Mate Bond(40)

Bowman reached for the charm. He wanted to yank it away, but as much as  he'd wanted to hit the man earlier, he knew that starting a fight with  Cristian wouldn't help anything. It might make him feel better, but it  wouldn't do any good in the long run.

Cristian relinquished the silver piece without fuss. "Maybe Turner does not know exactly what it is," he said.

"And maybe gave it to the other guy as payment for something-like  shooting at us the other night? Or killing Serena?" Bowman studied it.  "Nothing a Fae makes is free of magic, is it? This thing could have  leapt out of the other man's pocket, trying to stay near the ley line,  maybe."

"And you picked it up?" Cristian asked, eyes wide. "I am wrong-you are a very brave Shifter."

Bowman ignored his needling and shoved the charm into his pocket. "It's  important. I want to ask"-his throat closed up-"Kenzie what she thinks  about it."

Damn it, he couldn't deal with this. He couldn't let her go. Life without Kenzie would be one long road of emptiness.

Bowman closed his fist in his pocket, the charm still inside it. It  burned his hand, calling to the tiny piece of Fae magic all Shifters had  inside them.

"We should take it to Turner," Cristian said, watching Bowman. "To see how he squirms when he lies about it."

"Kenzie knows a lot about the Fae. I want her opinion." Bowman smiled a  feral smile, taking refuge from pain in thoughts of violence. "Then,  yes, we'll go make Turner eat it."


* * *

"Damn it, Gil, will you call me?" Kenzie growled in her tenth voice mail  at him. "You can't drop a bombshell like this on me and then not  answer." She closed her eyes, taking a tighter grip on her phone. "I  wanted to say this face-to-face, but I'm just going to tell you. I don't  care what you said. I'm staying with Bowman, even if it kills me.  You're not Shifter, so you should be all right. I'd appreciate it if  you'd just forget all about the mate bond."

The buzz in her ear told her the connection had cut off before she'd  finished the message. Kenzie banged the phone to the counter in  frustration.

Gil must be at work, patrolling the roads, catching suspects, bringing  them in to jail. He had a job, after all. He might have turned his phone  off so he could get on with it.

No, this was too important. Kenzie looked up the number of the police  station in Marshall, where Gil worked, and called the main switchboard.

"I need to speak to an officer there, Gil Ramirez," she said to the  woman who answered. "Is he there? Or can I leave him a message?"

"I'm sorry," the woman answered. "Who?"

"Ramirez. First name Gilbert. I don't know what rank he is, but he's a  uniformed officer." Surely the police department wasn't so large that  the operator wouldn't know who Gil was. He was pretty memorable.

The woman sounded hesitant. "There's no officer by that name here. Are you sure you called the right police department?"

"Yes. No. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Ma'am, I know every officer in Marshall, Mars Hill, and all towns in  this area. There's no one named Gilbert Ramirez. I'd know."

"Oh." Kenzie stilled, cold flowing through her. "I guess I made a mistake."                       
       
           



       

"Mmm-hmm. Well, you take care of yourself, ma'am. I have another call."

She hung up, leaving Kenzie standing in the middle of her kitchen, stunned, clutching the phone in her slowly lowering hand.

If Gil Ramirez wasn't a police officer in any town around here, why had  he been in a Marshall patrol car at the roadhouse the day after it was  attacked? Wearing a name tag that said "Ramirez"? With access to the  computer database linked from the car? How had he gotten all the  information on Serena? And the reports on the forensics on the shell  casings found in the woods?

Shit.

Kenzie had always realized Gil was more than an ordinary human. She'd  thought his explanation that he was a shaman answered her questions.

But now her heart squeezed in chilling worry. Who the hell was he,  really? And why had he come here last night giving her all that crap  about the mate bond, making her insane with heartbreak?

Her thoughts whirling, Kenzie flung herself out of the house, forgetting  to grab a coat against the cold. But who cared? She strode along the  main road through Shiftertown, breaking into a run as she headed for the  bottom of the hill and the small house there.

Pierce Daniels, the Guardian, opened the door to her knock. "Kenzie?" His golden Feline eyes widened. "You all right?"

"No, I'm not. I need a favor. Can you get into the Guardian Network and look someone up for me?"

"Sure," Pierce said, surprise changing to concern. "Come on in."





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX




"What do you mean, he's not there?" Kenzie sat cross-legged on the chair  next to Pierce and pretended she could understand the cryptic script  scrolling up the dark screen of his computer.

Shifters weren't allowed the top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art  computers, but that didn't stop the Guardians. In any case, they  preferred old-style, no-frills boxes that booted up to show C:\> and  nothing else.

The Guardian Network encompassed all Guardians across the world and  contained a database so vast and detailed it would make any spy network  have a nervous breakdown. The Guardians programmed it in an ancient  Celtic-Fae language, so though Kenzie could now see a screenful of  writing, she couldn't read it.

"He's not there." Pierce touched the screen, tracing lines of flowing  script. "We have no record of a Gilbert Ramirez-not your Gilbert Ramirez  anyway. There are plenty of humans with the same name, but none  claiming to be police officers in Marshall, or even living in the area,  and no one who matches his exact description."

"Son of a . . ." Kenzie rubbed her temples. "I liked him. I trusted him.  I invited him into our home, for crap's sake. Bowman's going to shit a  brick."

A small voice said from the front door. "Well, we knew he wasn't human."

Ryan stood on the front porch, peering in through a crack of the  unlocked door. He wouldn't barge in, even though most cubs were given  leeway to go wherever they wanted, as long as they were courteous. Ryan  already understood enough about territory to not try to enter until  invited.

"Come on in, Ryan," Pierce called. "What are you talking about, kid?"

Ryan wiped his feet as he'd been taught and walked into the house,  shutting the door against the cold. He came to Kenzie's side to study  the computer screen with her. Kenzie draped her arm around him and gave  him a quick, fierce hug, deliriously happy she wouldn't have to leave  him.

Ryan didn't mind the hug, and he patted Kenzie's knee. "I was walking  home, and I saw you run in here. The man who calls himself Gil isn't  human," he told Pierce. "Pretends to be, but isn't. Smells all wrong."

"He's human with something else in him, you mean," Kenzie said. "He told me he was a shaman."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "He's playing you, Mom. Or is using a glam. I guess it didn't work on me. He's not right."

Pierce's red-brown brows went up. "Really? Wow. Out of the mouths of cubs . . ."

Ryan patted Kenzie's knee again. "Want me to tell Dad for you? He might get less mad at me."

Kenzie shook her head, her emotions spinning. "No, I'll do it. It has to be me."

Ryan opened his hands in a very grown-up gesture of resignation. "All  right. If you must." He looked up at Kenzie. "You look terrible, Mom.  Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." Kenzie caught him in a hug again, crushing him to her.  Nothing could be wrong as long as she was holding her cub; the adorable  boy who was the joy of her life. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Thanks,  Pierce. If you find any information on this guy, will you get in touch  right away? Come on, Ryan. Let's go home."                       
       
           



       


* * *

Bowman stopped the motorcycle in front of his house and killed the engine, but remained in place, straddling the bike.

He knew Kenzie was home. Her Harley was in the driveway, complete with  her helmet. He could also feel her presence inside-he knew she was in  there, waiting for him.

The thaw today had rendered a stunted snowman Ryan had built in the yard  into shapeless lumps of white. Bowman's feet were damp and cold, the  only thing that made him haul his leg over the bike and walk up into the  house.

Kenzie was cooking, humming as she stirred something on the stove.  Bowman realized, with a start, that it was lunchtime. After his strange  night and little sleep, he'd lost track of the hours of the day.