GIDEON
Whoever picked this song should die.
The only thing getting me through this bullshit waste of time is a fantasy of me planting my foot in the dusty ass speaker and punting it across the room. Anything to end the tinny twang of the classic country deep cuts. Each one is worse than the last.
I just want to go home.
Instead, I'm stuffed into an old, grimy booth with scarred wood and frayed vinyl seats. My legs don't fucking fit, and I’m worried if I stretch too much, I'm going to crack the rickety thing in half. To make matters worse, the floor is wet, the beer is sour, and every time I turn my head to the right, there’s a smell that makes my eyes water.
My mood is so bad I’ve been sidelined.
Cal ordered me to stay in this booth and stop making eye contact. I bitched about it but agreed, mainly because I know he’s right. Just last week, I would have been all over this investigation, but now all I want to do is get back to Sheena...or break something. Knowing she deserves answers is the only thing keeping me in this booth.
So I sip my piss poor beer in silence like a good soldier and watch Callum work the room. He’s using his influence to make the workers and regulars more likely to answer his questions. Part of me wants to pull my phone out and record him because this shit is actually hilarious. Callum is stronger than normal thanks to the energy boost he got from Sheena. While that sounds great on paper, he’s not used to the extra juice, so he’s going too hard.
People keep touching him. I’ve seen half a dozen men and women grope his ass, squeeze his arms, or rub his back. One of the half naked waitresses even slipped him her panties. As soon as her back was turned, he tossed them in a trashcan, his jaw so tense he could crack a tooth. I laughed so hard I snorted beer up my nose.
He fucking hates it.
Even though I’m distracted, I know the moment he learns something worth knowing. Callum straightens up and sends a powerful wave of influence towards the already glassy-eyed bartender. Their conversation lasts another five minutes, then he peels her off of his arm and pays the tab. She blinks with confusion as he walks away but doesn’t stop him.
It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for, so I untuck myself from the booth and trail after him, leaving my unfinished pint behind. I only hope the information leads us to someone I can shred. Then we can go home.
Callum is already in the driver's seat when I get to the SUV, so I hop in and buckle up, checking the glove compartment for my gun. I prefer to go in shifted, but it never hurts to be prepared. I’m expecting him to start talking and driving immediately, but the only sound in the cab is the slide of my magazine as I check my weapon over.
“Well? What did she say?” I finally ask, jamming the full clip back into place.
“Two of their staff members are missing.” Callum’s voice shakes with anger. “Bartender was going to leave it at that, but I could tell she knew more. The owner sold those girls out for cash.”
He slams his palm into the steering wheel three times before he’s calm enough to say more. “The bartender—the blonde one—overheard where they took them and wanted to come clean, but she was too scared she'd find herself in a cage too if she said anything. She only talked because she heard about the alpha’s niece and didn’t want to catch a stray bullet for hiding what she knew.”
I’ve heard more than enough.
“Let’s torch the place.” I reach for the door handle, already imagining all the ways we can make the owner of this shit hole pay.
“You know we can’t do that.” Callum whips his head around to face me in the dark. He grabs my arm, and I barely hold in my growl. “Gideon, the bartender sawmasks.”
One word. That’s all it takes to throw my bones and tendons into chaos. Each one spasms. My entire body rocks with the urge to shift.
I tell myself anyone could wear masks, that it makes sense to hide your identity if you're involved in trafficking innocent people. Too bad logic doesn’t do a damn thing to help me chill.
I’ll tear them to pieces and piss on the remains. I’ll?—
A rough punch to my shoulder rips me away from my thoughts of murder and revenge. I snarl, glaring at my friend in the dim light of the nearby bar. I try to convince myself it would be a bad idea to return the favor.
“Focus, man,” Callum snaps. “We don't know what we're walking into here, and our priority has to be saving thosewomen.Afterwe make that happen, we can hunt these fuckers down and get revenge for Sheena.”
We’ll burn them alive; make them beg for her forgiveness...
Absently, I hear grinding metal.
“Calm down or you’re useless to her.” Callum’s harsh words penetrate the red fog choking my brain, giving me time to suck in a deep breath. I hold it until my lungs are empty and my mind clears of everything but my need for fresh oxygen.
My eyes catch the ruined door handle. The metal is covered in claw marks.
Sheena deserves a better mate. Cal deserves a better partner.
I breathe in just enough to keep from blacking out and look down at the floor.
