Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(9)

Chase moved over to Baxter and gave him a good ear rub. “Take him to Kirk’s. I’ll get him from there.” Not that Chase was looking forward to facing Kirk, either. Kirk Curtis was Eddie’s best friend and a member of the council. Kirk had even been with Chase when they found the crashed plane.

Eddie nodded. “Are you sure this Burnett James is going to accept you after what happened? You’ve said he’s a hardass.”

The same question had been bubbling in Chase’s subconscious. “A letter releasing me from the council would help.”

“Kirk can provide that. He’s at his office right now.” Eddie paused. “And if that doesn’t work, come back, where you belong.”

“It’ll work.” Chase refused to believe otherwise. “It has to.” His gut knotted, thinking about the possibility that his request would be denied. But even the best-case scenario of Burnett agreeing was going to be hard. For there was no way Burnett was going to let him back in without giving him some comeuppance.

If Burnett excelled at anything, it was dishing it out. And if there was one thing Chase sucked at, it was taking it. He’d never liked eating crow.

But he’d better work up an appetite. For Della, he’d do it.

Nodding goodbye, he walked out of the living room. Baxter followed him, gazing up at him, his tail thumping. Chase knelt down. “I’ll be back soon to take you with me. Promise.”

Chase’s phone, tucked in his back pocket, dinged with an incoming text. He stood up and pulled it out.

His heart jolted when Della’s name appeared. When he’d first left on a mission, trying to find the lowlife rogue who’d killed Eddie’s sister, she’d tried to contact him. It had hurt not to be able to answer her. It had hurt more when she stopped trying to contact him. He read her text.

What game are you playing now?

“Just the one to win you back,” he said to himself as he walked out.

*

Della had cratered and texted Chase again. Now she stared holes into her phone waiting to see if he would answer.

When no ding came, she paced her room for another ten minutes.

Back.

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

Feeling caged in, she noted the clock on her bedside table. It wasn’t eight o’clock. Her parents were still moving about downstairs and normally didn’t even go to the bedroom until after eleven.

She went to the window, slid it open halfway, and took a big breath of cold November air.

Was Chase still close by?

The slightest hint of his scent lingered outside her window, but it wasn’t fresh. Glancing over her shoulder at the clock again, her stomach quivered with the need to hit the dark sky and search for the lying bloodsucker.

Maybe just a few laps around the block? Perhaps he lingered close by? Moving over to her closet, she yanked off her pastel-colored top and donned a black fitted tee. Then out of her suitcase, she pulled the black wig and the extra-large shapeable pillow she’d brought with her from camp. She stuffed the pillows under the blanket to make it look like a body, then slipped the wig under the top of the cover, leaving just enough of the straight dark hair hanging out to make it look convincing.

Stepping back, she looked at the imitation of her. It looked as if she were the hunchback of Notre Dame. She went back to rearrange the pillows. With just a little fluff, she stepped back again to check her handiwork.

Friggin’ great, now she looked like a Hooters waitress with size Ds. She yanked back the covers and gave her pillowed self a breast reduction.

She moved toward the door to make sure it looked convincing for when her mom did her normal peek-in to confirm Della was sleeping. Right then she imagined her mom discovering the faux Della and how upset it would make her.

Blinking, she glanced away, but her gaze stopped on the framed picture on her dresser. The one taken before a father-daughter dance. She’d been eight. Her father had knelt down and put his arm around her. She could still recall how special he’d made her feel that night.

Then she remembered her mom’s words from earlier. She’s our daughter! Don’t you love her anymore?

A knot tightened her throat. She looked back at the window; she had to find Chase, find him and get him to hand over her uncle. Standing up, she grabbed her phone and fit it in her back pocket, then went to the window and eased it open. Slowly, so it couldn’t be heard below, she climbed out on the roof, turned, closed her window, and took a flying leap into the dark sky.

Twice she flew around the neighborhood, hoping to get a fix on Chase’s scent. She got nothing. Well, not nothing. She got a hint of a few weres. And from about a hundred feet up, she spotted three young guys. Were they the weres? And if so, were they just cruising the neighborhood, or were they looking for trouble?

Flying lower, the scent got stronger and she got a good glimpse of them. They weren’t dressed in gang attire, so chances were they weren’t rogues, just some young guys, who happened to be weres, out on a Saturday night. She couldn’t condemn them for that.

Right before she moved higher, one of the weres must have gotten her trace. One and then all three looked up. She saw their three faces, all scowling in dislike. Not wanting any trouble, she hurried back home.

Della had just shut her window when her phone rang.

Chase?

She hurried to get the cell out of her jeans.