Clenching her hands, she turned her attention toward the shards of glass littered across her floor.

Dammit to hell.

What was it with people busting her windows lately?

They were not only a pain in the ass to replace, but they left a mess that she was in no mood to clean.

Picking her way over the glittering shards, Sophia reached to pluck the brick from the sink, not at all surprised to find a note scribbled on the back.

“Leave or die.”

Predictable. Tacky. And downright cliché.

Tossing the brick onto the countertop, she moved to retrieve a broom, sweeping up the broken glass and dumping it in the trash.

She’d just finished when Luc returned, his eyes glowing with the fury of his wolf.

“Anything?” she demanded, although she already knew the answer.

“No,” he growled, his frustration thickening the air until it was difficult to breathe. “Whoever threw the brick had already taken off, and there are too many scents to pick out a specific person.” His jaw knotted as he struggled to leash his emotions. “I do know it wasn’t a human.”

“How?”

He moved to pick up the brick, testing its weight as his gaze skimmed the words of warning.

“Unlike a demon, they would have to be standing in your yard to pitch this through the window. There’s no way they could have escaped before I could catch them.”

She nodded in agreement. “Then that narrows down the options.”

“Not far enough.”

Sensing his self-disgust, Sophia frowned. “What is it?”

“There’s something off,” he growled.

“Off?”

“If someone genuinely wants you dead they don’t warn you,” he muttered, throwing the brick into the trash.

He was right. She was trained well enough to know that the best assassin was the one who moved through the shadows and struck before their prey ever sensed the danger.

“The gunshot was genuine enough,” she pointed out, sharing his confusion.

“So was the bullet.”

“Yeah, the bastard ruined my desk.”

“I went back to dig it out.” His expression was grim. “It was silver.”

She shivered. “I suppose crazy doesn’t always make sense.”

He looked like he wanted to bite something.

Hard.

“What are your plans for the day?” he abruptly demanded.

She shrugged. “A few hours by the pool and then off to the club.”

“I’m calling a security firm to install your alarm system.” He prowled toward the door. “Don’t leave without me.”

Ignoring the crowd of drunken females who screeched in wild abandon at the male Were gyrating on the stage, Luc leaned against the carved oak bar and sipped his Cognac.

No one would blame him for being in a foul mood.

Not only was he no closer to discovering who was trying to harm Sophia, but he was so tormented by his raging lust he could barely think.

Mierda.

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Get in, fix the problem, and get out.

That’s what he did.

He fixed problems.

But from the instant he’d caught sight of Sophia, the job had gone from simple to simply insane.

Proving his point, his gaze skimmed over the mingling crowd, landing with unerring accuracy on the golden-haired female who was responsible for his current discomfort.

She looked exquisitely elegant in a silky ivory pantsuit.

The jacket was perfectly tailored to her slender frame, the plunging vee neckline revealing the lush curve of her breasts. The pants clung to her long legs before flaring above a pair of three-inch heels.

Her pale hair was pulled into a smooth knot at the back of her head, the style perfectly designed to rouse his wolf into a near frenzy as he pictured his lips and teeth nuzzling down the length of her neck.

Wondering what she would do if he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for her office, Luc’s pleasant imaginings were interrupted as he watched a red-haired imp move to stand beside Sophia.

The tall fey looked a bit like Troy, but his hair was cut short and his far more bulky frame was covered by a black Armani suit instead of spandex. A smile touched his handsome face as he bent down to whisper something in Sophia’s ear.

A growl trickled from Luc’s throat as his fingers clutched the glass he was holding until it shattered.

Ignoring the Cognac that spilled over his hand, Luc prowled forward, his gaze locked on the fey who appeared unaware he was toying with death.

The crowd parted before him, the females giving tiny gasps of nervous excitement as they avidly watched him cross the room. He was indifferent to the stir of interest caused by his tight T-shirt and black slacks and the fluid grace of his movements.

He had only one thought in his mind.

Halting directly behind Sophia, he reached around her just as the fey was intending to take her hand. He grabbed the fool’s wrist, barely repressing his urge to crush the bones beneath his fingers.

“Touch her and I’ll make certain you never use that hand again,” he warned, his voice thick with his wolf.

“Shit.” Pale green eyes widened as the imp regarded him with a startled alarm. “Who the hell are you?”

“Luc.”

“You work here?”

Releasing his grip on the imp, Luc wrapped his arm possessively around Sophia’s waist, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“My only job is pleasing Sophia.”

Holding herself rigid, Sophia covered his hand with hers, covertly allowing her claws to dig into his flesh.

A tiny warning that she wasn’t pleased by his public claim.

“We’ll finish our discussion tomorrow, Andrew,” she smoothly promised the wary imp. “My office?”

“Four o’clock,” the fey murmured, cautiously waiting for Luc’s tiny nod of agreement before backing away and disappearing into the crowd.

Smart imp.

He obviously had enough sense not to piss off a Were. Especially not one in heat.

Of course, a female Were was equally perilous.

Tugging out of his grasp, Sophia turned to stab him with a furious glare.

“Are you demented?” she hissed.

“Odd.” His lips twisted. “That question has been running through my mind with growing frequency.” He nodded toward the fleeing imp. “Who was that?”

“My liquor distributor, who was giving me a very sweet deal until you came stomping over here like Conan the Barbarian,” she rasped. “What were you doing?”

Ah, now that was a loaded question.

For the past centuries Weres hadn’t been jealous creatures. The overriding need to produce children had destroyed the instinct to find that one special companion.

Was it any wonder he was as baffled as Sophia by his urgent desire to make certain that every male in Chicago understood this woman was his property?

“Have you considered the fact that you opened this club at the same time you moved into your new house?” he hastily improvised.

“So?”

He waved a hand toward the stage where yet another overly pretty Were was stripping off his clothes.

“So your mysterious stalker might be someone you met here.”

Her lips tightened, but it was obvious that she was considering his words.

“And how does pounding your chest and publicly branding me as your latest bimbo help?”

His brows lifted. “Bimbo?”

“Don’t push me.”

He shrugged. “Now everyone knows they have to go through me to get to you.”

“Great.” She didn’t appear particularly pleased by his logic. “What if they decide to lie low until you leave? Then I’m back to where I started.”

“But I’m not leaving,” he assured her, moving forward to trace the line of her stubborn jaw. “Not until I’m absolutely certain you’re safe.”

Perhaps sensing that nothing short of death was going to pry him from her side, she heaved a sigh, her gaze shifting to the horde of females who were studying him with a rapt attention that was intended to be reserved for the entertainment.

“So much for blending in,” she gave in with a sour frown.

He smiled, his finger lowering to follow the plunging neckline of her silk jacket.

“You were right to begin with,” he murmured, his voice thickening as she gave a small shiver of pleasure. “I don’t blend.”

CHAPTER 5

The human caterers had arrived precisely at eight to transform the back patio into the predictable cliché of an oriental paradise.

Paper lanterns were glowing near the pool. Black and red tablecloths covered the long buffet tables that were lined with platters of sushi. And cheesy silk fans had been placed on every chair to be given as party favors.

Not Sophia’s usual style.

She preferred champagne and caviar.

But considering one of her guests was quite likely trying to kill her, this was as good as it was going to get.

She did, however, manage to get her hands on the nectar she needed, and liberally dousing the drinks of the nymph and her cur lover, as well the vampire, she’d done her best to ensure that the party wasn’t a complete flop.