Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) (11 page)

I turned toward where I’d last seen the crib. “Liam either sleeps through it all or doesn’t understand what’s going on, God willing. All he knows is this strange man’s grabbing his stuff.”

Bran nodded, urging me on.

I continued. “He’s smoking the entire time, cool and collected. He doesn’t panic if Liam makes a noise, doesn’t flinch at shooting a woman and stealing her baby.” I waved at the almost invisible ash. “Cigarette burns too long while he’s here while he’s packing the baby up. Ash falls off and he grinds it into the carpet or doesn’t worry about it. Not dumb enough to leave the butt behind—he finishes the smoke in here or outside but he keeps the butt with him.”

It wasn’t what we’d come for but it was something.

Especially if it helped find Liam.

“Well done.” Bran smiled.

I tapped my nose. “A powerful thing, this is.”

He leaned in and kissed the tip. “I’d say. Wonder how you stand to be with me some mornings, the way I must smell.” His voice dipped down. “Especially after a busy night.”

I wrinkled my nose, adding in a dramatic sigh. “I survive. Besides, the shared showers provide a bonus.” I went to the door. “Let’s move before your sweet little girl decides to sell us out to a higher bidder.”

The lobby was clogged with visitors checking out, the frazzled hotel clerk fighting to stem the tide of nervous questions and wary looks. We slipped through the crowd and out onto the street past the doorman who struggled to keep the door open for all the pedestrian traffic.

It was after eight in the evening, late enough for the attire to switch from business suits to jeans and T-shirts. A group of teenagers yelled assorted curses at a fancy sports car cruising slowly down Yonge Street, heading for the end of the road at Lake Ontario. A nearby hot dog vendor flipped over a grilled onion, making my mouth water. The neon signs were coming on with buzzes and hums, lighting up the sky.

It’d be a lovely evening if there wasn’t a missing baby out there.

I resisted the urge to start checking every stroller going by. Whoever the killer was, he was long gone.

Didn’t mean I wasn’t glancing at everyone passing us with a child in their arms.

I tugged at Bran’s arm as he went to wave over a cab from the taxi stand. He frowned and lowered his hand.

“Let’s walk for a bit.” I wanted him to work off some of the stress and if we talked I wouldn’t be worrying about a snooping cab driver.

Bran pulled off the bandages and examined his hands as we walked, the leather duster billowing out behind him as he took long, purposeful strides. I knew it was more from anger than any intent to get away from the hotel.

“I need to talk to my father,” he whispered. “I need to get his side in this, find out what he knows or doesn’t know.” The unspoken question hung between us—whether his father hired Molly’s killer or not.

“Do you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

His pace increased. “I’ll make him tell me. I can’t go on not knowing his involvement in this.”

I sped up my steps, taking two to his one to try to keep even. “We will.” I took his hand, slowing him a fraction. “As soon as Liam’s safe.”

Bran paused and I saw the inner conflict, the urge to beat the truth out of his father versus the need to find his half brother.

“I’ve never been a mother but I do know enough about babies to know they’re high-maintenance. Whoever wanted Molly dead will be moving to get Liam out of this thug’s hands soon enough. I doubt this guy’s working as a babysitter on the side and knows much more than how to change a diaper, if that.”

Bran licked his lips. “If that,” he repeated. “And if Liam doesn’t get out of this punk’s hands soon enough who knows what could happen.”

I didn’t pursue that line of thinking.

It would only be a few steps from a hotel or flophouse to a Dumpster to get rid of a baby’s body and vanish into the underground if the kidnapping went wrong. The police files were filled with missing children who’d never been found.

My stomach lurched at the idea of Liam joining their ranks. I’d held the wee one for only a few minutes but he’d taken a stranglehold on my heart.

Bran shifted to one side to avoid a gaggle of schoolgirls giggling over something on their cell phones. “I wish you could tell the cops about my father.” His right hand waved in the air impotently. “It’d make a big difference.”

“It would. But without anything more than my word they won’t give your father a second look. He’s too powerful and he’ll throw up a blockade of lawyers that’ll keep everyone out.” I shook my head. “It’d take a court order to get a paternity test done and I don’t see your father voluntarily agreeing.”

“Could we use my DNA?” Bran interrupted. “Check Liam’s genes against mine?”

I blinked, a small beam of sunlight chasing away the heavy cloud in my mind. “We could. I think the results would show that. But going from that to your father is a hell of a leap and there’d be a lot of denial flying around.” I gestured at the busy street. “Meanwhile Liam’s still out there.”

Bran stopped and spun around, away from the human migration. He put his back against a stone pillar of some ancient building, masquerading now as an office building. The deep sigh tore at my heart.

“I don’t know if I’m screwed up or not.” He pressed his palms against his eyes. “I’m pissed off about the affair, I’m pissed off about the baby—but I’m most pissed off because he tried to blackmail you.” He held up his fists. “I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

I put my hands over his fists. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“If it were just you and me,” he huffed, “I’d be able to deal better. But this is so much more, so many other lives getting messed up because he has to be in control of everything and everyone.” Bran looked upward. “If only I’d faced him down before, told him I wasn’t taking his shit anymore. Not letting him run my life and my mother’s, bribing me to stay silent while he screwed around on her.”

“You were a kid when it started. How could you know what was going on? Don’t overanalyze it.” The cold stone against my back cooled the growing anger against Michael Hanover. “Don’t get caught up in the cycle of wondering what if—it’ll keep you from seeing straight. I’ve played the game and once you get started you get twisted up and turned around.”

Bran looked at me. “Your parents?”

I studied an empty cardboard box. “I could have been in the car with them. I should have been.”

“Why weren’t you?”

I rubbed my nose. “I threw a hissy fit about staying back with Ruth and helping her cook pies. It was a holiday. It wasn’t supposed to be a permanent visit.”

“Except it turned into one.”

I swallowed hard. “We rushed to the hospital and the pies burned. Never helped her cook after that. Playing ‘what if’ can screw you up. Took me a few years to figure it out.” I touched Bran’s shoulder. “Although I’m happy I’m pretty high up the list of things that mean a lot to you.”

He looked at me, deep brown eyes filled with anger and angst. “You’re my world, Rebecca. There’s no one before I want to remember and there’ll be no one after you.”

The emotions wrapped around me like a second skin, warm and soothing.

I ran a finger over his lips, choking on my words. There was nothing I could say, nothing would even come close.

His fist uncurled and linked with my hand, fingers intertwining. We stood there for a few minutes, watching the herds of tourists surge back and forth.

I jumped as my cell phone vibrated. It took me a few seconds of fumbling accompanied by swearing before I got it out of my pocket.

Bran tensed up beside me. His jaw tightened to the point of obvious pain.

I stared at the caller identification. “It’s Jess,” I whispered before opening the connection. Bran ducked in close as I tilted the phone to the side so he could hear.

“Where are you two? I called the house and you weren’t there.” The disciplinary tone had me wincing.

“We went back to the hotel room to look for clues. Our suspect smokes Camels, no filters.” I could taste the grimy slime on my tongue. “It’s not much, but—”

“Good,” Jess said. “We’ve got a few suspicious hits and that’ll help weed them out. Let me call you back in a few minutes after we dump the chaff.” The line went dead.

Chapter Six

“What does that mean?” Bran asked.

“It means members of the family are reporting seeing a redheaded baby with someone who’s obviously not his father or mother.”

“How many of you are there?” Bran asked. “I mean, out there.” He waved at the street.

“Hundreds. Maybe thousands. I’ve never worried about getting an actual count.” I rubbed a particularly itchy spot on my back against the rough brick. “You saw how many lived in Penscotta. They work and live normal lives like everyone else.”

“Except they’re Felis.”

“Except for that.”

“Now you’ve got me wondering how many people I pass by every day who are family,” Bran said, eyes searching the crowd. “Don’t you think about it?”

“No.” I couldn’t help the bitterness creeping into my speech. “I’m outcast, remember?”

He looked at me. “Not so much now, according to Jess.”

I shrugged. “Talk is cheap. All I know is when I was growing up in the foster care system any Felis I met ignored me, turned their backs on me.” I scanned the human migration around us. “After a while I stopped looking for them.”

The cell phone buzzed for attention.

“Okay,” Jess said. “I’ve got something.” A painful silence followed for a few seconds. “Go to Tony’s Convenience over at Sterling and McCaster. It’s west of Yonge Street by about three blocks.”

Bran stepped away, lifting his hand and pointing at the traffic.

“What’s the red flag?” I scowled as a pair of cabs sped on by, ignoring us.

“Guy came in to buy diapers and formula bouncing a baby on his hip like a sack of potatoes. Seemed uneasy and didn’t look comfortable carrying the baby.”

“Pretty thin.” I watched Bran flip the bird at another cab charging through the intersection without slowing down.

“Best we got right now. Guy also bought smokes—might be Camels but Tony wasn’t sure. We’ll check the receipt when we get there but he didn’t approve of the guy smoking round the baby. That’s what made him even more memorable, puffing like a chimney in the kid’s face. Not too many idiots doing it these days, thank God.”

“‘We’?” I choked on the one syllable.

The chuckle startled me. “Kit, you can’t ask me to call a hunt and not expect me to get involved. It’s my neck on the line with the Board for getting us all involved and if I’m going to take a hit I’m sure as hell going to bring you along for the ride. See you there.”

She cut the connection.

I flashed back to a memory of my first hunt, of Ruth helping me back to the house. Jess had watched us come in, sitting on the porch with her legs swinging back and forth as we limped along the trail coming out of the forest, me hobbling along with a broken ankle and leaning on the older woman for support.

The last Board member waiting for the last hunter to come home.

“You’re the last.” She looked at her watch. “Late by about eight hours.”

I gave a nervous laugh, caught between the pain and the fear. “Having too much fun.”

In a flash she was in my face, nose to nose with an angry snarl. “You think I have nothing better to do than take care of you? Your father...” She paused and drew back, the sadness on her face snatching my breath away. “I’ll notify the Board you passed the test.” Jess gave a brisk nod to Ruth before leaving so quickly I had to remind myself she’d been there.

“Rebecca?” Bran’s voice brought me back to the present. He waved at the waiting cab, his tone verging on frantic. “Let’s go.”

The cab driver didn’t mind vague instructions as we zipped through narrow side streets, sliding through traffic and construction with ease until we pulled up in front of the corner store. Bran gave him a handsome tip as we got out, earning us a grateful smile.

Tony’s Convenience was like a hundred other small stores in the city, delivering milk and bread to the desperate at odd hours of the day and night for inflated prices. The postage-stamp-sized shop stood on the corner with neon signs advertising soda and a sandwich board at the entrance announcing the latest lottery jackpot waiting to be won. Various flyers and banners covered the windows to the point of making the glass moot.

Bran pulled on the single door and waited for me. I suspected it was more out of fear of meeting Jess face-on than chivalry.

An electronic jingle signaled our entrance.

The lone man standing behind the small squat counter looked up from his newspaper.

“Anything I can help you with?” The cheerful squeak was forced, the wail of a man who’d imagined a better future and ended up selling lottery tickets and chewing gum.

“We’re with Jess,” I said.

He folded the newspaper into a tight square before tossing it into a corner.

“I see.” He came out from around the counter, giving me a better look at him.

Tony Romano was tall enough to reach my shoulder and reminded me more of a snake than a Felis. Long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail gave his thin face a sharp, feral appearance. He looked like the type of guy who needed a safety line in the shower to make sure he didn’t slip down the drain.

His nostrils flared as I approached. He knew I wasn’t his usual customer looking for a chocolate fix.

His own scent, thick and oily, assaulted my senses. He was family, all right—the type you didn’t introduce your girlfriends to.

Tony glanced at the door. “Jess told me she was on her way.” The tone implied he’d be of little help until she arrived.

I surveyed the shelves, trying to slow my racing pulse. Prices were comparable to my own local hole-in-the-wall, which meant they were twice as much as I’d pay at the grocery store. The stacks of noodle cups and potato chip bags reaching to the ceiling gave me a mild case of claustrophobia.

The store of last resort for those late-night munchie runs and desperate men looking for baby supplies. If you bought formula and diapers here you had to be past desperate.

I checked out the formula shelf. The expiration dates weren’t all that far away and a ring of disturbed dust showed where the kidnapper’s can had come from.

I hoped the kidnapper would at least try to feed him.

Tony watched me stroll around his store, ignoring Bran.

I smiled inside. Big mistake.

Romano’s dark eyes narrowed. “You must be the outcast.” The last word came out like a curse. “Figured you’d be taller.”

I spread my hands, showing off all of my five foot four inches. “Big things, small packages and so forth.” I smiled. “But I think you know all about that, eh?”

Romano scowled.

Bran moved up behind me. I felt his body heat scorching my back and I knew he was sizing the Felis up.

Romano looked over my shoulder at Bran, sizing him up. “You must be the human.”

“You must be the genius of your family,” Bran deadpanned.

The Felis’s upper lip curled back.

“And she’s no outcast.” I felt the soft growl, the heated air on the back of my neck. It was a kit’s growl but it was enough to set the middle-aged man back on his heels. This wasn’t some dumb human looking to be ripped off by the cunning Felis for some overpriced beef jerky.

“Got a big mouth there, buddy.” Romano gave me a fast look before focusing on Bran. “Does she also hold your dick when you pee?”

The challenge flashed between the two men. You didn’t have to be Felis to sense that type of unspoken dare.

Bran cocked his head to one side. “Does your boyfriend?”

Romano took a step toward us before freezing in his tracks.

“Damn, human. Makes me wish I was twenty years younger.” Jess drawled from her position in the doorway. She leaned on the wooden frame, giving her height as exactly five foot eight inches according to the taped yardstick. “There’s something about a man willing to go to the ground for you.” She gave a wistful sigh. “If I were younger I’d make you fight for him.”

“You couldn’t handle him.” I wasn’t in any mood to dick around with trying to top each other. “Now that we’ve all massaged our egos let’s get down to business and find this baby.”

Jess tilted her head to one side and her eyebrows rose. For a horrible second I thought she was going to reprimand me and/or bring up my relationship with Bran. Instead she gave me a short nod and turned her attention to Romano.

Romano shrank perceptibly under her intense stare. It took a second for him to drop his gaze to the tiled floor, scarred by countless shoe heels.

“You don’t treat family or their friends like that,” Jess warned. “Do it again and you’ll answer to me. Is that clear?”

Romano nodded, intensely studying his toes.

“Okay. Over and done with. Now tell us what you saw,” Jess said.

Romano cleared his throat before speaking, careful to avoid looking at any of us directly. “He come in here carrying a baby under his arm like the daily newspaper. Puts him down here, wrapped up in a blanket. No car seat, no nothing.” He tapped the scratched clear plastic on the counter by the cash register, his anger turned away from us and at the invisible customer. “Baby’s crying, fussing, wriggling all over the place. I had to hold him to make sure he didn’t fall over the fucking edge.” Romano huffed. “Guy runs down the aisle and grabs diapers, canned formula, then lights up a smoke right here, in front of me and the kid.” The greasy-haired man shook his head. “That ain’t right. You want to screw up your lungs, fine. Ain’t right to put that on a kid, not a baby.”

Jess waved a hand in the air, encouraging him.

“Guy tosses money at me and grabs the kid and the groceries. Thought for a second he was gonna put the kid in the plastic bag as well. He’s puffing up a storm and burns through the smoke like he was on the way to his execution.” He shuffled his feet. “I didn’t think nothing ’bout it until the alert came in.” He gave Jess a halfhearted smile. “That should count for something, eh?”

We all ignored it.

“When?” Jess asked.

“Within the last hour.” Romano drew a finger along the counter. “Been nobody in since. You should get a good trail if you work at it.”

I sniffed the air. A mixture of bad cologne, feces, urine and...foul-smelling cigarettes. The scent cloud was here but it was like trying to pick out one specific needle out of a cluster of needles. I could barely identify the cigarettes, much less the smoker.

“Do you recognize him?” Jess’s gruff tone brought me out of the mental confusion.

“I can’t.” I shook my head. “There’s too much. Too many.”

“Filthy habit, cigarette smoking,” Romano scoffed. “I wouldn’t even sell them except they make me good money.” He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “Raise the tax, I say.”

Bran let out a snort. I didn’t even try to figure out what he was thinking.

Romano pointed at a half-smoked butt on the floor. The smashed tobacco was smeared in all directions like an ugly brown flower. “Bastard didn’t even blink when he dropped it. Think he was afraid of burning the kid; that’s why he dumped it.”

Jess snatched it up and held it under my nose. “Try again,” she demanded. “Pull it in, breathe it all in.” Her words came through in a whisper, the urgency sending a shiver down my spine. “You can do this.”

I scrunched my eyes together so tight I felt the pulse against my eyelids.

The tobacco stung my nose. I caught the faintest whiff of a personal scent before it was swallowed up again by mud and dirt and the garbage he’d walked through before stomping on the cigarette.

“Still nothing,” I whimpered, the frustration gaining ground.

Bran’s hand landed on my shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

I opened my eyes to see Jess shaking her head in disagreement. She reached over and plucked the mashed cigarette from my fingers without comment.

Her thin slender fingers rolled the butt back and forth, dissembling it in her palm. She lifted her hand up to her nose, close enough to snort the shredded tobacco.

Jess inhaled, so deep her white blouse tightened to the point of button-popping. Her eyes closed with a look of intense concentration.

She Changed in a flash, the light brown fur covering her facial features. Her Roman nose shrank down and retreated inward, her eye shifting to pure feline. The ugly scar on the left side of her face became more pronounced, the angry scarlet skin remaining bare.

She took another whiff and I remembered she’d fought her way onto the Board and into a position of power in the Pride—along with terrorizing generations of kits who viewed her with shock and awe.

Bran squeezed my shoulder. The warmth burned through my coat and shirt, soothing the nervousness building in my muscles. His fingers kneaded the leather in a reflexive move to calm me.

Jess didn’t notice, focused on her task.

She smiled.

Not a nervous smile, not a smirk, but a true hunter’s smile of satisfaction.

“Got him.” She tossed the cigarette remains to the surprised store owner and spun on one booted heel. “Let’s go.” She Changed back within seconds, shifting easily back into full human form.

“Can she track him?” Bran whispered as we fell into step behind her. “Just from that?”

“Damned right I can, kit.” Jess stopped shy of the door and shot us a sly grin over her shoulder. “I can track a flea in an animal shelter.”

Romano retreated behind the counter in silence to watch us leave. I resisted the urge to grab something on the way out to push my luck.

Jess paused for a half second on the store’s threshold before turning right. “He’s within walking distance and working alone,” she said, her long legs keeping her ahead of us.

“Based on what?” I tried to keep my tone respectful but a trace of disbelief crept in.

“No place to park here.” She swept her arm outward at the busy street. “He wouldn’t risk parking and taking the chance of getting noticed, or worse, getting towed.”

I glanced up at the prominent NO PARKING signs standing guard every few feet. It was a risk but a calculated risk.

“He would have taken a cab after killing Molly. He wouldn’t risk walking through the lobby with a newborn in his arms screaming and crying. Avoid the taxi stand out front and slip out the back, come around to a major street and flag down one of the cabs out of traffic.” I ran the argument to ground. “He didn’t have time to sit and wait for a parking lot attendant or juggle coins into a meter if he could find one.”