Prickly By Nature (25 page)

She squinted at him. “How do you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Avery interrupted. “What matters is you’ve been led to believe that this man cares for you.” He sighed, and his tone softened as did the tension around his eyes. “I don’t know your relationship, and Christ, honey, if anyone dared tell me Dylan was the wrong choice, I’d tear them a new one. But the difference is Dylan is a good guy—the best—and Troy or Trav or whatever? He’s bad news. He’s hurt a lot of people, and I think you know it.”

Dylan watched as Avery’s words sank in, and all of her bluster faded into sadness with a hint of acceptance. Realizing the guy you love or are falling in love with is not only a criminal, but the very man who turned your life into hell, couldn’t be an easy thing to handle. Marybeth leaned against the wall, slid down, and buried her head in her arms.

“I’m such an idiot,” she mumbled.

“No, you’re not.” Avery rushed to kneel by her side. He clasped her shoulder. “You were taken in by a con artist—a good one—and it sucks, but you’re going to come through this a stronger person.”

She let out a humorless laugh, raising her head to meet Avery’s gaze. “How do you figure?”

“Because you’ve made it this far, and there’s fire in your eyes that tells me you don’t give up. You haven’t yet, because that’s not the kind of person you are.” His lips quirked at one corner almost playfully, but when he spoke, his voice was resolute. “We’re not the kinds of people who give up.”

Something passed between Avery and Marybeth while Dylan watched, an understanding he might never truly comprehend, but he felt it nonetheless.

She nodded, then let out a heavy breath and leaned her head back against the wall, staring at the ugly popcorn ceiling. “What is it you need to know?”

Avery echoed her exhale and stood. “We went to his place up in the Art District, but he wasn’t home. Do you know where else he might hang out?”

Dylan had to catch himself from asking Avery what he was talking about. They’d been several places since they left the house, but that area was not one of them. Then he realized how crazy focused his mate could be when he wanted something.

Marybeth was already blinking away the tears when she gave him a strange look. “He doesn’t live there.” She pushed to her feet and shuffled to the counter that separated the living room and kitchen. Marybeth found a piece of paper and pen and scribbled something down. “Here.” She held it out. “That’s the address.”

Since Dylan was closer, he took the information and stuffed it in his pocket. He walked to Avery and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll meet you outside.”

For such a prickly brat, Avery’s heart was soft. Dylan knew it would be a bit before they left. Avery wouldn’t leave Marybeth in the state she was in.

Dylan wasn’t outside fifteen minutes or so before a car drove up. A blonde, roughly the same age as Marybeth, got out and ran inside. Shortly after, Avery walked away from the rickety house, a weak smile on his face. Now that they had a definite place to look for Troy, Dylan hoped Avery wasn’t in a hurry to hunt the guy down. Avery needed downtime. They both did.

CONSIDERING HOW
long he’d been searching for Troy/Trey/Travis, Avery didn’t rush to do anything with the address Marybeth gave him. He’d learned his lesson from the auction and what happened to Joel. No rushing in blind. Not anymore. If his time under Reid had taught him anything, it was to observe before acting.

He spent a day using the systems at Reid’s office to find out everything he could about Travis—last name (Morrison), schools attended, criminal record (nothing but a few speeding tickets), and current employer. Travis worked downtown for a stock trading company called Atlas Investments. According to the background check, he’d been there for five years, and in his condo just as long.

On paper, Travis looked squeaky clean. In pictures he appeared pale, well dressed, and nerdy, a veritable Clark Kent complete with thick-framed glasses and perfectly slicked hair. Nothing like the douchey, overtanned frat boy Avery had seen in the club. Apparently Travis had put a fair amount of consideration into his disguise. Somehow that sickened Avery even more, the idea of him seeming so respectable on the surface—an honest, hard-working citizen—while ugliness and evil lurked underneath.

For the next few days, he and Reid followed Travis from the time he left for work until he returned to his condo. Each night they parked near his building until nearly 1:00 a.m. when they were certain he didn’t intend to go out again. After that, Reid dropped Avery off at home, and Avery crawled into bed with Dylan, who grumbled and clutched him close.

Avery knew his mate. Dylan was irrationally worried Travis would catch sight of Avery, snatch him up, and deliver him back to the sex ring. It might’ve been funny under different circumstances. As it stood, Avery couldn’t help his annoyance. Not that he didn’t understand where Dylan was coming from. He did. At the same time, he had a job to do, and Dylan needed to let him do it. Avery had only convinced him not to join their stakeouts by promising to stay latched to Reid’s side. To Dylan, it didn’t make a difference pointing out that Avery and Travis had never interacted or spoken, and Travis likely had no clue who he was. Travis hadn’t paid him any attention that night at Howl back in October. He’d been too focused on Veronica.

Whether Dylan believed Avery or not, he’d at least made a noticeable effort to loosen the reins. Granted, he’d also made Reid swear he wouldn’t let Avery handle Travis alone, but that was an improvement from him insisting Avery couldn’t go anywhere without him. Avery would take what he could get, so it didn’t feel like they were always repeating the same conversation.

The following day, Avery and Reid decided it was time to make contact. Reid would act as Avery’s back up, watching and listening through the transmitter Avery wore on his blazer. No matter what the situation required, Avery had confidence he could pull it off—and he didn’t doubt Reid would jump in to support him if things went south.

They parked the Camry in the garage where Travis left his car every day, which was thankfully open to the public. The building that housed Atlas Investments contained several other businesses as well, including a pet hotel and a café on the ground level, which meant people were constantly coming and going.

When they spotted Travis approaching, Avery slid from the car and pretended to be in a rush. He bumped into Travis with enough force to make Travis drop his briefcase. Spewing fake apologies, Avery bent down to grab it, but when Travis reached to take it from him, he held fast.

Travis yanked again. “Let it go,” he demanded, voice laced with irritation.

Avery shook his head. “I’ll let it go once you tell me everything you know about Lacey Acker’s disappearance.”

Travis gawked at him for a moment. “What?”

“Lacey Acker,” Avery repeated. “Redhead. Young. Pretty. Have you forgotten her already?”

Travis straightened his spine, clearly trying to use his height advantage to appear intimidating. It wouldn’t work. Avery had met much scarier men than him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, Travis.” Avery kept his tone casual as he resisted Travis’s attempts to pull the briefcase from his grasp. “Or should I say Troy?”

Travis blanched, stumbling back a step. “I…. How do you know that name?”

Avery smiled, though he knew there was nothing pleasant about the expression. He probably came across like a shark grinning at its prey. He almost wished he was so he could chomp the guy in half. “Oh, I know a lot about you, Travis. Your home address, where you work, the make of your vehicle. And I know all about your double life as Troy and Trey and whoever else you pretend to be when luring girls into your trap.”

Travis’s eyes shot wide behind his thick-framed glasses. He looked about a second away from abandoning his briefcase and taking off.

“Don’t bother running,” Avery warned. “We’re being watched right now. I have enough evidence to go straight to the police. You’ll never see the outside of a prison cell again.” The lie rolled from Avery’s tongue without a flicker of hesitation.

Travis paled even further. “What—” He swallowed hard and swiped the back of one hand across his mouth. “What do you want?”

“I want information. You and me, we’re going to go have a little talk.”

Moisture gleamed on Travis’s forehead, and Avery scented the acrid tang of fear. “Where?”

Triumph swelled in Avery, but he batted the feeling back. No cause for celebration just yet. He still didn’t know if Travis had the answers he needed. “The pub next door. Right now.” Avery jerked his chin toward the stairwell. “Lead the way. And again, don’t try to bolt. We’ll find you.”

Travis nodded and turned away. Avery followed, swinging Travis’s briefcase at his side. He could use it to clock Travis on the head if the guy tried anything, but from the flop sweat pouring off him, Avery had him terrified. It figured Travis would turn coward when faced with someone insusceptible to his questionable charms. He preyed on young girls, abusing their trust, taking advantage of their vulnerability and loneliness. Yet the threat of prison had him practically shitting himself.

What a joke. Avery’s stomach roiled. He wanted to lash out, knock Travis down, beat him so he experienced every ounce of pain Mr. Otis had endured since Lacey disappeared. But by nature, Avery wasn’t a violent person. Prickly, yes, but not vicious. And he owed it to the Ackers and to Dylan and Reid—and every other missing teenager the ring had abducted—to keep his calm.

The pub was quiet in the lull after happy hour. Avery asked the hostess for their most secluded table, and she grinned at him before escorting them to a booth in the back corner.

“Here are your menus,” she said. “Tricia will be right with you.”

Avery smiled and thanked her. As soon as she walked away, he met Travis’s gaze. “Do you remember Lacey?” he asked. “I have a picture if you need a reminder.”

Travis licked his lips. He looked tense, his eyes dilated. After a moment, he jerked his head up and down. “I remember.”

“And did you date her to give her over to the people you work for?”

Travis nodded again.

“Do you know where she is right now?”

“N-No.” Travis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a shaky finger. “My job is done once they get the girls and I get my money. I don’t know what happens after.”

Avery stared until Travis squirmed in his seat. He didn’t smell any change in Travis’s scent, which meant he was probably telling the truth. But how could Avery trust a guy who lied as a matter of course? He made his secondary income by tricking girls into believing he cared and then betraying them once he’d earned their affections. If Travis lacked empathy and felt no remorse for his deception when he spoke to women, a little fib might not even alter his body chemistry. Avery had no way of knowing, and the theory would explain how Lacey had been misled. That, and her level of intoxication whenever she spent time with Travis. Alcohol dulled shifter senses just as it did a human’s. And now wasn’t the best time to judge Travis’s talent in that regard. Avery had caught him off guard and out of his element.

“Who’s in charge of the operation?” Avery asked.

“I don’t know.” Travis set his hands on the table, gripping them so tightly the knuckles turned white. “I… I’ve heard things. Rumors. Some of the others believe whoever’s running things is local. Either here in Portland or the suburbs. Other than that, all I can say is things have slowed down a lot lately. I haven’t been asked to find girls since November.”

November. The month of Avery’s abduction, the showdown at the warehouse, and Melnyk’s arrest. The timing couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe the higher-ups were lying low. Or maybe they’d decided to move their operation to a new place altogether.

Avery started to speak, but the waitress stopped at their table then. He asked for a few more minutes to look over the menu, which he hadn’t bothered cracking open.

When she was out of earshot, he asked, “Can you give me any other names? Anyone else I can try to question?”

Travis shook his head and picked up a napkin to dab sweat from his upper lip. “No. I saw a few of them in the clubs sometimes, but we didn’t give real names. No addresses. It was part of the deal.” Travis stiffened suddenly. “How did you find me?”

Avery smiled grimly. “That’s for me to know.” He pushed Travis’s briefcase across the table. “I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it would be a lie.”

He turned sideways and slid from the booth.

“I answered your questions,” Travis said before he could walk away. “You’re not going to go to the cops, right?”

Avery didn’t bother answering. He’d never promised he wouldn’t report Travis to the police. He didn’t owe this scumbag any favors.

“I’m coming out,” he muttered, knowing Reid would hear him through the microphone.

The Camry was pulling up to the curb when he stepped outside.

Avery got into the passenger seat and locked the door just as Travis shot out of the pub. Petty or not, Avery flipped him off.

“Did you get all that?” he asked once Reid had pulled out into traffic.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll give it to Heath. See if he can do anything with it. Even if he can’t, he’ll find a reason to bring Travis in, whatever it takes. Then, hopefully, we can get one of the girls from the warehouse to identify him.”

Avery was putting a lot of faith in the detective, but he knew Heath wanted to bring the sex ring down as badly as he did. Travis might not be very high on the totem pole, but if they could put him behind bars, he wouldn’t be a threat to any other girls out there. It was something, no matter how small. And maybe with the threat of prison time over his head, he’d reveal more information.

Avery tugged his phone from his pocket and dialed Heath’s number.

DYLAN DASHED
up the steps and through the front door with enough time to get cleaned up and back on the road. He planned on getting to the grocery store before settling in for the evening. Tonight was a rare occasion. Avery would be home before dinner and this time he wanted to learn how to cook fried chicken. As Avery told it, his gran used to make the best. Dylan knew his mate wasn’t much of a meat eater these days, but when he had a craving or got nostalgic, it’s what they had.