Bo snarled at his uncle while Blayne pressed her mouth against his shoulder and giggled.

Dressed in one of his old Marine T-shirts and sweatpants, Grigori marched into the room. “So what are we planning for today? Anything interesting?”

“Not anymore,” Bo muttered, earning himself a slap to the side of the head. “Ow.”

Grigori leaned in, scowling right into Blayne’s face. She only giggled more.

“And what are you planning, Daddy’s Girl?”

“Running, sir!”

“Running? You know what runs, Daddy’s Girl?”

“Is the bellowing really necessary?” Bo complained.

Ignoring Bo, Blayne answered, “Dainty little princesses, sir?”

“Exactly! Dainty, pretty, little princesses. Just like you!”

Bo rolled his eyes. This was just painful.

“What about you, boy? ’Cause you can’t just sit around all day, doin’ nothin’.”

“When have I ever sat around, doing nothing?”

Blayne jumped off the bed. “I’m getting in the shower.”

“You’re showering before you go running?” Bo asked.

“You want me to run while unclean?”

Why did he ask these questions?

Blayne cheered, “Wahoo! Running!” and cartwheeled out of the room.

Grigori smirked at him. “You’re letting her wear one of your precious jerseys?”

“Why are you still standing here?”

His uncle leaned back, peering out into the hallway. “I need you to come to town with me,” he muttered.

“You’re not on my schedule.”

His uncle scowled. “I’m not what now?”

“I wrote out a schedule. You’re not on it.”

“Uh-huh. Can you fit me on the schedule?”

Bo grabbed the notepad off his night table and looked it over. “Well, let’s see, maybe I could move—”

Grigori snatched the pad from him and tore it up, throwing the tiny pieces at Bo’s head.

Bo stared at him. “You don’t think I made a copy?”

“Get dressed,” his uncle spit out between clenched teeth.

“I have to shower first, and Blayne’s using the only one that works.”

“Can’t you just take a bath?”

“I don’t have a duckie. How can I take a bath without a duckie?”

“It’s like you want me to beat you. It’s like you’re begging me, too. And what happened to my goddamn coffee table?”

“That was Blayne. Blayne did it.”

Hands on his hips, his uncle glared at him. “You’re blaming your girlfriend for that mess in my living room?”

It wasn’t until his uncle said itthat Bo realized that Blayne was his girlfriend—even if she didn’t know it yet. He grinned and happily answered, “Yeah. I am blaming my girlfriend. My girlfriend Blayne.”

They heard the panting behind them and together watched Bo’s shifted girlfriend Blayne turn in circles trying to catch her tail. She didn’t seem to be in any rush to stop.

“How long can she keep that up?”

“My girlfriend Blayne?”

“You’re going to keep calling her that now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, I am. Just to annoy you. As we know my whole goal in life is to annoy you.” Bo motioned to the hallway. “She’s still going.”

“Twenty bucks she throws up.”

Bo felt confident in his girlfriend Blayne. “You’re on.”

It had been a gut feeling that sent her back to the States. That feeling she sometimes got when she knew something was really off. That’s what had hit when she’d been sitting in that Thailand bar planning to roll a couple of worthless and rich full-human Aussie males who kept yelling at her slowly because they were sure she couldn’t speak English. Why the yelling, she didn’t know, and how saying something slowly would help if she really didn’t speak English was another way down Lack of Logic Lane, but in the end it hadn’t mattered.

Sami had walked away from some easy money—dragging Sander behind her—because she knew something was wrong. And now that she was standing in the middle of Bo’s Manhattan apartment, staring down a She-wolf who’d been caught going through his shit, she knew she’d been right.

Sander walked into Bo’s office, his nose in the air. “I scent She-bitch,” he announced. “Oh,” he said when he caught sight of the She-wolf. “Guess that’s you.”

“Is there a reason you’re in our friend’s apartment?” Sami asked. “Or are you just stealing?”

“Because that’s our job,” Sander added, not really helping.

The She-wolf didn’t respond, cold amber eyes sizing up both Sami and Sander.

The one thing foxes prided themselves on was being able to spot trouble. Not merely by scent but by a general sense of preservation. Extremely necessary when the smallest of the predators and nearly every breed and species didn’t trust you. The only species more loathed than foxes? Hyenas, which was kind of depressing when Sami thought about it too much. Because hyenas were just creepy.

And now that Sami had checked out this She-wolf, she knew that not only was Bo in trouble, he had trouble searching his apartment. This female would kill them and have them in a shallow grave before lunchtime. Actually, she’d probably work up a little appetite for lunch.