"Stop this, Nick," Jacob said.

"Do you know how long it's been?" Nick asked.

"Shut up," Jacob said, and then he turned to me. "We knew about the wolves and the leopards, and we heard you cut quite a swath up in Vegas through the weretigers. You've got Jason Schuyler for your wolf to call, and Nathaniel Graison for your leopard, and even a leopard king in Micah Callahan, and we hear you brought some tigers back from Vegas and have bonded with them. You stole one of Chicago 's master vampire's werelions to come down and take over your local pride. He's your Rex, your lion king. You're supposed to be all mated up."

I didn't like him listing my boyfriends, not one little bit, but he was wrong on one thing. Haven, the local Rex, was not my mate. I had slept with him, but he didn't share well enough. He'd proven that when he slept over one night and started a fight with Micah, Nathaniel, and me the next morning. Haven had been surprised that I'd joined in on the other men's side. He'd said, "The women don't interfere." I told him he had the wrong girl, and to get out. He'd actually apologized, which for him was a lot, but he was still not on my favorites list. "You got a point?" I asked the current problem werelion.

"Your Rex is lying about you and him. Your lioness doesn't belong to him."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"Liar, you belong to a lot of people, but you don't belong to Haven. He's put out the word that no more werelions need apply for your bed, because you're his."

"My dance card is full, so if his lies keep the others away, fine with me."

"But it isn't fine with your lion," he said. He shook his head. "We didn't know you were an unmated werelion. We wouldn't have taken the job if we had."

"Why not, and what job?" I asked.

"We're being unprofessional, and I apologize for that, but you've caught us off guard."

"Why are you here, Jacob?" I asked; maybe if I used his name it would speed things along.

"I'm going to reach into my jacket for a cell phone. I have pictures on it to show you. You aren't going to like them. You're going to get angry with us, but remember we were hired to do this, it's nothing personal." He looked past us. "Your waiter is coming back."

"He's probably going to take your orders," I said.

"Would it really bother you if I killed him?" Nicky asked.

I finally realized that this problem, whatever it really was, wasn't going to be settled by guns at the table. I stopped worrying about keeping an eye on both of them and just looked at Nicky. I gave him the full weight of my unfriendly gaze.

He blinked the one big blue eye I could see. "Nice look. It really has me quaking in my boots," he said.

"You haven't seen anything yet," I said.

"Tease," he said, low.

Ahsan was back at the table. He wasted smiles on me and I was torn between wanting him away from the table and warning him. "Can I take drink orders?"

"No," Jacob said, "we got called back to work, so no time for lunch. Just give us a few minutes to fill Anita in on the problem, and you'll get your table back."

He nodded, put his tablet away, and flashed me another brilliant smile. I tried to give one back, but knew my eyes didn't hold it. I couldn't pretend that well. He left us alone, and he would tell the rest of the wait-staff to avoid the table.

"Show me the pictures," I said.

Jacob spread his suit jacket carefully with two fingers and reached in just as gingerly with his other hand to lift out a cell phone. It was another one with a large screen like Bennington had had for his wife's pictures.

"If you do anything violent, we will hurt some of these nice people," Jacob said.

"I'll rip the hot waiter's throat open, just for you," Nicky said, almost a whisper, and smiled while he said it.

"I'm more practical, Anita. I'll hurt whoever is close," Jacob said.

I nodded. "The foreplay is getting tiresome, just show me." But I didn't like the buildup; it promised that whatever they were going to show me would be bad. My pulse was speeding up, but the lioness was not hurrying toward the surface of me. She was afraid; afraid of these men, these lions. She was attracted to male werelions, never afraid. What was wrong with these two that she could sense?

Jacob made the screen light up, pressed something on it, and said, "When you want to see the next picture, just slide this with your finger."

The first picture was of Micah, Nathaniel, and me on the sidewalk holding hands; laughing. The next picture showed Jason leaning in from just behind us, me leaning back listening. We were all smiling. The next picture was a bad angle, and too far away, but it showed us at the booth in this restaurant the day we all came in together. I watched the pictures of that lunch slide across the screen.

"Is there a point to this?" I asked.

"Keep going," Jacob said.

I went back to the screen and found pictures of Micah driving, going into office buildings, going into the television station for an interview. The next images were of Nathaniel going into Guilty Pleasures at night for work, going down the alley where the dancers' entrance was, then daylight and going in to practice the new dance routine on the stage without customers. Jason was in some of those shots. Jason going into the club at night and driving his new car around town. Jason parking at the Circus of the Damned parking lot, and pictures following him all the way to the door.

I swallowed past the pulse that was trying to come out my throat, and gave a cold, blank face to them. "So you've been following my boyfriends, what of it?"

"You're almost to the end of the pictures," he said.

I kept sliding my finger and moving the pictures. I saw Micah walking down the sidewalk, toward an office building. I knew he had meetings all day. But this time there was a picture, then a picture of the camera used to take it; same street, same everything, but a second camera taking an image of the other camera. Then the next image was of a rifle, a very nice sniper rifle. The next image was back on Micah, and the last shot was of the camera and the rifle side by side.

"Is that it?" I asked, and my voice was squeezed down tight.

"The other two are still asleep. They worked last night, but when they get up we'll have men on them, too."

"You obviously know our schedules. Now what do you want?" I put the phone down and let him slide it across the table to himself.

"First, if we don't check in with our sniper, he shoots Micah when he comes out from the meeting."

I nodded. "So I can't shoot you here."

"No," he said.

I nodded, small little nods over and over. I wasn't thinking very clearly, but I had enough sense to put my gun back in its holster. It went in smoothly from all that practice, even while the rest of me was frozen. I couldn't think. It was like a great roaring silence in my head, but it wasn't quiet. It was filled with a sound like wind, or storm.

"Good," Jacob said, "come with us, quietly, and no one has to get hurt."

"What do you want me to do?"

"We want you to raise the dead for us."

"You know you can just make an appointment for that."

"You've already turned the job down," he said.

That made me look at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come outside with us, let us pat you down for weapons, and we'll take you to our employer. Then it will all be explained."

"I would do it before your Nimir-Raj comes out from his meetings," Nicky said. "You want us to call our friend the sniper before he comes outside again."

I stared at him, did the long blink as if I were having trouble focusing. I guess I was; I felt damn near light-headed. I never fainted, but part of my brain was thinking about it. Crap. I had to do better than this, had to be stronger than this.

I nodded again and got up, but I had to touch the table to steady myself.

"You're not going to faint, are you?" Nicky said.

"No," I said. I took in a lot of air, let it out slow, did it a second time. "I don't faint." I started walking, and really wished I were in jogging shoes rather than high heels, but you never plan to be kidnapped, so you're never dressed for it.

I caught my heel on a chair leg, and Nicky grabbed my arm. All touch makes metaphysical powers more. My lioness snarled inside me, her power lashing out, and a slap like claws, saying, Get back!

Nicky staggered a little, but didn't let go of my arm. He squeezed hard enough for it to hurt, and growled out, "That hurt!"

"It was supposed to," I said.

"Let her go, Nicky." Jacob was up with us, using his taller body to try to block the view.

Nicky growled at him, still holding my arm.

The lioness and I were in agreement, as we lashed out at them both. The visual was of claws slicing at them. They both reacted as if the pretend claws had weight to them. Jacob touched Nicky's wrist. "Let her go, now, before we cause a scene."

"She started it."

"Bullshit," I said.

Jacob made the other one let me go. They stepped back, gave me some room. But both their beasts were watching me. It was that feeling that you might get on the grasslands surrounded by all that gold, wavy grass, and you stop because you feel something watching you. I knew I had not just the men's attention, but also that part of them that turned furry once a month was staring holes in me.

I heard, felt, smelled my lion's thought. Make them fight among themselves, save the cubs. It wasn't words, but it was emotion that translated into words, because I was human and I needed them. But the idea was good; we had enough power to make them fight among themselves-maybe that could save Micah, and Jason, and Nathaniel? But not yet; I wanted them to call off the first sniper from Micah. I needed to cooperate long enough for them to do that. I told my lioness, Patience, and she hunkered down in the long grass and began to wait. She was a stealth predator; they understand patience.

I was out the doors, slipping my sunglasses on against the bright summer sun. I stopped at the top of the steps.

"Keep going," Nicky said.

"Shouldn't one of you lead, since I don't know which car is yours?"

They exchanged a glance, as if they hadn't thought of it. I had shaken them, or the lioness had. I hoped that would help us. Nicky led the way and Jacob dropped beside me. I'd honestly expected it to be the other way around, but it didn't matter to me.

"I'm cooperating; how about calling your sniper now?"

"When we've searched you for weapons, and we're in the car."

I let out a breath, nodded, and kept walking. I wanted to scream at them to call off their sniper, but they were recovering from the metaphysical surprise my lion had thrown them. They were gathering their plan around them again, sinking into it. I debated on whether I wanted them back in control. For now, I gained nothing by poking at them, so I followed skater boy to a big SUV. They had parked at the edge of the lot, so that thick trees and bushes were against the far side, so when they took me around to the passenger side, no one could see them frisk me.

"Lean on the truck," Jacob said.

I put my hands on the side of the very clean SUV. There was a rental sticker in the window. I was thinking again, noticing things again. I could do this. We'd all get out alive, and that thought, that hope, was what they were counting on. Hope is a wonderful thing, but it can be used by very bad people to get you to cooperate until it's too late. You think you'll find a way out until it's too late to save yourself, too late to save others, too late for anything that matters. Serial killers do that a lot, put a weapon on you in a public area, and then make you get into their car, promising not to hurt you. They lie. The general rule is that if someone puts a weapon on you in a busy area where you can yell for help, yell. Because once they get you alone, what they plan to do to you is a lot worse than getting shot, or stabbed, or a quick death. You never let the bad guys run the show, ever. I knew that. I really knew that, but I leaned against the truck and prepared to let them take my weapons. I knew I'd do what they wanted until they made that first call to the sniper on Micah. I had no other options-yet. And that bastard hope made me think I'd have another chance later to do more, even while the other part of me snickered cynically in my brain. I was acting like a civilian, and though I'd never worn a uniform of any kind, civilian was not what I was.

Jacob started patting me down, starting at my wrists under the suit jacket. He paused. "I can rip the jacket, or you can put your arms back and I can slip it off; your choice."

I put my arms back, and he slipped the jacket down, surprisingly gently. The jacket revealed the knife sheaths on both forearms with their slender silver-coated daggers. It also showed the shoulder holster against the rich blue of the tank top, and the Smith and Wesson at the small of my back.

"This is what you wear for every day?" Jacob asked.

"Not usually, but I'm expecting a call about a vampire execution out of state."

"When and from whom?" he asked.

Whom? What kind of bad guy uses whom? But I didn't say it out loud; I wanted this to go fast so he'd make that phone call. "I don't know for sure, and the marshal in charge of the case."

"That's a custom shoulder rig," Nicky said.

"My shoulders are narrow enough I have to have custom to fit anyway, so I put on some extras."

"They aren't narrow; you're just small," he said.

"Fine, take the weapons, and make the damn call."

"Some girls just can't take a compliment," Nicky said, leaning in close enough to put his face against my hair, as his hands found the gun at the small of my back, and pulled it from its holster. He rubbed his cheek against my hair like he was scent-marking me. I think he meant it to be irritating, or maybe even threatening; some women would have taken it that way, but the moment enough of his body touched mine with no cloth, no gloves in between, the power flared between us like a hot wind.

I expected him to pull back, but he didn't, he sort of collapsed around me, hugging me to him with my own gun in his hand. Everywhere we touched the power grew, as if we'd burn if we touched too long. But fire wasn't the right analogy, because it didn't hurt. It felt good.

"Stop it," I said, and made sure there was anger in the words.

He rubbed his face against mine harder, his lips pressing along my cheek. "It feels good; I can smell that you think so, too."

"Get the fuck off me!" But anger wasn't the right thing, either, because my beasts all reacted to anger. I had a moment of those other shadow beasts moving in the dark of me, but the lioness shoved them back. I watched her pull her lips away from those sharp teeth and draw the air into her mouth, scenting over her Jacobson's Organ, so she could literally taste his power on the air.

He had his arms pinning mine, but only above the elbows, so that I could draw one of the knives and start to turn it into his arm. I wasn't thinking about anything but getting him off me. Another hand grabbed mine, knife and all, and more power flared from that hand, too, so that the three of us were suddenly bathed in the power as if we'd all three fallen into a warm bath all at once. Our heads were below the water and we were drowning in the power. My necromancy folded away. It was just gone. It had given me a little more control of the lion in me; now I was bare to the power, to the pull of them.

I heard Jacob say, "Jesus," and then his power smashed into all of it and it was like a fist smashing a house of cards. It scattered the power, stripped the energy, and shut down both of them. He tried to shut down my beast, but he couldn't. She snarled at him inside my head, and the sound trickled out my mouth.

He pulled both my blades from their sheaths and threw them on the ground, so he could tear Nicky away from me. Nicky went into a crouch, hands at his sides. He had both my guns in his hands, but he threw them to the ground in the bushes beside the knives so they faced each other bare-handed.

I thought about going for a weapon, but they'd missed the big knife that sat under my hair and down my spine; if they didn't touch me again I wouldn't be unarmed. And I was still too busy trying to control the animal in me to mess with their fight. The lioness's emotions/thoughts were loud in my head. She thought they were strong, and liked it, and wanted to make them fight over us and save our family. I tried to explain to the beast that we needed them alive until they called the sniper, but it was too complex for my lion. I leaned against the truck and concentrated on controlling my breathing, quieting my pulse, and having her hunker back down into the grass. It wasn't time to make our rush; we'd miss our prey. It was too soon; save your energy for the last big run. That she understood. Conservation of energy is a very real concept for a predator. We needed to wait for our timing to be just right.

"We are not going to fight over her, Nicky. Remember who you are. Remember what you are."

Nicky blinked the one eye that wasn't hidden in his skater-cut bangs; it had gone to lion amber. He growled at his friend.

"Nicky, we're on a job."

Nicky closed his eyes, fists at his side. He hugged himself tight. "Your eyes have changed, Jacob. Your fucking eyes shifted."

The words made me look at the other man's face and see him blinking pale yellow eyes. His own eyes had been a pale enough gray that it hadn't been as obvious as Nicky's eyes going from blue to amber. They both almost shifted. Lycanthropes as powerful as they were didn't lose control in a public parking lot; they just didn't.

Jacob turned those lion eyes toward me, his human face holding them like they belonged, or maybe I'd just spent too much time looking at Micah's leopard eyes to think it was weird. "You're in heat."

I shook my head. "I don't know what you mean by that."