“I’d think. Maybe he was here that night and saw her leave with Tommy.” I paused to bite my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe she called him before she left Tommy’s to have him pick her up here.”
“No,” Ria said. “She would’ve had the last guy drop her at her next appointment or back home. She wouldn’t have come back here unless she made an arrangement to meet with the guy afterward.”
“Maybe that’s what happened then,” Emory said. “Maybe she talked with someone else about a job while she was here with Tommy.”
“That’d make the most sense,” Ria said. “I keep telling her ass to get a phone. She’s making enough. I don’t know why she doesn’t.”
Declan glanced at Ria and then looked back to me. “Tommy was here with a bunch of guys from the pack that night. I’m familiar with the alpha. We could meet with him.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said. “But as far as the shooting goes, we saw exactly what you said happened. Didn’t even pick up an energy signature from anyone being here. So that makes me think a Witch is involved. Are any of the packmates Witches?”
“Not that I know of, but I don’t know all of them. We’ll bring that up though,” he said. “Isn’t that a big thing though? Disguising an energy signature?”
“A huge thing,” Ria said. “Whoever it is must be really powerful.”
“We should contact all the local covens then too,” Emory said.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
DECLAN
The sun set by the time Brooke and Ria finished the spell. They weren’t done with their food though, so I insisted they eat while I called around.
The covens were harder to get ahold of. Generally speaking, Witches were cunts. They were holier than thou, money hungry, designer clothes and handbags divas—which was at least part of the reason I liked Brooke. She had the bitch part down, but she drove a Corolla, carried a falling apart purse that had to have been half a decade old, and seemed to prefer thrifted sundresses to Louis Vuitton.
Every coven I knew of though? They rented out high end restaurants for their ceremonies, only sipped champagne, and charged a kidney for their help. Hence why we weren’t close. My dive bar wasn’t their scene.
Nonetheless, I did get through to one priestess. She said she’d meet with me for fifteen hundred bucks. I wasn’t rich, but to find out who shot me, I was willing to pay.
Next was the Pacific Northwest alpha. Abe Watson.
His assistant answered the phone on the fourth ring. She took my information, put me on hold for five minutes, and Abe’s voice came through. After the pleasantries, he said, “I’m assuming your mother’s still doing fine?”
The two of them had something of a friendship after Dad died. I didn’t ask how in depth that friendship was because… Well, that was a part of my mom’s life I didn’t need details on. I supposed I was grateful for it though. At least we had a good foundation to build from.
“She is. This is unrelated,” I said. “I have a problem, and I was hoping you could lend a hand.”
“Which is?”
“I think one of your wolves may have something to do with a woman who disappeared from my parking lot last week.”
Silence for a moment. “Are the authorities involved?”
“No. She was reported missing, but no humans are investigating. She’s, uh…” I paused. “She’s a sex worker.”
“So they don’t care,” he murmured. “Well, you know we hire them from time to time. I had a few girls in here just last night. Some pictures may help.”
When he said hired, he wasn’t talking about sex. He meant feeding.
One of the less attractive attributes of being a Werewolf, I supposed. We needed blood to survive. Emory let me drink his if I was in a rut, but generally, I drank bagged shit from the hospital. I preferred from the source, but if no one willing was around, and Emory wasn’t feeling it that day, I did what I had to.
But alphas weren’t apt for cold blood. So they hired sex workers—preferably sober ones who were feening —and paid them for their contribution. A fair system, in my opinion. Selling your blood isn’t much different than selling your pussy.
“I’ll do you one better,” I said. “I’ve got her scent.”
“That should do. I’m in Seattle until Friday. You’ll need to hold off until then. I hope you find her sooner, but if you don’t, I’ll be available at seven.”
“Seven on Friday’s perfect. Thank you.” I glanced at Brooke nibbling a fry through the glass in the steel door. “It’s actually a friend of mine who’s looking for her. I’m sure she’ll want to be there. Is that alright?”