I scrub a hand over my face. “I just sent her away. I believed she had betrayed me.”
Jacqueline’s eyes move over my face, and she must see my misery because something akin to understanding flickers in her eyes. “You care for my Minette?”
I nod. How could I make such a mistake? The wolf knew, all along. I should have trusted my instincts. To distract myself from the searing pain that sliced me open from neck to groin, I ask, “What kind of cat are you?”
“Panther.”
“Kylie doesn’t know?”
“Non. My Minette never manifested. Her mother died when she was still a girl, and she was apart from me during puberty. Her father knew to contact me if she showed signs of shifting, but she never did. I reunited with her after her father’s murder, but she hasn’t needed me. Not until now.” She peers up at me, and I’m not sure if she means because of the men who framed her or because of me.
“Is she half or quarter?”
“Half. Her mother was truly the cat burglar.”
My skin prickles. Half shifter. No wonder my wolf wants her.
Mate.
I didn’t mean to speak it out loud, but I must have because Jacqueline’s eyes glow with curiosity. “She knows about you?”
“Yes. She saw my teeth when the wolf wished to mark her.”
The old woman shifts and, even with her obvious frailty, her movements evoke the grace of a cat. “Did you mark her, wolf?”
I immediately feel like a young teenager getting the third degree at his girlfriend’s parents’ door. Shame tinges my reply. “No. But I frightened her.”
Jacqueline’s eyes glint in that unearthly manner cats have. I can’t read her reaction.
I slide to the edge of my seat. “Jacqueline, come to my mansion. I will protect you, and we can find Kylie together.”
“Non.” She doesn’t even hesitate. “I will not be your bait for my granddaughter. I am safe here. If Kylie wishes to see you, she will make contact. In the meantime, Garrett will protect me.”
The band around my throat tightens. It’s like the woman already knows I don’t deserve to see Kylie again. I fucked up-put her in danger, failed to trust the female who had placed herself in my hands so many times.
I let out a low curse-not at Jacqueline, but at myself. I write my cell on my business card and hand it to her before I stand. “Please contact me if you hear from her. Tell her I’m sorry, and that I made a mistake. I’ll do anything I can to help her. That’s a vow.”
I go through the motions of shaking Garrett and his pack member’s hands on the way out, but my movements are jerky. Mechanical. I’m already a thousand miles away, searching for my mate. Figuring out how I’m ever going to make this up to her.
~.~
Kylie
I ditch Sam’s motorcycle downtown and check into the No-Tell Motel on Miracle Mile, a place where you can pay for a room with cash and rent by the hour. Porn is showing on the television in the room. Nice. Very nice atmosphere. I switch it off and pull out my laptop.
I’m dying to lose myself in code. No, I’m dying in general. I haven’t felt this lost, this destroyed since my father’s death. Back then, Mémé was the only thing that kept me going. If I don’t have her now…
No. I can’t think that. My gut says she’s still alive, and I have to trust she is. She’s tough, even for an old woman.
So my new plan is to find Mémé and leave town. But the emptiness of that plan, even being reunited with Mémé, leaves me thinner than a ghost. Leaving Jackson believing the worst of me is unthinkable. One part of me hates him for not trusting in me-after what we did last night, he thinks I played him?
But maybe that’s why it cut him so deep. He isn’t someone who gives his trust easily or to very many. Last night, he shared his deepest tragedy with me. Seeing me with Stu must’ve felt like the worst betrayal to him. But understanding doesn’t lessen the sharp cut of his mistrust. He flayed me in a million pieces back at the airport.
Still, I need to make things right. I won’t let him believe I destroyed his entire life’s work. That I stole from him.
And even if I didn’t care about Jackson and SeCure, I need to make those fuckers pay for involving me in their greedy plan. Stu, included.
I get to work following the money trail. The FBI should eventually be able to follow it, too, but by the time they do, the money will be long diverted.
I have to hack into five different banks, which takes me the rest of the afternoon, but I pick up the trail.
Bingo.
I let out a wicked witch chuckle as I send the money back to the first place from which it was diverted and reverse every transaction. Most of those accounts will be frozen or on hold. Issued new numbers. But the point is, the money will be tied up while the banks try to figure out where it’s supposed to go.
Take that, Mr. X. Take that, Stu. Framing Catgirl was your biggest mistake.
The light has dimmed, and I take a break and check the antique board for a message from Mémé. With a surge of joy, I see a message in my inbox.
Minette, I am with friends. Call them at 520-235-5055.
My heart pounds. I don’t dare use my phone, but I immediately hook up an Internet voice line and dial the number. A male voice answers. “Hello.”
For a moment, I freeze, not sure who I’m talking to or whether it’s safe.
“Hello?”
“May I speak to Jacqueline?”
“Ah. She’s been waiting for your call.” He says nothing more, but Mémé’s voice comes on. “Minette! Dieu merci. Is it safe to talk?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“I am with the Tucson wolf pack. Downtown.”