Until he found out his contacts were professional killers.
Someone had been monitoring Wyatt’s activities and reported him when they discovered that all the people he’d gathered information on were dead or missing. How the hell was he supposed to know what the client wanted it for?
Wyatt fell out of the song as the memories made him livid all over again. It wasn’t as if he was doing the killing, but that wasn’t how the authorities saw it. After confiscating his money, they made him serve a short sentence in Breed jail. Technically he hadn’t broken any laws, so they had to release him. Freedom didn’t matter. His reputation was ruined. He’d lost his home, his job, his life savings, the respect of his peers, and eventually his girl. He was no better off than the poor schmucks floating around in the afterlife. At least he could enjoy food and play video games. The dead could only watch.
Wyatt made a fist and looked at the ink on his right hand that spelled out LOST. The tattoos on his fingers were a reminder that nothing lasts forever. That one minute you can be on top of the world, and the next you’re nothing but a ghost. Never get attached to a life, a person, money, love, or happiness. Even Keystone wouldn’t last forever. Eventually he’d screw up.
Like now.
Viktor had left him in charge, and all hell was breaking loose. Gem was missing, wolves were on the property, and he was almost out of chocolate donuts.
What if Niko got himself killed? The thought made him panicky. He should have never let him go, but Wyatt hadn’t had a moment of clarity in twenty-four hours.
When he reached the first floor, he blindly grabbed a jacket from the closet. His thoughts were scrambled as he jogged down the hall on the right.
Just when he reached the painting and turned the corner, he slammed into Switch and pirouetted toward the bright blue windows. “Son of a ghost! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
Switch frowned. “Is there something you need help with?”
Wyatt glanced behind him and quelled his anger. “Yeah, keep a better eye on the kid.”
“Kira’s giving him a bath. He’s fine.” Switch’s lips twitched when he noticed Wyatt’s jacket. “New fashion style?”
Wyatt looked down at the sparkly silver jacket that barely reached his navel. “It’s Gem’s. I wasn’t paying attention.” The sleeves barely went past his elbows, and they were tight. Wyatt tugged at them anyway. “I’m going out to look for Niko.”
“I thought you two had a plan?”
Wyatt headed down the hall toward the side exit. “Yeah.Hisplan was to get himself kidnapped, but I’m all booked up on crazy. And if any of your wolf buddies decide to make me into a snack, I’m gonna haunt them from the afterlife.”
“They know my scent. They’ll stay back.”
“What scent is that, Shifter? The scent of toxic masculinity?”
Switch glared down at him. “You seem insecure.”
Wyatt liked Switch, but he couldn’t help but bust his chops. A guy like that would steal his thunder if they took him out to the bar. Wyatt had always been the guy in their group that the chicks flocked to, and that was saying something considering Claude’s good looks. But not everyone loved Chitahs or extremely tall men. If this Switch thing turned out to be permanent, that meant Gaston here was going to serve up competition.
After a brief flash of disappointment, Wyatt glanced down at his chest through the open jacket.Nah.There was way too much man here to admire, even if he didn’t have all that extra muscle tone and height.
I need a nap, he thought.
As soon as they stepped outside, a black wolf raised his head from a grove of trees up ahead.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t look that one directly in the eye,” Switch advised. “That’s Tank. He was Raven’s watchdog for quite a few years. She didn’t know it. I heard a rumor that he did barbaric things to some old pervert who was trying to give Raven a ride home one afternoon. Tank’s a badass. Nobody fucks with him.”
Wyatt’s heart thumped in his chest. He didn’t fear death—Gravewalkers rarely did—but it was the dying part that kept him on his toes. There are particular ways a man doesn’t want to die, and in the jaws of a predator is one of them. Sometimes the dead remembered their last moments, and they liked to talk about the agony and horror of it all. Wyatt had heard enough gruesome stories to give him nightmares in the afterlife. Especially from the guy who was pushed into a meat grinder and—
“You got a shitload of land out here,” Switch remarked. “You could build a dozen homes. What do you do with it all?”
“Fly kites.”
“Packs dream about property like this.”
Behind the house were rolling hills. The Shifters who used to live here must have cleared away a good number of trees near the house to provide more visibility, security, and running room. Wyatt and Switch walked a long distance across the wet grass until they reached the far corner of the property. Wyatt knew where the property line ended based on tree markers, but did Niko? He might be lost.
“Niko has a funny way of blending in with his surroundings like some kind of chameleon, so keep your eyes open,” he said to Switch.
“Who needs eyes?”
