Page 50 of Pack Deception: Part Two

“We’ve got a camera in the back, one out front, in the kitchen, and one on each of the tills in the restaurant in case of theft. But this hallway leading to the bathroom doesn’t have any. When she leaves your table, I can’t see what happens next until she appears in the alley.”

“I want her picture out there. Plastered all over the news and social media,” I tell Wells. “I want the whole world looking for her,” I growl.

He nods and pulls his phone out while he leaves the office to make a call. “Damien might be able to reach out to someone at OPS. Someone he used to work with maybe. I’ll check. He’s on his way here already.”

That’s right. Damien is ex-OPS. Houston, ex-military. Wells, ex-detective. I pray anyone of their pasts can be useful right now.

As Wells leaves, Mason bursts into the office, eyes darting around frantically before they land on me. “What happened? Where is she?” He’s near hysterical, but I fill him in on everything we know so far. On the verge of a panic attack, I put a little bit of a bark behind my words as I tell him to calm the fuck down. His body obeys, and his breathing evens out as he shoots me a grateful look.

When he’s able to think straight, he looks over to Wells who has just walked back in. “Did she drink at lunch?”

“No. She had water.”

“Someone can still spike water,” I point out.

“Or the food,” Wells agrees.

“Well, they’d have to work here then. Wells, you talk to the kitchen staff. Mason, come with me. We’ll talk to the kitchen staff.”

“Did you get a hold of Damien?” I ask as we leave the manager’s office.

His brows knit, concern shining in his eyes. “He said he’d call. But I guess he left on bad terms. He likely doesn’t hold any sway anymore.”

My heart sinks, and we all break off at the end of the hallway. Wells goes to the bar area, and before Mason and I can walk back to the kitchen, Maverick and Hudson have joined us.

Mason fills them in on everything as I throw open the swinging double doors that lead into the back. It’s noisy back here: people shouting orders at each other, fires burning, the sizzling of steaks, and the sounds of knives hitting cutting boards as vegetables are chopped.

My eyes roam the staff, all in black uniforms, except one. The head chef wears white. I start to advance on her until I get a good look at her face, and I stumble. Mason steadies me, and then his eyes follow my line of sight before I feel him stiffen beside me.

“Tatem? What the fuck is she doing here?” Mason’s voice is soft, suspicious. I shoot him a confused look.

Whatisshe doing here? Last I heard, she still worked at Woodlands across town. A small family-owned farm-to-table business. While we’re all staring, she must feel the attention on her because she turns from where she’s talking to a young man in a black uniform. Her eyes lock on mine, and a blindingly white smile takes over her face. Where once that smile may have made my heart beat a little faster, when I used to think she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met, it now does nothing for me. My heart rate doesn’t spike anymore, and when I stare at her, she seems so…ordinarycompared to my mate.

Tatem walks right up to us and leans into me, apparently going in for a hug, before Mason tugs me back and inserts himself between us. “Don’t touch her,” he hisses, glaring at my ex-girlfriend. I don’t do anything to dissuade him. To reprimand him. Instead, I give his forearm a grateful squeeze for pulling me away when my body was in a temporarily frozen state of shock.

There is no small amount of ire lighting up Tatem’s eyes as she glares back at my beta–who she never got along with, no matter how hard I tried to get them to reconcile their differences. Mason wouldn’t budge.

Always insisted she was rotten.

“Bite me, Mason. I can hug an old friend if I want to,” she retorts.

“No. You can’t,” I say automatically. When her eyes shoot over to mine in shock, I continue. “When did you start working here?”

There’s a quick pause while she glances at Mav and Hud behind us, and says, “A couple weeks ago. Shortly after you broke things off, I got the call. I got the head chef position I had applied for.” There is no small amount of pride tinting her voice, but when none of us congratulates her or praises her in the way she’s used to, a dark look flits across her features. There and gone.

“My mate was just in here. We think someone tampered with her food, and we need to know everyone who touched her plate. Our security will talk to them.”

Tatem’s back goes ramrod straight, and she looks right at me. “Well, nobody in my kitchen would tamper with anything.” She practically sniffs the air indignantly. “But if you know the table she was at, and what she ordered, I can pull the ticket and find out.” Then she pauses like she’s not sure if she should say what she wants to say next, but does anyway. “Is your mate okay?”

Mason stiffens again at the way she says mate. Through semi-clenched teeth. My own hackles rise at the tone, and I say, “She’s fine,” in a cold voice, and turn around to go get the table number and what she ate from Wells.

We’re all back out in the main area of the restaurant when my phone vibrates. But it’s not just mine. Hudson, Mav, and Mason’s ping, too. Looking around, I realize everyone in the restaurant is pulling their phone out. With a frown, I open my lock screen to see an omega alert flashing across it with Summer’s picture lit up, clear as day. My eyes pop open. That was incredibly fast. We haven’t even called the police yet, and the pull you’d need… I look at Wells. But he’s shaking his head.

“I got it out to the news stations and put it up on all the social media platforms, but this wasn’t me. Or Damien.”

“I called a friend from the car and asked for a favor,” Mav says from behind me. We all look at him with various levels of shock on our faces. He shrugs. “I didn’t know if he could do it, but his packmate works at OPS. So it looks like he pulled it off.” He’s talking about Omega Protection Services. Who is this guy, and how does he know Maverick enough to call in favors with him?

“Some of you are going to have to go back to the house now,” Wells starts to say and holds up his hands when we’re all poised to object. “When OPS gets involved, they send agents to your house to ask questions. They also stick around so they're present if any useful tips come in.”

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