Shadow of Doubt - Hailey Edwards Page 0,35

to the mole on his left eyebrow. Only the fan of wrinkles at his eyes and graying hair at his temples distinguished them physically, but Garou was an alpha to the bone while his son couldn’t fake it skin-deep.

“Ms. Whitaker,” Garou greeted me, all smiles. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I returned his fake bonhomie. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.” Distaste pinched his features. “Might I ask you to put that away first?”

“Sure thing.” I passed them back to Ambrose, but the trick appeared to reassure rather than alarm Garou.

“Come.” He waved me over to the garden beside the house and held out a chair for me at a delicate bistro table painted metallic gold to complement the gilded veins in the marble monstrosity behind us. “Sit.”

There was no point in being rude since he was cooperating, so I let him get his jollies playing host. Just like I let Ford get his playing muscle as he fell into parade rest behind me.

Leaning back, all ease and comfort, I crossed my legs. “Does the name Shonda Randall ring any bells for you?”

“No.” He tapped scarred fingers against his chin. “Should it?”

“That’s what I’m here to determine.” I linked my fingers at my navel. “Shonda was a member in good standing of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack. She was murdered, brutally, two days ago.”

“I have no beef, as the youngsters say, with Tisdale or her people.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I rubbed my thumbs against each other. “Unless you’re paid to have one?”

“I thought you were asking a strictly personal question.” A twinkle brightened his clever eyes. “Business is a different matter.”

“Can you tell me if anyone put a hit out on Shonda?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. There’s no cause for such language.” He brought out his phone and hit a button. “Let me summon my aid. She will know if we had any dealings with this Randall woman.”

A tall woman dressed in a flowy black silk gown exited a side door and padded over to join us.

“Leanna,” he said cordially, “do you recall if we had any business with a Shonda Randall?”

“A Miles Randall in 1978, a George in 1999, and a Huron in 2000,” she answered less than a minute later. “No Shonda. No Randalls at all since our business with Huron concluded on May 21, 2000 near the intersection of Oakview Road and Hosea L. Williams Drive.”

Impressed despite myself, I wished I possessed half her recall. “Eidetic memory?”

“One of her many talents.” He patted her on the butt. “Now, Ms. Whitaker, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not at this time.” I stood to leave but hesitated. “I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“You are the future of Atlanta. Never let it be said I do not embrace the future.”

Without another word, I left Garou to continue embracing other things, namely Leanna’s backside.

While the alpha had been busy entertaining us, his pack had gathered, cutting us off from our ride.

So much for cooperation. Guess Garou wanted to make an example out of me after all.

“Skim them,” I whispered to Ambrose. “Skim, not drain.”

Ford, who must think I had a muttering problem, eyed the gauntlet. “How do you want to handle this?”

Given free rein, the shadow punched in and out of bodies with manic glee, sipping on their magic to replace what he had lost when Bonnie attacked him. “Give them a minute to reconsider their life choices.”

Cocking his eyebrows at me, he made his doubt clear. “You really think that will work?”

“I really do.”

Bonnie watched Ambrose, her interest keen on her cute doggy face, but it appeared Ford was blind to his shenanigans. Thank the goddess.

After about a minute, the dozen or so Loups gathered started swaying on their feet, groaning, clutching their stomachs, and otherwise glaring at me like I was a plague fairy come to dust them.

To be fair, I kind of was.

“I think they’re repentant enough now.” I led the way, Bonnie on my heels, and shoved over anyone who got in my path. Most curled in a ball on the ground, but a few crawled after me. “Ford, now would be a great time to unlock your truck if you haven’t yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He mashed a button on the fob he took from his pocket, his myriad other keys jingling, but his eyes were locked on me. “Hop on in.”

“I’d have to be half grasshopper to make that jump,” I said, hoping to deflect his sudden interest.

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