CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tate cursed a blue streak. “We need to find out who this asshole is.”

“Working on it,” said Bailey, pissed beyond belief, her eyes on her computer as she worked to tackle the password for the dating website.

After their short conversation with Journee—who unfortunately had no info that could help them track their culprit—Bailey and Deke had headed straight to her apartment. She’d settled at her desk as he texted the Alphas and Betas, who promptly appeared. They’d all gathered behind her with Deke, who’d quickly filled them in.

Positively fuming on his behalf, Bailey wanted to rant her ass off. But that wasn’t what he needed from her. Not right then. No, he needed her to be calm and use the skills she possessed that could help him. So she’d tucked in her anger and channeled it, using it to fuel her focus.

“There could be more profiles out there, couldn’t there?” asked Luke, the same hard edge in his voice that could be heard in that of the others.

“Yes,” said Deke, the word a whip. “Whoever’s doing this could be having several online relationships while posing as me.”

“He pretty much ended this relationship himself, didn’t he?” said Havana, her heels clicking the hardwood floor as she paced back and forth. “He sent her here. He wanted you to know about her.”

“Which means this isn’t simply someone imitating you to land girls, Deke,” Tate added. “He’s fucking with you for certain. He could have instead deleted the Zing profile, and we’d have been none the wiser. But no, he kept it going, and then he made sure you found out about it.”

“And he did it in a way that said he didn’t give the world’s first fuck about Journee’s feelings.” Blair sighed. “It must have been hard for her to realize she’d been played all these months.”

Without looking away from the computer, Bailey said, “She tried to hide it by clinging to anger, but she was devastated. Whoever posed as Deke knew—” She cut off as the Zing profile opened. “Okay, I’m in.”

Everyone shuffled closer, and Deke bent over to get the best view of the screen, his body so close his breath tickled her ear.

Bailey went on, “I half-expected him to have deleted the profile so that I couldn’t hack into it. I mean, he knew in advance that I would try.”

“Which probably means we can take what private info he provided to create the profile with a grain of salt,” muttered Havana.

Pulling up his account information, Bailey gaped at what she read. “Oh come on, really?” The asshole had typed in her name and address.

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Havana. “This whole thing is obviously some kind of damn joke to him. He knows there’s no way Deke would suspect you’d created the profile.” The devil paused. “You don’t, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” Deke firmly stated. “She can be a sly little thing and likes to play with people, but she wouldn’t do something like this.”

It was probably wrong that both Bailey and her snake took that as a compliment, but whatever. The mamba was as furious as her about the catfishing crap—in the serpent’s view, only they got to fuck with Deke.

“Our boy hasn’t changed his phone number,” Deke noted. “New email address, though. You can hack into it, Bailey, right?”

“Yes, I just want to check his messages on here first.” She skimmed through them quickly. “Journee’s the only person he’s been communicating with.” And nothing in the flirty messages pointed to who he could be. “Once I’ve deactivated this, I’ll do an online search for other profiles of you.”

Straightening, Deke gave the mamba space as he watched her work. Her gaze was locked on the screen with lethal accuracy, her fingers zooming over the keyboard so fast they were a blur.

Six. It turned out there were six other profiles. Some were on dating apps, some were on social media platforms, and one existed in a private anti-shifter extremist group.

More, each had been created using the IDs of six pride members—namely Sam, Therese, Gerard, Cassandra, Shay, and Dayna.

Unfuckingbelievable.

His cat hissed and spat, raking Deke’s insides with its claws, infuriated by not only the situation but by how they didn’t have the name of the culprit.

“The son of a bitch sure does like pretending to be other people,” mused Luke, his tone clipped. “You know, one of these six could actually be the culprit. Well, not Therese or Cassandra, considering the humans claimed they spoke to a male on the phone. But the others? It’s possible. They might have used their own ID one time to paint themselves as a scapegoat so they wouldn’t come under suspicion.”

Scratching the back of his head, Deke grimaced. “I can’t envision any of them doing it. This isn’t a mere case of someone slashing my tire or keying my car. Whoever did this spent months creating profiles, charming women, and doing a whole lot of calling and texting and lying—it had to be exhausting. You don’t do something like that unless you have a serious grudge.”

Pausing, Deke shook his head. “None of the members of our pride he’s effectively implicating have that kind of grudge against me. I’ve never had major beef with any of them, or anyone in the pride really. Okay, Dayna’s likely feeling murderous toward me now, but she wasn’t before.”

“Just because you didn’t have a huge fallout with anybody doesn’t mean someone isn’t super angry at you,” said Bailey. “You might not even realize you did something to hurt or offend them. What one person will dwell over is something another person can laugh off.”

Aspen folded her arms. “She makes a valid point.”

Bailey shrugged. “Happens a lot.”

Deke let out a doubtful snort that made her smile.

Bailey switched her focus back to the computer. On each profile, she checked every message, every post, every slice of info. There was nothing that pointed to who was playing these games. Nor was there anything informative to find in any of the emails in the various accounts.

Cursing in his head, Deke puffed out a breath.

Bailey turned to the Alphas. “So what now?”

Tate rubbed at his nape. “We have nothing that tells us who did this. Much as I personally don’t believe these six people are anything but scapegoats, they should still be questioned.” He cut his gaze to Deke. “I don’t think you should be there for that.”

Deke blinked, feeling his shoulders stiffen. “Say again?”

“Now that we’ve established that the person doing this wants to screw with you, we can be pretty sure they’ll be paying close attention to you,” said Tate. “They’ll want to know they’re getting to you.”

Well, they were.

“If it is one of these six shifters,” Tate continued, “they’ll drink in every moment of you questioning them, Deke; drink in your anger and confusion and whatever else you’re feeling. For them, it’s a game—one they’re winning. They’ll be loving that they have this power over you. They’ll be all smug at the idea that you’re raging at not only what they’ve done but at having no clue who they are.”

Deke sighed. “What you’re saying is … you think that the best way to hit back at them is to act like I don’t give enough of a shit to bother questioning any suspects.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Tate. “I think you should go on about your day as normal. Act like what happened with Journee ain’t a blip on your radar. Make this asshole think they’re gonna need to try harder to get to you, because we need them to slip up and make a mistake. And the sooner they do it the better. We don’t know what their motive is, but we know that they want to get into your head and fuck with it. Don’t know about you, but I personally don’t feel inclined to do anything they might like.”

Grinding his teeth, Deke reluctantly dipped his chin. “I’ll sit out of the questioning.” His cat growled, displeased at not being included.

Tate gave a nod of satisfaction. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but it’s the right move to make. He’s several steps ahead of us. We need to fucking catch up. Fast.”

Driving home from the center later that day, Bailey flicked a look at Havana via the car’s rearview mirror. “Why are you scowling at your phone?”

The devil lifted her head. “I just heard from Tate. He and Luke questioned the six people implicated by our resident catfisher.”

Twisting in the front passenger seat to look at the Alpha, Aspen spoke, “And?”

“And nothing.” Havana pocketed her cell. “They all claimed they had no hand in the creation of the profiles, and none gave Tate any reason to believe they were lying.”

Bailey felt her lips thin. “Shit.”

She hadn’t exactly been confident that Tate would identify the culprit during basic questioning—the asshole was too careful, he wouldn’t easily give himself away—but she’d hoped that maybe he would have some luck. “I’ve gone backwards and forwards in my head trying to work out what’s going on, but I’m stumped.”

“Same here,” declared Havana, returning her gaze to the scenery outside.

The long stretch of narrow road cut through a rural area. There wasn’t much traffic at the moment. But there would be later when rush hour hit.

Looking somewhat sulky, Aspen said, “I’m not in the mood to cook tonight. Anyone else interested in grabbing takeout food on the way home? We could grab some for our guys, too, obviously.”

“I’m in,” Havana told her. “You up for it, Bailey?”

Flexing her grip on the steering wheel, Bailey awkwardly cleared her throat. “Uh, I can’t. I’ve got plans.”

“You have plans?” asked Aspen. “What plans?”

Scratching at her cheek, Bailey adopted a casual tone as she replied, “I agreed to meet Deke at the diner.”

Havana leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would allow. “The diner?” she echoed, a spark of excitement in her voice.

“Yes.” Bailey had thought he might cancel after what happened earlier—he’d looked eager to rip someone’s face off. But she’d texted him before she left the center to see if he wanted to take a raincheck, and he’d told her he saw no need to cancel.

Aspen angled in her seat to face Bailey, all eagerness. “So, basically, you guys are going on a date?”

Bailey frowned. “What? No.”

“Well, what else do you call it?” asked the bearcat.

“A simple meet-up.”

Havana snorted. “Simple my ass.”

Ugh, did these women need to complicate everything? “It’s no different than when I go out for dinner with you guys,” Bailey defended, paraphrasing Deke.

“Oh, it’s very different, considering we’re not fucking you,” said Havana.

Bailey shot her a look in the rearview mirror. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The devil rolled her eyes. “It’s a date, Bailey—admit it.”

“It isn’t, just as it isn’t a date when he and I sometimes eat together at his place.”

Havana raised a finger. “Those two things are not the same. One happens in public. The other doesn’t. For him to take you out, he’s making a statement to all and sundry—including you—that you’re not a mere bedmate.”

“But he’s not taking me out,” Bailey told her. “He asked me to meet him there.”

“Don’t split hairs. This is a date.” Havana planted a hand on Bailey’s headrest. “Let me ask you this: Did any of your other bed-buddies take you places?”

“They sometimes offered,” replied Bailey. “I said no.”

“Why?”

Bailey shrugged. “I saw no point in pretending that we had something we didn’t.”

“And you were managing their expectations. Right?”

“Well, yeah.” It had seemed better to do so. And most of them had annoyed her snake anyway.

“You didn’t say no to Deke. Why not?”

Bailey lifted her shoulders. “We have an arrangement complete with an approximate end date.” One she did hope would be given an extension. “There’s no chance of anyone getting muddled about where they stand.”

“It’s more than that.”

It was, yes. He’d said something that made her chest go tight and warm and, more, caused her snake to melt a little. The words had taken Bailey so off-guard that she hadn’t been able to think of an argument. She shifted in her seat. “He said he likes having me around.”

“Aw,” drawled Aspen.

“I knew he did,” claimed Havana, smug. “I just knew it. A guy like Deke was never going to let a little goading hold him at arm’s length.”

“I’m sure your snake is delighted, considering he passed her test,” said Aspen, a smile in her voice.

Bailey flicked her a sideways look. “What test?”

The bearcat sighed. “Bailey, you’re a huge pain in the ass in just about every way possible. Your snake is no better—she’s aggressive to just about everybody, even if she likes them. You push people to encourage them to give you space. She does it to see if they have the balls to get closer. If they don’t, she decides they’re useless.”

“She did it to my devil and to Aspen’s bearcat,” Havana added. “Many times, actually. And when we didn’t let her scare us off and she saw we’d accepted you as you are, she relaxed with us and let us in. So did you.”

Bailey opened her mouth to deny it … and realized she couldn’t. She hadn’t given it any real thought before—self-reflection wasn’t something she spent much time on, and she didn’t much reflect on her snake’s behavior either. “I didn’t realize that’s what she was doing,” she mumbled.

“I know,” said Aspen, her voice soft. “I take it she’s not as determined to resist his charms anymore.”

No, the mamba wasn’t. She’d given him her silent approval … illustrating that, yes, he had in fact passed her little test.

“And neither are you.” Havana gently poked Bailey’s shoulder. “I think you pushed Deke so much harder than you do others to keep him away because you knew it would sting if he wrote you off and proclaimed he couldn’t deal with you.” She paused. “Has he hinted at keeping your little arrangement going?”

Bailey shook her head. “He hasn’t mentioned the arrangement at all.”

The Alpha let out a low hum. “So there have been no subtle ‘remember this is only temporary’ messages?”

“No. But Deke doesn’t do subtle.”

“True,” Havana conceded. “And if he hasn’t verbally reminded you that you two will soon part, that’s pretty telling. I’ve seen how he is with you. Not lovey-dovey or gentle by any means, no, but Deke is not cuddly. What I’m getting at is … he gives you his full attention. He stays close, as if to leap between you and any threat if need be.”

“And he spars with you in a way he doesn’t with others,” said Aspen. “He’s full-on. He doesn’t tone himself down. Like he lowers his guard with you; trusts that you’ll take him as he is. You do the same with him.” She reached over and tapped Bailey’s thigh. “You’d like if he offered you more. Admit it.”

Bailey cast her a brief, foul look. “Don’t wanna. You can’t make me.”

Havana chuckled. “You don’t need to be spooked by this, Bailey. It’s a good thing, it—”

A crack split the air a mere millisecond before something slammed into the tire. The car juddered and then tilted downwards, the now-burst tire screeching as the vehicle swerved abruptly.

Her heart slamming against her ribs, Bailey yanked on the wheel with a shocked curse, struggling to regain control of the car. But its left side dipped off the edge of the narrow road, unbalancing it … and then the vehicle flipped.

For excruciatingly slow moments, it was as if they were suspended in the air. Like time itself had paused. And then the world went tumbling.

The breath slammed from Bailey’s lungs as the safety belt snapped taut, hauling her against the seat with a vicious yank. Again and again the car flipped, whacking her body into the door, whipping her head from side to side. A billow of white bashed into her front, shoving her against the seat. But still, she was jerked and jostled.

There was an explosion of sounds—grinding, smashing, banging, crunching, startled female cries. All kinds of crap bounced around like pinballs and smacked into her.

Abruptly, the world stopped spinning. Her body stopped moving. The explosive sounds came to a halt.

Bailey blinked, her dazed mind struggling to assimilate what had just happened. Her primitive hindbrain was going nuts, but it was like her higher functions had shut down. She simply sat there, numb. Not even the shoves and bites from her frantic snake were penetrating her fog.

Beneath the ringing of her ears and the pounding of her heart was a hissing sound. Smoke? Air? She didn’t know.

A warm wetness dampened her hair and dripped down her face. She knew it was blood. She could smell it—it mingled with the scents of gas, burned rubber, and the airbag’s talcum powder.

A female groan.

The pained sound gripped Bailey’s heart and made it skip a beat. Awareness steadily pierced her daze, and reality crashed into her hard.

A shot. A shot had rang out. And then the car had swerved like a nut and sailed over the edge of the road.

Bailey gritted her teeth. Anger and adrenaline surging through her, she shoved at the airbag until it deflated with a small gust of chalky powder. “Please tell me you guys aren’t dead.”

“Not dead,” mumbled Aspen as Havana said, “Peachy over here.”

Relief tumbled through both Bailey and her snake. “I say we get out of this car. Like now.”

“I second that,” said Aspen.

“Works for me,” added Havana with yet another groan of pain.

Bailey wasn’t feeling in any better shape. Burning twinges could be felt here and there, along with a massive ache in her head. And God, she felt like she’d taken a dozen punches to the chest, thanks to the belt and airbag. “I know I hit my head pretty hard, but I’m not imagining it that someone actually just shot out my tire to make us crash, am I?”

“No,” Havana grunted, struggling with her safety belt. “No, you’re not.”

Motherfucking fucker. She dragged in a breath—which made pain flare through her already sore chest. “Okay. Just wanted to be sure.”