“Ready to go?” a voice beside us asked.
Rosie and I looked up at Wheeler, who stood with his arms folded. Rosie didn’t seem to care for all his tattoos, nor the scowl on his face, so she left the booth.
I left Wheeler while I changed clothes in the bathroom, slipping into a pair of flats and a short cotton dress the color of storm clouds. I decided if we got caught snooping around Hawk’s place, I didn’t want to look conspicuous by wearing dark clothes this time of year.
No one messed with Wheeler as we cut through the crowd. They stepped aside and let us pass. He possessed an ominous presence and was the only Cole brother that put me on edge. Despite the fact he said he owed me one, I felt terrible that he’d almost died. My phone call resulting in Austin getting there on time didn’t erase the fact my psychotic ex had put a bullet in his head.
Halfway across the room, my purse got hung up on something. I spun around, and a man with a shaved head was tugging on the strap.
The next thing I knew, Wheeler’s arm flew out and seized the guy by the throat. “Let it go or I’ll shatter your nose,” he said in slow, menacing words. His fingers gripped so tightly that the bones in his hand were visible.
The purse popped free, and I blinked, heading swiftly toward the door. Wheeler held my wrist and led me across the parking lot, walking two steps ahead. I finally twisted my arm free from his grasp and slowed my pace as we approached his car.
“Spiffy wheels,” I said, admiring the gunmetal-grey exterior.
“It’s a 1968 Chevy Camaro, so show a little respect.”
He ditched me where I stood and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Wheeler leaned over and unlocked the door.
“I’m always surprised when something this old is still running,” I said, getting in and smelling the recently polished interior.
“That should be the Breed slogan,” he said dryly without a hint of humor.
Which made me smile. I buckled my lap belt and slammed the heavy door. The bucket seats were comfortable, and sitting in the old car brought back memories. I cranked the handle in circles to roll down the window, and Wheeler fired up the engine.
“We’ll go to the house you lived at first.”
The warm wind felt amazing. Gravel popped on the underbelly of the car as we pulled out of the parking lot and took off down the road at breakneck speed.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the house I’d once shared with Hawk. It was an ostentatious dwelling with tall bushes on each side that looked like skyscrapers. Normally they were kept neatly hedged, but now they looked scraggly and in need of a trim. The houses in the neighborhood were spaced apart for extra privacy, and only the orange streetlights illuminated the grounds.
Wheeler swung open the front door, and the cold air made my skin crawl. I cupped my elbows, standing closer to Wheeler than I had been before.
“What if someone’s in here?” I whispered.
“Then I’ll shift, and my wolf will feast on their bowels,” he said indifferently, disappearing down the hall to our left.
I stood frozen in the living room. My eyes floated to the grand piano, the fireplace, the brass-framed paintings on the walls, and all the oversized vases. Before I chickened out, I suffocated the fear and began lifting cushions, turning vases upside down, pulling open drawers, and I even peered inside the piano. I’m not sure where a man like Hawk would have stashed drugs and money, but no stone would be left unturned.
Wheeler, on the other hand, was breaking things. I heard objects shattering and the sound of his shoes crunching on the broken pieces as he went through each room.
After searching the living room, I hurried down the hall and skidded to a halt when I passed a room that Hawk had always kept locked. The door was wide open, the cement floor covered with bloodstains. It’s a room Hawk had told me was his private office, and my stomach turned when I noticed the chains on the floor.
“What… what is this?” I gasped, shaking my head at the horrifying reality. “Oh my God.”
Wheeler hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me into the hall, closing the door. “Stay out of that room.” He went into the bedroom, and I followed close behind.
“I slept in here,” I said. “There’s no way he could have hid anything in this room without me finding it.”
Regardless, Wheeler flipped the mattress over and sliced it open with his knife. After ripping the pillows and breaking the lamps, he pulled everything out of the closet.
“What’s going to happen to his house?” I wondered aloud. “Did anyone report him missing?”
“I’m handling all that, and you don’t need to know the details.”