Page 22 of Wanted
I can easily guess, though, when Ms. Cynthia answers, “She came to see me about a week and a half ago.”
Emery sits forward, perching herself on the edge of the couch. I surmise she’s asking for details. She catches my attention when she starts rummaging around for something. She digs into the pockets of her jeans, but she comes up empty-handed.
“My phone?” she inquires as she grabs my arm, getting my attention. “I left it in your truck. Please, I need it.”
The worry lines etched in her forehead has my wolf purring. He’s damn near crawling out of my skin to give her whatever she wants. I’m up on my feet and headed to my truck before I realize what I’m doing.
I never move without intention or prior consideration.
What the hell is going on?
This isn’t the purpose of my visit to Ms. Cynthia’s. In reality, I shouldn’t even be here with Emery. She’s not related to my purpose for being in Florida—as far as I know.
But when I saw those motherfuckers in the bar planning to do something to her, instinct took over. The truth is, she could be related to the reason I’m here. Why else would a human, who should have no knowledge of Mike’s Bar, which is deep inside Florida’s shifter country, show up out of the blue?
Make that two humans, including her sister.
For that matter, why were the owners of the bar so intent on getting rid of her?
Something in my gut tells me whatever Emery’s sister found herself in isn’t good news for her or us shifters. And that concerns the safety of my pack. It could be related to the Alliance as well.
Chael wanted me to come to Florida to get answers for him and that’s what the fuck I’m doing.
“Thank you,” Emery says as I hand her the phone.
She quickly turns it on and then brings up the photo gallery. She flips the screen to Ms. Cynthia. The same move she did the night before in showing the owner of Mike’s a picture of her sister.
“Is this her? Who came to visit you?”
I realize she wanted her phone to be certain Ms. Cynthia and she were talking about the right person. Ms. Cynthia nods.
I move around to retake my seat on the couch so that I can better read their lips.
“She was a cute thing,” Ms. Cynthia says with a warm smile. “Had on this multicolor shirt with black and white polka-dotted pants. Didn’t match at all but on her it worked.” She grins fondly.
“That’s her.” Emery looks at me with something shining in her eyes. “My sister’s style has always been…eclectic.” She turns back to Ms. Cynthia.
“She came to visit me here at my home.” Ms. Cynthia looks over at me. “Someone must’ve told her about me.”
This makes me sit up. If someone spoke directly to Emery’s sister about Ms. Cynthia, they had to believe she was one of us. And if Emery’s sister is one of us, that would make Emery…
I look over at her as she continues to talk with Ms. Cynthia. Her scent isn’t that of a wolf. Not any wolf I’ve ever encountered, anyway.
She doesn’t subtly sniff the air when entering a new space. She doesn’t react to sudden sounds like most shifters. But she’s not fully human either. The problem is, I don’t know if she even realizes it. And she looks to be in her twenties. If she were a wolf, she would’ve long had her first shift by now.
“No, she was alone,” Ms. Cynthia continues, obviously responding to another one of Emery’s questions.
Throughout the conversation, I come to find out that Emery’s sister visited Ms. Cynthia about a week and a half ago asking questions about their past. To be more specific, their biological parents.
“She showed me an old picture of them but I’ve seen so many people come and go over the years, I couldn’t place them,” Ms. Cynthia says.
Emery turns to me. “Our parents were killed in a car accident when we were young,” Emery explains. “I was ten but Ash was only four.” Her lips pull downward in a frown, her gaze dropping. “She’s always had somewhat of a fascination over what happened.”
She turns back to Ms. Cynthia.
Ms. Cynthia waves her off. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. She was so pleasant and sweet.”
Did Emery apologize on her sister’s behalf?