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When I brought Ryder back to her, things would only improve all the more.
“Denny says she’s human, right?” Shay asked, sounding genuinely interested.
I nodded, grateful that I sensed no disgust in her tone. After our time in Morrow Manor, I wasn’t sure I could stomach anyone else taking cheap shots at Felicity for her humanity.
“And your sons?” Shay asked.
“Shifters,” I said. “Both alphas.”
“Lucky you.” Shay smiled. “Funny how that works out sometimes.”
“You must have some strong genes,” Mikey said. “You got pictures?”
Of course I did.
“They’re adorable,” Shay gushed, holding my phone in her hand, scrolling through photos. She paused on one of Felicity, holding the boys at the manor. It must have been taken just a few days before the abduction. “And she’s beautiful.”
“Gorgeous family you’ve got there,” Mikey agreed, peering over Shay’s shoulder. He turned to me with a serious look set in his brow. “I want you to know, we’re gonna do whatever we can to help find your little guy. And Denny—he’s good at what he does. The best, even. His nose is even stronger than mine. If there’s anyone who can track that woman down, it’s him.”
“Here’s hoping,” I replied, though as far as hopes went, I still had my doubts.
If Denny was so certain he could track Melony here, he wouldn’t have asked me to join him. His plan wouldn’t have hinged on me being able to draw her out.
I reclaimed my phone as the conversation strayed back toward dinner. Shay and Mikey had no problem putting me to work.
“Kinda nice, having someone else around who can chop onions,” Shay commented as I did my best to move the knife in the way she’d shown me.
“I don’t know that I’d call this chopping.” The bits of onion she’d chopped as demonstration were all perfectly even. Mine were in hunks and slivers, not a one the same size. “Butchering, maybe.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Shay said quite graciously. For far from the first time, I found myself annoyed at Ma for never letting any of us boys into the kitchen to help with dinner when we were younger. “The Kerry nose isn’t always a blessing. The last time Mikey tried, the scent was so strong he cried like a baby. Nearly lopped off his fingers.”
“I wasn’t crying,” Mikey insisted from his position at the stove. “My eyes were watering. Not the same thing.”
“Sure, hon.” Shay looked at me and rolled her eyes theatrically. “Usually, Ellie or I get stuck with the task.”
“Glad to be of help,” I said, and meant it. Even when Felicity and I cooked together, she usually took the reins. I frequently found myself on pot-stirring duty while she did all the impressive stuff.
I made a mental note to pay a little closer attention to what Shay and Mikey were doing. Maybe I could bring her back more than just Ryder. Cooking dinner for her—something more complicated than a frozen pizza—might be a nice surprise.
The three of us worked in tandem, with Shay giving orders that Mikey and I dutifully fulfilled. It wasn’t often that I took commands from another alpha, but the kitchen was clearly Shay’s domain—a world I barely had a foot in. As more ingredients were thrown into the pot, the delicious scent in the room swelled and became more complex. Sautéed garlic. Seared chunks of pork. Green chiles in a dozen different varieties. I added each to my mental recipe card, storing it all away for later use.
“Do you like cilantro?” Shay asked as I chopped a bundle of it. The herbaceous scent bloomed every time I brought my knife down.
“I think so?” I considered it. “I can’t remember having it and not hating it, at least.”
“Good man,” Shay said approvingly. “The Kerrys all have that gene that makes it taste bad unless you cook it down.”
“Nasty stuff.” Mikey grimaced. “Tastes just like soap.”
* * *
The result of our labors did not, thankfully, taste like soap.
The Chili Verde was pleasantly spicy with bright, tangy notes from the tomatillos in the sauce. Ellie, Shay, and I ate ours with my inexpertly minced cilantro sprinkled on top. Mikey and Mace drizzled hot sauce over their bowls instead. Denny took his plain.
While we ate at the big table in the dining room, the conversation finally turned toward what I’d been desperate to discuss since getting on the plane back in Boston: Melony Houghton, and how we were going to track her down.
“When Denny called and told us the situation, we sent some of our betas out to watch the Bellagio for you,” Mikey explained. “They’ve only spotted her going in once, but we figure once is enough. She’s definitely here.”
