"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 thisguy 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…"

"Uh-huh," one guard chortled.

I nudged him with my foot, letting my black silk skirt ride up my thigh, their gazes riding up with it. "So you think you know what happens next? You don't know the half of it."

He grinned. "Gonna tell us?"

"Let's just say that being able to contact ghosts makes for some very interesting menages a trois… and menages a quatre, and me-nages a… whatever five is in French."

They laughed.

"I never knew I had a thing for geishas and Amazons, but there it was, in vivid detail, and even more vivid color illustrations."

"Spirit photography?" one of them said.

I smacked his arm, letting my fingernails graze his biceps. "Drawings, of course. Very imaginative drawings."

The youngest guard swung around the laptop on the desk, fingers poised over the keys, brows raised in a dare.

"You think I memorized the URL?" I said.

All three of them teased me until I sighed and said, "Try these keywords. Jaime-spelled J-A-M-I-E, his attention to detail not extending to my name. Vegas. Geisha. Amazon warrior. And, ahem, Nubian slave master."

A howl of laughter.

"Found it," the guard said. Then, after a moment. "Holy shit."

"Did I mention it was imaginative? I don't know where I got those missiles." I waved at the picture, then at my chest. "But apparently there's more to me than meets the eye. A lot more."

As they laughed, Angelique passed the door, heading for the dining room. I jumped off the desk.

"Angelique!"

She stopped, frowning as she saw where I was.

"I need to talk to you. Someplace-" I glanced at the guards, "-private. Sorry, guys. Maybe there's an empty room someplace-"

"Take this one," the head guard said. "We'll clear out."

"Are you sure?"

They were. As they left, I thanked them and agreed to come by later with more stories. They waved Angelique in and closed the door behind them.

"We're supposed to stick to the common rooms," she said

"Do you know why? I'll show you in a minute." I moved behind the desk and sat. "But first, I bet I know who fed you stories about me. It's either Becky or Will, but my money's on Will. He tried the same shit with me the second day-hinting that you were talking about me behind my back. I wouldn't bite, but if I had, I can guarantee you'd have seen my response on the show."