Page 9 of Bound

“Look, man. I don’t want any trouble.”

I held up both hands. “Two minutes.”

“Like I said, I don’t know nothing. Most likely your brother pissed off the wrong people. He owed me money. Chances are, I wasn’t the only one.”

“Tell me again.” Slowly, I peeled off a wad of bills and held up the money where he could see.

Chad thumped a fist against the open door. “Already told you everything I remember about that night. Your brother took off. I was supposed to drop off his usual order. He never showed.”

My phone snarled angrily in my pocket. I ignored it.

“You see anyone hanging around the house?”

“There was a black SUV parked down the street the last couple of times I showed up. High end, you know? Sort of thing that sticks out in that kind of neighborhood.”

“You’re sure about the SUV?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed the cash. “And Kieran owed me twice this.”

I got right up in his grill. “If I find out you’re holding back information…”

Chad staggered back, tripping over the cheap doormat and I wondered if my eyes had gone gold. Shit. Shoving away from the door, I silently walked the half mile under the glow of the streetlights to where I’d left my car. Only when I was at a red light, waiting to turn onto the interstate, the cold blast of the air conditioner unable to erase the feeling of emptiness that had settled over me, did I finally pull out my phone.

Brody: We need to talk.

* * *

The latest Nordic noir novel I’d loaned Caldwell was waiting just inside my door on the bar, smelling of laundry detergent, cinnamon gum, and very faintly, paprika. A sticky note was affixed to the cover.

I notice we’re on a serial killer trend lately. Should I be worried?

Beside it was a white paper sack from Blair’s Bakery. Inside the bag I found three giant sugar cookies, cut in the shape of dragons. I bit into one, tasting hints of chili pepper. Because of course. Dragons.

A sharp knock sounded at my door. Setting the dragon sugar cookies aside, I opened it to find Brody and his twin Calgary waiting outside.

“Topher.” With his fauxhawk and eyebrow piercing, Cal looked nothing like your typical psychiatrist. He worked at a state facility an hour outside of Blood Moon by day and moonlighted treating the shifter community by night. Considering I was currently paying him for our sessions in soy non-fat lattes from Dark, he probably deserved to be sainted. Beside him, Brody leaned against the wall. He was in street clothes, everything from his standoffish posture to the way his hands were shoved in his pockets screaming bad cop. “Okay if we come in?”

I ground my teeth, tempted to say no. Except when the Alpha and Beta of your pack showed up on your doorstep, I was pretty sure no wasn’t on the table.

Stepping back, I let the door swing open.

My warehouse-style loft was a thousand square-foot unit with exposed brick walls and ductwork. It had stained concrete floors I spent too much time pacing at night. A worn couch I’d found abandoned behind a dumpster sat between an eat-in bar and built-in bookcases crammed full of secondhand novels from Zombie Books, a local shop on Main Street. I’d always been the kid who spent their lunch period in the library tucked between the shelves reading everything I could get my hands on. My grandfather, who raised me and Kieran when our mother decided to check out of parenthood in favor of her next fix, had been a professor of English literature at the local community college. My earliest memories were of curling up in his overstuffed armchair as he read from a dogeared book of stories on a rainy day. Now my shelves were filled with thrillers, classics, horror and psychological suspense. We wouldn’t talk about the fantasy series Caldwell had forced me to read, but suffice it to say we now had a strict no dragons policy. Translate: I left threatening notes on his guinea pig cage (which I suspected were promptly eaten by the little terrors) and he texted me dragon emojis throughout the day in an effort to piss me off.

Just like he did every time he came over, Brody silently cased the place like it was one of his crime scenes and psychoanalyzing empty takeout containers was the key to predicting the precise moment I would flip sides and sell out his pack to the vampires.

Whatever. I didn’t have time for this.

“You know why I’ve been going to Austin. There have been no leads in Kieran’s case for months. I won’t just sit around and do nothing while the trail goes cold.”

Brody rubbed his jawline, which was sporting a day’s worth of stubble. “Cases like these, it can take time before you get the break you need. It’s frustrating as hell. I can only imagine what you’re going through. Believe me, we all get it.”

He and Cal exchanged a look. Their father, Ben Caldwell, the former Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, had been abducted two years earlier on a rural Texas highway while out on patrol. Despite every resource being directed towards his recovery, there were no new leads and the case had gone cold.

Brody said, “We can’t have anyone in the pack ignoring orders. Or hunting alone in downtown Austin without backup.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You’re acting recklessly,” Cal said gently. “And this feels a lot like how things were before.”