“How do you know he was a policeman?” interrupted Groose.
“Because he was wearing a cop uniform,” David said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, the officer came in and told me your friend’s driver had been hurt and he needed his help. I took him over to their booth and left so I don’t know what your friend said to him. But a short time later when I brought their desserts, your friend was gone, but his phone was on the table so I assumed he’d be back.”
“You didn’t see my friend leave?”
“No, it was busy tonight so I wasn’t paying much attention except making sure I didn’t fuck up the orders.”
“Do you remember what the officer looked like?”
“I think so. I’m pretty good at remembering names and faces.”
Groose pulled his phone out and scrolled to the pictures of the men who’d attacked Fionn. When he found the three he was looking for, he showed the first one to David. “Did the officer look like this?”
David looked at the man in the picture. “Nope.”
Bringing up the next one, Groose asked, “How about this one?”
Examining the photo carefully, David said, “Uh-uh, not that one.”
Groose then brought the third image up on the screen. “Last one,” he said, as he watched the waiter stare at it.
“Yeah, that’s the policeman who came in looking for your friend.”
“After my friend left, what happened?” asked Groose.
“A few minutes later, the officer came back; said they were taking the driver to the hospital and paid your friend’s check…gave me a really good tip, too. Then, he left.”
“And that’s it?”
“Well, the other dude came back from the men’s room and waited for a while before calling me over and asking about your friend. I told him what happened and then left. Listen, I don’t know why he’s crying but my boss wants him gone. And I’m not making any money with him occupying one of my tables.”
“One other question. Have you ever seen the policeman before?”
There wasn’t any way he was going to tell what he knew about the man, so instead, David said, “He never sat at any of my tables.”
Groose’s eyes narrowed at the waiter’s answer. He was hiding something but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be forthcoming from him tonight. “Thank you, I’m just going to look outside for a minute and then we’ll leave.”
Dropping his feet to the floor with a thud, David unfolded his lanky frame as he stood. “I appreciate that. My boss wanted me to kick him out, but I couldn’t do it, seeing how upset he was.” He then unlocked the door and strode out with Groose trailing him.
Returning to the pub area, Groose told Vesper he was going to check outside, after which they’d leave. Then he began to sniff, trying to find Slate’s scent and, picking it up, followed it outside where he lost it. He walked over to a row of cars, sniffing, hoping to find the one Slate and Dakota had been in and, after checking half a dozen cars, finally found the right one. Checking it out carefully, both inside and out, he found nothing amiss.
A light breeze blew over him as he stood next to the car, causing his wolf’s hackles to rise, warning him of danger nearby. Casually, Groose continued his stroll, all of his senses on heightened alert as he tried to figure out the source. He stopped near the front door of the pub. Seeing no movement on the deserted, silent street…wait…there...the smell. It grew stronger as he followed it, leading him behind the pub where the scent of blood filled his nose; his wolf was now struggling to get out.
Zeroing in on the source, he walked slowly over to a large trash bin and grabbed the cover, hesitating to lift it, afraid of what he might find. Finally, he forced himself to lift it. Staring at him with sightless eyes was the driver, his throat ripped out and clothes soaked with blood. Slamming the cover down, he stepped away, reeling from the smell of blood and death. When he reached the frontdoor of the pub, he paused, thanking the gods and Fates he didn’t have to tell Dakota his mate was dead—at least not tonight.
Once inside, he found David, gave him his card, and asked him to call if the policeman showed up again. Then, walking over to the booth he said, “Dakota, are you ready to leave? Logan’s waiting for you.”
Raising his eyes and looking at Groose, Dakota said, “Slate hasn’t called yet.”
“He will. C’mon, Dakota, I need some of my equipment to help find Slate and it’s back at the hotel.”
Dakota nodded, then slid out of the booth, tightly holding Slate’s phone—the lifeline to his mate. He was quickly surrounded by enforcers as Groose led the way out of the pub.
~/~/~/~/~
Checking through the peephole to see who was knocking at the door to his suite, Logan opened it for Colton and Ian. “Groose has Dakota and is bringing him back here. He’s not in good shape and I’m worried about the pup he’s carrying.”
“Dakota’s pregnant? Wow!” exclaimed Colton.
