Free BROKEN BLADE by J.C. Daniels

“I’m aware of what the job was.”
    I felt a flicker of heat—it was enough of a shock that I turned, hand instinctively going to the Eagle that rode my hip, but Chang was still staring outside. “I’m quite familiar with the Banner job at this point,” he said. “And it doesn’t matter. Damon was angry. But despite his anger, he wouldn’t have stayed that way.”
    I absorbed those words and tried to let them settle inside. In the end, though, there was only one thing that I could think of. “What does it matter?” I asked quietly. The thick, lush carpet muffled my footsteps as I crossed over and settled in the seat across from his desk. It was the narrower one, the one he’d often pointed subordinates to when he was questioning them, dressing them down. It was a miserably hard affair, but I couldn’t sit in the other one. It had my back to the door and I couldn’t defend myself as easily from it.
    I sat down and focused on his back. “Whether he would have stayed angry or not, whether he and I would have tried to get things to work, none of that matters because that life is no longer mine.” I brushed my fingers along the tattoo on my neck. “The woman who left here five months ago no longer exists, Chang. She died up in the mountains in Canada. I’m not her.”
    “No?” He turned around and for the first time, he looked at me. There was sadness in his eyes and it bothered me. I didn’t like seeing my friends sad. I guess I still considered him a friend. “She’s not dead—I see her in front of me, Kit. You are still her.”
    “No.” I held his gaze. Not that many knew just how much had changed. I wasn’t going to educate them. But the very basic part that made me who I was—she was gone . “Jude broke her and then he killed her. I’m all that’s left and I’m still trying to figure out what that is.”
    His gaze shifted to the tattoos on my neck, lingering there. Slowly, he nodded and then he looked away again. “If that is how you choose to view it, then very well. Why are you here, Kit?”
    Pulling the phone number from my pocket, I held it up for him. “I’m looking for the cat who used to have this number. I was given the name Kent. I was also lied to. But I need to find him.”
    “Kent isn’t the name of any shifter I know.” He flicked a look in my direction, studied the number. “Cat, rat or wolf. It’s not the first name or last, to my recollection.”
    “It could be a middle name. I don’t know.” Shrugging it off, I tossed the number on his desk. I trusted his recollections but I wasn’t letting it go at that. “As I said, I was lied to. A girl is involved. She’s scared. Said he used to hang around here. She tried to call the Lair and Sam gave her the run around, I’m told. The number is the one thing I have to go on and she wasn’t lying about the number or the fact that he’s a shifter. Can you find out who had that number?” He shifted his gaze to me, his black eyes troubled. Finally, though, he moved to his computer. “Computer, search database,” he said, reciting the number.
    “ Working ...”
    He tapped something on the keyboard. I couldn’t tell what from where I was sitting.
    The skin around his eyes tightened a little and then he looked back up at me. “I believe the cat you need works at the Lair. Whether or not he’s on shift now, I don’t know. Doyle would be of more use to you.”
    Doyle .
    I thought of the kid I’d rescued almost seven months ago. The boy who’d then rescued me.
    “I’ll just call him,” I said woodenly. Shoving out of the seat, I headed for the door.
    “Kit. Why did you come here instead of going to the Lair? If Sam knows the number, why not just ask her?”
    “Because I didn’t want to go to the fucking Lair,” I snapped, shooting him a dark look.
    He watched me soberly. “You have some issue asking Sam for the information you need?”
    I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. “The day that idiot bitch