“Jinx doesn’t remember seeing a van.”
“Because he was drugged and lying on the ground. I know how to make people disappear, Cain. If I had Gillian and wanted her, why would I give her back?”
“I stopped wondering what was on your mind when you left.”
That was like a knife, straight through Angus’s heart. “She was minding her own business. She was with Jinx—I’m assuming she’s not as dangerous as they say if the Dires are protecting her,” Angus offered.
“You’ve really come a long way, Angus.”
This proximity to the man was killing him. Cain’s wolf wanted to smell him, lick him, taste him. Mount him, right here in the woods and he didn’t think Angus would mind. “You’re still playing with fire, Angus. Haven’t learned your damned lesson.”
“Maybe you should teach me,” Angus said.
“You had your chance.” It made him ache to say that. Obviously, the fed had saved Gillian—and Jinx, in the process. “We can’t be seen together, for your sake. Just stay the hell away from the Dires and you’ll live. Take care of yourself, human.”
He pulled himself away from Angus, who looked angry and disappointed. Cain was equally so, but he wouldn’t allow it to cloud his judgment.
He ghosted into the woods and still managed to feel Angus’s eyes on him the entire way back to the mansion.
Chapter 28
Stray found a gold mine by sending Killian to break in to the Blackwells’ safety-deposit boxes. He’d gotten the name of the adoption attorney and tracked him down in a nursing home in Ohio and Vice had left several days after Jinx and Gillian were attacked, wanting to make sure that they weren’t going to need to defend themselves against an all-out trapper attack.
Thankfully, the trappers seemed to have no clue that Gillian was a Dire—or a wolf at all, for that matter. That was the word on the street anyway, according to Cyd.
Now, Vice had used his Marine background to get into the man’s room, claiming that he’d been trained under him. No one here batted an eye about the age difference because no one really gave a shit. Not that they expected a wolf to come in seeking information from an almost ninety-year-old man.
Vice said he was a Marine who’d been assigned to visit vets in nursing homes and slipped the man named Walter some good scotch and a cigar. They talked about the Marines and the like, both having coincidentally served in the same battalion, just years apart. Vice didn’t bother telling Walter that he’d actually served first. Guy was confused enough by Vice’s appearance.
But finally, Vice confessed the real reason he was there. “I’m in the PI business these days and I’m trying to help out a friend. She’s pretty desperate to find her birth mother. She needs to know about a certain medical condition. She doesn’t want to mess up the chick’s life or invade in any way. But medical records are pretty important. She was adopted by the Blackwells twenty-one years ago.”
Walter agreed. “That’s a tough one, I know. But it was a private adoption, so the records are sealed. I don’t know how difficult of a time your friend will have with the courts. They’re more open about it today.”
“So you remember the girl?”
“My last case.” Walter stared off into space, like a dog hearing something in the distance and Vice bit back his impatience and sat as still as possible. Kill and Stray weren’t right for this job because they didn’t want to risk influencing an old man whose memories were in and out, depending on the day.
Vice hoped it was a really good day.
Finally, he snapped his fingers and Walter looked back at him like it was the first time he’d seen him. “Son, you wear more jewelry than my wife used to.”
Vice spread his hands in a what-are-you-going-to-do posture as Walter continued, “And all those tattoos? How are you ever going to get a respectable job looking like that, Marine?”
“Heard it all before, old man. Can we move this conversation along?”
Walter stared at him and then broke into a smile. “I like you. You’re not like those sycophant grandkids of mine who’ll say anything to get my money.”
“Not interested in your money. Interested in an adoption you brokered twenty-one years ago, remember?”
“Right. The twins.”
Twins? Yeah, Stray and Killian had good instincts. “I’m talking about one girl—she went to the Blackwells. You’re saying she had a sister?”
“Right, the rich folks. And one of the girls went there. The mother didn’t want them going to the same family. I couldn’t understand why—the Blackwells would’ve been able to take them on, no problem. But she insisted.”
“What was her name and where is the other girl now?” he asked.
“Ah, Vice did you say your name was? My files are all locked up in storage. Can’t fit them all here.”
“Names, Walter. Think. Anything—first, last. City and State.”
The old man scrunched up his face and then shook his head. “I can give you a key to the storage boxes but I can’t remember where they are.”
“Yeah, I’ll take it. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.” He palmed the key and tried again. “Where’s the storage facility?”
Walter scrunched his face up again. Ah shit. “Walter, what hospital were they born in?”
“Not in this state.”
“She had to bring you birth certificates, right?”
“She brought enough money for me to make them,” Walter told him. “I had six kids to feed.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’ll get this key back to you.”
“And some whiskey,” Walter whispered. “They won’t give me any in here.”
“Bastards,” Vice whispered conspiratorially. Left his cell number on the pad on Walter’s nightstand and headed out.
On his way out of the lot, he called Stray. “I’ve got news. Not sure if any of it’s good or not.”
“Way to sell it, Vice.”
Three long weeks had passed. Gillian had shifted back from Sister Wolf successfully, but the tranquilizer was wreaking havoc with her system. It was made strong enough for a Dire wolf, the way the trappers always made their darts, just in case they ever got the opportunity to grab a Dire again. Gwen was keeping Gillian as calm as possible inside the mansion while trying to flush the long-lasting drug from her system.
Gillian slept through most of the first two weeks anyway, and Jinx hadn’t left her side, spending most of the time in Brother Wolf form on a stretcher right next to her so she could reach out and touch him for comfort.
She did so, often. She dreamed, too, mainly about running—with Jinx. Sister Wolf calmed her, though, and she slept and healed and finally, she woke.
Jinx was next to her on one side, curled up in wolf form. Her hand was buried in the fur in Brother’s neck and she didn’t want to wake him.
“Hey, Gillian.”
Vice’s voice. She turned to find him on the other side of her.
“You’re guarding me too?” He shrugged and flushed a little, and she realized Vice was watching over both her and Jinx. “Thanks, Vice.”
“Just glad you’re okay.”
“Is Jinx okay?”
“He’ll be better now.”
“Rifter was okay with him—with me—staying here?” she asked, her voice hushed.
“He wouldn’t’ve had it any other way.”
