The Tracker's Rage (Mate Tracker #3) - Ingrid Seymour Page 0,4

of the giddiness and excitement I’d been expecting pushed past the simmering anger that had made itself comfortable inside my chest, allowing me to enjoy the moment.

We rode the elevator to the second floor, exited into a long carpeted corridor, and walked toward unit 216. I was carrying Cupid’s fishbowl and food with me.

“This is it,” I said, handing the bowl over to Rosalina.

My hand shook as I keyed the lock. When I threw the door open, the scent of floor polish and fresh paint greeted me. I walked in, my smile growing wider and warmer at the sight of my little condo with its walnut-colored hardwood floors and beige walls. The open floor plan gave the kitchen full view of the dining room and the living room. The cute balcony looked onto the tree-lined street below, and I could already picture myself enjoying my morning coffee there. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Rosalina and I had made it possible with our hard work and vision for our business.

“Home sweet home,” Rosalina said, setting Cupid on the kitchen counter, then walking toward the French doors that led to the balcony to draw back the blinds.

Late April sunlight spilled inside, making everything look cheerier, if a little bit too beige. I had plans for bolder colors that suited my personality and would complement the furniture and décor.

For once, the delivery crew was on time, and the bedroom and living room set Rosalina and I had purchased were in place before lunch. We removed the plastic wrap and inspected each piece to make sure there was no damage. Then we positioned everything the way I wanted and took a step back to admire our handiwork.

“It’s already taking shape,” I said, glad I’d picked the navy sofa set and not the cream one I had been considering. It looked great in the space.

“Looks amazing!” She smiled. “When are we throwing your first rager?” She swayed her hips, pulling some very sexy salsa moves.

“Never.” I made the sign of the cross at her. “I don’t want my neighbors to hate me.”

“I’m so glad you’re not letting anything dampen your mood today. How about we celebrate with lunch?”

“I’d love to, but I texted Tom earlier. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him in a while.”

As much as I would’ve liked to forget about Stephen and what I’d heard in my nightmare, I hadn’t been able to do it, and Blake’s voice kept ringing inside my head, calling for Stephen’s help.

I had to tell Detective Tom Freeman about it. Of course, he would probably think I was crazy. He still didn’t believe that Blake was alive, and that I’d fought him at the Pulse Inc. warehouse—not that I could blame him. Everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him the entire truth about me... that I was a werewolf, which had allowed me to fight Blake’s massive wolf and survive.

Rosalina looked a little disappointed.

“Um, what if you come with us?” I added quickly. “I know Tom won’t mind, and there’s been a... new development.”

“You mean besides Jake’s engagement?”

I nodded.

“Oh, man! Lately you’ve been a regular Pandora’s box, Triple T.”

I puffed my cheeks and blew air out. “A Pandora’s box is starting to seem like nothing compared to this mangy werewolf.”

Red bristled at the comment. You’re the one with mange, not me.

Maybe that was true. I only itched when in my human form, never as a werewolf. Actually, when I shifted, everything felt just right, easier. Maybe if I never shifted back and I moved to the Canadian tundra, life would be better.

Damn right it would be, Red piped in.

“I’m up for lunch with Detective Tom Freeman,” Rosalina said.

“Great, let’s go then.”

I fed Cupid a few pellets before leaving. Then we were on our way. As I drove, I wondered if Tom would believe me. I hoped he would. He had the resources to investigate Stephen and find out if he was behind all the chaos that was destroying the peace in the city. I really hoped I could get him on my side.

Chapter 3

We met Tom at his favorite steakhouse restaurant. He was dressed in jeans and a forest green polo shirt, looking relaxed as he enjoyed his free day. He looked handsome, like an older version of Idris Elba.

“Ladies,” he greeted, “it’s so good to see you.”

We walked in and were seated within minutes. Several TVs played sports channels. Tom’s eyes drifted from a basketball