Chapter 10

Unfortunately, I’d only taken a single step when Gunner’s hand came down upon my shoulder. And I hated myself for the tingle of awareness that had nothing to do with the werewolf tendency to hunt fox shifters as one of his fingers slid sideways to brush up against my bare skin.

“Wait,” Gunner ordered. Or rather...requested? Because there was no electric tingle of alpha compulsion seasoning the single syllable this time. He wasn’t telling. He was asking...well, as much as an alpha could bring himself to ask.

I was too much of a teacher not to reward good behavior. So I swiveled back to face him, arching an eyebrow even as I cocked my head. “What?”

“I wanted you to know the offer’s still open.” Confusion must have painted itself across my face because Gunner elaborated. “The job. My brother headed back to headquarters this morning, but I’m here for the duration. Well, not literally here. In town.” He stopped himself before explanation turned into babble, held out what appeared to be a newly printed business card.

Curiosity forced me to accept the small rectangle of card stock. The werewolf had rented an office in the city while searching for a single Something? From the address, the space couldn’t have come cheap.

“I’m not going to take a job I know nothing about,” I countered, even as dollar signs danced through my head like moonbeams. How much, I wondered, might the werewolf in front of me spend hiring a local guide and investigative assistant? Enough to pay Kira’s tuition? Enough to buy my voracious sibling salami every day of the week?

“I wouldn’t ask you to do anything nefarious,” the werewolf in front of me promised. His eyes were hooded, his voice sweet as honey. “There’s something dangerous walking these streets and I intend to find it. To keep people like your sister safe. There are elements involved I think you might be familiar with....”

Only when his words trailed off did I realize that I’d been inching closer with each of his syllables, my chin tilting upward as if Gunner was a magnet and I was iron filings drawn toward him through no action of my own. Bad idea, Mai, I berated myself. Forcing myself to take one long step backward, I decided then and there that Kira and I would be better off living on ramen noodles rather than placing ourselves in the sight line of a seductively smooth alpha like this one.

Unfortunately, the star chain around my neck was unimpressed by my decision to be my own master. Instead, the mere thought of food was enough to remind it of last night’s unpaid milk money, and now the magic sent cold trickles shivering over my shoulders and turning icier by the second. I needed to get to that 7-Eleven sooner rather than later. I needed to pay off my debt....

“Thanks but no thanks,” I told the waiting werewolf, tucking his business card into one pocket while turning back in the direction from which I’d come. I’d hand over three bucks for the milk, then my star-ball-turned-conscience would leave me alone.

And even though my life was tricky enough without werewolves in it, I was subtly disappointed when Gunner’s footsteps failed to follow me down the block. Apparently, though, lack of sound didn’t equate to lack of movement. Because werewolf breath soon warmed the back of my neck despite the distance I’d moved since his last words.

“You can go straight home,” the werewolf noted, apparently having realized why I’d switched directions without me having to explain the action in words. “I paid for your milk.”

This time, the lizard of debt inside my chest cavity scrambled up my spine with scratchy claws even as Mama warned inside my brain: “Specks of dust slowly accumulate into mountain ranges.”

“Let me pay you back,” I started, knowing my mother was right. I couldn’t afford to be indebted to a werewolf....

But this time Gunner was the one backing away, was refusing the bills I fumbled out toward him in an effort to stave off further star-ball compulsions. “It was my pleasure,” my companion answered, the distance between us growing with every word. “Maybe next time you’ll let me buy you a beer. Or at least we could drink some milk together. You have my card.”

He was flirting. Sweetly almost. If only he wasn’t a werewolf, perhaps I would have said yes.

Instead, I squashed the niggle of complaint from my star ball, shook my head once, then swiveled around yet again to head in my original direction. If the werewolf didn’t want my money, then I’d save it for my sister. It was time to get home and check on Kira.

***

I should have been relieved to finally achieve the anteroom of my den, but I winced as I pushed open the heavy fire door that separated stairwell from hallway. Because my least favorite person was waiting on the faded welcome mat outside our apartment, and I really could have done without dealing with Simon tonight.

“Mai,” the gangly social worker greeted me, his voice as droopy as the wrinkles around his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”

“Shi—oot,” I parried. “So sorry about that.”

Meanwhile, my mind was running a mile a minute. What was Simon doing here? Had he found out about my lost job and about Kira’s precarious school situation? Was he ready to live up to past insinuations that my sister would be better off placed in another home?

If our conversation had been a cage fight, I would have been backpedaling rapidly while hoping my hind end didn’t end up against the chain-link before I came up with a strategy other than retreat. Luckily, Simon took pity on my confusion before I let anything particularly incriminating slip. “Did you forget we had a home visit planned for today?”

A home visit? That’s all this was? “Yeah,” I admitted, brushing past the state employee as I turned my key in the lock. I’d likely noted down the date in my planner, then lost the reminder during Kira’s ill-fated magic trick last week. After a building evacuation, two hours of mopping up sprinkler water, and a furious tirade by the apartment supervisor, the fate of my planner—and the dates of any upcoming home visits—had been the least of my concern.

As if reading my mind, Kira’s bushy tail flicking apologetically from her perch atop the bedroom lintel and I found myself smiling instead of fuming. At least my sister had made it home safe and sound.

“So,” Simon said, walking in behind me without invitation and settling into one of our two dining chairs. “How is everything going here?”

As he spoke, his gaze flicked around the tiny apartment, and I scurried along in its wake, moving dirty cereal bowls into the sink and picking up place mats that had been knocked onto the floor by fox action. It wasn’t as if we lived in a pig sty, but I worked two jobs and Kira was a shifter cooped up in a one-bedroom apartment. Our home wasn’t exactly spic and span.

On the other hand, I loved my sister, I neither used nor dealt drugs, and I didn’t bring home pervert boyfriends who snuck into her room to fondle Kira’s underage body while she slept. It was hard to believe this was the worst fostering situation Simon came in contact with. So I mustered a smile and offered foodstuffs I didn’t actually have on hand rather than remarking upon the financial upset threatening Kira’s and my lives. “Would you like some tea? Or a cookie?”

“No.” Simon’s mouth pursed as if the mere idea of eating something inside my home gave him the willies. He paused, then added: “Thank you.”

We stared at each other in silence for enough seconds that the meeting began to feel profoundly awkward. Then the social worker pinned me down with a specific question I didn’t know how to sidestep. “What is it you’re working so hard not to tell me?”

The man was too astute for my own good. And I couldn’t risk being caught up in an untruth.

So I went ahead and spilled the beans. “I lost my job at the school,” I admitted. Then, figuring a little white lie wouldn’t kill me, I added: “I’ve got several leads on new ones though. I swear to you, Kira isn’t going to end up starving or on the streets. I just need a little time to work things out.”

Rather than answering immediately, the social worker clambered back to his feet so he could take my hand. His palm was faintly damp and chilly, but I forced myself not to jerk away from the contact. Instead, I met Simon’s gaze head on as he spoke in what he probably thought was a compassionate manner.

“I’ll return Monday with my supervisor,” he told me. “Please have Kira packed and ready. If your work situation hasn’t improved dramatically by that point, I’m afraid we’ll need to move your sister to a more appropriate home.”