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Sliding my tongue across my teeth, I felt my irritation rising. I needed a hot shower, not to be ushered to some rich asshole's house.
The Mercedes parked in my driveway screamed privilege. It screamed 'You don't belong wherever he is trying to take you, Kellan.'
“Why didn’t he come to ask me himself?”
Luther looked confused for a moment. “He’s the mayor. It wouldn’t look good for him to come searching for a bounty hunter. The circumstances are gray. His daughter is missing—”
Shoving past Luther, I walked toward my porch, the cabin calling me home. “Call the police.”
“This is more than they can handle. Trust me."
I grabbed the handle of the screen door, pulling it open with a low whine of the hinges while the scent of home baptizing me in relief—
“We think she’s been taken to another realm.”
I halted. Turning my head over my shoulder, I made eye contact with him. Humans didn’t know about other realms. Not most of them anyway. It wasn't a good thing. Humans did not need to learn how to venture over.
“What did you say?”
He swayed nervously. “We think someone took her to another realm, Kellan. Please, you are the only one that can help us. Mr. Bogart will make it worth your while.”
George stared up at me, waiting on me to open the door, but instead, I let it shut. Luther watched as I poured George some food and made sure the bucket I used as his water bowl was full.
“He has one hour. I’m tired as hell. I stink, and I need something to eat.”
Luther nodded swiftly. “I will let him know we’re on our way.”
He walked toward his Mercedes, but I took a right toward my pickup parked beside my cabin. He tossed me a crazy look. “I’ve been around awhile,” I said. “I’ll drive myself in case I need to leave.”
He respected my wishes, not that he had any other choice, and slid into his car. I followed him to a prominent part of St. Tammany’s Parrish. The Fontainebleau St. Park attracted a lot of tourists, but the town was small with a little over thirteen thousand.
Luther pulled into a long driveway with a giant plantation-style home at the end. The pillars were white, and the front porch looked magazine-worthy, not to mention the money they spent on those gaudy hedges.
Luther parked and waited for me on the front porch.
Old money dripped off of this place.
Luther opened the front door without knocking, which told me he was comfortable there. The hardwood smelled like fresh pine and the grand staircase looked freshly painted with a glossy coat over it.
“This way, Mr. Stone. Mr. and Mrs. Bogart are waiting in his office.”
The further we walked down the long hallway, the more out of place I felt. Not that I gave a damn. They needed my help; it wasn’t the other way around.
Luther pushed open a set of double doors.
The office was large having floor-to-ceiling windows and a mahogany desk with a man sitting behind it. He stood when I walked in, his ebony hair slicked back with too much product. Gray streaks ran above each ear, showing his age.
Mr. Bogart hurried around the room toward me, offering me a handshake, while his wife cried in the corner. All I could see was the top of her head. She was blonde—naturally—and looked petite.
It frightened me that their daughter may be the same. It increased her chances of being taken for whatever reason. Smaller meant easier to manipulate and easier to overpower.
“Kellan,” Mr. Bogart said. “I’m so glad we found you. Luther has been attempting to find you for weeks.”
I looked over at Luther who hadn’t met my gaze since we made it to our destination.
“What do you need from me, and why in the hell do you know about other realms?”
Mr. Bogart walked over to his desk and sat down. His forehead crinkled for several minutes before he said, “I’m the mayor of this town. I know more than the others. It’s been in my family for years.”
