They sifted through every room and Randi’s possessions at his woodsy home and found nothing of significance. There were residual scents of his werewolf girlfriend and the warden, but no other lycan visitor. The living room, however, held a recent scent. Slade picked up a remote stuck behind a sofa pillow and sniffed it. “Human male.”
Cricket pulled out a beer bottle from the recycling bin and walked over to him. “Compare.”
He took a whiff. “Same male.”
“I bet he’s the man who accompanied him to the travel agency. Pinky.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I call him because of his missing little finger.”
He laughed. “And here I thought you were sensitive about name calling.”
“Hah, hah. It’s not like I’d call him that to his face.”
He scanned the home. “Odd.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Did you smell Pinky and any other humans anywhere else?”
“No, but I doubt Randi had humans over for barbecues.”
Slade wrinkled his nose. “I smell him on the remote and beer bottle and nowhere else.”
“Odd, you would think his scent would be all over the sofa or rug, or kitchen area.”
Her eyes widened. “The cleanup crew only picked up evidence, but since no crime was committed here no deep cleaning required.”
His hackles rose. “I heard in ancient times werewolf hunters covered their scent using an odorless chemical.”
“Yes.”
Slade cocked his head. “There really is such a formula?”
“Cloaking vaporo.” She lifted a brow. “Although, all known manuscripts containing the formula were burned long ago. However, rumors of some packs keeping the scrolls in a vault occasionally surface.”
If werewolf hunters were involved, he had to work alone. Otherwise, his entire focus would be protecting Cricket. “This might be too dangerous for you.”
Cricket gave him a pointed stare. “Duh. Being on Team Greywolf is all about danger.” She threw the empty beer bottle back in the recycling bin and mumbled, “Besides, it’s not like I’m mating material.”
Slade’s heart clenched. Did she really think she wasn’t worthy of living? Is this why she signed up for suicide missions? How could she consider death after surviving the change? Not on his watch. “You are too important to the team to risk being killed by a werewolf hunter.”
“First of all, as far as we know werewolf hunters no longer exist.”
“What about the masking formula?”
“Could be that a rogue werewolf got ahold of it.”
He didn’t give a damn. He’d feel better once she was safe in their territory. Better, in his den. He glanced at the spot on the desk where Randi’s computer had sat before the cleanup crew took it. “You looked at his computer back at headquarters, right?”
She nodded. “Yep. I found nothing except emails to his girlfriend Brenda in Oregon. The usual sweet nothing nonsense. No mention of Patagonia or biker friends. His computer history showed only stuff on motorcycles, deer hunting and believe it or not engagement rings.”
He fingered back his hair. “Yeah. You don’t disappear before you pop the question.”
“You think?” Cricket looked through his desk. “Perhaps when we visit the biker bar Pinky will be there.” She gave him a pointed stare. “Just follow my lead.”
Slade stiffened at her order. His fangs itched to emerge and bite her nose for not asking his permission. He suppressed his dominant urge. Technically, Cricket was in charge of the mission. “That is, if he’s a regular.”