Brennan greeted them with open arms. Actual open arms.
“We didn’t shake on it,” David muttered to Annette. “It wasn’t a real bet.”
“Crybaby.”
If Brennan’s warm welcome was an attempt to put them at ease, it flopped. Nobody should be that happy to see a scruffy PI or scruffier (they were still in yesterday’s clothes) caseworker from IPA.
“Hey, it’s people like you who keep the system running,” he beamed when they introduced themselves, which was so dumb, David had to make a deliberate effort not to roll his eyes. “What can I help you with?”
“Thank you for seeing us without an appointment.”
“No problem, no problem.”
“We’re tracking down some children who went missing after they were discharged from United,” Annette said. “We’re hoping you’ll be of assistance.”
Brennan plopped into his chair behind a desk that could have doubled as an oak moat: four feet wide, six feet long, and gleaming with generations of varnish. His office, located in the Hamm Building in downtown Saint Paul, was all dark, sleek wood, lush carpeting, and prints of random British people steeplechase-jumping on horseback. There was a huge globe in the corner which his family had probably lugged over on the Mayflower, a small fridge and wet bar beside the globe, and cubicles outside for the peons. It was like being on the set of Wall Street. The original, not the sequel. The only things missing were screaming brokers, shoulder pads, and frosted perms.
“Missing kids from United? If you’ve got my card… That’s how you found me, right? So then you know I found them.” He spread his hands in a What can you do? gesture. “So, again, what can I help you with?”
Annette studied the diplomas on the wall. “I thought you were an investigator, but you’re a lawyer.”
“I’m an investigator who passed the bar,” Brennan corrected with a grin. “What can I say? Double threat.”
Brennan was one of those Shifters who convinced David that discovery by the wider world was inevitable. Everything about the man screamed “werewolf.” Even Stables probably sensed it, though they wouldn’t know why he made them uneasy. When he smiled, he showed very white, very sharp teeth, with slightly elongated canines. His brown eyes were almond-shaped but under fluorescents they had a yellowish cast, and his cheekbones were so high and sharp they threw his face into shadow. He wore his dirty-blond hair slicked back to his collar, making his face seem longer. His black tailored suit showed off his lean build; his hands looked strong, and his no-polish manicured nails looked sharp. He looked like he could run a deposition or attack a flock of sheep at any moment.
“Have we met?” Annette asked suddenly, turning away from the ego wall to study Brennan’s face.
“I don’t think so. I’d remember someone like you.” This, followed by a broad grin that made David want to play amateur dentist.
He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Brennan—”
Brennan’s eyebrows arched, though he didn’t seem put out. If anything, the smile got wider. He likes this stuff to be out in the open. Okay.
“—nobody’s actually seen the cubs you said you found.”
“Said I found?”
“And some people—”
“Uh-oh, ‘some people.’” Brennan grinned. “That sounds bad.”
“—think that you didn’t actually find them. That all you did was manipulate some computer records to make it look like the kids were found.”
“Wow, you think a lot of my skills. I’m flattered, man.”
“No, you think a lot of your skills. And it’s apparently justified.” Annette tapped a framed diploma. “Bachelor of Science in Computer Science. And then law school.” She smiled back. “That sounds exhausting.”
Brennan warmed to Annette’s version of yummy cop. “I don’t need much sleep.”
“Lucky,” she replied. “Wish I could say the same.”
“Yeah, well, you bears have…other nice qualities.”
That’s it. Before the sun sets, this guy is gonna aspirate his molars.
Annette remained admirably uncreeped out. “But you see our problem, Mr. Brennan.”
“Greg, please.”
“Greg. You’ve clearly got the skills to make it look like those children were never missing. That they’re all safe and sound in various foster homes. So…how can we be sure? No offense.”
“None taken, none at all,” he replied promptly. “You’re only doing your job.”
“Well,” Annette said modestly, “we are dedicated public servants devoted to our work.”
“And this is too important to take some rando lawyer’s word. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
“Yep.” Time for grumpy cop to weigh in again. “That’s exactly right, Brennan.”
He glanced at David, a little irritated, then back at Annette, who got another toothy grin. “So, we’ll go see them. I’ll take you myself.”
Annette blinked. “You will?”
“I’m in and out of depos all day today—I mean, it’s kind of a miracle you were able to get in to see me at all—”
“We perform miracles on the daily,” David said. “Often before lunch.”
“—but I’ve got tomorrow morning wide open for you guys.” Brennan spread his hands again, like a saint blessing the poor. Or scamming them. “We can go see all of them, if you want.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh. Now what? They didn’t have the legal authority to make him drop everything and show the kits right this minute. Worse, he was being ridiculously reasonable, so they couldn’t make a fuss without drawing attention.
“That’s…really nice of you,” Annette said, blinking faster. David wondered if it was a tic. Only Annette could make it seem adorable. “We’re going to take you up on that.”
“Great! Can I get your numbers?” Grin. “Well. I really only need yours, Annette.” Smirk.
She giggled. David mentally begged his stomach not to erupt all over Brennan’s big-ass moat desk.
“We’re sorry to interrupt your workday,” Annette continued in a voice so sweet David could’ve used it for his coffee. “You must be so busy, being an investigator-slash-lawyer-slash-computer expert.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve actually got a memorial service this a.m. for a former client. I’m sure you know him. Well, knew him—Lund?”
“You’re Lund’s investigator? Or lawyer? Or computer programmer?”
“For years.” The ever-present grin finally disappeared. “Man, that guy was a pain in my ass. Took him on as a favor to my folks, and then I couldn’t get him off my neck.”
“Well, he’s off it now,” David pointed out.
“Thank God.” Brennan actually spun around in his chair like a bored kid. “I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but that guy was nothing but trouble for me. And who lets a sixteen-year-old werewolf get the drop on him?”
Nice abrupt segue. One with nothing at all to do with the missing kids, as far as this guy knows. Or is supposed to know.
“He was very understanding about the attack,” Annette said, her tone indicating she was also thrown by Brennan’s out-of-context mention of Caro. “Especially given the digit amputations and other injuries.”
“Yeah, I know. More interested in being a tough guy than paying attention. And then he gave you the brush-off, right?”
“Yes. It’s a tragedy that he was murdered only a few hours later.”
“Should’ve stayed where it was safe.” Brennan shrugged and licked his lips. Jesus. Stables must head for the hills when he does that. “Wanted to get back to his little pet shop instead.”
“Pet shop?”
“Sorry, sorry. ‘Exotic pets importer and exporter.’ Which he was weirdly proud of.” A snort. “But, yeah. Glorified pet-shop owner.”
David couldn’t be
lieve the waves of animosity coming off the guy. Was it possible Brennan could be an ally? Had he found out something unsavory about Lund but was constrained from action by attorney–client privilege? He glanced at Annette, then forced warmth into his tone. “That’s the drawback to being a lawyer, man. Can’t always pick your clients, even from the defense side.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No wonder you wanted to be an investigator, too. I don’t have any fancy suits,” he added, faking admiration for Brennan’s wardrobe choices, “but on the other hand, I don’t have to take on any client I don’t want.”
“Damned straight!” Brennan held up a hand, and for a second, David didn’t think he’d be able to do it. If there was any doubt this guy is a bad guy, that doubt has disappeared. Who high-fives a stranger? David managed a listless high five. “And I’ll tell you something else. Lund was a pain, but what happened to him? That was a real shame.”
“Oh yes.” From Annette. “Hopefully the police will be able to catch whomever did it.”
“That Caro girl did it.” Shrug. “At least, that’s the word.” Brennan popped out of his chair like a wolf-in-the-box. “Anyway. If you want to leave your contact info with my receptionist, we can meet up tomorrow. Eight o’clock okay?”
“Of course,” she replied. “We appreciate you taking the time to do this.”
“No prob. Nice meeting you. Both.”
“You too.” Annette shook his hand and smiled. David shook his hand and smiled. Brennan smiled back. Everyone looked at each other and smiled and smiled.
3 When souls collide, danger lurks, and love is the most dangerous weapon of all, fall into… The Darkest Hickey. (Don’t steal that, it’s mine!)
Chapter 28
Annette inspected her palm as David hung up one of the burners and tossed it in the back seat. “There’s not enough hand sanitizer in the world. And I need half-a-dozen Jolly Ranchers to get the taste out of my mouth. We only shook hands but I feel filthy.”
“Not a fan, huh?”
“The opposite of a fan. Ugh, that smile. I’m betting the caption on his yearbook picture read Most Likely to Date Rape.” She popped another red candy into her mouth. “Who’d you call?”
“Nobody,” David said with a distinctly guilty look.
“You called Oz? Is he okay?”
“Seems to be. And he’s checking on Caro and Dev.”
“I wish we didn’t have to use him like that.”
“Is it using him if he’s the one in a hurry to stick his head in the noose?” David cleared his throat. “I’ll rephrase…”
“Please don’t.”
“Annette, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed—”
“Oh, good God. Anytime someone says that, it’s always sarcastic and it always prefaces pointing out something that I have, in fact, noticed.”
“—but our allies are thin on the ground. We’ve got Nadia running all over town for us, but she’s just one person, and he wants to help. For Christ’s sake, he bled for us.”
“Because he is stupid! He is a stupid man who thinks he can handle real trouble, right up until the moment it whips around and gets him by the throat! And I am aware I sound heartless but I can’t do anything about that right now!”
“Oooooo-kay,” David added after what felt like a five-year silence. “Upside is he’s had plenty of time to turn us over to Gomph and he hasn’t.”
“Oh, he’d never do that,” she said at once. At David’s look, she added, “All right, yes, he drives me nuts. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got a bit of a food attachment issue—”
“No. Nope. Uh-uh. Never noticed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about food. Or seen you eat. At all. At any time. Not once.”
“—but Oz would never do anything to hurt me. On purpose, I mean. Just inconvenience me. All the damned time,” she added in a mutter. “When he was staying at Mama Mac’s, he’d never bust me for sneaking in late, but if I left so much as a piece of cake lying around, down his gullet it went. Half the time he wasn’t even hungry, just…he’d get spite munchies. God, he’s irritating.”
“Like a little brother.”
“Well. Yes.”
There was another short silence, broken by David’s “Aw. That’s cute.”
“Shut up.” She sighed. “Anyway. I knew what I was getting into when I told him about the opening in Accounting last year.”
David laughed.
“Again, shut up. How was I supposed to know he’d spend more time in our break room than theirs? Stop laughing. You’re going to drive us into a ditch.”
“It’s downtown Saint Paul. There aren’t any ditches.”
“So he bugs you, but you helped him get a job here.”
“Well, I can’t let him starve to death, can I?”
“Good point. You either help Oz get a job or he starves to death. No middle ground there. And I’m gonna put it out there…”
“Oooooh.”
“…because I already pissed you off by suggesting Nadia might be the mole. But what about Oz?” When she had no comment, he plunged ahead. “He’s relatively new. He bugged the shit out of you to let him help on this particular case. But why this one? You’re always taking care of cubs in trouble. So why now?”
“Those are good points,” Annette replied. Because objectively, they were. But her gut told her
(fuck no. impossible.)
otherwise. Also, her gut had a potty mouth. She thought about the brutality captured on film, the pain and desperation on the cubs’ faces, and the fury on Caro’s. She’d seen that fury before, and not just in the course of her duty.
“Oz Adway,” she said slowly and carefully, “would not hurt a cub if you had him by the throat. He wouldn’t abet abuse, even peripherally. And I deeply pity Lund’s nasty little colleagues if Oz finds them before we do.” She thought about it. “Well, I would pity them. But not deeply.”
“Where’s the money come from?”
“Pardon?”
“Adway dresses like he’s got a six-figure clothing budget.”
“Well. He does.”
“And he drives a Maserati. So why does he even work here? He’s rich.”
“He works here because of how he got rich. I can’t go into it,” she added, anticipating his question. “It’s not my story to tell. I’m aware that adds to our difficulty.”
There was another pause while David thought it over. “All right,” he said. “But I think we can agree that there is a mole. So who is it? Who was helping Lund?”
“Brennan?”
“He was skeezy,” David agreed, “but on the plus side, he sure didn’t like Lund. So it might be a mark in his favor. D’you think he found out what Lund was doing?”
“I wondered. But if he did, there were things he could have done or said to put that across to us. And if not us, someone else from IPA. There are ways around privilege, especially when the client is dead. And where the welfare of minors is concerned. But this…his contempt for Lund felt personal. Not just a professional thing along the lines of ‘Gosh, this client is such a pest!’”
“Tell you what—I’ve got the sudden urge to pay my respects to a dead pet importer-exporter. Think we can find out where the memorial is?”
“What a coincidence, I’ve got the same urge! Yes, and yes. And I’ll bet Nadia can help.” Annette grinned and grabbed a burner. “What’s crashing a memorial compared to obstruction, anyway?”
* * *
I love strawberry Jolly Ranchers now! Even if they’re like eating rock-hard sugar cubes steeped in artificial flavors and colors! Thanks to that glorious paean to cavities, she had David backed up against the changing-room door, her hands roaming beneath his shirt, his mouth doing wicked, astonishing things to her throat.
Also, this was all Nadia’s fault. She
was late. So they waited. And waited. And oops! Suddenly there was a piece of sticky candy in her hair. Just hanging there all by itself. In her hair. By accident. Which she couldn’t see. Because it was in her hair. By accident. But David, ever the gentleman
“Hang on, I think you’ve got something—Jesus.”
sprang to her assistance, and then she sprang to his, sort of, if springing meant grabbing and kissing and then hands everywhere and also she was very much afraid this was more than a physical attraction, more than random sex-fueled neurons firing because now she was wondering if he liked lakes or the ocean, movies or plays, salads or steaks (or both!), and that was bad, this wasn’t a love story, it was…something else. And the only thing to do was to take a page from Dory’s book: just keep kissing, just keep kissing, just keep kissing…
All of which came to an instant end when someone on the other side of the door hit it with enough force to rattle the thing on its hinges. They both jumped back, Annette managing to get it unlocked before more, noisier damage could be done. She knew the sound of those fists.
And there she was, rushing in, then closing and locking the door behind her. “Strip, morons.” When David and Annette exchanged a glance, Nadia all but threw the clothing at them. “Now!”
“Yikes.” David turned his back and began unbuckling his belt. Annette almost laughed, and hoped his erection would go down so he could get his pants off.
“You’re going to a memorial to presumably fake respect for a dead fuckwit, yes? How are you going to pull that off in yesterday’s rumpled clothes? Have either of you considered that? No? I thought not. Why does it smell like pheromones in here?”
“No idea,” Annette lied, ignoring David’s snort.
They were in the Super Target family restroom with Nadia and her bottomless bag of new clothes, which meant two werebears were trapped in a six-by-six box with an agitated raptor. Compliance was the quickest guarantee of safety. Annette kicked off her shoes, stripped off her sweater, shucked her pants, and held out her hand for…
“Dammit.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“I loathe salmon. The color,” she clarified, looking at the dress on the hanger. “And I think you knew that.”
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