mother and the stepfather he’d considered his real dad. Their deaths had destroyed something in him. Hardened him in ways he was only beginning to understand.
When he’d arrived in Smokethorn County, ready to take down the “father” that had abandoned his mother and him before his birth, he’d found something he hadn’t expected. Another family.
Sunshiny sweet and seriously smart Aurora Pallás.
One glance at his kid sister, and Ronan had abandoned the idea of making Floyd pay.
He’d bought a pub in town, created a home here, and invited his little sister into his life.
For Rory, it had been filial love at first sight.
After the loss of her mother, the teenager had been as hungry for family as Ronan had.
Unbeknownst to their birth father, Ronan was now footing the bill for her education, including sending her an allowance for clothing and other living expenses so she could focus solely on her studies.
He’d encouraged her to apply to M.I.T. and been relieved and saddened in equal parts when she was finally thousands of miles out of reach of her father.
So, to say Ronan lost his shit when he found out she was missing was an understatement.
“We’re going to find her,” I said.
I’d never seen eyes so bright, teeth so sharp, claws so ready to rend. I’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time.
“Kill him,” he said in a voice like glass being crushed under the heel of a boot. “Going to kill—”
“Yes, we are. But first, we’re going to find Rory.” I didn’t dare touch him when he was like this. Not because I was afraid that he’d hurt me, but because I was afraid that he’d lose himself in grief, and he’d hate that.
Now was the time to be unbreakable.
“Shift back to human. Let’s get some information.”
He nodded. It took a couple tries, but he forced himself to do it. Once his voice was back, he called the agent who’d texted him and got the rest of the story, what little there was of it.
Ronan put her on speakerphone.
“No witnesses,” the woman said.
“There weren’t any cameras on a school campus?”
“There were, but they didn’t show anything. We’re limited on what we can ask. Our kind must be circumspect at times like this. We can’t risk exposure.”
“Fuck prudence. You’re telling me no one saw a security agent being murdered in broad daylight?” Ronan’s hands flexed into white-knuckled fists. It was probably a good thing he’d set the phone on the breakfast bar.
“No. And I’d like to know why,” the woman replied, anger in her voice. “We’re still searching for her. I am sorry for this.”
Ronan snatched a pencil from a cup on the counter and crushed it into tiny bits that feathered to the floor. “Alpha Pallás is responsible.”
The agent said, “Using silver would put the alpha in direct violation of the Shifter Treaty of 1970.”
“And that surprises you? I told your people nothing short of death will stop him if he wants her—certainly not some toothless treaty. I was very fucking clear.”
Angry alpha power wafted off him. I turned away to walk the effects off. Had I been a shifter, I’d have been showing throat.
The agent offered another apology that Ronan ignored. “Very clear,” was all he said.
“One last question, if I may. Does the alpha work with non-shifter paranormals? Psychokinetics? Mages? Witches?”
I cursed under my breath. Something about the crime scene was making her think magic was involved. Likely the camera thing—a legitimate concern. Stealth spells weren’t my specialty, and even I could whip something up to fool a human camera.
Ronan kept his gaze on me as he ended the call.
I spoke up before he could ask. “Desmond is dead, so is the rest of the coven, except for Margaux, Bronwyn, and Billy Lopez. I can give them a call, see if they have any ideas.”
“Please.” He grabbed another pencil. For a half second, it looked like he might write something on the pad by the phone. Then he bared his teeth reflexively, a vein in his temple swelled, and his fingers closed tightly around the pencil.
He wasn’t in control, but neither was his wolf. In that moment, it was as if he were in a liminal space where he wasn’t human or wolf, but a being comprised of unfiltered rage.
“Godsdamn him!” He threw the pencil point first into the kitchen where it drove halfway into the drywall and stuck. “Should’ve killed him the second I got to town. Should’ve ripped his head from his body and fed it to his security team. Should’ve…”
He went through a few more murder ideations before turning to me, jaw so tight he could barely get out the word, “Ideas?”
“Let’s get the word out that she’s missing,” I said. “If you can, do it through whatever wolf bonds you have left with the pack. Let’s start making calls. At this point, our best bet is to find someone who saw something.”
“Okay.” He exhaled in a shaky, uncontrolled shudder. “And after that?”
“We find Mason Hartman and beg, coax, or torture information out of him, and I’m not particular about the order. No one knows Floyd like Mason. He was being paid to cozy up to him.”
“This begs the question—why? Why did an anti-demon group feel they needed to investigate him?”
“Maybe it was another way to watch me,” I said.
“There are easier ways to watch you. I should know. I’ve made it part of my personality.” He tried a smile but couldn’t seem to make his mouth move.
“We will find her,” I said.
He nodded in that way that told me he really wanted to shake his head. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For helping me think straight at a time when all I want to do is kill first and ask questions later.”
“You help me think straight, too.”
He shot out a hand, grabbed my arm, and yanked me against him. It happened so fast I barely registered taking a step. I was an arm’s length away, and then I wasn’t.
“Betty, I’m not going to be okay if this goes badly. Damn it, I just found her.” His voice was barely there, yet insistent, like the whisper of pages turning in a school library.
“It’s going to be all right.”
“You seem sure of that.”
“And I get that it feels like bullshit, but think about it, Ronan. We both know why he grabbed Rory. Leverage. Against you. He knows he can’t beat you in a fair challenge, and he can’t lose face with the pack, so he had to find another way. Frankly, I expected him to grab me.”
Ronan ground his back teeth. Loudly.
“The point,” I continued, “is he’s not going to hurt Rory, because he needs her alive. She’s no good to him any other way.”
“Yeah. I know you’re right. Sorry for—”
“Nothing. You’re sorry for nothing, Ronan Williams.” I backed out of his arms to better see his face. “This is your sister we’re talking about. You’re allowed to be enraged and show it.”
“I don’t think I’d have lost it like that in front of anyone but you.”
“Good. Because you can trust me—with your feelings and everything else.” I cupped the side of his face.
He dropped the lightest of kisses on my mouth then we broke apart to retrieve our cell phones.
I texted everyone I could think of, asking if they’d seen Rory.
I attached a photo and a description and offered a favor as a reward for any information.
People did some things for money, but they’d do a lot more for a witch favor.
Ronan paced the living room with his cell phone to his ear.
“Eighteen—no, nineteen. She just had a birthday. She’s Afro-Latina with black hair and brown and green hazel eyes. She’s a little over five foot, skinny and petite. Her hair’s cut short in that style, what’s it called—”
“Pixie,” I supplied.
“Pixie haircut. I’m sending you a recent photo. If you see her, I need to know straightaway. Don’t approach. Just follow and watch where they take her.”
He ended the call and immediately began tapping on the screen. “That was Alpha Blacke of the Sundance group. I got the number from his first alpha when she was here last year. You remember Chandra Smith?”
“The assassin? She’s not exactly the sort of person one forgets.”
“Ex-assassin. So, Blacke and his wife are out of the country, but he’s passing along the information to Smith and the rest of his security team and shifters. Some of them work in La Paloma.”
“Alpha Blacke doesn’t like Floyd, either,” I said.
“They can’t get directly involved in this. Not unless Blacke wants to challenge Floyd for the pack, and I can’t have that.” His wolf came through on the last half of the sentence, which meant he was holding onto his human side by a thread.
Blacke’s group could keep an eye out for Rory, but they otherwise couldn’t get involved. It wouldn’t end well for any of us if Ronan’s wolf felt challenged or threatened by the other alpha leader.
We texted, called, emailed, and messaged through apps until our phone batteries died. Then we plugged them into chargers and kept going, monitoring Rory’s social media, the secret email she shared with Ronan, and my burner phone.
Nothing.
Once his phone was half-charged, Ronan took it down to the pub so he could talk to his employees and the regulars at the bar. If Floyd was willing to murder a security agent to get at Ronan, they were all in danger.
He gave everyone a round of drinks, told the staff to take the rest of the week off with pay, and an hour later was back upstairs.
“We’re locked down.” He unbuttoned his jeans with a quick jerk of his hand and yanked his work shirt over his head, revealing abs that could’ve cleaned a T-shirt with a little water and elbow grease.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the start of a romantic evening. It was the start of a sinister standoff that had us both by the throat.
The plan was for Ronan to assert himself with the pack. Reconnect the bonds broken when Floyd foreswore him—kicked him out of the pack. Ronan’s wolf hadn’t accepted his sentence, and because he was stronger than Floyd, he was still connected to every Pallás wolf.