He may not have grown up with women in his life, but he'd had Elena around for over fifteen years now, and knew better than to underestimate "the fairer sex." Had it been Elena back at that shop, she would have gone down the chute first and taken on those rats herself, protecting him, watching his back. And he'd have let her. With me, it was a question of limitations and experience. While I wanted, someday, to have the nerve and the know-how to do such things myself, in the meantime, I wasn't going to protest about being carried past a nest of rats. Or taking his coat when I was cold.

I pulled the jacket around me, savoring the warmth for the rest of the cab ride.

PLAYED

WHEN I ARRIVED IN BRENTWOOD, a guard met me at the door. Like being sixteen again, arriving home after curfew. I even got the "what have you been up to?" arched brow from him as he surveyed my ruined outfit.

As I passed Grady's bedroom, I heard my name and stopped.

"You aren't listening to me, woman!" Grady hissed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate down the hall. "I was possessed."

"Yes, yes, I know, but they really want us to stick to these ridiculous celebrity seances so, perhaps, for a while, if you could choose only to be possessed by people fitting their criteria-"

"You think I chose to have this happen? This-this power-this evil thing, it stole my body. I was powerless, unable to see, hear, speak, trapped in some limbo." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need to speak to Jaime. While that thing had hold of me yesterday, I had some… sense of her. I think she might understand what happened."

The creak of a chair. "So that's what this is about? You don't need to pull this possession nonsense, Bradford. If you want to take the woman out for drinks and a quick shag in some tawdry hotel, be my guest. I've never stopped you before, have I?"

"I'm telling you I was possessed-"

"Oh, I know what you're possessed by. Get it out of your system so we can get back to business."

"This is business, woman. Something happened out there and I believe Jaime Vegas holds the key. I've told you she has the gift. Her performance with Tansy Lane -"

"-was a remarkable performance. Props to her for it, and for finding that memo, giving her the advantage of knowing in advance who she was about to contact that night."

"Becky never said Jaime found-"

"The poor girl is terrified of losing her job, so she doesn't dare do more than hint. If Todd Simon found out that she'd left that memo on Tansy Lane in the kitchen-"

"I don't believe it."

"No? Well, I've done my research, because that's what you pay me for, Bradford, and Todd Simon is a cutthroat-"

"I meant about Jaime. She didn't need to warn me about Amityville-Becky certainly wasn't going to. If Jaime Vegas is as conniving as Becky would have us believe, then why not let me fall on my face…"

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. One last glance at Grady's door before I hurried down to my own.

I'd been played by Becky. We'd all been played by her, but that was no excuse. I consider myself a good judge of character-showbiz character, at least. But I'd fallen for the nervous young director routine. Conned. But not for long.

I TURNED off the bedside light, laid down and called Jeremy. He answered on the second ring.

"Checking in as requested," I said. "Safe and snug in bed. How's the hunt going?"

"Badly. I followed his trail to his car. Then presumably he drove off."

"Which makes tracking impossible. Was he alone when he left?"

"Yes. He seems to have persuaded the others to go on without him. No sign of the police being called for the break-in."

"Can't take the chance of them finding the blood-flecked dungeon downstairs."

"No doubt. I'm parked behind his house, but he hasn't returned. While I hope he simply stopped to grab a late-night snack, I think he's done exactly what I feared he'd do."

"Run to his contact to try to get in touch with the group."

"Which would be perfect if I was still following him." A soft sigh. "I'll wait another hour or so, in case he returns."

"If he does, will you talk to him?"

"Only if it can be done safely. Otherwise, I'll regroup and try again tomorrow."

I laid my head on the pillow. "Thanks. For looking out for me tonight. I know you're used to having a partner who can take more of the risks."

"A// of the risks, you mean. If I'd been there with Clay or Elena- or anyone from the Pack-I'd have been the one sitting above the hatch and being escorted past the rats. I'm the Alpha, remember? I'm not allowed to have fun."

"Fun?"

"Fun might be pushing it," he said, echoing my words from earlier. "But it's nice to say, 'I'm going down the hatch first,' and not have four werewolves scrambling over themselves to do it for me, lest I stub my toe."

"Can't lead the Pack with a stubbed toe."

"Evidently. And while I have no objection to devising strategies, giving orders and letting them have their adventures, it can be a bit… much at times. You mentioned those diseased rats in Toronto?"

"Right."

"At least you were allowed to whack one. When we initially discovered the nest, I wanted to determine what disease they might have contracted. I was allowed a split-second glance at the nest, then they let me examine a nearby rat corpse, with Clay hovering over me, twitching as if he expected the thing to jump up and bit me in the nose."

"He can be a tad overprotective, can't he?"

"A tad. But it's his job and it's also his nature, so I can't argue. And, yet, I'll admit it's refreshing to turn the tables now and then."

"And protect instead of being protected?"

"You can take care of yourself. But…"

"I can just tell myself I'm humoring you."

A soft laugh. "Yes, you can."

We kept talking as he watched Botnick's house. At some point, I drifted off. "When my alarm rang, I was still clutching the phone to my ear, the call long since disconnected.

MY MORNING began with another call to Jeremy. There'd been no sign of Botnick all night. Jeremy had retreated to his hotel just before dawn. He'd swing by and survey Botnick's house and shop before coming to breakfast.

Since he'd been up all night, I certainly didn't expect him to put on his game face and make nice to strangers. But he was already on his way-or so he said, though I could have sworn I heard the shower running in the background.

As for Hope, she'd left a message on his hotel answering service, saying Bigfoot had kept her up until dawn.

After I hung up, I took last night's clothes from the garbage can and put them in a bag for private disposal later. If Todd Simon had cameras installed in the house, he wasn't above having the cleaning staff root through our trash. Next thing I knew, Hope would be given a new assignment-investigating Jaime Vegas's ripped, sewage-stained, rat-hair-strewn clothes. I'd hate to see the story True News would come up with to explain that one.

Then it was time to take care of Becky.

ON THE way to breakfast, I popped my head into the room the guards and staff were using as a base station. With apologies for intruding, I mentioned that I'd spotted a paparazzi lurking about the night before. It was a lie, but within minutes, I was perched on the edge of the desk, surrounded by the trio of guards as I regaled them with tales of life in the limelight.

"Last month I got a letter from this guy who said he'd written a story about me and posted it online," I said. "I thought that was so sweet. Look at me, inspiring fan fiction and I'm not even a fictional character. So I type in the link he sent and I start reading it, and it's really cute, all about him meeting me at a show, then being taken backstage…"