“Paramount close protection professionals, you get what you pay for,” he repeated the blurb from the Cold Winds website. “Truth in advertising, I guess.”
He’d looked them up.
Cade wondered if it was because Cold Winds had intersected with one of the Night Shift’s operations—which had happened a couple of times—or if he’d considered their recruitment package. They hired a lot of ex-cops and a few moonlighters, although Cade would admit that was mostly to annoy the chief of police.
And maybe he’d looked at Cade’s bio page when he was there?
“If you’re looking for a new challenge,” Cade said, “I can move you to the top of the list.”
It was only half a joke. Null operatives were in high demand. While they only made up around 20 percent of the population, there were a lot of very good reasons why there were sign-up bonuses on a null contract—and not just because it was always handy to have someone around who could touch silver or nightshade. But nobody had much success tempting Night Shift officers into the private sector. It took a lot of work to make Night Shift, and anyone willing to put that effort in had a vocation, not a job.
“I would,” Marlow said. “But I just can’t give up that public servant money. Besides, it’s creepy up here.”
Cade took his eyes off the road for a second, looked at Marlow, and then turned his attention back to the—carefully cultivated to look untouched—woods around them. It was as close to idyllic as expensive architects and landscapers could make it. Mansions were dug down under hills or disguised with elegant copses of native trees. Wildlife experts maintained genetically diverse herds of moose, bison, and boar for the wolves to hunt, and the only fences were the acres of property they’d bought as a barrier between them and the rest of society.
The Reserve’s residents paid exorbitant amounts to have the best of both worlds, with modern comforts like running water and territory their wolves could run and hunt in unfettered.
No fences. No rules. No Night Shift.
As long as they stayed within their property lines, anyhow.
“This is creepy?” Cade asked.
Marlow shrugged. “I’ve never liked the countryside,” he said. “I’m a city boy. Not enough alleys out here, and it gets too dark at night.”
“You just need to get used to it,” Cade said. “On a clear night, when the moon and stars are out, you could count the freckles on someone’s ass if you wanted to.”
Cade heard himself a second too late to edit the shit that came out of his mouth. He closed his eyes for a beat but resisted the urge to just keep them closed and drive into a tree. Since when did he flirt—badly or otherwise? He dated (some) and hooked up (more), but when you had money, you didn’t need pick up lines. You just picked up the tab.
Of course, he didn’t go to dinner with any of his hookups or setups already aware of the faint spray of pale freckles that blotched their lean shoulders. If he did, maybe he would say something just as humiliating.
The road petered out under the car’s tires. Cade turned left onto a gravel path and glanced briefly over at Marlow, who was focused on the precarious route ahead, either because he was so disinterested in Cade that he hadn’t even noticed the flirting, or just disinterested enough to ignore it politely. Embarrassment clutched at Cade’s stomach like a missed meal, and he could taste the bitterness of it.
“Do you—”
“Macroy’s place is the next turn,” Cade interrupted Marlow curtly, just in case Marlow was going to say somethingniceanddiplomaticabout how he was flattered, but… There was always a “but,” and what came after it was never the truth. Cade managed to be a little amused at the discovery he didn’t want, not just yet anyhow, to be disillusioned about Marlow. “So, we should be clear on the ground rules. We’re here to confirm that, however she got Macroy’s keycard, Haley wasn’t on the Reserve when she died. Anything else?”
“It’s meat of the poisoned deer,” Marlow said in mild-mannered agreement. He braced his arm against the car door and gasped as Cade took a sharp turn onto a concealed road. It took him a second to get the air back into his lungs again to finish the thought. “Shit. Yeah, unless it’s related to this case, none of Macroy’s personal habits are my business. Unless it’s kids, in which case your lawyers can fight it out in court.”
Cade’s smile felt thin and tight against his teeth as he pulled up outside Macroy’s property. He killed the engine, and the silence that fell felt almost oppressive. “Oh, it wouldn’t get to court. Don’t touch anything inside. If you break it, you buy it. And you can’t afford to buy it.”
“I don’t know about you,” Marlow said out of the corner of his mouth as he leaned in toward Cade. “I wouldn’t take any of this stuff for free.”
It was the first joke he’d made around Cade. Unfortunately, Cade couldn’t appreciate it. The house was trashed. Empty containers of takeout food were stacked on the tables, rank and stinking of old pork and MSG, the furniture was stained, and the lamps and mirrors were smashed in shards and fragments on the floor. He could smell sweat, the stink of it so strong that it cut through his humanity and hooked whatever bit of wolf hung in through the change.
Fear.Want.
“Son of a bitch,” Cade spat as he walked through the mess.
He kicked a pile of wet, soiled towels out of his way and headed down the hall into the huge old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen. The smell of burnt food and scorched metal caught in the back of his throat. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and jogged over to the stove to turn the gas off. The flickering blue-red flames guttered out, and Cade reached for the pot without a thought.
Heat stung his fingers even before he touched the handle. The base of the pot was so hot it glowed a dull cherry red, and the inside of it was cracked and caked with charred black lumps of whatever had been in it.
“Looks like Haley made herself at home.” Cade pulled a dirty dishcloth out of the sink and grabbed the pot. It was hot enough to make him wince even through the layers of cloth. “And was a fucking raccoon.”
He dropped the pot into the sink, on top of the plates already there, and flicked the water on. A cloud of steam spat out of the pot, and he jumped back, a “Shit” hissed between clenched teeth. Something in the sink cracked with a brittle snap. “
Marlow snorted as he joined Cade in the kitchen.
