Page 82 of Dragon’s Rebel

“I don’t see the harm in it,” he said.

The prints matched. Not that Thorne had expected them not to—it was more that he’d have expected whoever erased the real story to have erased the prints too. Sheriff Shore had a copy of the file made up, and they went to meet Blaze and Zane.

“So who’s this Johnson guy?” Zane spooned the last bit of hot fudge brownie out of his sundae. Of course he couldn’t have any kind of dessert that didn’t involve cake. “You don’t seriously think he was a Fed, do you?”

“There are a few federal agencies that know about shifters and magic users,” Thorne pointed out. “Maybe he was working with one of them.”

“He sucked at his job, then,” Blaze said. “Because he lost Rebel and Tempest in the system, didn’t he? Otherwise he’d be all up in their business.”

“That’s why I ran away,” Rebel said. “The wrong people all up in my business.” Blaze bumped fists with her.

“Do you think he knows about the Seals?” Blaze asked.

“He never asked about them.”

“How do you know?” Thorne asked her. “You can’t remember.”

Rebel gave a sudden start, and then put her hand to her head, wincing. Another memory coming back? “He did that,” she said slowly. “I remember Tempe and me being in a room with him, all by ourselves. And he told us we should just forget, that we’d feel better if we forgot everything that happened.” She sucked in her breath. “And Tempe did.”

“But you didn’t,” Zane said.

“I forgot the important stuff,” she said. “Like where we lived. And I forgot about him completely, until now.” Thorne could feel the rage rising up inside her. “He tried to make us forget our entire lives. And then he separated us. He’s the one who put us in foster care. He drove us to Portland, and put Tempe in that hellhole where they tried to abuse her.”

“And he must have been the one who erased your records,” Thorne said. “The news stories, everything. He knew who you really were, and he knew who was after you. And why. The question is, did he hide you to protect you? Or to use you?”

“I want to find this guy,” Rebel said. “Thorne, can we find him? And maybe torture him?”

“Maybe,” Thorne said. “If he was working for a government agency, there’s a record, and if there’s a record, I can get it.”

Agent Johnson had ripped Rebel away from her sister. Knowing his mate as he did now, he couldn’t imagine what that must have done to her. To both of them.

Not that that had stopped Rebel. She’d resisted Johnson’s memory-blurring spell—probably because of her ability to manipulate magical fields. She’d found ways to stay in touch with Tempest, and when she found out what her sister’s foster situation was really like, she’d gotten Tempest out, and managed to scratch out a living for both of them on the streets. Fourteen years old, for fuck’s sake. Alone, underage, human. He had no clue how she’d done it.

Agent Johnson had a lot to answer for. Thorne was going to find him, all right. As far as torture—he didn’t usually go in for that.

But he was very, very tempted to make an exception.

Down the street, Sheriff Shore had just sent an email to an address that had been in his files for a very long time. It contained a photo of the woman who’d just been in his office, courtesy of the station’s security system.

And two fingerprints, that were an exact match.