Page 39 of Phantom’s Mate

A couple of days later, DB showed up at Britt’s cabin with Brandon. Britt was sleeping, so Nick stepped outside to talk to them.

Brandon was gazing around at the wind and rain. “Damn, this place is depressing,” he said. “It’s like this all the time?”

“Yeah. Imagine being stuck here for two years.” He could tell by the expression on Brandon’s face that he had news. “You found something. What have you got?”

“Standard background check corroborates what Brittany told us,” Brandon said.

Nick bristled. Did they think she was lying?

Brandon gave him an alpha ‘you know I have to check everything’ look and said, “So it seems like there aren’t any other significant gaps in her memory. Remy hacked the police records and the county coroner’s office, and we followed up with an interview with the first responders. No purse or ID was found at the scene; they got her name and address from her vehicle registration.”

Nick frowned. “She definitely remembers having her bag with her.”

“Right. It’s possible that either she left it at that party, or it was still in the vehicle but inaccessible. The towing company might have found it when they cleaned out the vehicle before they junked it.”

“In which case the boyfriend would have it.”

“Exactly. And he would also have her personal papers and computer, or know what happened to them. We’re on our way now to pay him a visit. We thought you and Britt might want to tag along.”

“I’ll come,” Nick said immediately. “Britt’s asleep.”

He wanted to get a look at that pecker who’d broken Brittany’s heart. Maybe do a little poltergeist action in his perfect house with its stupid hipster furniture. And if a flying object happened to hit him in the face, well, that would just be an accident, right?

Brandon’s gaze remained on him, assessing. Sometimes he thought the alpha could fucking read minds.

All he said, though, was, “You don’t think you should wake her up and ask her if she wants to come?”

“No,” Nick said. “How can I beat up her asshole ex if she’s there watching?”

Brandon called up his alpha mojo and said, “I’d threaten to leave you here unless you promise not to make a supernatural scene, but I know you’ll just follow us anyway, so I’m going to have to trust you. Promise me you’ll control yourself.”

Nick clenched his teeth.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking,” Nick said. Brandon’s gaze bored into him. “All right,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll try.”

Brandon sighed. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for. DB, will you take us back to the truck?”

As DB transferred them back to the real world, where Remy was waiting in his truck, he heard Brandon mutter, “This is going to be a cluster fuck.”

It actually started out okay. Nick hovered invisibly in the background while Brandon and Remy rang Chaz the Hipster Idiot’s doorbell.

It was Saturday morning, so he was home, wearing skintight jeans and some kind of designer polo shirt. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyeing Brandon and Remy warily.

They were both wearing good jeans, nice shirts and leather jackets, but there was really no way they could look anything but intimidating, especially since Chaz was slender as a stick and probably had a teensy little dick.

Brandon flashed his PI’s license and introduced himself and Remy. His story was that he was working for an attorney trying to trace Britt’s sister.

“She didn’t have a sister,” Chaz said, folding his arms and looking more suspicious.

Interesting. Either he was lying, or he’d never bothered to look through Britt’s personal things after she died.

“It appears she did,” Brandon said politely. “Her mother had another child after Ms. Daniels went into foster care—a girl, who she also abandoned. The attorney contacted Ms. Daniels about it, and we have reason to believe Ms. Daniels located her shortly before her tragic accident. In fact, she expressed a desire to contact her sister and give her a family heirloom. A locket?”

Nick, wanting to see the interior of the house, walked straight through Chaz on his way inside. He knew it gave humans the shivers, and he saw goosebumps rising on Chaz’s skin. Hopefully his tiny dick had shriveled up even more.

He listened with half an ear as Brandon went through his questions. No, Britt’s purse had never been recovered. No, Chaz didn’t still have her papers—he’d turned all the financial information over to the cousin who handled her estate, and tossed all her research. No, of course he hadn’t looked through it, why would he?