Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“It is,” said Mila, forcing a smile.
“Well, I better get going.” Adele patted Mila’s arm. “You take care.” With one last smile at Dominic, the blonde breezed out of the shop.
His brow creased, he looked at Mila. “She’s not like any pallas cat I’ve ever met.”
“You mean because she’s sweet?” asked Mila, her mouth quirking.
He pulled her close. “No, you can be very, very sweet.” He kissed her, needing a brief taste. “What I mean is that Adele . . . she doesn’t seem to have that killer edge, even though she’s a dominant female and one of your kind. There’s just no fierceness about her.”
“Mila!” a voice called out in delight.
They turned just as Ingrid came out from behind the desk and made a beeline for them. She gave first Mila a hug, and then Dominic.
He grinned. “Hey, Mrs. D. You have something on your head. Oh, it’s fine, it’s just a halo.”
Blushing, Ingrid smiled at her granddaughter. “This one’s trouble, isn’t he? My boys are expecting you. Go right on up.”
Dominic followed Mila through a door, down a narrow hallway, and up a curved staircase. The upstairs apartment was small but cozy. It smelled of lavender and citrus cleaner. He could also scent meat and mayonnaise, so it wasn’t a surprise to find Vinnie, Tate, and Luke gathered around the kitchen table, munching on sandwiches.
Vinnie urged them to come inside and gestured at the table. Once he and Mila had taken the empty seats, the Alpha said, “I spoke with Alex at length earlier, so I’m up to speed on everything. He came with us to pay John Norton a little visit. Norton claims he has nothing to do with the attempts on your life, Mila. I believe him.”
“So this was never about Alex,” she said.
Dominic combed his fingers through her hair. “What about your enemies, Vinnie?”
“This isn’t someone targeting me through Mila,” the Alpha replied. “I have plenty of sources. If someone had put a hit out on Mila to get at me, I’d know about it by now.” He picked up his soda can and took a swig. “Alex told me about the conversation you had with him this morning. I never considered Pierson.”
“You’re not convinced it’s him,” Dominic sensed.
“Neither am I, as it happens,” said Mila. “Pierson’s human, so how would he know about that website? If he was going to put a hit out on me, wouldn’t he have hired a human?”
Vinnie pointed at her. “That’s what has me doubting that he’s who we should be looking at.”
“I wondered about that too,” said Dominic. “But many lone shifters are guns for hire—humans use them more than our kind does. If Pierson spoke to one who didn’t want the job, they could have told him about the website.”
“Possibly.” His plate empty, Tate leaned back in his seat. “We could pick him up. Make him talk.”
“Yeah.” Luke stretched. “Humans always break easily.”
Vinnie grimaced. “I’d rather be sure we have the right person, since we’d have to let him go if it turns out he’s innocent.”
Mila nodded. “If he mysteriously disappears, Dominic will be the prime suspect.”
“Exactly,” said Vinnie. “And if it is Pierson, well, it’s best to let him think we’re in the dark. Right now, he’s counting on a hit man taking care of the job. If he discovers we know about it, he’ll try to get rid of Mila another way. Possibly by involving the extremists. That can get messy. Look what they did to Bracken’s family.”
Footsteps stomped across the landing and into the kitchen. Dominic watched as a skinny teenage girl with flaming red hair came storming into the room, her mouth tight, her eyes wide with anger.
“Dad, you need to ship that little weasel off to another country—preferably one with lots of sweatshops for kids—or I’m gonna kill him.”
Vinnie sighed. “Elle—”
“Look what he did!” The girl held up a sequined top that had long slashes running through it, as if it had been clawed at by an animal.
Vinnie frowned at her bloodstained fingernails. “Why is there blood on you?”
Jutting out her chin, Elle shrugged one shoulder. “He slashed my top, so I slashed his. Not my fault he was wearing it at the time.”
A boy of about twelve or thirteen stalked into the room, his shirt torn and bloody. He glowered at the older teen. “Christ, Elle, what is your damage?”
She thrust the top at him. “This! This is damage! You got off lightly, Damian!”
The boy made a dismissive sound. “It doesn’t fit you anymore anyway—you’ve put on more weight.”
She gaped. “I lost four pounds this week.”
“I fart four pounds.”
“Well, there’s not a lot the Antichrist can’t do,” she sniped.
His hands fisted. “Stop calling me that! And stop humming The Omen theme music through the bedroom wall!”
“Stop calling me Miss Piggy and making whale noises at me!”