weekday; most humans will be at work.
There are posters stuck to the windows advertising rental space and screaming that help is wanted. My gaze slides over a call for blood donations. The logo is strange—a snake eating its own tail.
The bell above the door rings as we step through. It smells of bacon, coffee, and muffins. There’s a waitress wiping tables and another behind the counter. They both stop to stare, and then they exchange glances and the one wiping tables beams at me and strolls over, hips swaying.
I stifle a sigh because I recognize flirty when I see it, and I’m in no mood, but I need information, and I’ve been told my smile has magical properties.
I relax my facial muscles and show her my pearly whites. “`Hi, I was hoping you could help me.”
“Of course, anything.” She doesn’t even look at Bobby.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. I believe he came here a few days ago.”
She makes an O with her mouth. “We get a lot of customers.”
“Oh, you’d recall this one,” Bobby says. “Tall, dark hair, intense dark eyes, and Adonis vibe, dripping with sex appeal…”
What the fuck? I stare at Bobby. Who is this person?
The waitress tears her gaze from me and focuses on Bobby with a grin. “Oh, yes, I remember him. Sweet guy.”
Sweet?
“He sat in booth four. He tipped well. He had three teens with him.” She winces. “They looked rough, like they’d been sleeping on the streets. He bought them breakfast, and I heard him call a shelter on their behalf.”
“Do you know which one?” Bobby asks.
She looks sheepish. “I think I may have heard him say Finley Street. It’s a couple of blocks from here.”
Thank goodness for nosy waitstaff. “Did he leave with the teens?”
“No, he left first. The teens left afterward, but they spent a while reading the posters on the window. I had to ask them to move on, they were blocking the door, you know.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“Can I get you some coffee?” She beams up at me. “I’m on break in five minutes…”
It’s an invitation, and I allow my smile to drop. “No, thank you.”
“But thanks for the help,” Bobby says as I head for the exit.
“Excuse me,” the woman behind the counter says.
I look over my shoulder.
She smiles tentatively, her gaze flicking to the waitress before coming back to me as if she’s nervous about speaking.
“Yes?”
“They did leave with your friend. The teens did.”
“No, they didn’t, Mimi. He left first.” The waitress rolls her eyes.
Mimi ignores her, in what I sense is a small act of defiance, and focuses on me. “Your friend left first, but he was by his car across the street on his phone, and when Lisa asked the teens to move, they wandered over to him. They talked, and then he let them get in his car, and they left.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her, and she ducks her head, blushing.
“No problem. Glad to help.”
Back at the van, Bobby runs a search for the shelter’s contact details. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as he dials. Agitation runs through my limbs. The search for my twin and the absence of Fee, both grate on me.
She’s back.
She came back yesterday, but she’s with them.
I close my eyes and exhale. No, I won’t let the jealousy, the possessive urge take control. She doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone. Her heart is free to give to whomever she wishes. It’s what Az, Mal, and I agreed, and I need to remember that.
Fuck, why didn’t she come home?
“Thank you.” Bobby hangs up the phone.
I realize that he’s been having a conversation with the shelter that I’ve completely missed. “What did they say?”
“The guy who runs the shelter knows Hunter. He said he spoke to Hunter, who told him three teens would be dropping in. He made space for them, but they never showed.”
“And Hunter?”
“He hasn’t seen him.”
This is the last spot Hunter was seen, and he left with the teens. Teens who may also be missing.
It has to be more than a coincidence.
It’s also the end of our breadcrumb trail.
What the fuck do we do now?
Chapter Nineteen
I was insatiable when it came to Azazel. His touch evoked a hungry fire in my blood, the rumble of his voice teased a storm of emotions to life in my chest—longing, desire, and the undeniable urge to become lost in him, to become one with him. He made love to me like it was