Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel(27)

The officer narrowed his eyes, the colour bleeding from a soft brown into a deep green. Interesting.
“Okay, so we have a problem. You showed me ID, but I still don’t know you’re here from the police.” I had no doubt there were supernaturals around, lots in all sorts of fields. But it seemed too much of a coincidence that a shifter would come for me at the hospital. How did I know it wasn’t one of Faris’ cronies? Fuck, I did not want to start this day off with a fight and bloodshed.
The officer glared at me and the hair stood up on the back of my neck as a low growl, just like that of a pissed off kitty cat, rippled out of his lips.
“Ah, stop fucking around, the both of you,” Jack yelled from the bed. “I’ll vouch for Will. He’s worked with me before. Now play nice, Rylee. He’ll help you if you let him.”
The shifter eased his stance, and then thrust out one hand. “Will Gossard.”
I slid my blade back into its sheath, then slowly took his hand in mine. “Got that from the ID, genius.” A pleasant heat tingled along his skin, danced across my fingers and settled into me. I snatched my hand back, but he seemed as surprised as I was. Interesting. Though I’d felt energy from other supernaturals upon meeting them, never anything quite so . . . intense.
Alex pushed me out of the way and held out one paw. “Alex.”
Will blinked and looked over Alex’s head to me. I shrugged. “Play nice with the doggy.”
The two shifters ‘shook’ hands, and Alex seemed immensely happy, to the point of spinning in place.
“Alex, not now!” I bent and grabbed his dangling leash, and gave it a sharp jerk. He stopped and rolled on the floor, wiggling like a giant puppy.
A choked sound brought my eyes up. Will looked as though he was having a heart attack. His green eyes had faded back to hazel, but were wide with horror, and his face was pale.
I tightened my hand on the leash, bringing Alex to my side. “What?”
“You . . . you leashed him? Like a pet?” I could hear it in his voice, the fear of what I was capable of.
Perfect. At least he would show me some respect.
“Yup, and if you don’t behave, I’ll do the same to you.” I bent down to Alex. “You’d like a kitty cat to play with, wouldn’t you?”
The werewolf started to shake all over. “Yes! Kittyyyyyyyy!” He let out a long howl, and I clamped my hand over his muzzle. Too late. An alarm went off and I mentally cursed myself. Alex wouldn’t have howled if I hadn’t gotten him all riled up. Shit, that’s what I got for poking at people.
Will shook his head. “The howl wouldn’t have set the alarms off.”
Jack let out a cough. “But a missing child would.”
I swiveled back to him, my heart flooding with adrenaline. “What floor are the kids on?”
“Third.”
I ran past Will, down the hallway, and hit the door to the stairwell at full speed, banging it open. Alex stayed right with me, and if the footsteps behind us were any indication, Will was close on our heels.
Two flights of stairs passed in a blur of seconds and we burst into the pediatric ward, the alarm going full tilt, a red light flashing over the desk. Will grabbed the closest nurse.
I loosened up the leash on Alex. “We’ve got to find that kid, buddy.”
As serious as he ever got, he lowered his nose to the floor and immediately shook his head, scratching at the end of his muzzle. “Too many smells.”
I didn’t rebuke him for speaking. With everything that was going on, it would be a wonder if anyone noticed.
Will made a motion, and I followed him to the end of the hall. From outside one room I could hear sobbing, and a man’s voice making an attempt to shush the crying. That would be the room we were looking for.
Stepping across the threshold, I squinted, checking my second sight for any nasty surprises. Nothing. That was good and bad. No surprise. Good. No clues. Bad.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but do you have a picture of your kid?” This was the part I hated, dealing with the parent. The father looked up, his face shell-shocked, short white blond hair sticking out in every direction.
“A picture?”
“Yes, we need to start circulating it immediately. And a name.” I had no doubt that the cops that were even now rushing to the hospital would find nothing. Whoever was taking the kids knew what they were doing.
The father fumbled with his back pocket and I resisted the urge to hurry him up. Sure we were on a crunch, but there was no way the kid would be more than a block or two away.
He handed me a worn picture of a little boy, looked about two years old, same white blond hair as his father.
“Johnny, his name is Johnny. We only stepped out of the room for a split second and he was gone . . . I don’t understand . . . .”