Page 49 of The Runaway Mate

“I watch all the police shows, Mai. I know how to tail someone without getting caught.”

“Really? ‘Coz he just turned right, Wally.”

“Fuck!” Wally slid the car round the corner at the last second, only swerving a little into the oncoming lane.

We were both silent as he picked up Brock’s car ahead.

“Do you want me to drive?”

He shot me a look that made his answer plain.

I decided to shut up and let him drive. But after a few minutes, I couldn’t help myself. “So, in your head, if there was a ‘Fast and Furious: Werewolf Drift,’ you’d be Vin Diesel?”

He laughed. “Damn fucking right, I’d be Vin Diesel. I suppose that makes you Michelle Rodriguez?”

“Well, I do have the attitude,” I shot back.

Brock settled into a predictable rhythm, pulling over every few blocks to chat with a passer-by when he saw someone in particular. The conversation was always brief, like fleeting whispers in the wind. I recognized a couple of people but Wally, his senses attuned more to the subtle nuances, confirmed my suspicions.

“They’re all wolves, Mai. That one is Harper Creek, the one before that was Dixon Main, and the first person was Elliot Muyat.”

My mental notebook filled with faces and names. These were people Sofia and I would seek out later, hoping to unravel Brock’s web of secrets.

Brock seemed in no hurry and didn’t appear to have a destination in mind. He weaved through the town in a random pattern, heading south down one street, then turning at a junction and going north along the next street. He did this for an hour, slowly crisscrossing the Three Rivers, before stopping outside The Nouveau Table, a restaurant right on the edge of town.

“Looks like he’s going in,” Wally said, leaning forward so he could get a better view. “You been here before?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t even know it existed.” My life before I left didn’t really involve many eateries.

“It’s an upmarket restaurant, this. It’s the place to take your date if you want to impress them. Thomas took me once. They make their money with the evening trade. It's a little early for that, though.”

Even so, they were definitely not closed. Brock walked up to the door, and it whooshed open for him. I shrugged and settled back to wait.

It was two hours later, and Brock still hadn’t come out. Wally and I perched in the front seats of his car, parked outside the restaurant. People had started to trickle in there in the last couple of hours, but not many. Despite Wally’s assurances that this was one of the places to be seen in the evenings, so far a buzzing restaurant, it was not.

“Do you think he saw us? Slipped out the back, maybe?” Wally fretted, a furrow deepening between his brows.

“Well, with your Formula 1 aspirations back there, we might as well have had flashing lights and sirens.”

Wally groaned. “I should go in and check.”

“No.” I shook my head. I couldn’t let him put himself in danger. This was all my idea. If anyone was going in, it had to be me. “I’ll go. I need you here in case we need a quick getaway—you can Vin Diesel us to safety.”

It took me another five minutes to persuade Wally to stay in the car. I didn’t want Brock to see us together. It might be useful for our surveillance if Brock didn’t realize Wally and I knew each other.

I got out of the car and walked quickly to the door. I wanted it to seem like I knew where I was going and had a reason to be there.

Inside, the restaurant was a mélange of mouth-watering aromas and soft music. The walls were all light mint and pastel blues. Structural posts, large plants, and decorative slat dividers were strategically placed so that each table had a measure of privacy.

I glanced around the mostly empty tables. I couldn’t see Brock until I stepped behind a dracaena plant. He was sitting at a table in the back, talking with three unfamiliar werewolves.

The first, a man in his late thirties with a shaved head and trimmed goatee, was glaring at Brock and radiating waves of being severely pissed off. The woman next to him, with her auburn hair cascading around a delicate face, was smiling, yet her cool gray eyes suggested an undercurrent of steel. The third, another man, was dressed as the epitome of a businessman in an expensive suit and striped tie.

“Good afternoon, do you have a reservation?” a waitress queried, snapping me out of my reverie.

“No. I would like to look at the menu. I have a date next week, and I’m trying to work out where to take him,” I replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brock’s face snap up at the sound of my voice. I kept looking directly at the waitress. I didn’t want him to know that I’d seen him. Brock stood up, excused himself from the table, and made a quick beeline for the back exit.

I had a choice now. Brock had pretty much run out when he saw I was here. Why? Because he suspected I was following him? Or because he didn’t want me to see him with those other werewolves? I could go back to Wally, see if we could pick Brock up when he went back to his car. Or I could try to find out what was so special about the group here. I said my thanks to the waitress when she handed me a menu, then settled into an empty booth next to the werewolves, pretending to study the menu.

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