Auctioned Mates Revenge
Chapter 43

I couldn't breathe. I wasn't sure how to respond to her statement. I swallowed and tried to think of the easiest place to start.

"What makes you think that?"

She looked at me, her eyes narrow and glinting with fury.

"My father would never join those people that conspired against our alpha. He's not a traitor!"

I frowned looking down at the photo then back at Grace. I picked up the pen and took note, "It seems like we should have added you to the interview list."

If I had known that Grace had also come from an ambushed pack, I would have made it a point to interview her. Then again, I wasn't entirely sure that she would have told me anything if this hadn't popped up.

Her eyes widened and she winced, "He knows where I am from."

And when did you have that discussion?

I thought it had just been in her records or something, but I pushed that thought aside and got ready to take notes on everything she could tell me. Alyssa huffed in indignation.

"Tell me everything you remember," I said, "Don't leave out any details. If you're right about your father, then there's a chance that he's in danger."

She fiddled with a napkin, tearing it into small pieces like a nervous habit. Her mouth thinned to a tense line as she stared at it. I could almost hear the gears of her mind turning, trying to turn over the issue and find a way to make sense of it. Grace grimaced, "They wouldn't kill him."

"Why?"

"He's the only one who knows the Blue Ice recipe." She huffed, "My uncle died in the attack trying to protect me. They need him alive. That area of the continent is harsh, even for werewolves."

Frost Pelt's main export had always been Blue Ice wolfsbane whiskey. It had been the lifeblood of the pack along with their fur production. Frost Melt was the new name of the pack that had been there before.

She sniffled, "But if he's... alive, then how can I be sure? It's not as though I can say my father is an exception to the rule just because he's my father."

Her eyes turned bitter, "As far as I'm concerned, no man can be trusted out of hand."

I winced. I agreed and I could understand her stance. Still, if this man was her father, I know she wanted to see him again, to confirm it for herself. This felt like it would be beyond me to organize. After all, the pack's inbox was monitored by the pack's administrator. Sending him an email wasn't a secure method and there were no office phone numbers listed.

She wasn't even sure that he had unmonitored access to a phone line even if there was a number she could call. Grace looked at me.

"Are your calls traced?" Grace asked, "Can he see the calls you make?"

"If I make them from my phone," I nodded, "But if I use another service, no."

It was something I'd learned from another prostitute who would call one of her more stable clients at night to have phone s*x or lure him in. That man had bought her about three months into her starting and I'd never seen her again. She was one of the nicest, craftiest women I had ever met.

I searched the app store for what she used to use and couldn't find it. There were others, but I didn't want Matt to be able to check what apps I had downloaded. At least with a covert browser and a clearing of my history, I could hide my activity.

I searched the web for it, and it popped up quickly. I registered for a free trial account and linked it to a throwaway email that I wouldn't leave linked in my phone before opening the dial pad.

Her hands trembled as she took the phone, "I can call overseas?"

"Yeah," I nodded, but I didn't understand why she would need to. Frost Pelt was just in upper north America.

"And the number, would they be able to call back if I hung up?"

"No, it's a randomly generated number."

She took a steadying breath before typing in a string of numbers and pressing the call button.

It rang twice before a woman's voice came through, "You've reached Zima Refinery's main office, how may I direct your call?"

Grace lifted her head, "I'm calling to about a large order I'd like purchased and delivered to stock a club. Could you tell me how soon a batch of 100 bottles would be ready?" She hummed, "Hold on, just a moment."

Her voice turned distant as she called for someone to come to the phone. I could hear people speaking before the woman came back on the line.

"I'm going to give you over to our master distiller, now. He should be able to answer your questions."

A man spoke, "This is Gordon Zima. I understand you want a batch of 100?"

Grace's eyes widened, she covered her mouth, stifling her breath before putting the phone on mute.

"Hello?" He asked.

She took in shuddering breaths as if she was slipping into a panic attack. She went pale as she shook and hyperventilated. I reached for her, wrapping my arms around her. "Breathe with me," I said, taking a deep exaggerated breath. "You have to calm down or you're going to pass out."

She gasped and panted, "I-I-I ca-can't breathe."

"Hello?" Gordon asked again, "Are you still there? I think the connection is bad."

"Matt will be back soon," I said. She let out a soft sob, clinging to me and struggling to match my breathing. "It will be okay Just breathe for now."

"We can't tell him," Grace said, her eyes wide with fear as she grabbed the phone. She ended the call. "I don't know what he'll do." "What do you mean?"

Grace averted her gaze, "Teagan O'Brian went to school with Ben Wallber... She bragged about it all the time. They're good friends."

I gasped. I had never imagined that Grace knew the alpha of the pack that had taken over her old pack. This was huge. There was no telling what sort of insights we'd get about Warhammer's movements. Matt might be able to call and set up a meeting. Maybe he knew Teagan well enough to have some more insight into the situation.

I met her gaze, hesitant to agree. Her eyes were pleading with me. I wasn't sure if it was because she wasn't ready to see her father yet, to confront the truth, or was just afraid of what Matt would think of her, but I found myself folding the paper and slipping it quietly into my bra. Grace darted away from the table and down the hall to the hallway bathroom. The door closed behind her just before Matt rounded the corner.

"What smells so good?" Matt asked, loosening his tie. "I'm starving."

"Grace is making pasta." I smiled at him, "Do you like pasta?"

He grinned, "Only when it's good and al dente."

I had no idea what that meant, but I nodded. Matt went to go change into something comfortable as Grace returned. The redness in her eyes was gone. She forced a smile on her face and hurried towards the stove to lean over the boiling pot and stir. It was genius, letting the steam turn her face red and filling the air with the scent of pasta to mask the tears.

"I... have so much to learn," I said staring at her.

Grace's lips twitched, "I'll teach you whatever I can..."

"We'll talk later?"

She worried her lip, glancing down the hall, and nodded, "Maybe I'll get a chance to interview you as well."

I hesitated as our gazes met. It didn't seem like she was in the same position I was, but at the least, it was clear that I was holding a secret for her. It seemed fair that she held one for me.

"I know sometimes it's nice to just have someone you don't have to pretend with," Grace said, "I could see you and Zoe had that with each other. You don't have to, of course."

Could I trust her? I sighed. Who were my other options? Matt? I wavered between wondering if he would replace me or kill me too often to trust him. The girls Matt had bought would keep their peace because they were in the same boat, but what about Grace? What if my secret became a bargaining chip to reunite with her father one day?

What if her secret became a bargaining chip?

"I'll think about it."

Grace smiled and nodded as she took the pot off the stove, "I think you know more than you think."

She poured the contents of the pot into a strainer as Matt returned and I wondered how much more I had to learn.

"Grace needs a phone."

Matt blinked and looked at her, "You don't have a phone?"

Grace shook her head, "Felix didn't allow it."

Matt huffed, "You'll have one by tomorrow."