Rules of Survival(45)

“845-555-8628.” Shaun rattled off the numbers and settled back against the building without arguing.

It only rang twice before Patrick picked up. “Shaun?”

“Close. It’s Kayla.”

The worry in his voice turned to anger. “Where the hell are you two? Is Shaun all right?”

I held the receiver toward Shaun. “I’m cool, Pat. No worries.”

Placing it back against my ear, I said, “I’m fine, too. You know, in case you were worried or anything.”

“You’re getting on my nerves, kid. Tell me where you are because this thing is over your head.”

“So you can fork me over and collect your cash? No way.”

Patrick growled. “I told you last time we spoke—this Jaffe guy is lying. I’m not turning you in to him.”

“But you’ll turn me in to the police?”

“I wanna help you sort this thing out.”

“I’m not telling you where we are until you answer a few questions.” I glanced over my shoulder. No one seemed to be paying us any mind. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. “You knew her. My mom.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. I knew her.”

I took a deep breath. That was the straightest answer I’d ever gotten from him. “When you walked in on me at the cabin, I’d found a note from my mom. That’s why I went back there—to find it.”

“She left you a note? What did it say?”

“I didn’t get a chance to read much.” I glared at Shaun. “I was rudely interrupted—remember? What I did see was the name Mick, and another name. One that started with a T. I asked you about Mick last time we spoke. You were about to tell me—”

“What else did the note say? What did you see?”

“Focus,” I snapped. “Kinda on a timetable here. Mick. Who is he?”

There were several moments of hesitation, and then an irritated sigh. “Mick. Mick Shultz. He’s your father, Kayla.”

A lump formed and lodged in my throat like stale bread. I’d never asked much about my dad. Anything, actually. It was always Mom and me, and that had been enough. She’d mentioned him once or twice, but he’d always remained a nameless, faceless entity floating in the background.

“My dad?”

“Yeah. He—”

I needed to know. “Is he dead?”

“Dead?” Patrick asked, shocked. The line crackled with static. “No. Not that I know of…”

“Where is he? Does he know about me?”

“Your mom and him—it was complicated and…confusing. I don’t know what happened with them, but yes. He knows about you.”

Then it all clicked into place. “He must know something about the information she was talking about.”

On the other end of the line, there was a sound like paper, and something clinked. “Information? What—”

Shaun tugged gently on the cuffs. “We need to go. We’ve been standing here way too long.”

“I need to find him,” I said. It was more to myself than Patrick. “He can help me with this mess.”

“Kayla, let me talk to Sh—”

Shaun cursed and pulled against the cuffs. “I’m not kidding. We need to move.”

“Where is he? Mick. Do you know where he is now?”

“I have no idea. It’s—”

Shaun grabbed the phone from my hand and slammed it down. He had a habit of hanging up on people at the worst possible moment. “Leaving now.”

I tried to pull free, but his grip was like iron. “What are—” And then I understood. It was the look in his eyes. A mix of worry and anger. “Someone’s here, aren’t they?”

“Just walk slow and keep your head down.” The ferocity in his voice terrified me.

I did as I was told, hoping after we rounded the street corner, Shaun would slow down and explain. He didn’t.

“Is it one of the guys from the cabin? The parking lot?” I couldn’t imagine how they’d caught up to us so fast. We hadn’t told anyone where we were headed. Not Chris, not Patrick—hell, even we hadn’t known.

“No.”

That probably should have made me happy, but instead, it sent icy shivers up and down my spine. Someone new. That was just what we needed. Because there weren’t already enough people out there looking to spend some quality time with me.

“Don’t turn around,” he said, voice low. “Behind us is a man. Horrific tan. White-blond hair. Green jacket. Terribly tragic sense of fashion. He’s a hunter.”

“Okay… And you don’t want him to see you?”

“He’s already seen me. But it’s not me he’s following.”

Wow. I was an idiot. “He recognized me?”

“Pat’s beef with your mom—whatever it was—was the stuff hunter legends are made of. Hunters don’t congregate to bullshit, but they all know about it. It was a running joke among them that one of the others would bring you two in before he could.”

“So you think he’s tracking us?”

“He saw us together, and he knows who I am. Probably thinks I snagged you on Pat’s behalf.”