The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2) by Ingrid Seymour (the gingerbread man read aloud .txt) 📗

noticed him first. Through the window, I think. She knocked me off the booth. Saved me, really.” He glanced sideways at me, his blue eyes gentle, grateful. “Then I was too busy shifting, and when I went for an attack, he hit me right away.”

Tom turned to me. “What about you?”

“I did, and I recognized him. He was the same mage that tried to abduct me in Elf-hame.”

He nodded approvingly. “You think you could pick him out from a lineup?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Let’s go then.” He turned to Stephen. “Stay.”

We left the room. The detective closed the door behind us. Out in the hall, he stopped me with a heavy hand on my shoulder and gently turned me to face him.

“Are you all right?” he asked in his fatherly tone.

“I am.” I put on a smile, lying to him. Physically, I’d been healed and set right, but emotionally, I couldn’t shake the terrifying idea that one second had made the difference between life and death, that, if I hadn’t turned to glance out the window, my family would have received a dreadful call, and I would have died while still mad at my mother.

I didn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, I couldn’t just get unmad after what she’d done, but on the other, almost dying and leaving unresolved shit like that would suck. I guessed that meant I had to forgive Mom, but how? Just the thought of her lies made me angry enough to want to shift.

Tom let out a heavy sigh, his dark eyes glittering with some emotion. “Toni, I’m worried about you. Lately, your life has taken a turn for the dangerous.”

I lowered my gaze to his polished shoes, his protective concern reminding me of my father. A painful pang filled my chest. And the reminder that there was someone else out there who I could call “father”—even if only for his contribution to my DNA—distracted me from what Tom was trying to say. I didn’t want to know who the man was, though. It felt like an awful betrayal to Dad.

Tom went on, unaware of my internal struggle. “I can’t help but blame Jake and now Stephen Erickson for this unfortunate change.”

I couldn’t disagree there, but I still had nothing to say about it, and all I could do was wince.

“You’re a smart girl, Toni, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from those two.”

“I didn’t go looking for them, Tom,” I said, my voice quiet.

Tom huffed. “Well, that’s all I’m gonna say about it. You’re the captain of your own ship. C’mon.”

He marched down the hall, gave one quick knock on the next door, and opened it without waiting for an answer. Inside, the room was dark and a man stood to one side, his arms crossed over a broad chest.

“Toni, this is Detective Frank Archer. He’s my new partner.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Sunder,” he said with a slight bow of his head. He was a beast of a man, probably six foot seven or more. His hair was cropped short in a military style, giving his head a squarish appearance, kind of like Rosalina’s Scion. He was in short sleeves and wore a thin black tie. His nose was wide and slightly crooked as if it had been broken once. I could definitely see him getting into brawls, but I couldn’t imagine the type of guy it would take to injure him. Maybe he’d fought The Hulk. Yeah, that would explain it.

We stood facing a wide window into a brightly lit room with a small platform and black lines and large numbers painted across the back wall.

Tom pressed a button on a console and said, “Okay, we’re ready.”

A door opened off to the side in the one-way-window room, and five men dressed in casual, clean clothes filed in and positioned themselves under the numbered spots. They all wore glowing handcuffs, charged with a spell to block magic.

I recognized our attacker immediately, and I almost started pointing at him, but I stood still. The men turned in our direction, staring blankly. Tom pressed another button, and one by one, asked them to step forward while I examined their faces carefully.

Two of the men were of the same height and hair color as the mage, but the others were blond and taller. I vaguely wondered how they picked this bunch. Were they all criminals?

When number four stepped forward, I had to clench my fists and resist the urge to pound on the window, shouting a couple of colorful insults at him.

His face looked as pleased as if he’d just come back from a trip to the beach. The bastard. He was full of smugness, like someone without a worry in the world, someone who expected to be out of here in the next minute. I seethed, a phantom burning sensation running up my side. I would gladly put the asshole mage into a frying pan to give him a bit of his own medicine.

After all the men had taken a step forward, Tom turned to me. “Is your attacker among these men?”

“He is,” I said between clenched teeth.

“Under which number?”

“Four,” I said without hesitation.

“Very well.”

We left the room followed by Detective Archer, who handed Tom one of the five folders he held in his large hand. “Here, his name is Jenson Boyle. He has a previous record.”

“Of course he does.” Tom opened the folder. A picture of the mage rested on top, held in place by a paper clip. Tom flipped through the rest quickly, his frown growing deeper and deeper the more he read.

“What is it?” I asked, a nervous tingle running up my spine. My skin began to itch all over.

No, no, no. Not now, Red!

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. After what I’ve been through today—almost being burned into a crispy piece of bacon—this stupid urge to shift would return now?! How useless! I had to force a few more slow