Rogue (Shifters #2)(40)

“Well, off the top of my head, I’d say someone told him.” Vic blew carefully into his Atlanta Braves mug. “But I’m sure that’s much too simple to be it.”
My father took another sip of coffee. “On the contrary, usually the simplest possibility is the answer, and it stands to reason that Andrew must have had contact with another werecat at some point in the past few months. He’d have to be pretty tough to have survived the initial sickness and first Shift on his own. And while unlikely, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that another stray took pity on him, rather than running him off or attacking him.”
My father’s response sent one of Andrew’s bobbing to the surface of my memory. You’re fucking lying, and we damn well know it. We.
“Son of a bitch, that’s it!” I dropped the spoon into my mug, and several drops of coffee splattered on the counter, but I barely noticed.
“What?” Jace looked up from the ham, cheese, and pickle slices he was layering on a piece of bread.
“Andrew’s not in this alone.” I plucked a pickle from his plate and gestured with it as I spoke. “New strays don’t come out of their initial transition mentally or physically strong enough to pull off the kind of major-league mischief he’s been up to. Not on their own.”
“You think he’s working with someone?” my father asked, green eyes alight with the new possibility.
“Yes.” I tossed the pickle into my mouth and spoke around it as I chewed. “I think he has been from the beginning. The same someone who got him through his first Shift and taught him how to survive as a stray.”Ethan smashed his huge sandwich flat with one palm. “The rogue tabby?”
I shook my head. “Couldn’t be her. She’s following him, not the other way around.”
Vic frowned. “So, maybe she was helping him, and he went crazy and took off on his own, and now she’s trying to catch him and stop him.”
“But she’s a murderer. Why would one murderer try to stop another?” Jace argued, voicing a thought we’d surely all had—no one believed we’d find those strippers alive.
“I don’t think she wants any part of Andrew’s game,” I said, stirring my coffee again as I thought aloud. “She’s clearly no saint, but look at the way she’s killed the toms. No slashing, and no biting. No signs of violence of any kind, other than the whole neck-breaking thing. I don’t know why she’s killing them, but I don’t think it’s out of rage. But Andrew, on the other hand, is definitely pissed off, and I’d be willing to bet those missing strippers bear evidence of that, wherever they are.”
I paused and drained my mug. “And I have a theory about why Andrew’s done such a one-eighty. Why he’s suddenly so angry and violent.”
“Yeah.” Ethan shrugged. “He’s a stray.”
“But so’s Marc, and he’s never kidnapped anyone. He’s completely devoted to this Pride. Loyal beyond all logic. He’d give his life to save any of us, any day of the week.”
“Yes.” My father nodded decisively. Proudly. “He would.”
I smiled at him. “As far as I can tell, the difference between Marc and Andrew is that Marc has us. He’s what and who he is today because you and Mom took him in when he was sick, injured, and newly orphaned. Because you made him one of us and gave him a chance. If the Pride had such a profound influence on Marc, at such a critical stage in his life—his initial transition—doesn’t it stand to reason that someone might have had an equally strong influence on Andrew?”
“A bad influence, you mean?” Jace said, snatching a spare slice of ham from Ethan’s plate.
“Well, yes.” I leaned back against the counter, where I could see them all. “I think whoever helped him through the scratch-fever—and taught him what he knows about us—also turned him into what he’s become. And I don’t think it was the tabby. Based on the way she killed those strays, I don’t think she’s capable of that much rage.”
My theory explained, my opinion given, I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee, waiting for someone to speak.
My father looked impressed but also worried. “So, you think Andrew’s still with this bad influence, whoever it is?” I nodded, and he popped several knuckles at once. Then he set his empty mug in the sink and stalked out of the kitchen and across the hall, leaving us all to trail behind him. 
In the office, I set my mug on a coaster on the nearest end table and sank onto the couch. Jace plopped down next to me, and Ethan sat by him, still clutching his half-eaten sandwich. Vic settled onto the love seat opposite us.
At the desk, Michael was still clicking away. I leaned back to glance at him and found him chewing his lower lip as he worked. Which meant he was frustrated. Apparently he’d had no luck tracking down the explosions.
“You ready for me to call Andrew?” I asked my father. While I still dreaded the phone call, I was now eager to get it over with.
“I’m having second thoughts about that now.” He frowned, templing his hands beneath his chin. “If Andrew’s really working with someone else, I’m not sure I want to grant him this confrontation until we know who we’ll actually be facing.”
“It has to be someone who knows Faythe infected Andrew,” Ethan said, speaking around a bite of ham sandwich. “Otherwise, Andrew wouldn’t know that, either. So…who knows you bit him?”
“No one,” I said, turning from my father to face my youngest brother. “I didn’t even understand what happened until tonight. But anyone who smells him will know who infected him—assuming the smeller recognizes my scent threaded through his. So…we’re back to someone who knows me. Or at least my scent.”
“Exactly,” my father said, obviously displeased with the new development. “I think we should put that phone call off for a little bit, until we have a better idea of who he’s with, and where they are—”
“Henderson,” Michael interrupted, amid another flurry of frantic keystrokes. “Andrew’s in Henderson, Texas. At least, he was this afternoon.”
“Are you sure?” My father stood to turn and look at Michael, at the desk behind him.
“Pretty sure.” Michael nodded, shoving his glasses farther up on his nose. “Those propellers Faythe heard weren’t helicopters. They were vintage aircraft from a World War Two demonstration team that did a big show this afternoon in Henderson, as part of the town’s centennial celebration. Complete with a pyrotechnic display, which no doubt explains the ‘gunfire.’”
“Well, that should make it pretty easy to find Andrew,” Vic said, though I could barely hear him over the grinding of gears in my own head. “Henderson’s only an hour from the ranch. He could be sitting outside the gate right now.”
Ethan choked on the last bite of his sandwich, and Jace pounded on his back. When my brother’s throat was clear, he said, “He could have been watching us for hours, for all we know.”
“He’s not here,” I said, surprised to hear how very calm my voice sounded, in contrast to how panicked I actually felt.
“Not yet. He said he had something else to take care of first. Apparently I’m not his top priority at the moment.”
Out front, I heard the growl of an engine, and I turned toward the door in anticipation. But then I recognized the sound as Owen’s truck. Where the hell had Owen gone? I’d hoped it was Marc. I needed to see his face, to settle the unease taking hold in the pit of my stomach. I needed to know he’d forgiven me for not telling him about the calls. That we were going to be okay, no matter what happened with Andrew. And considering he still didn’t know I’d infected my ex, a good outcome for us was far from guaranteed.
The front door opened, and footsteps clomped on the tiles. Owen was back from wherever he had gone.
“I’m sure you’re all going to start yelling at me for this…” Vic began, glancing around at the room in general. “But this may be a good time to bring the council up to speed. We have enough information now that they can’t afford to waste time arguing. They’ll have to—”“Absolutely not!” I glared across the rug at him, then turned to face my father when he didn’t immediately back me up. To my horror, he sat with his eyes downcast and his hands templed beneath his chin, apparently actually considering Vic’s suggestion.
“What are we going to say?” I demanded, already picturing the shocked faces of the other Alphas. “‘The council chairman’s daughter accidentally infected her human boyfriend during a rough-’n’-tumble nooner, then he followed her home, leaving a trail of missing strippers in his wake.’”
My father released a tired, weighty sigh. “Faythe, they have a right to know. And they can help. The more men we have, the faster we can find Andrew and the tabby, and be done with this whole mess.”
My hand clenched the arm of the leather couch, my pulse racing. “Daddy, no! We have to take care of this on our own. If we bring the council in before we get Andrew under control, they’re going to want my head mounted on a spike in the front yard.”