Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(22)

“Is he a regular?”

“We get so many faces coming through…” She waved her hand and turned a sharp eye toward a woman who set an empty glass on the floor.

“What did he look like?”

“It’s been so long I don’t remember. I might see him in here every day and not even know it,” she said with a chuckle. “Maybe dark hair? Definitely short hair, because what I do remember is that he had a tattoo on the back of his neck. Some kind of design.”

Gem’s heart began to race. “Can you describe it?”

Latasha pulled a curl straight, and when she let go, it sprang back into position. “It’s been ages, so I couldn’t tell you. Why people mark their bodies up with those things, I’ll never know.”

Gem jotted her number down on a scrap of paper and folded a twenty-dollar bill inside. “If you remember anything else, can you give me a call? You’ve been so helpful.”

“Sweetie, it was nothing. Duty calls.” She stood up and shook off the lethargic posture she’d adopted. “If you change your mind on that drink, let me know. I hope you find her. She probably got herself a new man. Or maybe she moved. People do it all the time.” Latasha winked and strutted away.

Gem had goose bumps all over.

She didn’t usually like working on murder cases, but this was different. Somewhere out there was a baby wondering where his mother was. Scared. Alone. Crying. It didn’t matter if he or she was too young to remember; the damage was done. Gem had been one of those children who grew up never knowing who her parents were, always wondering what her life would have been like had she not been sold on the black market. She used to believe that her mother had given her up, but after working for Keystone and seeing all the stolen children, she was certain that wasn’t the case.

What fate lay ahead for that baby? Despite the rumors of hopeful couples who shopped on the black market, most of the victims were sold to nefarious criminals who wanted to brainwash those children and use them like slaves. She didn’t want this baby to experience a loveless childhood filled with memories of abuse and emotional manipulation.

Claude appeared and sat in the chair across from her. He leaned forward, nostrils flaring, and held her hands in his. “What’s wrong, female?”

Gem didn’t talk about her past with Claude, but he sensed it from time to time when that dark cloud came over her. She quickly stood up and led him into the hall. “I have a description of someone who was seen with her.”

“And?” When Claude folded his arms, his muscles pushed out.

Gem rocked on her heels. “Dark hair and a tattoo on the back of his neck.”

“What kind of tattoo?” he asked flatly.

“A design,” she said, making a veiled reference to Shepherd’s neck tat.

Claude shook his head. “Lots of people have tattoos, Gem.”

“And Shepherd is one of those people.”

Claude turned in a circle, his eyes downcast. “This isn’t his kind of place. And even if it was him, so what? It’s not a crime to be seen with someone. He’s not selling children on the black market.”

“I sure hope he’s not! And we’re all entitled to a personal life, but I’d like to think that if we’re working on a case and he recognizes the person in the photograph that he’d say something. Otherwise, it appears as though he’s hiding something from us. Shepherd may be a big ol’ grump, but I’ve always trusted him. Now I don’t know what to believe.”

Claude put his arm around her when a couple walked by. “Tone it down a notch. We can discuss this somewhere more private.” When they reached a darker spot by the wall, he pulled out his phone.

“Who are you texting?”

The display illuminated his face. “Shepherd. I’m requesting his presence so we can settle this once and for all.”

Gem shifted her weight to the other leg. “What makes you think he’ll come?”

Claude flashed his butterscotch eyes at her. “Because right now he’s probably praying for a meteor to hit the planet to get him out of that formal dinner.”





Chapter 8





Shepherd shifted in his chair, eager to get this night the hell over with. He didn’t like rubbing elbows with suits, and all he could think about was getting back home, lighting up a smoke, and sharpening his knives with a whetstone.

Instead, he was on his fifth glass of alcohol.

Shortly after dinner, a familiar sound came from under the table, and that was when Shepherd realized his phone was missing. Patrick discovered his kid was hiding there the whole time… with Shepherd’s phone. Shepherd had to laugh thinking about how fast that kid took off out the door, Patrick right behind him.

Mr. Bane entered the room and returned to his seat. “I’m sure your companion will find him if my servants don’t. Had I known the boy was underneath the table, I would have sent him away. That’s no dignified place to sit.”

“He’s a kid. Doesn’t matter,” Shepherd said, tracing his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass.

“No, but I’ve raised him not to steal. If he breaks your phone, I’ll replace it.” Patrick poured himself another glass of wine and sat back. “Never have children. It’s not as easy as it looks.”