I was behind the Toyota in an instant, following it up the ramps and out the gate. The two shifters leaning against the gray Ute didn't react when they saw me—although one touched his ear and began speaking. If they had in-ear communication units installed, then someone with money was behind all this. Those damn things cost a fortune.
I kept behind the Toyota, not wanting the men to realize that the tracker wasn't on my bike. Only when I was absolutely sure neither car was in sight did I veer off and get the hell out of there.
But I didn't head home.
I needed to talk to someone about what might be going on—someone who knew all about trackers, weird shifters, and would-be mugging attempts. Someone who also had a steady supply of chocolate and Coke on hand for drop-ins like myself.
My aunt Riley, former guardian and one of the most dangerous, kick-ass women I knew.
If she couldn't help me sort out this big pile of shit I'd apparently landed in, no one could.
* * *
Riley and Quinn shared a big old warehouse in Abbotsford near the banks of the Yarra River with her brother Rhoan and his lover, Liander. Three of their five children still lived with them, but the oldest two—and the ones I was closest to—were currently undergoing training at the police academy in Glen Waverley. Riley hadn't wanted them to become cops, but Liana and Ronan were very much their mother's offspring. When they had their minds set on something, neither hell nor high water could convince them to do otherwise.
I drove up to the metal gates at the back of the building, then pulled off a glove and pressed my hand against the scanner. Red light swept it, then the gates swung open. I parked beside Riley's somewhat battered Mercedes SUV and kicked the side stand out. After pulling off my helmet and dropping it onto the seat, I ran up the metal stairs and leaned on the back doorbell.
Footsteps echoed, then the door opened and Aunt Riley was standing there, her hair a blaze of red and gold in the weak sun struggling through the still-threatening clouds. Her gaze swept me, then her gray eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. "I hope like hell you made them pay for what they did to you."
I grimaced. "The odds were a little in their favor."
She grunted, then stood aside and motioned me in. "Let's get you cleaned up. You can explain what happened and who we have to chase after."
I grinned. I might not have come here for that sort of help, but it was always nice to know she was ready to kick some ass for me. Then again, she'd always treated me like one of her own.
She slammed the door shut and fell into step beside me, her gait long and easy. She was dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt, but her feet were bare and half her toenails were painted an iridescent orange that clashed wildly with the vivid red of her hair.
"I'm gathering Uncle Liander has found a new nail color?"