“His name is Rory Keefe,” he said. “He handled most of the high-end stolen merchandise in this town. Never could pin anything on him though. Or get him to flip on anyone either. I talked to him yesterday about the diamond stolen from Thorn. He claimed he didn’t know anything about it, but I was in the process of putting a detail on him anyway. Guess I don’t need to bother now.”
Ivy was surprised to hear genuine regret in the detective’s voice about a man who was a well-known criminal. Maybe Hayes was more complex than she’d given him credit for.
“Did you notice anyone following you when you stopped in to talk to Keefe?” Landon asked.
Hayes looked at him sharply. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t tell me you’re naive enough to think that Keefe ending up dead little more than twelve hours after you questioned him is a coincidence,” Landon said.
“Are you trying to say someone followed me to Keefe’s place, then grabbed him and did this?” Hayes demanded. “Who the hell would do that?”
When Landon didn’t answer, Hayes looked at Ivy.
“You’re a detective,” she said softly. “It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”
She and Landon had to make it look like they worked for Thorn, so they couldn’t say anything that could get back to the former senator, but at the same time, they needed to warn Hayes.
Torturing Keefe and dumping his body where anyone could find it wasn’t only reckless, but it also seemed completely out of character for the same Thomas Thorn who was behind the hybrids. That man was cold and calculating; this one seemed desperate. She didn’t doubt he was responsible for Keefe’s murder though. It only made her even more convinced the shifter had stolen something way more valuable than a diamond.
The detective looked around and lowered his voice. “Are you saying Thorn had his people do this just to get a family heirloom back?”
Ivy didn’t say anything in answer to the detective’s question. Neither did Landon. Their silence spoke volumes though.
“You might want to reconsider tracking down the thief,” Landon suggested.
Hayes shook his head. “That’s not something I can do.”
“Then spend more time reading through old case files and less time laying a trail of breadcrumbs to every viable suspect in the city,” Landon said. “Unless you like finding them dead.”
“Of course I don’t want anybody dead.” Hayes clenched his jaw. “But you know it’s not that simple. I work for people. They expect me to figure out who did this and bring them in—fast. The fact that Thorn is a former senator and a major MPD supporter only makes it worse. If Thorn’s people are really out there grabbing any suspect they can get their hands on, the best thing I can do is catch the real thief as quickly as possible so I can protect them long enough for him to get his damn diamond back.”
Landon glanced down at Keefe, then back at Hayes. “That’s a risky way to play it. You could end up getting this thief tortured and killed if you don’t move fast enough.”
“Then I’ll move fast enough,” Hayes ground out. “I’m working through a list of the best second-story thieves in this city. If one of them did it, I’ll know the moment I talk to them. In fact, I’ve questioned two of them already—one late last night, the other this morning.”
Landon exchanged looks with Ivy. She knew exactly what he was thinking because she was thinking it too. While they might not have had plans to let Thorn get within a hundred miles of the shifter, Braden Hayes was in full bloodhound mode. He was going to lead Thorn right to her.
“Well, if that’s the case, maybe you’d better check in on those other suspects you already talked to,” Landon said, nodding at the corpse. “If they’re not already in the river, that is.”
* * *
Jayson leaned against the side of a stone building, his breath coming out in a fog in the early morning air. Dylan stood beside him, looking anxious. Layla, Mikhail, and Olek were across the street, chatting with a small group of Ukrainians. Mikhail and Olek were doing most of the talking, but with her dark hair and exotic looks, Layla could easily have passed for a local. He and Dylan, on the other hand, not so much. Which was why they’d been relegated to security duty, instead of helping snoop for information on where Anya was being held.
He tensed as a trio of militia soldiers slowly walked past Layla and the others. The men didn’t stop, though one of them eyeballed Layla openly. Jayson slid his hand behind his back to grip the pistol hidden under his jacket. If the soldier decided to cause trouble, he’d be across the street in a flash. But the man only let out a loud wolf whistle and continued on his way. A few moments later, he and his buddies disappeared around the next corner. Jayson relaxed, slouching against the brick building again.
Jayson looked around and noticed that he wasn’t the only one who’d been tense when the soldiers had sauntered by. Everyone else on the street seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when they left too. It was kind of surreal in a way. On the surface, this city looked almost normal—if you overlooked all the damage caused by rocket warheads and artillery shells. People moved up and down the sidewalks, cars drove along the streets, businesses advertised their wares in bright window displays. But beneath the surface, the city was on edge. Every single person he saw seemed to have one eye looking over their shoulders, as if they expected trouble at any moment. And from the number of poorly concealed guns Jayson had seen as they walked around town, it was easy to see that Donetsk was a tinderbox waiting for the match to set it ablaze.
Jayson turned his attention to Layla and the two teens again. She’d tried to talk him into staying at the library and giving his leg a little more time to heal, but he’d nixed that the moment he heard her plan to come out here with the kids and help them track down Anya. Things may have seemed calm in the city right then, but it could change any moment. He’d finally gotten himself in position to be Layla’s partner. He sure as hell wasn’t going to sit on his ass and let her walk around Donetsk without protection—without him. If his leg started bleeding again, he’d deal with it.
Beside him, Dylan shifted a little against the wall, his frustration obvious. He wasn’t thrilled to be stuck there with Jayson instead of helping find his girlfriend, but he hadn’t fought them when they’d said it was too risky. The kid was smart enough to know that his accent alone would be enough to tell everyone within ten feet that he wasn’t a local. He chafed at the short leash, but he dealt with it. He was a lot smarter and more mature than Jayson had ever been at his age.
“I miss being able to talk to Anya at night before going to bed,” Dylan said suddenly. He’d taken a colorful scarf from the pocket of his jacket and was lovingly gliding his fingers along the silky material. “Back in Kiev, I’d hang out at her house until her parents chased me off at night. Then we’d talk on the phone for hours until we fell asleep. I hadn’t realized how much of a routine that had turned into until she wasn’t around for me to talk to. I haven’t slept worth a crap since she was taken.”
Jayson felt for the younger man. He was no stranger to sleepless nights himself. Up until last night, at least. Despite the soreness in his back caused by the thin piece of carpet scrap he laughingly called a mattress, he’d slept better than he had since he’d gotten injured. And it was all because Layla had been beside him. They’d laid together in his bed back in DC before, but it had always felt different, like they’d both been holding back and keeping each other at arm’s length. But everything had changed last night, and whatever it was that had been between them was gone now. Jayson could feel it in the comfortable way they’d cuddled close without having to say anything, the way Layla’s fingers had laced together with his when he’d pulled her against his chest, and the way she’d murmured sexily when his mouth had traced a good night kiss along the back of her neck as she fell asleep.
“How long have you and Anya been together?” Jayson asked Dylan, pulling himself back to the present. It felt wrong to think about how great things were going with Layla when Dylan didn’t even know if Anya was alive.
Dylan smiled. “We’ve been dating pretty seriously for over a year. I’ve even talked to my dad about me staying in Kiev to go to one of the international colleges with her when he moves to his next state department posting. Dad’s worried about me, but he gets that I couldn’t do the long-distance relationship thing with her. Being away from her would kill me.”
