Lem grimaced and looked down at his tablet. When he looked up, his face was set in determined, unhappy lines.
“You sure about this?” he asked and held up a hand to intercept whatever Cade was about to say. “And don’t just tell me to mind my own business. This is Cold Winds money and man-hours you’re sinking into this personal interest of yours. I remember how pissed you were at Justin for doing the same. Maybe you’re letting your personal feelings—for a guy you’ve known amonth, Cade, or not even a month—get in the way. I want you to be happy, big brother, but this Marlow might turn out to be a bad bet. Maybe he did what they say he did. Maybe we shouldn’t get involved.”
Cade dropped the towel onto the floor to sop up the moisture from his wet feet.
“Maybe you should do your job,” Cade said. “Which, unless I’ve missed a memo, is cybersecurity, not the personal angel on my shoulder.”
“So you admit I’m right?” Lem asked. “This is a bad idea?”
Cade shrugged as he turned and headed back into the small bathroom to get dressed. “It could be,” he said over his shoulder. “But this is my company, and I get to make that call. Not you. And tell Beth to meet me at the police station. I don’t want this to take any longer than it has to.”
Lem sighed, loud enough to still be heard as Cade closed the door behind him.
“So now I have to do the impossibleandtalk to my ex?” he said. He slapped his hand against the door twice. Their father had done that when he was done with their shit. It had been the double-tap on his ability to control his temper. All these years later—and even knowing it was Lem, who’d never raised his hand to anyone—Cade’s shoulders still tightened at the sound. “Maybe I should take Justin up on that job offer, huh? At least I wouldn’t have to care if he was fucking himself over.”
They both knew Lem wouldn’t. They—probably—both knew that Cade didn’t want that. Lem was the only family he had, and neither of them had the emotional skills to maintain a relationship if they didn’t work together.
None of that helped Cade not be a dick at the moment.
“Go ahead,” he said. “You might be looking for a new job anyhow if you don’t get off your ass and do what you’re told.”
There was a pause, and then Lem snorted. “Fine,” he said. “But I hope this guy is worth it.”
Cade hitched his jeans up over lean, damp hips. “Me too,” he said, but he’d waited until he heard Lem leave. The problem was—Cade glanced at his reflection in the mirror and rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw as he debated a shave—heknewMarlow was worth it. He had no doubts.
That scared him.
Chapter Two
“WELCOME TOBONESand Broth. How can I help you?” the girl behind the counter rhymed off the question by rote. “Today’s special is tilapia and pupfish broth, sourced from the Salton Sea. You can add a fat bomb for only another dollar, and that will pick you up until the moon’s up.”
The “do you serve coffee” was on the tip of Marlow’s tongue. He choked it down as he glanced at the board behind her, the day’s offerings almost unreadable in hand-written chalk.
“Grande beet kvass,” he ordered instead. “And a yogurt.”
She rang it up on the till. “That will be $12.40,” she said. “Do you have a loyalty card?”
He did not.
He hadn’t exactly expected to be asked to pay either.
Usually he did—fairly often, anyhow—but it was easier to just let people buy you a coffee during the full moon.For your service.Not that he’d be able to tell one wolf from another in the dark, but people seemed to like the idea that keeping the Night Shift sweet had some impact.
Marlow patted down his pockets as he tried to recover. It took him a second to remember that his wallet—along with his ID and his house keys—was still in a lockbox in the armory. The girl behind the counter started to look annoyed.
“If you need to go and get your—”
“No,” Marlow said. He fished the emergency fifty-dollar bill out of his back pocket and handed it over. It had been in there—one pocket or another—for five years. The creases were so set that when the girl unfolded it, the paper was threadbare in places. “Sorry. My ex is a dick.”
It wasn’t actually a lie—a number of them were—but it wasn’t an explanation either. The girl took it as one, though. Most people did. The details got filled in from their own experience, and they were either sympathetic or decided not to get involved as a result.
It was one of the things you learned when you were economical with words. People would read more into what you didn’t say. For once, it was useful.
“Ugh,” the girl said as she counted out his change. “I’ve been there.”
Marlow tipped reasonably, took the kvass and yogurt, and retreated to the back of the cafe. They had stools instead of seats, rickety on thin metal legs. He perched on one that let him keep his back to the corner and let himself relax—a bit.
The sun was up, and the wolves were back to buying bone broth and flirting in the morning sun. Marlow still had problems to deal with, but he had time for that now. None of them were going to rip his throat out the minute he let his guard down.
