11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Cooper
T his is a bad idea. A very bad idea. The worst idea I’ve ever come up with. I’m taking Zelyah to see my father, King of the Spring Court. This will not end well for either of us.
It’s Friday afternoon, and I have to meet my father in my realm—Faerie. I’m not looking forward to this. Zelyah talks at inappropriate times, and I know my father won’t understand her humor. Dealing with her at the best of times tests my patience, but introducing her snark and impulsiveness into the formal Fae Court seems like a recipe for disaster.
My father, High King, has little tolerance for anything. He demands order and respect from his subjects at all times. Zelyah knows none of our customs or etiquette rules. Her instinct will be to mock and provoke. I don’t know if my father and Zelyah are going to get along, or if they’re going to yell at each other the whole time at dinner. The latter seems more likely. Zelyah takes no shit from anyone, and my father . . . well, he definitely doesn’t take shit from anyone, even from me or my younger brother and sister. So, after thinking this through, this is probably a horrible idea. She has no filter and even less self-control. I can already envision her blurting out something rude.
I don’t know her very well, but although she gets on my last damn nerve, I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. Every time I’m trying to do something, she breaks my concentration, and it only makes me hate her more. Just the other day, I was tracking an Orc, and she decided to call me mid-pursuit. I told her only to call if it was truly important. She insisted brownies qualified as vital enough to interrupt my work. I told her I was busy and ended the call, trying to refocus on the target.
Unfortunately, the distraction allowed the Orc to slip away uncaught. When I got home without brownies, I found she’d made good on her threat of payback. Changing all my phone settings into a foreign language, hiding my keys, and resetting my work alarm to 3 a.m. Minor but infuriating inconveniences I had to waste time fixing. And clearly it was just a warning, because she insists that she’s capable of much worse. As aggravating as she can be, I’ve learned it’s smarter to simply indulge her cravings. A small price to keep her here. There’s no way I’m leaving Zelyah here by herself. There’s something off about her, and I plan to watch her like a hawk until I figure it out.
I’m standing outside of her room trying to decide how to deliver the news to her. I sigh before knocking softly, and the door swings open with ease, offering me a startling view of Agent Easton Barlowe spending time with Zelyah . . . in her room. Anger bubbles up, and I try to squash it down. There’s no need for that. Still, I can’t help how much it rattles me to see her laughing with him. I assigned his ass to watch the fucking house, not make friends. He’s helping her build something, but I’m not sure what it is yet. He’s got a drill in one hand while Zel holds on to screws.
“Easton, what are you still doing in my house?” I try to sound nonchalant, but I know it comes off a little edgy. I just hope they don’t notice.
“Zel and I were just discussing some plans, and I’m helping her build a bookshelf,” he answers, unaware of how much I’m seething inside.
Plans? Plans . . . ? Why the fuck are they discussing anything? This guy is only supposed to watch her from afar, nothing else.
“Yeah, is that a problem?” She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in defiance, “I’m technically still being watched if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She smirks, knowing she has me where she wants me, and I fucking hate that she can do that to me. No one has been able to push me this far.
I clear my throat before answering, “Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I grit my teeth.
He grabs the drill, lines up the head with the bit, and slowly squeezes the trigger. The head spins just like my emotions, and as he pushes the drill, Zel watches intently.
“When are you two planning on hanging out ?” I can’t bring myself to say go on a date because it makes me nauseous. Maybe having her go out with one of my agents knowing she kills human men for a living freaks me out. What’s stopping her from attempting to take out a supernatural man as well? I should probably say no, but if this cocky asshole thinks he can handle her, then by all means, let him try.
“Tomorrow night.” She smiles and gives him a look that makes me want to gag. He’s staring up at her like he’d give her the world if she only asked, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Although she sounds genuine about going on this date, she seems way too excited. I can’t quite pinpoint what it is about her that makes her so dangerous.
Easton’s phone rings, and he looks down.
“Oh shoot, I have to take this,” he says, juggling her finished bookshelf into a corner. He hurries out of the room, leaving me to step inside. She’s beaming at his retreating figure, but when she turns to me, her grin turns angry.
“What do you want?” she snaps, her cloyingly sweet tone now brimming with resentment. At least she’s real with me. The voice she used with Easton was so fake. I don’t know why, but I think she’s using him for something. The fact she asked him to build her a fucking bookshelf in my home when she literally doesn’t have a single possession that I haven’t provided her with was obviously a ruse to get him in the door. I don’t know what she wants from him yet, but I intend to find out.
“I have stylists coming here for your hair, makeup, and clothing. You have—” I look at my watch, “five minutes.” My tone is clipped. My mood has soured even more now.
She moves closer, and I fist my hands next to me for self-control. She’s a killer. I can’t get close to her, but she draws me in so effortlessly that it’s hard to remember why distance is necessary. She kills humans for fun, and although I’m not human, I still feel a little something for the men she’s murdered. She isn’t someone I want to get involved with.
“What do I need to get dressed up for?” She looks at me suspiciously, showing she still doesn’t trust me. The feeling is mutual.
“You’re coming to Faerie with me.”
“No—” she stutters, and her face turns pale. I honestly wasn’t expecting her to shiver at the thought of my home. Most supernaturals are intrigued and want to go. “I’m staying here.”
“This is not up for debate. I can’t get someone to watch you, and I can’t leave you by yourself, so the only other option is to take you with me.”
“I’m not going to Faerie,” she replies, and I know that I’ll have to drag her along if she doesn’t want to come willingly.
“Fine. If you come, I’ll let you drive my car tomorrow night on your . . . date.” Those words leave a sour taste in my mouth.
Where did that come from? Fuck, why did I say that? I don’t fucking trust her. For all I know, she’s going to use my car to kill an unsuspecting human.
She breathes hard before saying, “I want my freedom.”
“If you come with me, I’ll consider it,” I reply smoothly.
“You know I’m not your suspect. There’s no point keeping me under surveillance twenty-four-seven for a crime I didn’t commit. I think you just want me as your new BFF.” She snorts.
“Fine. I’ll give you your freedom .” Instead of looking happy like I thought she would, she looks at me skeptically. “The fae can’t lie, remember.”
I’m startled by her high-pitched laugh. “There’s always ways around that for you guys.”
She has a point. We can always get around the wording, but what she doesn’t know—and what we don’t advertise—is that most can’t lie. There are some who can, but I won’t correct her. There’s no need to reveal all my secrets.
“So, what’s it going to be?” I ask knowing full well she doesn’t have a choice.
There’s a loud knock on the front door, but her brown eyes stare right through me. She’s probably having an internal debate with herself.
“Fine, I’ll go.” She turns away before I can read her reaction.
I go downstairs and open the door for the three fae stylists I called in. They have extensive experience with my father’s lavish events, and they came equipped with an entire wardrobe and suitcases filled with hair and makeup tools. I tell them where her room is, and they quickly gather their things and head upstairs. No one will mistake her for fae, but maybe they could help her blend in better.
After ages of waiting for the stylists to finish, I’ve thrown myself back into my home office to get some work done. I’m not a patient man, and wasting time that could be used productively is a nightmare, especially when the alternative is to sit around feeling helpless and anxious about all the shit that’s out of my control. I take a few deep breaths to calm my wired nerves, but my mind spins in unsettled circles. I need answers about this case, a plan of action, anything to quiet this relentless tension gripping my body. Until I have direction, this awful anticipation will continue grinding away at me.
I look back at the gruesome crime scene pictures on my desk. Something about the women has been bugging me for a while. They’re both supernatural. I checked our database, but we have no record of anything like this ever happening before.
But maybe . . . I log onto my computer and look for similar cases in the human world. I have a feeling of déjà vu in the pit of my stomach, but my access to the human case database looks restricted. I learned to trust my gut long ago, and something isn’t right about this. Something is being hidden.
I grab my phone and call Sawyer, my boss. He answers on the third ring, and judging by the noise level, he’s probably out at a bar getting wasted.
“Hey, Sawyer.”
“You better be taking the weekend off, Coop. You need it,” his gruff voice sounds through the speaker. He doesn’t sound drunk yet, but I know he’s getting there.
“I will once I figure this out.” I grab the pen and notebook from my drawer in case I need to write anything down.
“What’s going through your head?” he asks.
“Something is not sitting right with me regarding this case.” I grip the pen a little tighter.
“Indeed, it’s strange,” he says, and when I no longer hear the chatter in the background, I know he’s gone to a quieter spot.
“Yeah, and I’m worried that we still have no leads. We should have had something by now, but we haven’t come up with anything.”
Trisha turned out to be a dead end. She didn’t know anything that could help this case. Radnor is still trying to see if he can uncover what she’s blocked out, but so far, she’s given us nothing.
“Maybe the weekend will help you clear your head.” He exhales, and I know he’s smoking a cigarette.
“I will once you give me access to a human file I can’t get into,” I push.
“Human files?” His voice is alert now. “Why do you need those?”
“We may find something there that might be connected with our case,” I answer with exhaustion.
“Coop, just let it go for the weekend. Go get laid, relax, and come back with a clear head. There’s no reason for you to look at human files right now.”
I scrunch up my paper, getting angry. There is nothing that I hate more than being in the dark. We have no leads, which means more women will have their limbs dismembered for who knows what. Does he not see how important this is? I need to see if there’s something there I can use.
“We’ll figure it out on Monday.” He doesn’t budge, and I bite my tongue. I’ve never had to listen to anyone but my father and his advisors. People usually listen to me, so it’s been hard to let others take charge since I came to this realm.
“But—”
“I’ve got to go, Coop. But don’t go digging on your own. We’ll figure this out at the office. Say hi to your father for me.” Before I can say anything else, he hangs up the phone.
My gut is churning. There has to be more that I can do. I have friends who can help me. I pick up my phone and call my buddy Tyler.
“Hey bro,” I say as soon as he picks up.
“Hey Coop, how’s it going?” Tyler asks. He’s an Alpha of the Iron Beast Pack and a badass hacker.
“It could be better actually, there is something I need from you,” I say getting right to the point. You don’t really want to mess with these guys, they’re ruthless, but he owes me a favor for helping him find a woman with violet eyes.
“What is it? Is it for a case?” His playful demeanor is gone, replaced by a serious tone.
“There are some files that I need to check out, but I can’t access any human files.”
“For you?” he asks in shock because he knows that I have access to pretty much anything I want. I guess the human files are the exception.
“Yeah. I thought I had access to everything, but apparently not this.”
I collapse back into my chair, the exhaustion of the week settling heavily on me. My shoulders ache from the tension I’ve carried for days. The muscles in my back feel knotted and bruised from hunching over files and screens. The mental frustration of getting nowhere only adds to my physical weariness, so I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to regroup.
“I’m assuming you asked Sawyer?” I’m sure he already knows the answer and wants to confirm.
“I did, and he was not in the mood for work.” I rub my temples with one hand and then drop it to my knee.
“I’ll help you. I can hack the FBI files and see what they’re keeping on lock in the human case files.”
“Thanks, man, I’ll send you over what I have to help narrow the search a bit.” I look at the clock on the wall. Shit, it’s later than I thought.
“Cool, if I find anything, I’ll let you know right away.”
“I really appreciate this,” I say as I get up.
“No problem,” he says before he hangs up the phone.
Why would they hide a case that involved a human? Especially since we don’t deal with human cases. What is it that the FBI Unit wanted to hide from me, and why do I think it’s the reason why I can’t find a single suspect?