Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (7 page)

              “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what is going on,” she lied, although it was closer to the truth than she cared to admit. She really had no idea what was going on or who was doing the killing but she had a pretty good idea why.

              He stared at her a few minutes longer, the silence telling, then stood up and pulled a card out of his jacket. “If you remember anything, even if you don’t think it’s related, give me a call and let me know.” A pleased look flitted across his face when she pocketed it. 

              “You are free to go.”

              Layla grabbed her hoodie and walked out of the interrogation room and into the main lobby of the police precinct where she waited for Martin to be done with whatever he was doing, her mind intent on simply getting out of that place.

*

              Brett was still not home by the time Layla got back. She checked her messages, surprised that she had no missed calls or text messages from him. She dialed his number and frowned when it went straight to voicemail. What the fuck? It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust Brett, but the last time he didn’t call her, he was tied to a chair in Suzette’s house and her pack was drinking his blood like he was a keg on tap. It made her feel helpless if something was to happen to him again because of her.

              She walked out to the living room where her aunt was seated watching a game show with Nali and she kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Hey, have you seen Brett?”

              Susan looked up. “No, hon. He hasn’t called you?”

              Layla shook her head. “And my calls are going straight to voicemail.”  She chewed her bottom lip. “He didn’t tell you where he was going, did he?” she asked hopefully and silently groaned when her aunt shook her head.

              The older woman patted the couch next to her. “He’s a grown man, Layla. He can take care of himself. If he has his phone turned off, I am sure it’s for a good reason.”

              She nodded but didn’t sit. Her stomach was churning. Martin had been encouraging her to listen to her gut and it was telling her something was wrong. She didn’t know if it was Brett or if something was going to happen to her, but she felt almost ill. Leaning against the wall, her mind was a million miles away when her aunt spoke again.

              “So, did you get everything with school straightened out?”

              “Except for one class, I got independent research study.” She shrugged. “Basically, I have to research a topic in the subject area and write a paper about it. A very long, detailed paper.” She straightened as she heard Martin in the kitchen.

              “Sounds like you are on the right track.” Susan looked towards the kitchen. “Go and ask Martin. I can see you are chomping at the bit to ask about Brett.” She turned back to her show.

              Layla raced to the kitchen. Martin sat with a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. 

              “Before you ask, he did not tell me where he was going. He simply said he needed to research something and that he will be back in a few days. He tried to call you but I guess you didn’t answer.” Martin shrugged. “That’s it.”

              “When did you talk to him?”

              “When you were at the station. He called me and asked for the name of one of my contacts at the Smithsonian.”

              Layla frowned. The Smithsonian? What the hell was Brett up to? She walked back to her room. And how the hell did she miss his call? 

              She barely slept that night, tossing and turning; her stomach in knots, her bed too big and too empty without Brett.  The sun was barely rising when she woke and padded to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Martin was in the same seat she had left him in the night before.

              “Still not back?” he asked. 

              It was rhetorical. Martin’s hearing and sense of smell was far better than hers andas far as she could tell, he had stayed up all night, perhaps waiting for Brett himself. She tried to put her fears of Brett out of her mind but her head kept replaying the dream where Suzette had bit him.

*

              Even though she had gotten up early, somehow she still arrived late to class. She had dallied, subconsciously waiting for Brett, even calling his phone a few more times and cursed in frustration when each call was forwarded to voicemail. Anger started to replace her concern and fear and instead of hoping he was okay, she was wishing him to hell. 

              She gripped her jacket tighter around her body and balanced her coffee cup in one hand as she exited the cab. Since she was trying to stay under the radar, showing up in Brett’s car was a sure way to stand out on her college campus.

              The hallways were bustling with students trying to finish last minute assignments before Thanksgiving break in less than a few weeks. Everywhere she looked were signs of the holidays; paper cut-outs of turkeys, pumpkins and pilgrim hats adorned almost every wall of the school and the community outside.  Even her local coffee shop was advertising their holiday pumpkin and spice coffee, which she had graciously declined this morning when she’d purchased her regular brew.

              The Gateways Mentoring office was empty as she walked through the glass doors and the receptionist welcomed her with a wave. 

              “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

              Layla waved back. “It’s going great. You?”  She smiled as she walked up to the girl who was pantomiming shooting herself in the head. “I was told yesterday that I could test out of the GT program and that I was to come here to get the computer test code.”

              The receptionist frowned. “No one left a computer code, just a note.” She handed a slim, white envelope to Layla.

              She tore it open and unfolded a letter from her professor. 

              “Layla,” it read, “I am so sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to test out until after midterms.  GT policy clearly states this and it is in your contract.  I will be happy to allow you to test out when we return from Thanksgiving break, but in the meanwhile I need to peer you with a new student. 

              Your other mentee, Brett Guzman, withdrew from the college, so to maintain your standing as a mentor I will have you work with Ray Johnson.  He is a great guy and I know you two will get along.  He is former military and needs advice about which classes he should take to accomplish his chosen degree and adjusting to campus life.  Thanks so much.”

              Layla bit back a frustrated groan and wished that she could simply test out of the course and call it a day. She had looked forward to being able to get off campus and stay hidden. Now she would have to meet with some random guy, who could quite possibly get in her way or worse, hurt. At least, if he was okay with it, they could arrange to meet once a week instead of the required three days. Either way, she would have to show up to campus to log her hours.

              The receptionist smiled wryly at her. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was a surprise. I’ve got more bad news, I’m afraid,” she said as Layla turned towards the entrance to leave. “He’s already here waiting for you.”

              “Are you kidding?”

              The other girl shook her head. “No. Sorry. He is in the conference room.”  She leaned towards Layla, her lips curved into a wide smile. “At least he’s cute.”

              With a resigned sigh, Layla nodded and accepted the folder the receptionist handed her. She shoved it into her purse as she walked towards the conference room. Cute or not, hopefully if she explained the situation, he would understand and would be willing to work with her on the modifications to their schedule.

              She chewed her lip as she thought about what she would do if he was unwilling to follow her lead; after all he was former military and from her experience with Martin, they could be quite stubborn. It would suck, but she would have to deal with it. 

              Pushing open the door, she stopped short. The receptionist was right. The guy was gorgeous. He sat reclined in the seat, one ankle resting lightly on one knee. His dark jeans highlighted the dark of his hair and he wore a polo shirt with the collar flipped up while his hair was trimmed low on the sides with a faux Mohawk going on in the middle. He looked like a certified rule-breaking badass. A sexy as hell rule-breaking badass.

              Layla walked over to him, her purse banging against her torso and reached out a hand, blushing when she realized it was the hand that held her coffee cup. “Sorry, I’m Layla,” she said, quickly laying her cup on the large table. “I’m your new mentor.”

              He smiled at her, a slow grin that made heat pool low in her belly. “Ray.”

              His voice was gravelly and deep and her knees felt weak. She was embarrassed by her response to him. Not that she was around gorgeous men every day, but she’d seen enough to know that he was not the cutest and she had never had this reaction; not to mention her boyfriend who had went through hell for her. What was wrong with her? 

              She met his brown eyes and smiled again. “Um…well, let’s see. I’m supposed to get you settled, right?”

              He shrugged lazily, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

              Closing her eyes briefly, she sighed at how inept she sounded. “Sorry, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, but, first things first. Let’s take a look at your schedule.” 

              Pulling out the copy from the folder she had been given, her eyes brow rose slightly. He was enrolled in all of her classes. It was eerie, but she did have a lot of freshman classes, she scolded herself silently, secretly glad she was doing the independent research study. Based on her response to him, she just didn’t know if she would be able to handle seeing him every day, she thought, as she met his eyes and smiled. 

              Her stomach churned; she was being bad. She was virtually cheating on Brett. Just because some cute—gorgeous—guy walked into a room with his sexy brown eyes and dark brown hair and big muscles, oh my, didn’t mean she had to fall in lust. 

              She shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, still a tad sleepy. Long night.”

              He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “No worries,” he said, his eyes piercing. “I like the view.”

              Layla blushed. Okay, he had game as well. Damn. This was going to be a tough couple of weeks, she thought as she tried to shake off the uneasiness which seemed to permeate the room.

*

              Brett stared at the old house in front of him. It was still painted the grotesque gray-green he had hated even as a kid. The red cedar tree in the front yard added to the contrast and he held fond memories of playing in it with his cousins. He released a steadying breath. It wasn’t as if he was not happy to be here, it was just that the last time he was here, it wasn’t under the best of terms and the last twelve hours had been hell since he had to travel all the way back home to North Carolina. 

              As nostalgic as he was now, there was not much he missed about his hometown of Charlotte. Like every other city, Charlotte had its good side and bad. His neighborhood was family oriented, but occasionally had its share of hoodlums. He grimaced. He had been one of those ‘hoodlums’ once. 

              He ran his hands through his hair. As uncomfortable as this was, he needed answers. It had never occurred to him that the one person he cared about more than anything in this world could possibly be connected to the one person he was trying to forget. But when Layla had uttered that one word, he had to come back here. 

              The rental car idled at the curb and he turned the heat a bit higher to combat the sudden chill that swept through him. Hania. The word his mother would wake up screaming. The last thing his father had said before he died. All that remained of the man who fathered him. Before he was murdered. 

              That was all he knew. At the time, he didn’t care about some random word that did not make sense to either of them. Until it had fallen from Layla’s lips. There had to be a connection. Between his father’s murder and Layla’s dreams. 

              Brett drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe that was why Mai-coh had spared him. Perhaps he had some hidden purpose other than hunting down Suzette. The door to the house opened and the older woman stepped out. Suddenly, he was nervous at this meeting and wiped his hands on his jeans. 

              The woman hunched her shoulders against the cold and Brett felt a twinge of guilt. In ten years, he had not looked back; he had not visited, not called. He hadn’t meant to be cruel; he was simply…scared.  His hands were stuffed deep into his winter jacket as he stepped out of the car. The woman’s eyes grew wide as she stared at him. 

              He smiled. “Hi mom.”

*

              Layla clutched her purse to her chest as she hugged her jacket tighter around her body. The cold seeped in past the lightweight material and she wished her bag was bigger to aid in blocking the wind. Her breath came in harsh gasps as she fought against the wind that threatened to push her into the parked cars. Almost everyone had already sought shelter and she was alone on this stretch of street.