Prickly Business (20 page)

“Well….” Avery hesitated and Dylan thought he heard a voice in the background. A male voice. Then Avery’s muffled reply came. Dylan was obviously not meant to be part of that conversation.

Dylan’s first instinct was to demand to know where Avery was, to rush over, and to kick anybody’s ass who was within looking distance of Avery. But he wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. Still, when the growl built in his chest, he was unable to hold back. The idea of Avery with another man sent his wolf into a tailspin. He was ready to challenge anyone who stepped near his mate. And didn’t that contradict everything warring within him five minutes ago? Though he knew if he didn’t have Avery’s trust, if he didn’t trust Avery, they wouldn’t have anything. They couldn’t. Dylan had seen it happen with his parents. He didn’t like the feeling.

“Are you growling?” Avery asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

Yes.
“No,” Dylan snapped.

“You are.” Avery was persistent. “You’re growling.” He laughed.

“Whatever, brat,” he said just to even the score. It was cute, Avery’s teasing. “What about it? You, me, dinner, and a movie?”

“Oh, you make it sound so romantic,” Avery deadpanned.

Christ. What did the man want from him?

Then, completely avoiding the invitation. Again. Avery said, “There’s no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbled.

“Sure you’re not.” He paused, then softer, he continued. “It’s only Jaden. We’re downtown looking for something for his mom’s birthday.”

Oh
. “I’m not jealous,” Dylan repeated, with far less power.

“It’s okay, you know.” He sounded so sincere. “I’m not… I wouldn’t do that. It’s only Jaden.”

Just like that, Dylan felt like the biggest ass on the West Coast. Avery had done nothing to garner distrust. Not even keeping a possible secret merited the guilt he was heaping on Avery, and Dylan knew it. Anyway, he and Avery hadn’t made a commitment to each other—monogamous or otherwise. Not like Dylan had asked him to. Or wanted him to.

Liar.

It was that last thought—the
want to
—that knocked the wind out of him. Because Dylan
did
want it. He didn’t know when or how it happened, but suddenly the thought of being without Avery or, worse, seeing him with someone else left him breathless.

“I get it,” Dylan soothed. He sensed that Avery needed a little comfort on his end. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It just….” He sighed. “Sorry.”

When Avery spoke again, Dylan heard his hesitant smile. He could practically see it. “Okay, then.” Avery cleared his throat. “I… I have plans tonight. With Jaden. We’re going out. Maybe we can get together another time?”

Something about it didn’t quite sit right with Dylan, but just like the alleyway outside the club, Dylan didn’t ask. How could he without sounding like a ridiculously possessive, intrusive asshole?

“Yeah, sure” was all he said. He was pretty sure his words fell flat. “Next time.”

“So, yeah,” Avery said. “Then next time.” He sounded sad and a little bit distracted, but once again Dylan let it go.

“Next time,” Dylan repeated. “See ya.”

“Okay. Bye.” Then Avery hung up, the silence on the other end of the phone opening a chasm between them.

I
NTREPID
SAT
somewhere between the trashiness of Howl and the refinement of Avery’s favorite club, Tallgrass. It was massive—three different floors, a patio, outdoor balconies, and even a rooftop lounge area. On any given night, the DJs played a variety of music from Latin to disco to the most current dubstep and techno tracks.

Avery loved the rooftop lounge and the main level, which was where the hip-hop and dance music usually played. Tonight he forced himself to scope out every floor, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was searching for. Maybe he hoped to spot Frat Boy again, but the club was so large Frat Boy could be there and Avery might still miss him.

If he could get just
one
solid lead today, he’d feel like he’d accomplished something. He wanted to have news for Mr. Otis when they saw each other on Monday. So far he had almost nothing.

Earlier in the day, he’d gone to the mall with Jaden. While Jaden searched for his mother’s birthday gift, Avery snuck off to the jewelry/accessory store where Mr. Otis told him Lacey had worked. He’d wandered through the color-organized shelves of handbags, shoes, scarves, socks, and other trinkets, and eventually cornered a few of the associates to ask them about Lacey. They’d all admitted to knowing and being sad about her disappearance, but no one had any valuable information to share, save for the girl who’d told him Lacey had been seeing some guy named Troy before she vanished.

He’d wondered if Troy might be Frat Boy and asked the girl for a description. Unfortunately she’d never seen him. It seemed reasonable Troy and Frat Boy could be the same person, but who was to say Lacey hadn’t been dating multiple people? A hookup did not a relationship make, as Avery damn well knew. Still, it was his only lead of any kind, so he’d searched Lacey’s phone and tried to call the number listed for “Troy.” The only answer was a message about it no longer being in service.

Avery’s only option left was to find Frat Boy.

He felt a little guilty about lying to both Jaden and Dylan earlier. He’d told Dylan he would be out with Jaden, and Jaden he’d be staying home. For some reason, he didn’t want either of them knowing about his unofficial investigation. At least not yet. Though it occurred to him now that maybe telling Jaden would’ve been a good idea. They could’ve spread out and canvassed the club separately. If only Avery had thought to take a creeper shot of Frat Boy at Howl last night, that plan might’ve actually worked. Private dicks took sneaky pictures. He needed to remember that. No use trying to recruit someone to help him search if he couldn’t offer anything more than a vague verbal description of Frat Boy.

After walking the entirety of Intrepid, Avery started seeking out familiar faces and asking about Lacey. Most people were dismissive, too caught up in drinking and partying to be concerned with some missing girl. No one claimed to know Lacey or even recognize her.

Frustrated, Avery went up to the bar on the second level and ordered himself an amaretto sour. While he waited, a guy slipped into the space between Avery and the stool next to him.

“Hey,” he said.

Avery didn’t bother looking. “Not interested.”

A hand touched his arm, and Avery turned, glancing down at the offending hand and back to the guy’s face with his snottiest “how dare you?” expression.

Earnest blue eyes stared down into his. “That girl you’re asking about. I know her.”

Avery put on his most winning smile and dialed his Southern accent up a few notches. “Let me buy you a drink, darlin’. What’re you havin’?”

“Um.” The guy shifted, his expression nonplussed. “Uh, I’ll take a gin and tonic.”

Avery waved the bartender over and placed the order. Once the guy had finished that one and was halfway into another, Avery leaned close. “So, what was that you were sayin’, honey? About Lacey?”

The guy knocked back the rest of his drink, and Avery used his distraction to snap a quick, flash-free picture on his phone. It came out kind of grainy, but it would have to suffice. He couldn’t risk spooking the guy by asking him to pose.

When the guy set his glass down, Avery motioned for the bartender to keep them coming.

“I, uh… I know her. Knew her.”

Avery fought to keep his charming grin in place, but the past tense made his skin prickle with alarm. “Knew her?”

“Well, yeah. You know, before she disappeared.”

“Ah.” The bartender set down another glass, and Avery nudged it toward the guy. The drinks here weren’t cheap, but Avery couldn’t allow his only lead of the night to escape before he asked some questions. He’d worry about replacing the money in his bank account later. “Did you know her boyfriend Troy?”

The guy blanched, his already pale skin going ghostly. “Uh… yeah, I’ve met Troy.”

“Beefy guy with a fake-bake tan, no fashion sense, looks like a bit of a douche bag? Light eyes and darkish hair?” Avery wasn’t sure of the exact color, but from what he’d seen around the edges of Frat Boy’s hat, it’d appeared to be some kind of brown. Maybe a deep, dishwater blond.

The guy nodded jerkily.

Bingo.

“There’ve been a few girls who disappeared recently.” The guy’s voice held a tremor, and his eyes shifted nervously. “I remember Lacey because I had a crush on her. I wanted to ask her out, but then Troy….”

“Troy what?” Avery revved up his cute Southern-boy act and rested a hand on the guy’s arm, skimming his fingers along the skin, letting the touch linger. “You can tell me, darlin’. I promise it won’t go any farther than you and me.”

Goose bumps rose beneath Avery’s fingertips. The guy flushed, but he didn’t pull away, revealing more about himself than he probably realized. Most straight men wouldn’t permit this kind of contact, let alone allow it to continue. Not completely straight, then. Maybe bi, since he’d admitted to crushing on Lacey.

The guy licked his lips and shot a quick, anxious look around before dipping his head close to Avery’s ear. “I think something sketchy is going on. I’ve heard some rumors. Some seriously disturbing shit, man.”

Avery kept his smile warm and inviting. Flirtatious.
Come on. Give in to the harmless, little Southern boy. You know you want to.
“What kind of rumors?”

The guy looked even shiftier. “I… I dunno if I should say.”

“Oh, honey, but think of Lacey’s poor father. The man is simply beside himself.” Avery pressed a hand to the guy’s chest and gave him his most beseeching expression. “Take pity on the old man. With his wife gone, Lacey’s all he has.”

The guy dropped his gaze to Avery’s hand. He mumbled something Avery didn’t catch.

Avery leaned closer, despite the alcohol reeking from the guy’s breath and the flop sweat leaking from his pores. Something was making this guy nervous as hell.

The guy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. He darted another quick glance around, then muttered, “Human trafficking.”

Avery was so stunned his smile fell apart. He dropped the flirty act, blinking up at the guy. “Excuse me?”

The guy shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. He looked like a skittish horse, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. I gotta go.” He took a step back, and Avery was too shocked to make a grab at him.

Before he could collect himself, the guy slipped off into the crowd.

“Wait!” Avery called.

If the guy heard him above the pounding music, he didn’t pause. His pale blond head vanished into the sea of bodies lined up to order drinks.

Avery fought his way through the mob of drunken clubbers, elbowing and outright shoving when he had to. By the time he made it to the edge of the dance floor, the guy was nowhere to be seen. Tracking him by scent in a crowd this large would be next to impossible, but Avery made a valiant effort anyway. He searched every level of the club, every restroom and balcony, to no avail. The guy was long gone, and Avery had been so focused on trying to get the information about Lacey from him, he hadn’t asked for a name.

Dammit.
Some investigator he was. At least he’d gotten a picture this time, and he’d been close enough to describe this guy in detail—and recognize his smell—should they cross paths again.

He left Intrepid not feeling like a total failure. Only a partial one. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour on the cab ride home.

Human trafficking.

The subject hadn’t even crossed his mind in relation to Lacey’s disappearance. Why would it? Although he’d heard once Portland was something like the second worst city in the nation when it came to trafficking, it was easy to forget when surrounded by eco-conscious cars, fair-trade coffee shops, breweries, mustachioed hipsters, and food trucks.

Could that be what happened to Lacey? Was Frat Boy—Troy—involved somehow? The guy at Intrepid had seemed fearful when he said Troy’s name.

Avery angsted for a few minutes. Should he bring this up to Mr. Otis as a possibility?

No. No way.
What father would want to hear his daughter might’ve been taken by an underground sex ring? Besides, the only information Avery had so far was hearsay. He needed solid evidence before he so much as breathed a word about human trafficking to Mr. Otis.

The problem was, how would he go about finding proof? He wasn’t a professional, as established by his complete lack of foresight when it came to getting names and taking pictures. What would a
real
detective do?

Avery paid the cabbie at the curb and took the elevator up to his loft. He kicked off his shoes by the door, then dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. Making his way to his bedroom, he stripped out of his jean jacket and the tweed vest underneath. Next came his red tie and white button-down.

Despite wanting to toss it all into a pile and bury himself beneath his blankets, he threw the shirt into the hamper and carefully hung the rest of the clothes in the closet. He debated taking a bath, but then shrugged off the idea and changed into his warmest lounge pants and a chunky sweater.

After, he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. A hot cup of tea, then bed. He’d consider his next step in the morning. But just as he was about to wander back to his bedroom with his steaming mug of organic Earl Grey, he spotted his MacBook sitting unopened on the dining table.

Changing course, Avery went to his laptop. There had to be information online about Portland’s missing persons. That probably should’ve been his starting point to begin with.

Avery shook his head. How typical of him to make things harder than they needed to be. No matter. He’d thought of it now.

He pulled up Google and typed in a search. The list of results went on for pages. It would take hours to sort through, if he visited every site.