Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“He obviously fooled her into thinking he was my dad.”
“Fooled her how?”
“The Devil can take any form he chooses.”
Exasperation flickered across the bush dog’s face.
Bree snickered. “Give up, Blair. Give up now. You’re only hurting yourself.”
The music faded away as the once-idling car drove off, adding to the traffic sounds of engines running, horns honking, brakes squealing, and wheels spinning.
The mall was incredibly busy, so the lot was a current hub of activity. Her cat didn’t like it; wasn’t fond of the assault to her senses. Streetlights flashed. Bushes rattled with the breeze. Puddles rippled. Laughter came from kids using a curb as a balance beam.
Thank God it was an indoor mall, because the weather was abysmal. Windy, cloudy, cold, and rainy. The rain had now died off, but the smell of ozone remained, overlaying the scents of car exhaust and wet pavement.
Quinley felt for the long cue of people stood at the taxi rank, exposed to the elements. Quinley and her pride mates were huddled under a shelter near the drop-off/pick-up area, waiting for Isaiah. He was on his way to collect them.
Shopping wise, it had been a productive day for Quinley—as evidenced by the amount of bags she was carrying. Her gloves provided a nice buffer between the skin of her palms and the dig of the bag handles.
Bree danced on the spot. “My feet are freezing.”
So were Quinley’s, courtesy of the cold concrete—the icy temperature was seeping through the soles of her boots. “We’ll be gone from here soon, thankfully.”
Bree grimaced. “Do you think I have time to pee before Isaiah gets here?”
“I doubt he’ll arrive for another ten minutes or so,” Quinley predicted. “The shit weather slows traffic down. Go, it’s no biggie if he gets here before you’re back. We won’t mind waiting.”
The woman apparently didn’t need to be told twice, because she swiftly disappeared.
Watching her leave, Elle said, “Those bags have got to be heavy. She walks around with them effortlessly, like they’re lighter than air. There’s no lugging or heaving.”
“Mom hands,” said Quinley. “I swear, my mother used to easily carry armfuls of bags like they were empty.” It was one of the few clear memories she had of her mom. Most weren’t notable, just general things.
“I still can’t quite believe Bree is a mom,” Elle remarked, shaking her head. “It’s so cute how much she’s missed Aurora today.”
“I miss Luke being at home more often,” began Blair, “but it’s imperative he locates the Vercetti Pack for Isaiah’s sake. Those fuckers cannot be found soon enough.”
“Amen,” said Quinley, her cat in full agreement.
“I really do think someone’s helping them hide,” Elle commented. “Someone with influence, land, and power. Maybe anti-shifter extremists even.”
Quinley pointed at her. “I hadn’t considered it might be them, but yeah they’d totally help out any shifters who targeted the rest of our kind. Of course, they’ll also stab the Vercetti assholes in the back eventually.”
“Let’s hope we manage to find them before that happens,” said Blair. “Luke will sulk if he doesn’t get to have a personal hand in ending their lives and … Oh my God, I almost didn’t see you there.”
Tracking the Beta female’s gaze, Quinley noticed a tall, very good-looking blond slow to a halt several feet away as his eyes clashed with Blair’s. Definitely a shifter, going by his fluid walk and how he carried himself.
He was quite a specimen, and he sure dressed well. Tailored suit, long cashmere coat, shoes that looked to be Italian leather. The shopping bag he carried featured the logo of a very expensive designer store. The dude obviously had money.
Blair walked over to him, leaving the shelter. With all the noise, there was no way to hear what they started to talk about. His cool-blue gaze briefly flicked to where Quinley and Elle stood. And that gaze paused on the redhead, narrowing in … recognition?
Quinley looked at her, only then noticing that the female pallas cat had pinned her gaze on something straight ahead, her cheeks flushing. “Who’s that?”
Elle blinked. “What? Who?”
“Oh, are we playing the, I don’t know who he is game? I can go along with that, if you want.”
For long moments, Elle continued to stare straight ahead. But then she sighed at Quinley. “You don’t push,” she complained. “You’re supposed to push so it’ll be easier for me to get it all out.”
Stifling a smile, Quinley nudged her. “Elle, offload; you’ll feel better, I promise.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “All right, if you’re going to badger me about it.” She turned to fully face Quinley, probably so that the guy wouldn’t be able to read her lips or anything. “You know Enigma?”
“The shifter club?”
“Yes. That guy, Gabriel, co-owns it. He’s a silent partner.”
“Really?” Interesting. The club was not only exclusive to shifters, it was a place where they could go to … well, get laid. Like anywhere in the club, even on the dance floor.