“Did I say something wrong?” asked Mrs.

Gerschwitz, her powdered face

squinched up with worry.
“No, no,” I said, feeling my stomach clench. “It was all my fault.” I briefly
debated getting on the next elevator to chase Heath down. But I couldn’t, not
with four werewolves hidden in my apartment. I’d have to explain it all later.
How, I wasn’t sure, but I hoped I’d come up with something.
As Mrs. Gerschwitz hobbled down the hall to her door, I trudged back to my
loft to let the Texarkana trio in from the cold. And Siegfried the Viking
Werewolf out of my closet.
But there was no need to give them the all clear; by the time I got back to my
living room, it was filled with werewolves again. “Hi,” I said, but the
Texarkana trio barely looked up; they were too busy staring at Tom, who gave
me an uncomfortably knowing look.
“Don’t mind me,” I said sourly, and headed into the kitchen to make myself a
fresh cup of wolfsbane tea. And try to figure out what to do about Heath.
Teena launched into telling Tom all her problems as I headed into the kitchen.
I returned to the living room a few minutes later with a mug of tea and a very
bad attitude. As I sat down on the edge of my armchair, Teena sniffed and
wrinkled her nose at the brew in my hands. Which was perfectly
understandable; wolfsbane tea was hardly a taste sensation.
“We were out at Big Jake’s Smokehouse one night,” she continued, as if I
wasn’t even in the room, staring at Tom with blue puppy-dog eyes. “And
suddenly Brett looked real nervous. I don’t know who saw him, but he hurried
us out to the truck and took us home. And then, the next day, he was gone. He
didn’t call, didn’t leave a note, nothing. He just . . . disappeared.”
“Did any of the pack contact you?” Tom asked.
She nodded, then paused and shook her head. “Sort of, I guess. I got home late
one night . . . and they’d been there. I could smell them.” Her blue eyes teared
up, and Lourdes reached over to squeeze her shoulder. “And everything was
torn up. Destroyed.” Kind of like my place, I realized. Had they followed
Teena to my loft? But the break-in had happened before she and I met. Still,
the
situation was similar enough that it gave me the creeps. “And I’m worried
about Brett,” Teena was saying. “I don’t know what happened to him, or if
he’s okay.” She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid they may have killed him. That’s
when we left and came here.”
Tom glanced at Lourdes and Brissa. “Did the pack visit your friends, as well?”
“We’re roommates,” Lourdes said.
“We’ve been friends since high school,” Brissa added. “We do everything
together.”
Including, I thought, sharing syringes filled with werewolf blood. Ick.
“How did you know to find Sophie?” Tom asked.
“Some guys were in town—three of them,” said Brissa. “They were kind of
cute, really.”
“Except one of them smelled really bad,” Teena added, dabbing at her eyes.
The eyeliner was starting to make black tracks down her pale cheeks.
“Stinky,” I said to Tom. “One of the packette—the made ones.”
Brissa’s iridescent blue eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Anyway,” Lourdes said, fluttering her eyelashes at Tom, “they said they used
to be werewolves, but they weren’t anymore. That some really powerful wolf
did something to them, and they didn’t change anymore.” Lourdes spoke with
a faint Spanish accent.
I glanced at Tom, but his chiseled, Nordic face was impassive.
“So they told us about this werewolf named Sophie Garou, and said she was
by herself. In Austin,” Lourdes continued. “They said she was pretty strong,
and was friends with this powerful werewolf, so we decided we’d ask her for
help.”
Teena glanced at me. “But she says she won’t help us.”
“Can’t help you,” I corrected.
Teena ignored me and turned back to Tom. “We’re desperate,” she said.
“What do you think we should we do?”
Tom grimaced. “What was the name of the man who made your boyfriend?”
“Carlos,” Teena said.
“Last name?”
“I don’t remember,” Lourdes said, “but I know he’s from Mexico City. I met
him once; he sounds just like my uncle.”
“What is a Mexican werewolf doing in Texarkana?” Tom asked.
Teena shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is what Brett told me. They had
him doing something for them, but he wouldn’t tell me what. Said it was a
secret.”
“So they raided your apartment. Did they threaten you directly?”
“No,” she said. “But Brett just . . . disappeared. And he didn’t want them to
know about us. And now I’m afraid . . .” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t
know what happened to Brett. And I think they know about us now. I’m sure
of it,
actually.”
Tom sighed. “This is why the making of werewolves is regulated,” he said,
looking at me.
As if I knew anything about the making of werewolves. Other than that it
involved a blood transfusion, which was totally disgusting. Heck, until six
months ago, I hadn’t even known making werewolves was an option.
Tom turned back to the Texarkana grrls, who were leaning into him like plants
toward the sun. “Whatever you do,” he said, “I wouldn’t return to Texarkana
anytime soon. Do any of you have relatives or friends in another city?”
“My mom’s in Dallas,” Teena said.
“Don’t go to Dallas,” Tom said quickly.
What was wrong with Dallas? Other than a surfeit of big hair and surgically
enhanced anatomies, that was.
“I have family in San Antonio,” Lourdes said. “My mother and father are
there.”
“San Antonio would work,” Tom said. “Can you stay with them for a while?”
She shrugged. “For a little while. Probably.”
“I would do that, then. But be careful—San Antonio is supposed to be a
neutral zone, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other werewolves there. And
things between packs have been a little . . . well, tense, lately.” If the incident
on the Greenbelt was any indication, I’d say that was a pretty big
understatement.
“What do we do when we get there?” she asked.
“Get jobs, settle in. And stay quiet.” He stared at them for another moment,
and with the reek of lust in the air, I wouldn’t have been shocked if one—
maybe even all three—of them just stripped down right there in my living
room. “Do you want to remain werewolves?” he asked.
They stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Do you enjoy being werewolves?” he asked.
“Of course!” Teena said. “I mean, it’s so cool. You have this great sense of
smell, good hearing, good vision. . . .”
“You don’t mind turning into a wolf once a month?” I asked.
Teena shrugged. “It’s kind of fun. I like chasing rabbits.”
I did too, but not enough to make up for the downside of the whole
transformation thing. I perched on the arm of the loveseat and took a sip of
tea.
Tom reached into his pocket, pulled out a worn brown wallet, and fished out
three business cards. “If I were you, I’d head to San Antonio tonight. If you
run into trouble, call me.”
“You have a business card?” I asked. What did it say his profession was, I
wondered, Werewolf Exterminator?
“See for yourself,” he said, handing one up to me. It was a plain white card,
with just his name—Tom Fenris—in black block print, and a phone number
with an area code I didn’t recognize. Not quite what I expected, for some
reason. Then again, what was it supposed to have on it? A wolf crest, with his
name written in blood?
“Thanks,” I said.
Tom smiled at me, exposing a row of gleaming canines, and then looked back
at the werewolves on the couch, who were devouring him with their eyes. It
was almost like he was granny and they were the big bad wolves; although in
truth, it was probably the other way around. Tom might be one hot guy, but
there was an undercurrent of danger in him that made him very scary.
Or maybe it’s just because I knew what he was capable of doing.
“I wish the three of you luck,” he said in a tone that was clearly a dismissal.
Despite the fact that they were all in my loft. “Go to San Antonio and lie low.
If you run into trouble, call me.”
“Oh, Mr. Fenris, thank you so much!” Teena gushed. Lourdes brushed her
black hair out of her face, and Brissa reached up to adjust her brown curls.
Just shameless, I thought as I reached up to make sure my own hair wasn’t
sticking out.
Thankfully, the Texarkana trio took his cue and traipsed out the door, glancing
over their shoulders at him and giggling on their way down the hall to the
elevator. Lourdes hung back for a moment, then darted to Tom, stood up on
tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
He didn’t move a muscle; I suppressed a growl and watched them till they got
onto the elevator. Would Frank notice them on the way out, I wondered?
Probably not. Design on a Dime started at six.
When the door finally closed behind them, Tom turned to me. I was intensely
aware that we were now alone. And that I was wearing a rather clingy
camisole.
Despite my efforts to remain cool and collected, I could feel the heat
emanating from him.
“I’m glad you could help them,” I said. “I had no idea what to tell them.”
“Thank you,” he said, staring at me with those deep golden eyes. They seemed
to swirl a little in the light and glow from within; although I saw similar eyes
in my mirror every morning, his were mesmerizing. “You and your boyfriend
seem to be getting along well.”
The blood rushed to my cheeks, but I refused to rise to the bait. “Until a few
moments ago, we were. He saw Mrs. Gerschwitz in the hall.”
Tom’s left eyebrow twitched upward. “She didn’t mention ‘Hide the
Werewolf’?”
“Ah, no.” I felt my cheeks flush and decided to change the subject. Had he
heard me call his name? “What are you doing here? Does Lindsey know
you’re here?”
“I came to warn you,” he said.
Uh-oh. “Warn me about what?” I asked, even though I already had a pretty
good idea.
“There’s a turf war going on,” he said. “The Norteños are moving up; they’re
pushing into Houston’s territory. Austin isn’t safe right now.”
A chill tiptoed down my spine. “Is that what happened on the Greenbelt the
other night?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but if I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere
near there,” he said, giving me a piercing glance.
Of course, I’d already visited, but I decided not to tell Tom that. The downside
of not mentioning my Greenbelt visit also meant I couldn’t ask about the
weird cave and wolf medallion, but I told myself Tom probably wouldn’t
know anything about it anyway. I looked up as Tom continued. “Several of
the Norteños have been spotted here, and Houston’s sent some pack members
to defend Austin.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “There was a rumor that a
solo was living in Austin. I suspect it was probably from the made ones.”
Tom was referring to the packette—the three made werewolves he had
unmade six months ago. “Well, evidently the word is out. The Houston pack
sent me an e-mail.”
He winced a little. “I was hoping that wouldn’t happen, but it was probably
inevitable.” Then he fixed me with his intense gold eyes. “Sophie. Is there any
way you can go to San Antonio for a month or two?”
“I’ve got a client there, but I can’t just pick up stakes for a few months. I just
made partner.”
“Still, it would be safer if you could find a way to take a trip there. Just until
things settle down.”
“Why would that be safer than here?”
“Because the Houston pack is focusing on defending their turf, and I’m afraid
Austin’s where they’re going to make their stand. Although they might want
to send more scouts out; the Norteños are really pushing north, though, if
they’re all the way up to Texarkana.” He grimaced and looked at me. “So the
pack finally figured out that you’re here. What did they want?”
“They’ve ordered me to go to Houston this Saturday, and then they sent
some . . . well, I guess you could call them emissaries.”
“Who?”
“Elena. Tenorio, I think she said her last name was. She was here with two
scary guys wearing lots of black pleather.”
He grimaced. “Boris and Dudley. They were here? In your loft?”
“They broke in,” I said.
Tom glanced around at the mess. “They did this?”
“No—they just came and waited for me. But that’s the next question I had.
Someone else broke in, too; a female werewolf. She tore the place apart, and
then vanished into thin air.” I looked up at Tom, whose gold eyes were fixed
on me. It had been a long time since I had seen Tom, but despite my general
stress level, his effect on me—and on other women, if the panting I’d seen
from the Texarkana trio was any indication—hadn’t changed a bit. Still, part
of me knew that what I was feeling was because of my werewolf genes. And
that I wasn’t
interested in getting involved with a werewolf. Particularly one who was
dating—or at least had dated—my best friend.
“What do you mean, vanished?”
“She was here when I got here—I could smell her and hear her. But she
vanished.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking skeptical.
“I’m sure,” I said. “Can some werewolves teleport?”
“Teleport?” He cocked a bushy eyebrow at me.
“Like in Star Trek. Kind of dematerialize one place and rematerialize
somewhere else.”
“Not that I know of, no,” he said, still not looking entirely convinced that I
was sane. And also looking worried, which was a bit unsettling. “Did you
recognize her scent?”
“No,” I said, “but I know it wasn’t Elena. I got a whiff of her—it was
definitely someone else.”
“Maybe it was a scout,” he said. “I’ll ask Wolfgang.”
I swallowed. “Speaking of Elena, what do you think this meeting will be
about?”
“I’m not sure, but I have an idea,” he said grimly. “They’re probably not too
happy that you’ve been living in their territory all this time.”
I closed my eyes. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I’ve known Wolfgang a long time,” he said. “I’ll call and see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I also figured I’d offer some free tax work in exchange for
immunity.”
Tom snorted. “Free tax work?”
“You don’t think they’ll go for it?”
His mouth twitched up into something that looked suspiciously like a smile.
“When’s your meeting again?”
“This Saturday,” I said, crossing my arms. “And your plan is to offer to fill out
their ten-forties in exchange for immunity.”
“I might toss in some auditing, too,” I said. “Why? Is there a problem with
that?”
He sighed. “I’m guessing it’ll be the first time they’ve ever gotten that kind of
offer.”