Page 6 of Filthy Fae

"Just so we're absolutely clear, I'm not a threat to you in any sense of the word," Jane said, sending a new bout of embarrassment through me. Clearly, I was not convincing her that my wolf was simply over-wrought by today's events. She lifted a hand. "I just want to establish that early. The alpha of the San Francisco pack is paying for me to represent any of your pack members who become entangled in this situation, and you, should the NALC become involved. I can only represent all of you with your express permission as alpha of the Six Rivers pack, though."

"You have it," I said, and when she pushed a paper and clipboard at me, I scanned the legal document, noted that I needed to be present for any and all interviews unless I gave explicit direction otherwise, and then I signed it.

"Good," she said, inspecting the paper. "And this all works fine, so long as you're okay with being available if we need to do an investigation. It might be time-consuming."

“I insist on being part of any type of investigation,” I said.

Jane nodded decisively. “Well, then, don’t try to kill me for tripping on the front stoop, and we’ll be fine.”

Touché.

“Alright then.” I clapped my hands together. “We should go if there’s nothing else.” I strode toward the door when Lance touched my shoulder.

“Scarlet, what attacked you and burned your hair?” he asked, his brows rose like he’d been waiting for an explanation and had finally lost any vestige of patience.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Some eyeless, noseless creature that stank like death. It didn’t even have any teeth. At least, I don’t think it did.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but Lance’s expression grew grimmer every moment I spoke.

His jaw clenched and nostrils flared, and he reached into his pocket slowly, pulling out his phone. Unlocking the screen, he fiddled with his apps, doing something I couldn’t see. “Hmm, last missed call from Darrel, two days ago, and the last missed call from Scarlet was… Never. Recent outgoing calls to Scarlet and Darrel, seven fifteen, seven twenty, seven twenty-three, seven thirty-eight...” He lifted his head, “That gap was during take-off when my pilot insisted that I put my phone away—”

I wrapped my hand over his phone, covering the screen. “My phone is locked in my desk drawer, where I put it before the fight, and Darrel left his cell in his motorcycle bag. And after the fight, we rushed up here to wash off the acid—”

“The acid?”

“The creature exploded into acidic sludge. Doesn’t matter.” I threw up my hands. “It wasn’t even a fight. The ghoul, or whatever it was, ran around, attacked Darrel, and died. That’s it.”

“It attacked Scarlet first. Tried to fling her off a three-story ladder in the rain.”

I leveled a death-glare on Darrel. “Traitor.”

He shrugged and leaned against the wall, kicking one of his motorcycle boots over the other.

“Let me get this straight. Scarlet, you climbed up a three-story ladder in the pouring rain with only Darrel spotting you.”

“Nope, I wasn’t here yet,” Darrel said.

“Double traitor.” I crossed my arms and glared harder.

“I wasn’t,” he said, holding up a hand.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this,” I said. “And there are my keys and wallet.” I snatched my keys from the side table where I must have put them so I couldn’t possibly lose them and shoved my wallet into my jacket pocket. “I need to get to the police station, and only Jane the lawyer and I are invited, so get out of the way.” They weren’t actually in the way, so I decided to stomp through the group, give a nod to Jane, and throw open the door.

Before I made it to safety, Lance called after me, “I’d like to talk about a couple of things when you get back, Scarlet.”

His voice had grown more serious and grave, and somehow his words made my stomach drop and flutter at the same time. Lance and I didn’t talk. We lived in the same house. We passed each other in the hallways. On days I worked late, take-out was always waiting for me, and he had an uncanny way of picking out things I’d never tried before and absolutely loved. One day after Lance passed me in the hall while I struggled to get a threadbare screw out of the wall with a screwdriver, I walked into the apartment to find a brand-new cordless drill.

But we didn’t talk.

It was something I had both been longing for and dreading. It took me a moment to find my voice, and when I did, it sounded hoarse. “Yeah, Lance. I’ll see you tonight when I get home.”

Darrel insisted on walking Jane and I down to my office and then out to my car, carrying the sour-smelling trash bag with him to dump outside. The rain had let up, but the sidewalks were a maze of deep puddles along the night darkened parking lot. No ghouls waited outside, just the same-old beat up trucks and sedans sitting under the glare of the halogen streetlight. Jane barely seemed to notice my dilapidated forest-green sedan as we stopped beside it. She just glanced up from her phone for an instant before climbing into the passenger seat.

Darrel opened my door for me, wrapped his hands over the top, and leaned in a little. “I’m sorry about the reservation, Baby. If you tell me the name of the place, after I wrap things up with Lance, I’ll head over there and see what I can do about making it for tomorrow.”

“You’re calling me baby now?” I covered his hands with mine. “Darrel Knight, are you always going to make it this hard for me to stay mad at you?”

He leaned over the door and kissed me, gently pressing his soft, warm lips to mine. “If I possibly can. But make no mistake, Scarlet, I want to have this date just as much as you do. And think about what I said. Gretel could take over some of your chores around this place. Sounds like she’d be grateful for the work.”

“I can handle it. I’ll talk to Marie about the rent break, but seriously, I can handle the complex and the investigation and everything.” Running my fingers over his whiskery cheeks, I whispered, “See you when I get back.”