"Totally. Now stop protecting him and put him on."

He did. "You're a pain in the ass, Riley," Rhoan said, voice croaky and words slightly slurred. "Why the hell are you ringing at this hour?"

"Thought you might like to know about the visitor I just had."

He paused, then said, "Have you been drinking again?"

"Not since last night."

"Then why the hell would you be ringing me in the middle of the night about a visitor? If you're that damn lonely, come home."

"The visitor's name was Blake."

"So?"

"As in, Blake Jenson. Former second-in-command, now leader, of the Jenson red pack."

He paused, then said, "Fuck."

I dropped down on a chair and draped a leg over the padded arm. "Something I said more than once."

"What the hell was Blake doing on Monitor Island?"

"He wasn't here in body, just in spirit."

"What?" Bedsheets rustled as Rhoan moved. Liander muttered something about coffee and my brother made a grunt of agreement before adding, "How can he be there in spirit alone?"

"I'm presuming it's some form of astral travel. He said clairvoyance is a pack inheritance, so maybe the traveler bit is an offshoot of that."

"Maybe." He didn't sound convinced. Whether it was the whole traveler bit or my sanity was anyone's guess. "What did this spirit want?"

"My help."

"Okay, now I know you're yanking my chain. Pigs will fly before Blake would ask for our help."

"Better start ducking those flying piggies then, bro, because I'm totally serious."

He blew out a breath, "What help did he want?"

"Patrin's daughter has gone missing. He reckons it's connected to three other occurrences of missing females. He's even contacted the parents of one. Apparently, the one connection between them all is the feet that vacationed on Monitor Island for a few days before they disappeared."

"If they've disappeared, let the cops handle it."

"I did mention that we don't do disappearances, but he seemed intent on ignoring that."

"Then ignore him right back. There's not a whole lot he can do about it. We're out of the pack and beyond his control."

"He threatened to kill Mom if we didn't help him."

Rhoan didn't say anything for several long minutes. I got up and walked over to the bar fridge, opening it and retrieving one of the chocolate bars the hotel provided. They were hideously expensive, but then, everything on this island was.

"We have no responsibility for our mother," Rhoan said eventually. "She washed her hands of us when we left."

"She could have washed her hands of us when we were conceived. She didn't. She raised us not only against pack wishes, but against the wishes of her own father. We owe her our existence, Rhoan. If nothing else, we should repay the debt."

He muttered something I couldn't quite catch, then the bed sheets rustled again. Perhaps Liander had come back with the coffee. I tore the chocolate wrapper off with my teeth and bit into the rich treat. It was mint chip—not my favorite, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"What does Blake want?"

"For us to find Patrin's daughter."

"And the others?"

"I don't think he cares about them, other than the fact they might provide useful leads."

Rhoan snorted. "He hasn't changed any, then."

"He's the leader of the pack now, Rhoan. He has the power he always longed for, and it shows."

"The bastard couldn't possibly get any more arrogant."

"You want to bet?"

"No." He paused, and must have taken a sip of coffee, because the slurp came down the line. "If the cops and missing persons can't find them, what makes him think we can?"

"He knows we're guardians."

"For someone who never wanted to see us again, he seems to know an awful lot about us."

"Because he wants our help, and he intends to get it one way or another."

Rhoan sighed. "So, what arc you ringing me to do?"

"He's sending me a picture of Adrienne, as well as the information he has on the other missing girls. I'll pass a copy on to you. I need you to sec what you can find about Adrienne's whereabouts over the past week."

"You'll check your end?"

"Yeah. Though I'm not expecting any big revelations. The fact that they all disappeared after they'd returned home suggests there has to be some factor other than this island."

"You'd think so." He yawned. "Is that it?"

"For now. Enjoy the rest of your night, bro."

"Thanks, bitch."

I grinned. "I'm sure Liander will be willing to rock you to sleep."

"I'm sure he won't. I might just puke, the way my stomach is feeling. I'll ring tomorrow if I find anything."

"Good. Night." I'd barely hung up when the phone bleeped to indicate an incoming message. From Blake. He certainly wasn't wasting any time. I forwarded a copy of the entire file to Rhoan, then finished the rest of the chocolate and rose to my feet. The size of the file suggested there was a fair bit of information, and there was no way I was going to scroll through it all on the itty-bitty phone screen. I didn't have a laptop with me, but the hotel had a business center in their main lobby. I grabbed another bar of chocolate from the fridge, then headed over to the next cove.

The lobby was deserted. Though there was a concierge on duty, he was probably in a back room sipping coffee and watching the football replays. I padded across to the business center and swiped my keycard through the slot. The door clicked and I pushed it open. The only light in the room was the pale blue glow coming from the computer monitors, which was fine by me. I could see perfectly well in the dark, and if I turned on the lights, I might attract the attention of the concierge. And yakking about banalities wasn't in my plans at three in the morning.

I moved the mouse to get the screen up and running, then attached the phone to the USB port and opened the file. I'd been right—it was huge, and filled with various comments, photos, a sketch of the man Adrienne had supposedly met on the island, and reports from the various police departments. Obviously, Blake had some very serious contacts if he was able to get hold of these.

I flicked through the files, scanning the information. Not all the women lived in Melbourne—one lived in Ballarat, a regional city in the heart of Victoria, and the other lived in Yarrawonga, a city on the border of Victoria and New South Wales.

And despite what Blake had said, all four women had actually disappeared at different times after their return home. The first victim had disappeared close to eight days after, and the other two at day three and day five. Adrienne had the shortest time gap—she'd vanished straightaway. None of the women had been seen since, and there'd been no credit or banking activity in any of their accounts.

The other women were remarkably similar in looks, too. They were all tall and athletic—the sort that looked as if they could run twenty miles without a drop of sweat marring their makeup—and all three had blonde hair, and either blue or green eyes. Adrienne was the odd one out in that her hair was red and her eyes gray, but it wasn't the classical red of our pack, more a wispy, dark-strawberry blonde.

Which suggested Adrienne's mom wasn't red pack. Once upon a time, that would not have been possible, but just before we'd been kicked out of the pack, our grandfather had overturned the age-old policy that forbid the red pack breeding with anyone other than red pack members—a policy meant to maintain the so-called purity of the pack he and past alphas had prized so much—and had finally allowed the intermingling with other packs and colors. In an effort, of course, to counter the pack's increasingly problematic fertility issues and the declining birthrate. It was a policy Blake had obviously allowed to continue if the pack was now prosperous.