Page 24 of Ember's Claim

“Yup,” I agree.

“Crap.” She sighs. “Don’t be annoyed, but Delta and her team found their target from that heist crew. She called Gemma and me in for backup.”

“Okay…”

“So, you can probably take the night off,” Rogue says. “I doubt we’ll make it in time, and you know the rule about working solo.”

I roll my eyes.

The guys who work for Owen do not have that same ludicrous rule.

“Thanks for the update,” I say drolly. “But I’m almost to the club. I won’t engage, but I will go in and look around.”

“Ember,” she huffs. “Now I feel like an asshole because I told you we’d be there, and we aren’t.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Don’t feel bad. Delta would rather lose a hand than call me in to help with one of her cases.”

And I have less than no idea why, but that witch doesn’t like me…at all.

It is what it is.

Her dislike of me may have stemmed from me being the one to catch a high-value target that Owen gave to both of our teams, but that’s part of the job.

I would have been annoyed too. I just wouldn’t have developed an all-out vendetta over it.

Then again, my alpha blood lives for a good fight or even friendly competition.

“Call me once you leave,” Rogue says, reminding me a little of my mom. “If you don’t, I’ll have Gemma siphon us over there, so don’t forget.”

I laugh, moving my thumb to hover over the disconnect button. “You got it, Momma Rogue.”

The bar has fewer patrons than last time, but the dance floor is busier than what I would expect on a Monday night.

My beer is tart and cool as I sip at it, scanning the booths and keeping my ears open. Half the time, we end up with leads in the most random ways, like overhearing two people talking who aren’t even involved with the case.

My knee bounces. I’m using the rung of the chair as a footrest, but my wolf is unsettled. No matter how hard I fight her, she won’t shut up. She wants to leave because she’s convinced this is a waste of time.

However, I think she just wants an excuse to creep around the pack lands to see if we magically run across Sanders.

I’m not ready to fully give up on finding something here. Maybe I’m also a little confused about Lorcan.

Who the hell is he?

Why was he waiting for me outside the bathroom?

Almost like my thoughts summoned him, the man in question gracefully slides into the barstool at my side.

My head whips up as my wolf paces. There’s no other way I know how to describe it, but if I could visibly see an image of her in my mind, she would be stalking back and forth, chuffing her displeasure.

Lorcan has his blond hair in two French braids that begin at the front of his head and mesh at the crown to form a bun. The bottom half of his head appears to be shaved all the way around.

I couldn’t see much the other night, due to his hood, but I’ve got the full picture now.

He does boast a set of pointy ears, which leads me to suspect some type of elven or fae lineage. He also has the type of ethereal beauty that points to one of those options. The dual rings in his nose and the thick stubble on his jaw… It all really works for him.

Licking my lips, I try to covertly scent the air, but I’m not able to pick up anything that blatantly tells me his species.

“What are you?” I twist to face him fully. “And why have you sought me out twice now?”

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