“You had help, then.”

“Sure. Those two uniforms.” She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off. “Trash. This is just trash now.” She sighed. The shirt was the perfect shade of red for her, but even if she got the blood out, the silk was ripped.

He took the shirt from her. “Here, I’ll get rid of it. You and two uniformed officers kept an imp outbreak contained?”

“It wasn’t an outbreak,” she said, heading for the bathroom. The row house had been built in the nineteen-teens, way before people routinely put in master baths, so there was a single bathroom on each floor. But the bathroom on this floor was the one thing she’d miss when she finally finished her training and went home…marble floor, granite-topped counter with vessel sinks, a glass-walled shower stall, and a huge tub.

No time for that tub now. She reached into the shower stall and turned on the hot water. “Five of the nasty little creatures don’t constitute an outbreak—just a huge pain in the ass. Good thing Gan’s idea about baiting them with blood worked.”

She fell silent. Gan—a former demon who’d become a friend in the most unlikely way—was missing. So was Lily’s boss. So were two even dearer friends, Cynna Weaver and Cullen Seabourne. They’d been kidnapped, along with a few others—like a special assistant to the president and a trigger-happy FBI agent Lily had worked with. Not just kidnapped, either, but snatched into another realm. There was no saying if or when they’d return.

Lily was not naturally an optimist. What cop was? But she was determined to believe they were okay. All of them. They were okay, and sooner or later they’d find a way to come home. She refused to consider other possibilities—at least for six months. That’s the deal she’d made with herself. For six months she’d assume the best instead of the worst.

Rule took her shoulder, turned her to face him, and kissed her gently on the lips. “They’ll be fine, Lily. Even your obnoxious orange friend.”

She found a smile. “I think it’s my turn to say that.”

“Nope.” He skimmed her lips with his again. “Mine. As often as I want it to be.”

Somehow she and Rule had managed to trade off worry periods. When anxiety about their friends started to choke her, he was feeling steady. When he was hurting, she’d been able to summon enough confidence to reassure or distract him. The thing was, their missing friends mattered to her, but one of them—Cullen Seabourne—mattered hugely to Rule. They were lifelong friends, heart friends, the kind you’d risk your life for…but there was no risk Rule could take that would bring Cullen back.

So Lily smiled and agreed. “They’ll be back, safe and sound. But worrying is my hobby, remember? Speaking of which…maybe you should call the restaurant, make sure they won’t cancel our reservation?”

This time his kiss suggested he’d just as soon be even later, but he straightened without following through. “They’ll hold our table. Knowing how unpredictable your job can be, I made it clear they were to hold it if we were late.”

“Okay, then.”

“I’m going to take this”—he wiggled the shirt he still held—“to the Dumpster outside. The smell…bothers me.”

“Because of the blood? Or because it’s my blood?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

The shower felt good, if hasty. The EMT had applied a gauze bandage she was supposed to keep dry, so that was a pain, but at least she could lather up and rinse the rest of her. She hadn’t gotten anything nasty in her hair, thank goodness, so she could skip the wash and blow-dry bit.

When she got out and wrapped up in a towel warmed by the heated towel rack—she loved this bathroom—Rule was downstairs. She heard him talking, probably on the phone. Maybe he’d decided to make sure about the restaurant after all. She hummed quietly as she hurried from the bath to the master bedroom.

Lily liked things tidy. Her socks were rolled, her bras folded and lined up in a disciplined row, and her jackets all hung together in a color-coded closet. It took only a second to pull out the black silk dress she planned to wear, another second to retrieve hose and bra.

For some reason, her passion for order did not extend to panties. They did all land in the same drawer—but that drawer was a colorful mess. Lily had a lot of panties, in all sorts of colors, fabrics, and styles. Back in her desperately broke days, a new pair of panties had been the one treat she could almost always afford. She still shopped carefully, sensibly…except when it came to panties.

So maybe she shouldn’t have noticed the new ones right away—they were jumbled up with the rest—but she did. First she tugged out a silky leopard print bikini. The midnight blue she didn’t recognize turned out to be boy-cut hipsters. There were a couple more bikinis, one in multicolored polka dots, the other an eye-popping chartreuse. Then she spotted a scrap of raspberry lace.

A thong, she saw, pulling it out.

Her eyebrows shot up. Ordinarily she didn’t like thongs. But why not? Just for tonight, why not? He’d gotten them for her, tucked them away here as the sneakiest of surprise presents. She’d give him a treat, too.

She had on her bra and the new thong when she felt Rule coming up the stairs. She didn’t hear him, but then, she seldom did. He moved as quietly as if his alter ego were feline instead of lupine. She paused with the dress over her arm and turned toward the doorway, smiling with pleasure and a touch of mischief.

His expression wiped out both. It was that damned closed-down, locked-up look she hated. Something was wrong. “What is it?”

“My father called,” he said quietly. “A friend of mine is dead. No one you’ve met, I think. Steve Hilliard. He’s…he was Nokolai.”

“I’m so sorry.” Instinctively she went to him, but something in his face kept her from doing more than touch his arm. “I’m so sorry, Rule.”

He put his hand over hers. His face was tight, his eyes hooded. “There’s more.”

She nodded.

“Steve’s throat was cut. The police have arrested another Nokolai, Jason Chance. They plan to charge Jason with the murder.” Rule’s jaw tightened. “It’s an easy out for them. No need to look for a killer—just charge the nearest lupus with the crime and forget about it.”

“I take it Steve wasn’t killed while in wolf form.” Or else the authorities wouldn’t have any interest in the death. Killing a lupus was only illegal when he looked human. “You don’t believe this Jason guy did it?”

“No. Neither does my father. I have to go home.”

“Of course.” And this was the downside of the mate bond—the sheer inconvenience. Rule couldn’t go unless Lily did, too. The mate bond didn’t allow them to be far apart. Not that they knew exactly what distance would trigger the dizziness, because it changed. Without warning, without any pattern she could spot, it changed. Damned whimsical bond.

“I’m sorry to drag you away. You’re almost finished at Quantico.”

She shrugged. Her training—necessary since she’d been a homicide cop, not an FBI agent, until recently—had been interrupted constantly ever since the Turning hit in December. With the uptick in ambient magic, the FBI Unit she belonged to, which dealt with magical crimes and crises, was stretched thin. “Another delay hardly matters, and I’m not working a case right now. I’ll have to clear it with Croft, but he’ll be cool with it. He understands my situation.”

With Ruben gone, Martin Croft was running the Unit. He was one of the few humans who were aware of the existence of the bond that, in rare cases, formed between a human woman and a lupus. Of course, according to the lupi, the bond didn’t form—it was bestowed on them by their Lady. Who, in Lily’s opinion, wasn’t nearly as mythological as she ought to be.

“Steve was killed in Del Cielo—or at least his body was found within city limits, and the Del Cielo police claim jurisdiction.”