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The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. For the first time, Yordan noticed how tired the Scotsman looked. A haunted exhaustion lurked beneath all those ruddy good looks. And a sharp mind.
Fortunately, Yordan could be pretty sharp himself. “How many things are on this list? Things like doors that won’t open and sudden spinning vans in the motor pool?”
“Dozens.”
“And do they all feel like—”
“Fairy tricks? Yeah, they do. Any idea who might have forgotten the Wulf, Inc. motto?”
Never make a deal with a fairy.
“Ummm.”
McNabb straightened with a scowl on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Not me!” Yordan rushed to say. “But, um, Coffee used to say he had a Get out of Dead Free card.”
The Scot jolted. “What? How?”
“I don’t know!” Yordan rubbed a hand over his face. The conversation had happened years ago when they were both shit-faced. “I didn’t even remember it until this second.”
“Think hard.”
He was trying! “Cream would know.” But of course, Cream died at the exact same instant as Coffee had. “And maybe the others on his team.” His voice was subdued.
“Nero?”
Nero was the alpha of the team and the only one who had survived the mission. “Um, no. Nero had a healthy fear of the fairies.”
“With good reason!”
Couldn’t argue with that.
The Scot ran a hand over his face. “So, what—exactly—was this fairy deal?”
“I don’t know that he had one. We were drunk. He was laughing about his Get out of Dead Free card…” His voice trailed away. They both knew that fairies were the only ones who could give something like that. And they always, always held some sort of trap.
“How can we find out?” McNabb pressed.
Yordan looked around. “There would have to be some sort of clue. Some record or something. And it would be—”
“Here. In his personal things.”
“That have been locked behind an impenetrable wall for nearly two years?” He glared at McNabb. “How could you let it go this long?”
“It’s a really long fucking list!”
Yordan pushed to his feet, his exhaustion fading beneath a desperate need to search every inch of Coffee’s room. And if the bastard really was alive somewhere in fairy heaven, then he was going to grab the asshole by the collar and…and… He’d kill him for real. Or kiss him. Or both, probably.
“Damned asshole,” Yordan muttered. He went to Coffee’s desk as The Scot started on the closet. “You don’t have to help me look.”
“The hell I don’t. If he’s alive somewhere, we have to find him.”
“What if it’s fairy heaven and he’s sunning himself on a beach somewhere?”
The Scot shot him a hard look. “You know any fairies who have reason to treat werewolves with that kind of kindness?”
No. No. And hell no.
