The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

lived, ate, satisfied my salted-caramel ice cream cravings, and got my clothes dry cleaned all on the same street. In the end, it was cheaper to Uber when I needed a ride.

“How come?” Mom narrowed her mascaraed eyes.

I shrugged one shoulder and shoveled sausage into my mouth until I felt like a squirrel getting ready for winter. I had never been able to lie to Mom. I thought getting older would help, but the woman’s eyes were like squishy lie detectors.

She waved her fork around. “Are you done?”

I swallowed thickly and plastered on a smile. “Good sausage, Mom.”

“Same sausage you’ve been eating for twenty years. From DiGregorio’s. Now, spit it out.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That would just be gross.”

Mom gave a tired sigh and patiently waited for me to break down and spill every single bean. I pondered how to start: the piecemeal method or the ripped-off-the-Band-Aid one. After a moment’s thought, I decided the former had no real benefits, the chew-out would be the same either way. Besides, she would eventually find out. She always did. Gossip spread through The Hill like a tsunami.

“I need the car because I’m staying with Rosalina, and I gotta go to the police station to talk to Tom to tell him I’m gonna help him track Stephen Erickson.” No doubt she’d read the papers and knew of the kidnapping and the brewing war, so I didn’t elaborate. And cleverly, I left out all mention of Jake.

Mom did a slow blink as she processed what I’d just said. As the full meaning of my words hit, her face went red. I winced, waiting for it: a rant, a scolding, an are-you-out-of-your-mind? But all I got was a “hmm” before she resumed pushing pieces of egg around the plate.

Odd.

I sipped my tea and watched her over the rim of the cup. I waited. Still nothing. I should’ve considered myself lucky and left it at that, but I was a glutton for punishment.

“No... disapproving words?”

“Oh, there are plenty of them spinning ‘round in my head,” she admitted.

“But...?”

She picked up both our plates and took them to the sink. “But I think you know what they are.” She scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal, then pulled the Camaro’s keys out of the junk drawer.

“Here you go.” She deposited them in my hand.

I frowned at The Gateway Arch keychain. Dad had gotten it during our first and only visit to the monument. He had let me pick it and said, “For our car.” I was the only one ever interested in helping him work on it after he got it. Leo had already left home, and Daniella and Lucia didn’t care about getting their hands greasy or spending hours polishing metal to a perfect shine. More than anything, I’d loved spending time with Dad.

Mom laid a hand on my shoulder.

I glanced up.

“In the past year,” she said, “you’ve surprised me with your decisions and everything you’ve done to pull yourself out of a dark place. You’re a big girl now, Antonietta. And big girls make their own decisions.”

Aw, that was nice. It sounded like Mom finally trusted me.

Should I tell her about Jacob Knight’s involvement?

Nah, that would just undo a very nice moment.

Mom smiled. “I’d like you to come for lunch one day this week. I’ll cook you creamy tortellini.”

Yum, my favorite!

“Just take care,” Mom added, “and don’t get tangled up with Jake Knight again, m-kay?”

I DROVE THE CAMARO with the top down, enjoying the way the engine roared and the wind blew in my hair. When I approached the police department, I prolonged the inevitable and took a few laps around the block, enjoying myself a little more.

Finally, I parked in a spill-over lot and crossed the street, almost turning tail a couple of times, though the image of that severed finger quickly set me back on track. I was glad I could work on this with Tom. He would have my back and wouldn’t try to take advantage of me. I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else in the police department. Too many crooked cops.

A small white van sat in front of the door, a logo that read “Vinnie’s Donuts” stamped on the side.

A woman was digging in the back, stacking several boxes on top of each other. Despite my nice breakfast at Mom’s, a donut sounded pretty good, preferably a chocolate sprinkle one. Maybe Tom would give me one.

To my dismay, when I walked in, the first person I saw was Jake Knight. He was talking to a uniformed police woman and noticed me before I had a chance to scurry back outside. Immediately, he apologized to the officer and marched in my direction.

Dammit! I wished I knew what he drove, so I could avoid him. The woman with the donuts walked past me headed for the front desk. She deposited her load on a far corner of the counter and walked back out at a clipped pace. She gave me a dirty look when she noticed me watching her.

Disgruntled much?! She probably hated donuts and any donut-vores that gave her dreamy eyes as if she were some sort of candy fairy.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asked sarcastically. “Come to ask about your break-in?”

“None of your business,” I answered like a twelve-year-old, but hey, he’d started it.

He was wearing an aviator jacket with a plain white T-shirt inside. His jeans were well-worn and molded to his muscular thighs like soft butter molds to toast. Hot damn!

A couple of female officers walked by and blatantly checked out his derrière, reminding me of high school all over again.

“Yeah, guess it isn’t any of my business,” he said.

Just as he started to leave, Detective Tom Freeman walked out of his office and waved. I gave him a smile. Jake glanced back over his shoulder and glared at the detective.

Then, the donuts exploded.

Chapter 16

The world rumbled, and I flew off my feet and slammed against the wall behind me.