The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1), Ingrid Seymour [red white royal blue TXT] 📗

a while—not to mention, someone whose last sex partner had been him.

Yet, it wasn’t his amazing body that stunned me the most. Instead, it was how vulnerable he seemed. No one got the drop on Jacob Knight and his werewolf senses. That was what he’d told me once, and yet, there he lay while I watched him sleep.

His brow was furrowed, making him look stressed, even in his sleep. He must’ve really developed a close relationship with Stephen for his disappearance to affect him this badly. I fought the urge to kneel by his side and smooth his hair back. I wanted to tell him that it would be all right, that he would find Stephen, but I had no idea if it was true.

Clothes lay strewn on the floor in two piles. I imagined them labeled as “dirty pile” and “it doesn’t stink that much pile.”

“Are you done looking at my ass yet?” he asked without opening his eyes.

Dammit! Jake wasn’t even asleep, and here I’d thought he looked vulnerable.

He rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, and giving me a good morning greeting with a tall flag right in his middle. I turned to face the stairs, my cheeks growing hot.

Sweet buttered toast, my memories weren’t at all exaggerated. The man was really that... impressive.

He groaned and yawned, then said, “Didn’t take you for a peeping Toni.”

“Ha ha, clever.”

Inhaling deeply, I faced him again, unwilling to let him embarrass me. He had sat up and reclined against the wall, one knee up and his arm resting on it while a satisfied smile stretched his lips.

“That’s not what I was doing,” I said. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked... peaceful and tired, but I was torn because, well, something happened last night that may have given me a clue about Stephen.”

Jake immediately jumped to his feet, found a pair of frayed jeans in one of the clothes piles, and put them on. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and slapped his cheeks.

“What clue?” he asked.

“I had... a nightmare.” I didn’t want to go into details about exactly what had happened, and a nightmare felt like the easiest explanation. “It featured Stephen. He was hurt and asking for help, but right before I woke up, he said something odd. Just one word, but it stuck with me.”

“What was it?”

“Luciola.”

He frowned and repeated the word under his breath. “Luciola.”

“Do you know what it means?”

Rubbing his forehead, he started pacing the room. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t remember why.” He stopped and suddenly whirled in my direction. “Let’s go downstairs.” He ran past me, his back muscles rippling as he lithely took the steps two at a time.

Downstairs, he glanced around his messy work area.

“Where is it?” he mumbled to himself. “There!”

He knelt next to a canvas tarp, pulled a pile of manila folders from under it, then riffled through them. He ran his finger down several pieces of paper, his eyes quickly scanning the words. I waited with my heart in my throat, praying he would find something that would help us find Stephen.

Wait, Us?!

Since when had it become us?

“Here!” He jumped to his feet and walked over to me, holding one sheet of paper. “Luciola.” He pointed at a spot at the bottom of the page.

The word was spelled L-U-C-C-I-O-L-A with two “Cs,” and it seemed to be a physical location, not just some abstract term because the sheet listed an address.

“It’s one of Bernadetta’s properties,” Jake said. He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze darting from side to side, then he ran back upstairs, leaving me standing next to a five-gallon bucket of paint.

Adrenaline buzzed through my body, making me fidget on the spot. My mind whirled with questions. Was this a coincidence? Had I really come up with a clue? If I had, what did that say about my skills? What exactly had happened last night? And why?

Jake came down a few moments later. He was fully dressed, wearing a T-shirt, a brown leather jacket, and matching boots. Without stopping, he snatched his bike helmet from the worktable and pressed it into my hands.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me along.

I probably should have protested, should have told him I had things to do, but instead, I went along, a feeling of determination and certainty growing inside me. Stephen’s life had been hanging on the balance for days, and maybe today, we would find him. We would take him home, and he would be all right.

“Give me a sec,” I said and ran into the office to retrieve my purse and tell Rosalina I was off for the day. I went in and out quickly. Jake was already straddling his bike.

He started the engine. “Put on the helmet.”

“What about you?” I asked as I climbed on behind him.

“I have a thick skull, remember?”

I snorted a laugh. He did have a thick skull, both figuratively and literally. He keyed the address into his cell phone, snapped the device in a holder mounted on the dashboard, and we rolled off the sidewalk heading north.

Chapter 31

We got to the Delmar Loop fifteen minutes later. Jake parked his bike a block away from the address in his file, and we walked the rest of the way. The area buzzed with the usual pedestrians going in and out of the shops and restaurants that lined the boulevard, so we had no trouble blending in.

We approached from the north side, walking casually.

“Huh? Lucciola is a candle shop?” I said, confused, when I laid eyes on the quaint shop. It had a black awning over its door and window display, golden accents on the trim.

“She has lots of businesses all over the city,” Jake said.  “All kinds of them.”

I felt self-conscious and started to wonder if I should be there at all. I didn’t think Bernadetta would like seeing me nosing around one of her properties.