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

finally spilled. She had forgotten about the vial, and I had to urge her to lift it to her face. She quickly placed it in the path of her tears and filled it halfway in a few seconds.

“Thank you, Celina. I can tell your tears are heartfelt. They are exactly what I need.”

She handed the vial back, then dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I don’t love him anymore,” she said once she was tear-free.

“Of course not. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“It still hurts, though. The rejection.”

Damn, I knew about that, too. Why hadn’t I been enough? I still asked myself that question when I felt shitty.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll find your mate,” I said, “but I assure you, if I do, you’ll never feel this way again, and that hurt that still lingers will completely disappear.”

She gave me a weak smile that informed me she didn’t believe a word I was saying. She wanted to, but she’d come to make her friend happy more than anything else.

“How long will it take?” she asked.

I capped the vial and whirled it around, observing its contents against the light. “At least two weeks.”

Celina made a face that revealed her impatience with the whole affair.

“It’s not an easy process.” That was an understatement, but I kept the details to myself. Few knew the toll that playing Cupid took on me. Good thing I charged for it now.

After digging into her purse, Celina came up with an envelope and slid it across the desk. “Half now, half later.”

“Oh, no. We agreed. No payment until I find your mate.”

It was a risk we were willing to take for the sake of increasing the agency’s reputation. Running a mate tracking agency wasn’t for the faint of heart or the lean of cash. With so many swindlers out there, no one paid for tracking services upfront. They wanted results first.

In the beginning, we couldn’t get anyone to put down a two-dollar deposit, so we took jobs on consignment, our contracts stating that payment would come only if we found a mate. Needless to say, the first couple of months in business were a bitch. We even got an eviction letter from the landlord because we couldn’t make rent and paying the business loan came first. Luckily, we struck gold by finding the mate of a stubborn neighborhood bachelor. When the news got around, everyone and their toothless, troll grandma started calling, and the terms of our contract improved in our favor. There was only one problem... they still wanted our services for cheap.

In Celina Morelli’s case, however, we’d decided not to charge anything upfront. We wanted her to have nothing but good things to say about us, no matter the outcome. If we succeeded, our client pool would change. Guaranteed. People like Celina Morelli would pay more for the same service, which was exactly what we needed to do more than simply stay afloat. My skills created a bottleneck. I couldn’t take on many clients because the tracking trance kicked my butt every time. Also because it didn’t give an exact location, which meant a little detective work was needed afterward.

“I know what we agreed,” Celina said. “But please take it. It’s not much more than I’ve paid my therapist, and I think this one session has been more productive than the many I’ve had with him.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to Rosalina and me.”

“It’s only fair. Thank you for rescheduling.”

“No problem.” I smiled.

“It’s horrible what happened last night, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I still can’t get the images out of my head.”

“Poor Stephen. I hope they find him soon.” She stood and hung the purse from her shoulder.

“Wait? What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know?” she frowned. “Stephen Erickson was kidnapped a week ago. His bodyguard’s murder was a threat to his father.”

Chapter 4

After Celina Morelli left, I handed the envelope with her check to my partner.

“What is this?” Rosalina asked.

“Early Christmas,” I said, though my tone sounded more like “early funeral services.”

“Holy Niñito Jesus!” She stared at the check. “Fifteen thousand dollars. I thought she wasn’t going to pay unless you found her a guy.”

I slumped on the chair across her desk.

“Why so gloomy? This helps you complete the down payment for your new place. No more sleeping upstairs.” She pointed toward the loft.

I’d been saving to buy a condo in Compton Heights. A move-in-ready two bedroom, one and a half bath unit with walnut-colored hardwoods, beamed ceilings, and a cute balcony. The payment helped fulfill that dream, but at the moment, I found it difficult to get excited.

“It’s Stephen Erickson,” I said.

“What about him?”

“Celina just told me he’s been kidnapped, and his bodyguard’s murder was some sort of threat.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, her green eyes shooting wide open. “Oh, that’s awful. Are you all right?”

Nope, not by a Fae country mile. Man, the news had stirred a nasty cauldron of feelings I thought I’d sealed shut.

“That must have been why Ulfen gave me a strange look when I asked where Stephen was.” I paused for a moment, thinking. “Maybe... maybe I should talk to him.”

Rosalina shot to her feet. “No way! You’re not doing that, Toni. You’re not getting mixed up in that type of stuff again. You’ve come a long way, and you promised yourself.”

“I know. I know.” I grabbed my head with both hands. “But this is Stephen we’re talking about.”

“Yes, the same Stephen that left your ass because daddy didn’t approve of you. And if that was the only problem, sure, I would tell you ‘go ahead, track the hell out of him’ but doing that type of work almost got you killed.”

It was just the once. Jake and I had been tracking Emily Garner, an eight-year-old who had been snatched by a vamp that fed on children. The blood leech tried to take me out when I showed up at his lair, good thing I’d had a mean werewolf at my back, and the