Mate Bond

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.

Ryan was setting the table. Three plates, three settings of silverware, three glasses. It was to be a family meal.

“I made my grandmother’s stew,” Kenzie said without turning around. “Nice and warm on a cold day.”

Her voice was bright, but Bowman heard the tremor in it. He was tempted to back out of the house and go elsewhere, but Ryan grinned at him. “Better stay and eat it, Dad. Mom’s been cooking up a storm, and if you don’t stay, she might throw it at you.”

She would, and Bowman knew it. He slid off his jacket and dropped it on one of the sofas in the living room.

“It’s almost ready,” Kenzie said, still not looking at him. “Make sure you wash your hands, Ryan.”

“I will. You too, Dad.”

Bowman leaned on the post between living room and kitchen, feeling as though he’d just stepped into a stage production of a family play. He had no doubt Kenzie was doing that on purpose.

Ryan came to Bowman, grabbed him by the hand, and towed him down the hall to the bathroom. Ryan kept up a running talk as they bent over the sink about what he’d done during the sleepover with his friends. Bowman listened in silence, liking to hear his cub rattle on.

Ryan handed his father a towel, and they went out together to the kitchen table.

The food did smell good. Kenzie dished it out at the stove, her grandmother’s recipe for a spicy beef stew and dumplings. She’d told Bowman once that humans in Romania had a similar dish with about twenty different vegetables in it. Kenzie’s grandmother didn’t include all the veg, because Shifters preferred meat, and a lot of it.