Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(75)
“That man knows her, and as long as you draw breath, you’re a liability. We’ve notified the Mageri that he’s wanted for a murder investigation, and they put Enforcers on his arse. He’s not a man used to living on the run. He has a career and a home, and now that we’ve driven him into hiding, it’s only a matter of time before he pokes his head out.”
Crush rested his forearms on the counter and leaned forward. “I’ve got a business to run. My boys are hardworking, but they’re not fit to run an auto shop for this long.”
“Their boss needed a holiday.”
Crush stroked his grey goatee and chuckled. “They probably think I’m dying of cancer. There’s no way they’re buying I went to Jamaica.”
“I can arrange to send them a postcard. Just tell them you found a lovely girl with big knockers.”
A stool creaked when Crush settled his weight onto it. He wrung his hands, tattoos running up his arms. “What does he want with my little girl?”
Crush must have asked himself that same question every night, and while Christian knew the answer, he spared her father that knowledge. Crush was a perceptive man who knew the dark side of the Breed world, but sometimes imagining a thing is more bearable than knowing it.
Christian turned his bottle and studied the label. “The Mageri provided us with his alias, so we have someone monitoring all the databases. Unless he’s living in a bomb shelter, he’ll eventually surface for supplies. Unfortunately, there’s only so much we can do. Our team worked day and night but came up with no leads.”
Crush jerked his head. “Worked… as in past tense. Are you saying they stopped looking?”
Christian flipped the lid off his bottle with a flick of his thumb. It spun on the surface between them and came to a stop. “I’m here, am I not?” After a sip of the sugary drink, he set the bottle down. “We have a lot of connections, and I’m doing the best I can. I have a feeling he’ll poke his head up in no time. He’s a man who keeps to a routine. We’ll continue checking all leads, but in the meantime, I’m visiting his favorite spots to see if he turns up. He has another mouth to feed, and supplies won’t last.”
“Meanwhile, God only knows what Raven’s going through.”
“She’s a fighter.”
Crush pointed his finger, a skull ring wrapped around it. “That don’t make it right.”
Christian stared at his bottle. “Aye.”
“Raven’s had it rough her whole life. I gave her what I could, but a girl needs her mama. She’s tough as nails, but that doesn’t mean she’s fine. Raven needs lookin’ out for—someone who won’t give up on her.” Crush stroked his goatee. “Do you know what this fucker looks like?”
“Bald from what the butcher said, and an English accent. That doesn’t narrow it down much in this city, but he has a penchant for lamb shanks. Bought them every day. That’s not a common request, and a man’s desires are his weakness. His banker’s been notified, and we’re keeping a close watch for cash withdrawals.”
Crush turned the silver ring on his finger in circles. “What if he left town? What if he left the country?”
“Not likely. It’s too difficult to transport someone by car for long distances. Knowing Raven, she would have kicked out the taillights. He wouldn’t want to risk getting pulled over. And you can forget putting her on a plane. The sorry bastard would have to rent a private jet, and even then, she’d probably bring the whole thing down. The girl is too clever. This bastard paid a considerable amount of money for her, so I wager he hasn’t gone far. I’d like to question everyone he works with, but the Mageri forbade us. They have people working undercover there and don’t like the idea of a Vampire snooping about and questioning their people. Too many cameras for me to get away with it anyhow.”
“I got buddies who can make things happen with the snap of my fingers.”
“That I don’t doubt. Perhaps you should snap your fingers for some furniture.” Christian’s gaze drifted toward the fridge. “How’s your food supply holding out?”
“Don’t have much of an appetite, but I get by.”
“Feck off. You and your appetite,” he grumbled. “I stocked your freezer with fifteen steaks. You don’t strike me as a man who turns down food.”
Crush gave him the finger with one hand and sipped his drink with the other. He didn’t think much of Christian and didn’t hide his feelings about it. It made Christian wonder if this was the right idea. Raven was supposed to let go of her mortal life. If she had any inkling that her father not only remembered her visit but knew about the Breed world, she’d never be able to move on. Immortals discovered early on that choosing progeny who still had strong family bonds never ended well. Most who were selected had no family. They were the ones who lasted.
Christian looked around. “You should move here and live it up. Don’t you think you deserve an upgrade before you kick the bucket?”
“I like my digs. They’re cozy. I know where shit is. I can’t even find my ass in here when I turn around.”
They both chuckled until the humor died with the thought of Raven’s absence. Christian ruffled his dark hair, wondering if Viktor needed him on their new assignment. It was closely related to Raven’s case—a buyer of newly made Vampires. There was a substantial price on his head because he was allegedly transporting victims across borders. The latest auction centered around the daughter of a prominent politician. The higher authority could have ordered them to take down the seller and call it a day, but the buyer piqued their interest. Based on evidence, he was running a professional trafficking ring. They’d linked numerous purchases, and it was likely the guy was turning over those women to international buyers for a substantial profit. As much as Christian wanted to get involved, he owed it to Raven to keep searching for her.