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Once Dr. Underfoot had me bandaged, he bid us good night. Liam departed soon afterward. Clive, however, didn’t move from his seat on the couch arm. When I tried to stand, he was there, gently picking me up. The blanket slid, but I snatched it back, covering myself with my good arm. Clive held me a little away from his body, so my bandaged parts didn’t get banged. When he’d carried me earlier, with Dr. Underfoot and Liam watching, I’d been embarrassed. Now, however, I felt something different.

My head settled back against his shoulder so I could watch him. I didn’t know what to make of my vampire protector. He’d claimed me as his own and yet I seemed to annoy the holy bejeezus out of him. “Clive?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you.” Watching the play of moonlight on his face, I experienced the strangest desire to reach up and touch his perfect face. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My heart beat faster at just the thought, though.

Clive glanced over, caught me staring, and adjusted his hold, pulling me closer. He strode across the bar, through the kitchen, and waited at the door to my apartment where I had more wards.

“Clive may enter,” I said.

He carried me past the living room and into my bedroom. “You need to take a shower before bed, to warm up and wash off the seawater and blood.”

“Do you ever stop bossing people around?”

“Rarely. If I could rely on others to make sound, rational decisions, I’d be freed of the burden. Unfortunately for me, people will insist on being idiots.”

“Hey!”

He carried me into the bathroom and set me down, holding me steady until my legs worked properly. “Remind me, who was it that was wandering the city alone in the middle of the night after multiple attempts on her life? Who jumped in the ocean to retrieve a dead body?” He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Let. Me. Think.”

He waited as I stood motionless in the bathroom, door open. “What now? Do you need help undressing?”

I snorted, pushing the door closed. Knowing I needed help, but unwilling to ask for it, I dropped the blanket and tried to figure out how to get out of bike shorts and a sports bra without bleeding all over the place. I knew Clive and the medication were keeping most of the pain away, but I still suffered sudden jolts when I moved the wrong way.

I was finally able to get my shorts and panties past my injury, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out. The sports bra was another story, though. I tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to get it off, sweat breaking out with the effort and jabs of pain. Maybe I should just shower in it.

“Why haven’t you turned on the water?” Clive’s voice through the door startled me, yipping in pain when I flinched and pulled at my stitches.

“Getting undressed is proving more difficult than I thought.”

He mumbled something I didn’t catch. Louder he said, “I can help.”

“Hard pass.”

“I won’t look.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, staring at the scars reflected in the mirror. And what the hell happened to my hair? “You can’t help me with your eyes closed.”

“We’re able to see a kind of infrared image of warm bodies, even with our eyes closed.”

I thought about that for a minute. “Handy.”

“It is, yes. May I come in?”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. This damn bra wasn’t coming off. I could use my scissors to cut it off, but I liked this one. Sighing, I mumbled, “I guess.”

Clive opened the door and stepped in, his eyes closed. “Put your arms up.”

I turned back to the sink and raised one arm above my head, the injured one halfway. He pulled the edges of the sports bra from my skin and gently eased it over my head.

“You can get cleaned up now,” he said, as he dropped the bra on the floor. “Oh, and Sam?”

“Yeah?” I caught his reflection as he shut the door.

“No more late-night swims, yes?”

* * *

I wasclean and moderately awake when I opened at noon.

First down the stairs was Owen. “Hey, beautiful. Ask me how my evening went.” The wiggling eyebrows and leering smile told me all I needed to know.

“Okay, who is he and will he be around long enough for me to meet him?”

“Yes, he will. He’s sweet and smart and adorable. You’ll love him.” Owen was glowing even more than usual.

The tightness in my chest eased. Giddy, romantic love was a much better topic for reflection than gunshots and dead bodies.

“So, what does Mr. Wonderful do?”

“He’s a veterinarian. I met him when I took my niece to the zoo a few weeks ago. He works with the large exotics.” He winked at me. “I’m not going to tell you what he looks like. See if you can figure it out when he visits.”

Normally, I’d be okay with this game, but not today. “Owen, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Could we do this without the mystery?”

He stopped smiling at my words. “Did something else happen?”

“Yeah. A few things. Another cut-up woman was dumped in the water outside the bar. When I went to fish her out, someone shot me.”

Owen’s eyes got big as he scanned my body looking for injuries. “Shot you? Why would anyone shoot you? Wait.” He paused, shocked. “Does that mean these women are being dumped here on purpose?”

“I wish I knew.” Although, I was afraid I did know. “I’m okay. A gouge in my thigh. A through-shot in my arm. Doc Underfoot was here to check me out and bandage me up.”

“I’m sorry. Here I am, gushing about my beau, and I completely missed the limp. Sit down. Sit down. What can I do?” To know Owen is to love him.

“What do you know about wards?”

“Hmm?” Owen took my arm and led me to a chair. “Sit. Now, what about wards?”

“Mine don’t seem to be stable. Mostly they work, but people I ward against—werewolves—walked in yesterday. I did some research, but I wanted the plain English opinion from someone I trust.”

“I know wards are Helena’s specialty. If yours aren’t holding, I’m not even sure who could shore them up. I can ask my dad. He can build them well, but his magic isn’t as nuanced as Helena’s. What she did here is almost unheard of. She not only tied the wards to you, she taught them to respond to your thoughts. It’s—oh! I just realized. If Helena was your mom’s friend, she would have known that your mom was a wicche, that you carry wicche blood. Maybe that’s why your wards were so elastic and intuitive.” Owen pulled out his phone and started texting. “Mom’ll know.”

“Listen, I know you were scheduled for the bookstore, but would you mind taking the bar? I’m not up to running around. I’d like to just sit behind the counter and read.”

“No problem. Can I get you some tea to take with you?”

“Thanks, I’d love some tea. Whatever you recommend is fine with me.” Wicches knew the restorative properties of herbals much better than I did. I deferred to their expertise.

As I was walking through the doorway to the bookstore, unfamiliar footsteps sounded on the stairs above. It wasn’t as though I knew the sound of each of my customers, but these sounded strangely hesitant.

And then I smelled it. Wolf. A growl built in my chest. It was the wolf from the Marina who said he’d been looking for me.

“Finally found you.” He nodded at Owen and then studied me. His bespectacled gaze intent. Holding out his hand, he said, “Ethan. I didn’t get to introduce myself before.”

I left his hand hanging. “You can turn around and leave now.”

Owen stepped out from behind the bar and stood next to me.

Hand dropping to his side, he ducked his head. “I’m really sorry about before. When you’re a lone wolf, new in town, you’ve got to project strength, maybe some homicidal urges, otherwise, you’re seen as weak and attacked. I didn’t stop to think I was talking to another lone. I shouldn’t have come on like that. I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Is that okay?”

Ethan watched me through his dark-rimmed glasses. There was something different about him. Not just his smell, although he did smell like melting plastic or burned paper. It was something else. The glasses were new. Wait, why was he wearing glasses? Wolves had perfect eyesight. Was this an attempt to appear less aggressive? Whatever the reason, I decided I wasn’t ready to kick him out yet. He knew something about those dead women. I could feel it.

“It’s okay, Owen. You can finish restocking.”

He moved away reluctantly as I led Ethan to a nearby table.

“Actually, would you mind if we talked in the bookstore? I’d love to look around.” Ethan ducked through the doorway, scanning bookshelves as he made his way toward the window wall and the view of the bay.

“Okay.” Following at a distance, I breathed deeply, trying to place that strange scent that seemed to ooze from his skin.

Head moving back and forth as he took in everything, Ethan dropped into a chair. “So, I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”

“Why?” I was almost positive I’d never met him before. Sitting in the chair opposite, I tried hard to remember everyone I’d met at my uncle’s compound.

“I’ve missed you.” His eyes scanned me avidly, from head to toe. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby. So much like your mother, but with your father’s coloring.”

Stupid. I knew that wolves could live centuries or more without aging but had forgotten. Stupid and potentially lethal.

“Your mother disappeared with you, and I’ve been looking ever since.” He threw his hands out, gesturing all around. “And look where I finally find you. So strange, really. Nothing for the longest time and then—pop—you’re back on the plane and easy to find. I never knew your mother was so gifted.”

If I hadn’t already met Ethan, I wouldn’t have found his behavior strange. Since I had, I began to wonder if someone else was pulling his strings. His voice wasn’t as deep. His mannerisms were, well, more feminine, I suppose. When I’d met him in the Marina, he’d sat with his knees spread, an arm thrown over the back of the bench. He’d taken up space. Now, his legs were crossed, and one hand seemed to play with an ear, almost as if he were absently toying with an earring. I wasn’t sure who I was talking to, but I doubted it was the wolf in front of me.

“How did you know my mother?”

“Oh,” he laughed. “We go back.” The humor fell away as he studied me once more. “I’m not sure why she felt the need to hide you. You don’t seem particularly special to me.”

“Who are you?”

With a quick grin, he replied, “Ethan. Remember?”

“I meant who’s hiding behind the Ethan mask?”

He tapped his chin, a sneer pulling at his lips. “Hmm, that is the question, isn’t it?” Shrugging, he stood. “Well, I suppose I know what I need to know. She hid you out of sentimentality, not because you could ever rival me.” Walking toward me, he added, “Best to take care of little problems before they become big ones, though, right?”

The deranged glint in his eye had me rising out of my chair and moving back. Shaking his head, he tutted, a finger wagging back and forth. Then he leaped, knocking me to the floor, slamming my head against the hardwood. Light exploded in my brain a moment before I felt his large hands wrap around my neck.

I pulled at his hands, my body bucking underneath him. He was too strong. Gasping for breath, I knew I was one twist away from a broken neck. I tried to punch him, but he was too tall. The angle was all wrong. My blows glanced off his shoulders. He was crushing my windpipe.

Flattening my hands like planks, I stabbed at his eyes. Roaring, he reared back. I sat up and slammed my forehead into his nose. The bone snapped and blood poured out. I scrambled, trying to get away, and then his huge hands were wrapped around my neck again. He lifted me up and pounded my head against the floor with enough force, I heard my skull crack. Vision going dark, I caught a glimpse over Ethan’s shoulder. Owen, gripping a full bottle of whiskey by its neck, swung for the bleachers.