Broken (22 page)

“It wouldn’t be—”

She met my gaze. “Please, don’t. I’m not being coy, pretending I don’t want you to when really I’m hoping you’ll go ahead and do it. Two years ago, maybe I would have. But now…” She dropped her gaze to the shirt in her hands, refolding it. “I’m starting to feel like, maybe, Jeremy and I, you know, can still be friends. As cliché as that sounds, it’s not so bad.”

She took a deep breath, then firmly shook her head and hung up the shirt. “Once I get past that schoolgirl-flustered stage when I first see him, I’m okay, and I can talk to him. Better yet, he listens.” A small smile. “Even talks in return sometimes.”

“That’s a good sign. Listening Jeremy’s good at. Talking? Not if it’s remotely personal.”

“I know. And the stuff I can talk to him about…” When she grabbed a handful of shirts, her fingers were trembling slightly. “It’s not stuff I normally talk about. I don’t feel I have to be…I don’t know, my showbiz self.” She flashed a smile my way. “Who knows, maybe someday I’ll even change his mind. Until then, though, it’s good.”

I wished I could help. I really did. Two years ago, I hadn’t been quick to encourage her. I’d liked Jaime well enough, but she didn’t seem a good match for Jeremy. I still wasn’t sure that she was, but I now thought she deserved the chance to find out.

After Jaime finished unpacking, she took off to investigate potential venues for a future show. Clay, Nick and I got ready for our trip to Shanahan’s office. While his administrative assistant wouldn’t tell strangers where he was hiding, he or she might be persuaded to divulge a few details to a pair of urban professionals about to have their first baby and looking to make a very large investment to safeguard their child’s future.

“I’ll play husband and daddy-to-be,” Nick said as we walked into the room.

“Yeah?” Clay said. “Well, not to complicate things, but how about the
real
husband and daddy-to-be plays the husband and daddy-to-be?”

“Won’t work. You don’t look the part. You look like the actor hired to
play
the part.”

Clay made a rude noise and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand.

I turned to Clay. “Since when do you ever
want
to playact anyway? If you do, then fine, but if you’re just complaining for—”

“Go ahead,” Clay said. “Though I don’t see how he looks any more like your husband than I do.”

“He doesn’t. But if we’re about to have our first baby and going to Shanahan for investment advice, we have to look and act like urban professionals. Nick does. I can. You…can’t. And you’d hate trying. So let’s stop arguing. We still need to do a quick bit of shopping. I only have two sets of clothes, and neither screams prospective investment banker client.” I picked up my sunglasses, then glanced back at Clay. “Oh, and speaking of disguises, remember to lend Nick your ring.”

“Should I wear it?” Nick said. “If I’m wearing a wedding band and you’re not, won’t that look—”

His gaze went to my hand and he stopped, then grabbed it and lifted the ring finger, complete with both engagement and wedding ring. I’d worn the engagement ring on and off for years, and “on” for the past five, a sign to Clay that I was staying.

As for the wedding bands, while he’d worn his for fifteen years, to show that he considered himself married—whether I agreed or not—my own had stayed in the original case.

“When did you start wearing—?” Nick began.

“When I got pregnant. Though I may have to stop wearing it soon. It’s getting tight.”

“Ah.” Nick smiled and dropped my hand. “Didn’t want to walk around looking pregnant and unwed. I’ll lay dibs on how fast that comes off once the baby’s here.”

I reached for the door handle. “It’s not.”

Clay grabbed the door and opened it for me. Nick jumped forward and pushed it shut again.

“Whoa, hold on. You’re going to keep wearing it? Even after the baby?”

“What? You think I’m willing to have Clay’s baby, but not wear his ring?” I grinned at Clay. “We’re even thinking of making it legal.”

“Wha—? Married? What happened to ‘not in this lifetime, no way, no how’?”

“Did I say that?”

Clay opened the door. “More than once.”

“Damn.”

“But I won’t hold you to it.”

“Good of you.”

“Wait a second,” Nick said. “When did all this—?”

The closing of the door drowned out the rest as we headed into the hall.

Shanahan’s secretary wasn’t talking, but when we “suggested” taking our baby investment elsewhere, she admitted that he called in daily for messages. We gave her my cell phone number and Nick’s. If Shanahan
was
the zombie’s controller—and the one giving the orders to kidnap me—then if his secretary announced he’d had a visit from a blond pregnant woman, anxious to speak to him, he might make the logical leap. In fact, he probably would. All the better. With any luck, the opportunity to set up a meeting and catch me would prove irresistible.

Jeremy and Antonio’s search of Shanahan’s house hadn’t revealed anything that would tell us where he was. They’d gathered a few leads—his ex-wife’s address, restaurants he liked to frequent, the name of his golf club and such. Chances were that a guy on the run isn’t going to pop by the club for a round, but unless we came up with something better, they’d check it out tomorrow.

After dinner, the Pack headed to the warehouse district where we’d first found Rose. It was barely dusk, but the area was empty enough that we didn’t need to wait until nightfall. Jeremy wanted us to try hooking up with Zoe at Miller’s again. She hadn’t called, maybe because she didn’t plan to or maybe because she hadn’t remembered anything, but she was now our best source of information on the Shanahan family. First, though, we’d hunt for Rose.

We found her trail easily enough. Found a whole snarl of them, so many that it was difficult to tell whether any of them were fresh.

To untangle the mess, Jeremy split us up into two teams. He assigned Nick, Clay and me the west side of the area.

The second tendril we followed led to the side door of an empty building plastered with yellowed and curling
club vertigo coming soon
signs. One look at the building, with its boarded-up windows and spidery cracks in the foundation, and I could have predicted to the hopeful club owners that their dream would never see fruition, buried under a mountain of astronomical contractor quotes. Or maybe the owners hadn’t been as enthusiastically naive as they seemed. Schemes for new clubs were great cons for bilking youthful investors.

At the doorway, Clay stopped, then bent for a better sniff of the ground.

“Got an exit trail too,” he said. “Been and gone.”

I looked around to make sure no one was passing either end of the alley, then crouched and inhaled.

“More than one ‘been and gone,’ ” I said.

“Could be her hideout,” Nick said. “Can we get inside?”

Before I could answer, Clay did. “We should get Jeremy and Antonio first.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Nick said.

“Gotta be careful these days.”

Nick looked over at me—at my stomach—then nodded. “I’ll run and grab them.”

We stayed just inside the doorway until our eyes adjusted to the dark. The only source of light was the ribbons of moonlight peeking through the planks covering the windows. Even after our eyes adjusted, we could see little more than shapes.

“Should we Change?” I whispered to Jeremy.

He peered inside. “I think it’ll be easier to search like this for now.”

“Split up, then?”

Jeremy nodded. “We’ll stay on this floor. You three take the north side. Meet back here when you’re done.”

The search was slow-going. Rose’s scent permeated the place. Her trails seemed to crisscross in and out of every room, and there were plenty of rooms to crisscross through. From the outside, the place had looked like a warehouse, but in here it was a warren of small rooms, as if it had been converted to offices at some point before its decline. Searching as wolves would have been near-impossible. Turning door handles with your teeth is a real bitch.

We reached a closed door where the floor was thick with scent trails. I stood watch while Nick threw open the door and Clay wheeled through.

A muffled oath. Nick and I both rushed to Clay’s aid. My foot hit a rotted board and I pitched forward. Nick lunged for me, and Clay turned, but my ankle twisted and I went down onto my knees before either could grab me.

As I fell, I sent up a cloud of dust that launched a sneezing fit. I pressed my hands over my mouth and nose to stifle it.

Clay knelt beside me. “You okay?”

“Just klutzy,” I said. “And that, sadly, I can’t even blame on being pregnant.” I swallowed an impending sneeze. “Now that I’ve alerted anyone in here to our presence—”

Something hissed beside me. I turned to see a rat, reared up, teeth bared. Animals smelling their first werewolf usually run, but city rats can lose their natural fear of predators. This one opened his mouth to hiss again. Clay’s foot caught it in the chest, and it flew across the hall and hit the wall with a splat.

“Touchdown!” Nick said.

Clay only curled his lip.

“Never did like rats much, did you?” Nick said.

“Disease-ridden vermin,” Clay said. “Worse than scavengers. The room’s crawling with them. Must be a nest.”

Another rat peered out the partly open door, its nose twitching. Then it charged. Clay drop-kicked it into the wall beside its brethren.

“Next one’s mine,” Nick said.

“Sorry, guys,” I said as I stood. “As much fun as rat-punting might be, we—”

I stopped and inhaled. Another rat appeared in the doorway. Nick drew back his foot. I flew forward and knocked the rat back into the room, then slammed the door.

“What, only Clay gets to punt rats?” Nick said.

Clay shrugged. “With me, it’s not animal cruelty. It’s my nature. You don’t get that excuse.”

Nick sputtered and took a swipe at Clay with his foot, trying to hook the back of his knees. Clay grabbed Nick’s foot and Nick started toppling backward, but I grabbed him.

“Are you guys trying to make
sure
Rose will hear us if she’s here? I closed the door because there’s something wrong with those rats. Can’t you smell it?”

Nick only shook his head, but Clay walked to the dead ones, hunkered down, sniffed, then made a face.

“Disease-ridden vermin, like I said.” Another sniff. “What is that?”

“I don’t know, but—”

A floorboard creaked down the hall. Clay let out a silent “shit.” Nick automatically reached for the nearest door—the one to the rat room—but stopped before we had to say anything.

Jeremy and Antonio turned the corner, coming down the hall.

“Find something?” Antonio whispered. “We thought we heard sounds of a scuffle.”

I shot a covert glare at Clay and Nick, but only said, “Clay found a nest of sick rats. They gave us a start. Sorry.”

Jeremy knelt beside the dead pair of rats.

“They smell diseased,” I said. “What is it?”

“Nothing I recognize. You said there’s—”

Claws scrabbled against the closed door. Jeremy pointed. I nodded. He waved for us to step back, then eased the door open a crack and leaned into it for a better look.

At the base, tiny teeth and claws flashed in the opening. Beside me, Clay rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, tensed, ready to spring if the rodent somehow managed to squeeze through the half-inch crack. After a moment, Jeremy pulled the door shut.

He turned to us. “I’m going to get a better look in there.”

Jeremy motioned Clay to the door, to act as rat-punter, then gestured for Antonio and Nick to stand guard on either side of the hallway, in case Rose was still in the building. I backed up Jeremy’s nose…from the hall.

Clay swung open the door and drop-kicked the first rat that lunged at him. The next two rats fell back, hissing and chattering. From where I was, I caught a glimpse inside—a small room with a blanket and a few boxes. They took two steps into the room, then Jeremy tapped Clay’s shoulder, telling him to retreat. A last kick and squeal, and Clay went to close the door, but Jeremy stopped him.