Chapter Twenty-One

 

Quinn arrived back to Briar Wood for the first time in weeks, relieved as the familiar house came into view. It was late when he pulled in, so he said a quick hello to Mark, who’d opened the gate and come down to greet him, then went straight to bed.

He woke early the next morning, heading bleary-eyed down to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Griffin arrived as he was downing his second cup, marginally more alert.

“Our wayward stowaway is safe then,” Griffin asked. There was only the tiniest hint of emotion to even suggest their leader still held bad feelings toward Tristan.

“Seems like he’s in safe hands.”

“Parker’s a good guy. He’ll see him right.”

He hadn’t yet told Griffin about the other shifter Tristan had mentioned. There wasn’t a lot of information to go on, but there was enough. Double-checking no one else was in earshot, he lowered his voice.

“Tristan told me we weren’t the first to come looking for Michael. There was an alpha newly employed as a guard who was asking questions. That’s how Tristan knew so much about your brother.”

“What alpha? Who was he?”

“The name Tristan got was Darren, but he suspects it wasn’t his real name. There was only one other piece of information he could give that might help us track him down. Before the breeder house, he worked in Malachi’s.”

He could already see the wheels turning in Griffin’s mind. What he wasn’t expecting, was the self-recrimination.

“This is my fault.”

“What? How?”

“I wasn’t careful enough, looking for my brothers. Virgil and Antoine must have figured it out, must have started their own search. Shit.”

Virgil and Antoine were the men who called themselves Griffin’s parents. In truth, they were the alphas who’d bought him from his pack and spent years training him to do their bidding before he escaped. They were searching for some way to control Griffin and through him, their pack.

“We don’t know that it’s them.”

“Who else? No one else knows what Michael means to me. No one else is looking for leverage to force my hand.”

Put like that, yeah, it looked like a distinct possibility.

“I’m going to talk to Ronan and Beau,” Griffin continued. “But, if you’re agreeable, I think I’d like you to stay on this.”

“Pay Malachi’s a visit? Sure.”

“Not just yet. I want to do some digging first, make sure we’re not tripping any alarms.” Griffin headed to the door.

“One more thing,” Quinn said, remembering something else. “This Darren might be an ex-fighter. Tristan mentioned scars, on his neck.”

“A fighter turned covert investigator. We should think about recruitment,” Griffin said wryly.

 

It was another week before Quinn found himself back on the road. He was to spend three days in Malachi’s, gambling, drinking, and making inquiries about Darren. It was practically a milk run, an easy job, but Griffin wanted someone he trusted on it, hence why he was the one and not someone a little less experienced.

Tristan had been on his mind since they’d parted. The omega hadn’t called, but Griffin had contacted Parker to see how he was getting on. Quinn was more than a little relieved to hear the omega seemed to be settling in well. He’d been like a bird last time Quinn had seen him, ready to take flight at any moment.

Quinn had been in Malachi’s once or twice before, even worked a job there. He used a previous persona, an alpha who would spend his vacation days gambling to take his mind off of his unhappy relationship. Misery loved company so it was easy to get people to talk to him. And if he drunkenly remembered a guy called Dave or Darren or something, it wasn’t long before someone filled in the blanks. He cut his trip short by a day, losing ‘big’ the second night and pretending he was out of money and had to go home.

Instead, he went to visit the aunt of one of the barmaids, who gossip told him had rented a place to the aloof Darren. The woman was a little suspicious at first but warmed quickly when Quinn used his most charming smile. He had to sit through two cups of tea and a lot of irrelevant chat but he got what he came for. A forwarding address for his old friend Darren.

Which was how, late one evening, he found himself climbing on foot up a winding hill. The place was the definition of the middle of nowhere, and he’d stopped to check the directions three times. He didn’t drive for the last stretch of the journey, wanting to make a quiet approach. Instead, he shifted, his lion form stealthily ascending the hill at a fast pace, difficult to pick out in the dark of the new moon. If Darren was working for Griffin’s parents, then Quinn wouldn’t be a welcome visitor. Better he not be seen until it was too late.

The cabin came into view, and Quinn could see approaching unseen was out of the question. The area around the cabin was cleared of bushes or trees. Quinn would be visible long before he got to the front door. On the other hand, the cabin looked empty, maybe even abandoned. That feeling only intensified when he got almost nothing by way of scent as he got close to the door. If anyone had been living there, they hadn’t been by recently. Did that mean Darren was out looking for Michael again? Was he close to finding him?

Knowing the next logical step was breaking and entering, he smiled inwardly at the thought that Tristan would have liked that. He’d make a good partner. A good mate.

Shaking his head and focusing on the job at hand, he shifted back to human form and then forced the door opened with his shoulder. It gave easily under his strength.

“Sorry, Darren,” he murmured to himself. “Send us the bill.”

The place hadn’t been cleared out like he’d expected. But what was left was stuff Quinn guessed Darren hadn’t wanted to cart around with him from job to job. There was nothing personal, nothing to point to who Darren really was, just a faint but distinctive scent, definitely alpha.

He was diligent in his work, checking every drawer, every cupboard, flipping the mattress and pulling out the furniture. When he did find something, it wasn’t what he’d expected. It was a folded newspaper, almost a month old. But it wasn’t the newspaper he found interesting. There was a faint impression on it. Words. Like someone had leaned on it while writing on something else. If he’d been human, he’d have needed paper and a pencil to reveal what was written there. Being a shifter, he just tilted it to best catch the light and let his eyes do the work.

It was an address, two states over. No indication of what it was but it was something.

He called Griffin as he walked back to his car.

“Darren’s in the wind,” he told him, hearing the omega’s sigh of disappointment. “But I think we have a lead on where he went. I’ve just sent you an address. Any idea what’s there?”

There was a brief silence as Griffin checked it. “None whatsoever. But if he’s still on Michael’s trail…”

Breeder house or brothel were the most likely destinations.

“I can leave tonight,” he offered.

“No,” Griffin said. “I don’t want to walk into this blind. I’ll see what I can find out first. Besides, you have somewhere to be.”

“I do?”

“Yep. Check your email. We’ll talk soon.”

Bemused, he did as he was told, laughing when he saw what Griffin had sent him. Just the excuse he needed to make good on his promise and check in on a certain omega.