Page 22 of Relics of the Wolf

Duncan gave me a sympathetic look. I waved my words away. I hadn’t intended to fish for sympathy.

When we returned to his van, Duncan pulled out his phone to try to find a tire place open at night. I doubted he would be able to get the problem fixed until the morning. He must have drawn the same conclusion because he opened a ride-sharing app to summon someone to pick us up.

“What’s keeping you here?” I asked again, noting how often he side-stepped answering questions.

What if his supposed conversation with Chad had never happened, and he remained on the clock for my ex? I didn’twantthat to be true, but Duncan had already deceived me once.

“Aside from needing to thoroughly magic detect and magnet fish in the copious waters here, I feel I owe you. If I hadn’t accepted your ex-husband’s gig, the wolf case would remain under your floor, with no one the wiser about its existence. People wouldn’t be routinely attacking you.”

I thought about pointing out that my intern was the one who’d been attacked over the case. The rest of the trouble had been because of my cousin.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You don’t need to stick around on my behalf.”

“Wouldn’t you miss me if I were gone? Who would take you to bars where you could learn about the secret favorite drinks of potion-imbibers? Ifyourpotion ever upsets your stomach, you’ll now know where to go.”

“My stomach would have to be tying itself around my throat before I’d drink something pink and bubbling.”

“Maybe that happens to those who consume the Tiger Blood potion.”

“With its list of side effects, one wonderswhythey drink it,” I said. “Those men were already big and strong.”

“They were, but someone is always stronger.”

“Maybe their tiny tallywackers lead them to feel insecure.”

Duncan smiled faintly as our ride pulled up. “I knew you knew what that meant.”

“I read between the lines.”

Duncan opened a backseat door for me but didn’t step into the car himself. He waved to the driver. “He’ll take you back to your truck at the Ballard Locks.”

“You’re not coming?” I asked.

“Not unless you’re inviting me to your home for the night.” His smile widened, though he didn’t look like he expected that. “My home is, of course, here.” He looked toward the foggy water.

I snorted, sure he would do a little fishing before going to sleep in his van. “You’re too vague and irrepressible to invite home.”

“As I feared.” Still holding the door open, Duncan bowed to me. “It was a pleasure spending the evening with you, Luna. As always.”

“You must like getting into fights.”

“I do crave adventure.”

I paused, having the urge to kiss him on the cheek before leaving, but I slid into the car without taking that action. I had too many questions about him, too many reasons not to trust him. Not toletmyself trust him.

7

The next morning,I walked out of my apartment with the largest coffee cup I owned, and it was filled to the brim with a potent Americano. With bags under my eyes and yawns accompanying me to the leasing office, I felt like Bolin. It had crossed my mind to maketwohuge caffeinated drinks, but since I lived a hundred yards from where I worked, it would be easy to slip back and make a second coffee later.

The parking lot came into view before I reached the leasing office, and I paused to stare. Someone with his back to me—was that Bolin?—was shooting a rifle-sized water gun into the trees near the G-wagon. A roll of paper towels, a squeegee, and a bottle of Windex rested on the sidewalk beside him.

In the nearest tree, a pair of robins squawked and left a branch when the water streamed past.

I rubbed my head as I diverted in that direction. “What are you doing, Bolin?”

He scowled over his shoulder at me. “Defending my Mercedes.”

“I don’t see any motorcycle gangs,” I said, referring to thelasttime we’d had to defend the parking lot. The thugs who’d rode through, breaking windows, had been a lot more menacing than robins.

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