Page 24 of Owl’s Cherished Mate

My right hand left the steering wheel and found hers in the dark. I didn’t plan it. Didn’t even think about it. My hand just moved the way my owl moved when something mattered—without hesitation or second-guessing.

Her fingers were cold. The second our skin touched, something jolted through me—sharp and warm, like a current running from her hand straight into my chest. My owl went completely still.

She stiffened.

I knew it was because she’d felt it too. I could tell by the way her breath caught.

For a second, I thought she’d pull away. Then her hand turned under mine, and her fingers slid between mine.

Darren’s place was dark when we got there. There were no lights on and no car in the driveway.

“He’s not here,” Bonnie said.

“Where else would he go?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice shook. “I don’t even know where Cade lives. He could be anywhere. I guess take me home. I’ll have to wait until he comes back.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She smoothed a hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said, meaning it.

I turned around and we drove back through town. As I drove, I took it slow, checking parking lots and the spaces between buildings while my owl strained for any sign of movement.

We were near the docks when I saw it.

At the far end, past the last row of fishing boats, a pickup truck was backed up close to the water with its tailgate down. A utility lamp sat in the truck bed, casting a harsh yellow glow across the dock.

Nobody had any business down there at almost two in the morning.

“Gray,” Bonnie said, and I knew she’d seen it too.

I killed the headlights and pulled over, out of their line of sight.

Three figures moved around the truck. Two I recognized even at a distance, and my owl went rigid.

Darren stood off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the other two. He had the posture of a man overseeing an operation he’d done a hundred times. Cade was the second figure. He was hauling something from one of the boats—equipment, it looked like—and passing it off to be loaded into the truck bed.

The third figure was smaller. Thinner. He moved in sync with Cade, but whatever he was carrying looked too heavy for him.

That had to be Lawson.

Bonnie’s hand tightened on mine so hard I felt her nails bite into my skin.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “That’s him.”

We sat in the dark and watched.

Lawson carried what looked like a marine radio to the truck and set it in the bed with the rest. There was already a pile of stuff back there. From here, it looked like coils of copper wire, some tools, and electronics stripped from the boats. Cade said something to him, and Lawson nodded and jogged back toward the slip for another load. The way he moved made it seem as though he’d done this before.

This wasn’t sneaking out. It wasn’t rebellion or teenage stupidity either.

It was straight-up theft.

He was helping Darren and Cade strip boats at the docks while the town slept. My owl shrieked with a fury I hadn’t felt in years. Every predatory instinct I had locked onto Darren and his brother with a cold, calculated focus.

Fucking vultures.