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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 29

"Next time, even out your knuckles."

"It's Sunday morning! Get up, girl! Time to go to work!"

And with that, Winter springs awake from the covers of her bed. She looks around urgently before her eyes catch her mate standing above. She frowns at his big smile. "Go away," she grunts.

"Hey, you know me. I always get up at the crack of dawn to start my hunts. Well, almost always. Today, it's very important that I get up early. The mark is on the move as we speak."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"Um...you...wanted to join me. Remember? You said so last night. I had been against it since it's against the rules and all, but you were quite insistent. So I decided to turn it into a teaching opportunity."

She yawns loudly and pulls the covers off her half-naked body. Her short, pink nightgown barely covers her pubic mound. "Sundays are for sleeping in."

"I've been preparing for this guy for several days. I've finally figured out his roving patterns. Now's the time to get him, before he disappears again." Shiloh looks at her for a couple of seconds and sighs in disapproval. "Hey, you wanted to do this. You wanted to see what I did during a stakeout. This is what I do. I study the mark's habits and movements to decide on when best to finish the job. But to study him, I have to get there first."

"How long have you been staking this guy out anyway? It seems like forever."

"Six days. It's not forever. It just seems that way."

She slides herself to the edge of the bed and looks at her mate with confusion. "And you're not close to catching him yet?"

"I've done all I could do up to this point. But today has to be the day." Shiloh grabs the woman by her armpits, surprising her into shouting out. He picks her up and places her on her feet. He touches her nose with his own. "You said you wanted to come today, so stop complaining."

She sighs and hugs him, drawing him in closer than he is prepared for. He is wearing a cotton Polo shirt that looks freshly ironed. All that hard work is about to be undone as her hands eagerly grab it.

"Take it easy now," he says. "You're gonna wrinkle it."

"You came home late last night. I was already asleep."

"Sorry about that."

"You're wearing blue jeans." She chuckles. "You never wear blue jeans."

"Yeah, my business clothes won't do today. We're going to go have breakfast in the same place where Mr. Thompson eats brunch. We're gonna get there early so we won't miss him. Then we'll follow him home. We have to look as casual as possible so...dress casually." She releases him and stretches her arms above her head. He growls in fake anger and slaps her bottom with the palm of his hand, causing her to shout out once again. "Hey, don't delay. We have to leave very soon, just in case the mark decides to show up early."

"All right!" She lowers her arms and clears her throat, still trying to wake up. While her mate brushes past her anxiously, she looks longingly at the bed. "I don't suppose I could shower before we go?"

"As long as you make it a quick shower. There's no time to groom much either."

She slips her nightgown from her shoulders, exposing the smooth, snow white fur on her top half. Once it slides to the floor, she rubs her eyes and heads to the bathroom. "Hey, isn't there another mark you're hunting?

Shiloh emerges from the closet, holding what looks like a newly bought baseball cap. He looks around for his girl, then sees the nightgown on the floor. "Pamela Daltrey. She's proven tough to track down. In fact, that's what I've been doing all last night--trying to track her down."

"She works for the Cartwright campaign, doesn't she?"

"No...she's the wife of someone who works for Cartwright. Members of his campaign are now being given increased Secret Service protection since two of their own have been picked off. But Pam's been careless. She's been seen in one or two bars in L.A. with a small group of people. I've been trying to find out where. Being an idiot, I mistook one mark for the other, and ended up in a bar that Mrs. Daltrey doesn't actually go to. I stayed there for two damned hours before I realized--"

"Should you really be going after two marks at a time? Is that even allowed?"

"If you know what you're doing, you can absolutely take two or more. I haven't told you until now because I didn't want you trying to do it before you were ready."

"Oh? Well...I've been doing this for over two months now. Don't you think I'm ready yet?"

Winter's voice sounds soft and sultry. It is enough to draw Shiloh into the bathroom. He enters, attracted by her lovely, naked body. He usually revels at her innocence and purity, but he is trying to keep things businesslike today. "I've told you, just now, that I mistook one mark for the other. It's not easy to juggle these things...."

Winter hugs him once he gets close, again adding fresh folds to his shirt. She presses her nose against his chest. "Could you give me fifteen minutes?"

"Fifteen?"

"To get ready? After all, you know how we women are." She chuckles and winks at him.

Shiloh tilts his head up and looks at the ceiling. It looks like he is frustrated with her sexy stall tactics. "Please hurry," he whispers as her chest presses against his.

She sighs as she kisses and licks her lover's neck. "Shiloh, can I ask you something?" She closes her eyes and does not notice him shake his head. "Have I been a good student?"

He chuckles almost immediately and places his hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her away from him. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, have I? Come on, you can tell me if I haven't. I can take it." Her voice is getting softer. It sounds less sexy now and instead seems more pleading. She looks into his judging eyes.

"All right. What's wrong? What happened?"

"What're you talking about? Nothing's wrong."

"Don't say that. You've been moping since Monday. I know when something's bothering you, even if it's something as subtle as leaving the toilet seat up. Are you mad at me? Am I spending too much time away from you?"

Her voice stiffens. "I said it's nothing." She releases her grip and heads for the shower. She closes the glass door and leaves him standing in the middle of the bathroom like a dumped lover. Her angry voice resonates loudly. "I'll be ready in...five minutes you said?"

Shiloh looks down and puts his hands on his hips. His mate's moods changed really quickly in that one instance, from happy to stoic in seconds. Her surprising response to his question has him stumped. He scratches his head in deep thought as the shower is turned on. The normally in-control wolf looks confusedly at the shower door that blocks his view of Winter. He looks at her fogged-up form for a couple of minutes, then suddenly nods his head with determination. "Okay." Without thinking twice, he forcefully pulls the door aside and stands in front of the surprised female.

"What are you doing?" Winter gasps, then laughs as the water hits his head and streams down his formerly fresh-looking shirt. She smiles brightly and puts her hands on his shoulders. It never occurs to her to tell him to leave, or at least take off his clothes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making you laugh. It's working right?" He watches her laugh once again. While she is positively giddy, he looks quite serious. "Look, your happiness is essential to my happiness. I need you to laugh right now. You don't concentrate when you're angry in general and...you don't perform too well when you're mad at me. So...um...."

Winter reaches forward and kisses his snout. They are all over each other in seconds. He is facing the shower head, so it is an uncomfortable make out session for him. Water enters his mouth and his eyes as they kiss each other. He hardly seems to mind as he draws her closer.

She giggles while they make out, then she suddenly pulls away. "But your clothes are soaked."

"You're more important." He sneezes as she unbuttons his shirt. "I know the lessons are hard on you, but then again, they need to be. Because nobody in the office is going to be nice to you."

"Almost every time you teach me something new about this job, I get mad at you. I'm not being very fair, am I?"

"Hmm. Maybe Robert could take over the lessons...just to give you a change of pace. He could be better at it than me."

"No, I don't want that." She manages to pull Shiloh's shirt off of him. "I mean, I like Crevecoeur, but you are my tutor. I want you." She plants both palms on his bare chest and runs them down his abdomen. Before he can say anything, her hands are on his rear. "And now, I want you. Take your pants off."

Shiloh sighs heavily and gives up. "Yes, ma'am," he says. He is smiling, but his voice is tentative. He knows that time is being wasted, but cannot totally disagree with what is happening. He stands there and lets her slide his jeans off. "We're gonna be late."

"Hey! My happiness. Remember?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The time is approaching eight o'clock when the wolves arrive at their destination. The locale is not exactly quiet, but the noise of the roaring motorcycle cuts through the relatively serene sounds of foot traffic and light conversation. People entering the restaurant, as well as those behind the windows, stare at the hog as it rolls into an empty parking space. When the wolves descend the bike, they draw even more attention, especially when Shiloh takes his helmet off.

The restaurant is a no-name, upscale establishment, one of literally thousands that serve brunch in Los Angeles. It has an awning above the front door and a patio in the rear. There is a small, diverse client base on hand right now. There are, maybe, ten people inside, a couple of people at the patio, and five strangers milling around the front door. After the motorcycle stops making noise, everything returns to a quiet stupor, and the people return to their conversations. There is nothing happening; it appears that, despite some delay, the wolves have arrived really early.

Still, Shiloh looks at his watch as soon as he dismounts. "Damn. This is as late as I've ever come here."

"Would you relax?" Winter removes her helmet, revealing a big smile that exposes her teeth. "I've gotta say, I've never been here before, though I've passed it a couple of times. Now that I've seen it, I've got to do more of this 'brunch' thing."

"They don't serve brunch until ten."

"Well then, stop looking at your watch so much. If it's not time yet, then that means the mark's not here. We're early." She walks next to him and puts her left hand around his waist. "Settle down and take me to breakfast."

Getting stares from the gathering outside, the pair boldly enters the establishment and wait to be seated. At Shiloh's insistence, they are taken to a booth in the back, an area illuminated both by the ceiling light bulbs and the large window. The window provides a view of almost the entire patio.

"He's been having breakfast here for the past two Sundays." He presses his right index finger on the glass, pointing to a nearby seat. "He prefers the more spacious patio because he can stretch his legs while he types away at his laptop. He holds a lot of meetings with that thing and he does a lot of yelling. He should stick to that pattern here."

The look on Winter's face changes from one of happy impatience to one of uncaring disinterest. She locks her hands together and watches where Shiloh is pointing. She listens as he describes his typical day of following a mark. He continues the lecture even as they place their orders, though he is careful not to attract suspicion from the waiter.

"My mom always told me never to follow a set pattern; never stick to a rhythm. Don't keep doing the same things every day in the same way. She said that as a way to get me and Seneca out of the house. But as we grew older, we've found out that reacting differently, even slightly, to things that pop up in your everyday life, is a good way to avoid being mundane. It's a good way to keep yourself challenged. When we took this job, we figured out quick that it's a great way to keep yourself hidden. After a mission, Seneca and I always acted as if we were being followed. So we slept at different places every night." He pauses to take a drink of water. His mate continues to stare at the window. "What I'm saying is, this stakeout is easy if you know the mark's gonna come back to this place every week. So, there's usually no need to rush when you try to get these guys. You understand?"

Winter nods slowly and deliberately. She looks like she is deep in thought, but she had been looking at the window instead of at her mate. It could just be that the last two words that Shiloh asked were the only words she heard.

"So tell me. What should you not do to pass the time during a stakeout?" He smiles as he waits for an answer.

She clears her throat and keeps staring out the window, paying attention to the general area where Shiloh said the mark would be. She pays little attention t Shiloh himself. A few seconds later, the waiter brings them their food, breaking up what has been turning into an awkward silence. Her smile returns and the wolves thank the server. The food looks good, and Winter inhales the steaming vapor into her nose.

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm sorry. What was it again?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "What shouldn't you do to pass the time at a stakeout? Tell me you at least remember the answer."

Winter scoffs as she digs in to her food. "I...don't think I heard that part of the lesson."

"Are you kidding? That was among the first things I said."

"Well...you said a lot of things. I heard lots of dos, lots of don'ts, a long-winded story with your stupid brother in it...lots of things. I probably heard a run-on sentence in there too. You really need to slow down."

Shiloh shakes his head. "You know, this flies in the face of me calling you a good student."

"Aww, come on. Don't say that."

They look at each other with uncertainty before they earnestly start eating. Winter has ordered a pair of blueberry pancakes while her man has himself a plate of bacon and eggs. He watches her douse her breakfast with syrup and studies her carefully. His eyes wince as if he detects something wrong.

She is about to take her first bite when she notices his gaze. "What's the matter, hon? Do I have something stuck in my hair?"

"All right. Something's bothering you. You're not focusing. You're more distant than usual. Did something bad happen this week while I was away?"

She scoffs once again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Did something bad happen at work? Did one of those guys get to you?"

"Nothing...happened!"

"I hear your words, but I'm listening to your voice. You're lying to me...and that's something you never do. Something's wrong. It does no good to say something you don't mean."

Winter lowers her head and takes more bites out of her pancakes, trying to avoid Shiloh's gaze. "Eat your food."

The male shakes his head and starts eating. His eyes shift back and forth from the window to his mate, all the time looking less enthused about the trip than earlier. "I know you've got a successful hunt on your resume, but that's no reason to be cocky. This stakeout thing is something you've got to take seriously if you want to get the most out of this job." He takes another bite out of his meal and turns back to the window. "Don't forget to stick your ears up and listen for the mark's voice. He sounds like--"

"He sounds like he has a cold...because his voice is always raspy. I was paying attention."

"Well that's good, because...." He pauses as a sharp glint shines in his eyes. He closes them and turns his head away from the brightness for a couple of seconds, then opens his eyes to see where the distraction came from. There is a tall, blonde, middle aged, and very well dressed man standing a few yards away from him. The human had taken a platinum-banded watch from his pants pocket. He also pockets a ring that he removes from a finger on his left hand. It was the reflection from the watch that hit Shiloh's eyes.

One of the uniformed waiters shows the stranger to the back door patio. While Winter eats innocently, Shiloh eyes the man carefully, up until the human reaches his outdoor seat. The wolf waits until the stranger is situated before slowly droning, "That's him."

"What's that?"

"The mark has arrived." He watches her immediately turn to the window. Her breathing rate increases. "Hey, don't act like that. We don't want to attract attention."

"Sorry. It's just that...when I get so close to the target, my mind starts racing. I get real excited and it's just...kinda hard to hold it in. You know what I'm saying?"

"Excited or agitated?"

Winter shrugs. "Well, no! It's not negative at all. Agitation isn't a good thing. That doesn't happen to me."

"Maybe it's both?"

The girl shakes her head emphatically. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, whatever it is, all the hunts you've done up to this point were undercover operations. You acted as someone else in order to get your man. But this is a stakeout. The success of a mission like this depends on you being cool under pressure. You've got to hold it in."

"Right. Sorry." Winter slows her breathing down and looks back at the mark.

"Now, he's gonna grab a chair and...there he goes. He sits down on one and stretches his legs on the other, just like clockwork."

"Okay, great. What happens next?"

"Well...." Shiloh scratches his head and takes a deep breath. "Well, he's gonna order something. Once he does, we watch him eat, then we leave right before he finishes. I know he doesn't work on Sundays, so I guess we follow him home. You know, I've been thinking of whacking him at his home, but that would put me at a disadvantage since...I've never followed him to his actual house. Matter of fact, the only mark whose house I've ever been to is Mrs. Daltrey's. Killing a mark at his or her own house is really tricky. You gotta know the place just like he does. You gotta know the neighborhood."

"If it's gonna be too much trouble, maybe you shouldn't do the job today. Better still, since you've got two marks to worry about, why don't you just let me have a crack at one of them?"

"Hey, who's giving the lesson here? You or me?"

"Well...sorry."

"Although, you're probably right. Maybe I'm stretching myself too thin. Oh, speaking of lessons, I've gotta remember to teach you how to tail someone using a car."

"Well...can I use the bike to tail someone?"

"Oh. I keep forgetting you don't drive the car." He looks at her with a disapproving smirk. "The bike makes too much noise for you to do any tailing."

"You take the bike on hunts all the time."

"Yeah, but I'm really tall, which makes me too noticeable. I don't tail anyone on the Harley."

She nods and takes a bite. "Mmm, that's too bad. I've become really good on that thing."

"Have you now?"

"Yeah. The highway loves motorcycles, so I cruise every chance I get. It's really great riding on the Hollywood Freeway."

"You are mindful of the cops, aren't you?"

"Um...do I have to be? I drive the speed limit." She takes another bite.

"Well, there's something about wolves on bikes that gives the police itchy trigger fingers. You don't have to...." He quickly turns his head, distracted by the opening front door. His mark is still in place at the patio, so there seems to be no cause for alarm.

"What's wrong? Why'd you jump?"

"Hold on, I think that's...." He sniffs the air loudly. Meanwhile, the woman who has just entered whispers in the ear of the waitress closest to the door. Without much delay, the waitress leads her to the backyard patio, right in front of the wolves. She is at Winter's back, but Shiloh can see her perfectly. She walks right in front of him as she is led to the patio. Once the door closes behind her, Shiloh takes a huge breath. "Well, I'll be fucked."

Winter's mouth is full of pancake. "Why? What happened?"

"It's Pamela Daltrey."

"What?" She stands from her seat and leans forward so she can get a good look through the window. She uses as much effort as she can muster to look at what Shiloh is looking at. Eventually, she sees the woman, engaged in a deep embrace with the only other person at the patio.

Shiloh laughs. "Would you look at that."

"Mark number one is meeting mark number two."

"And that must be who Mrs. Daltrey is cheating with."

"Well, look at you, Mr. Lucky. Two marks in one."

"Hey, this is still a stakeout. Sit down."

They both return to their seats, but the laughter continues. Winter's excitement returns and her breathing is faster and more noticeable to both. She acknowledges it with more laughter. Her mate follows suit. Soon, they are covering their laughs with their hands, trying desperately not to attract too many stares. Meanwhile, the two marks sit close together and sneak in a kiss right before a server brings them glasses of water. They are emotionally deep into each other, so they hardly notice anyone else at the moment.

"What are the odds, huh? Two high-priced hits meeting in the same place. All we have to do is bide our time...a_nd_ I already know the area where Mrs. Daltrey lives. So it would be so much easier to get them both if they decide to convene at her place...instead of his." He looks at the human couple with greed in his eyes. "This day just got a whole lot better, but here's what I think we should do. We should...."

Winter is so giddy, she is almost bouncing in her chair. "Ooh, could I have one? Could I? Please?"

He shrugs and chuckles. "This is the happiest I've seen you in quite some time. Sure you can have one, but I get Pam. At forty-five thousand, she's the prize."

"And...how much is the other one?"

Shiloh shrugs again, equally as glad as she is. "Who cares? We can finally balance our budget."

Several minutes pass. She finishes her breakfast while he spends the bulk of the time looking at the marks. Mrs. Daltrey has ordered one dish for the both of them, so it looks like they will not stay long.

Shiloh scoffs at them. "Look at her, wearing that business suit. She's not fooling anyone. They're gonna go have sex once they're done. Sundays are the only days that their work will let them be together."

She puts on her sarcasm face and says, "Yeah, isn't that romantic?" After a short chuckle, she rubs her left index finger on the syrup-stained plate and sucks the sweet sap into her mouth. "So listen, how about next time we do a stakeout, we bring our own drinks? And by that, I mean alcohol. I haven't had a gin in ages."

"Oops, time to go."

"What do you mean? You're only half done."

"We have to leave before they do. It'll be hard following them out the door; we have to go out and wait for them. I'll pay for this." He quickly whips out his wallet and brandishes a fifty-dollar bill. He leaves it on the table and closes in on his nervous mate. "You all right?"

She nervously sneaks a peek at the window at the booth. The targets are still eating together. She sighs sharply and shakes her head. "This is so exciting."

"Hey, relax, okay? Hold my hand. Don't act like you're running from something."

She does what she is told and they inconspicuously put one foot in front of the other. Their leave gets a couple of stares, but only because they are wolves, not because they are suspected of anything. Winter waves at a little girl who eyes her as she slips through the front door. Seconds later, they are standing near the motorcycle, making small talk. He tells her to relax a couple of more times until she starts to act as nonchalant as he is.

"He drove...she didn't. Of course, since she's married to someone on the Cartwright campaign, she wouldn't risk taking her own car. Not if she wants to keep the affair a secret." Shiloh stops smiling and scratches his chin. "We cannot follow them on the bike; they'd notice almost instantly. I think...if I would cheat on my spouse, I'd make sure I go to my mistress' place. This early in the morning? Definitely the mistress' place. That would give our odds of getting them both in Daltrey's house at more than fifty-fifty. " He chuckles in response to Winter's chuckling. "Even if they're not headed there now, it should be where they're heading if they want to consummate their relationship. So that means...if we just drive straight to Mrs. Daltrey's house and wait there, they'll show up real soon."

"You sound quite like a detective."

"Well, Crevecoeur's rubbed off on me a little."

Winter smirks. "Okay, Mr. Know-it-all. How do you know that they're not just gonna settle into a nice hotel and spend half the day there?"

"Paparazzi."

"Huh?"

"Come on, girl. Daltrey's husband is a liaison. He's an important cog in the Cartwright machine. The Daltreys have been seen together in public, so there's no way someone of her stature's gonna be caught entering a hotel with someone not her husband. In fact, I'm now more confident than ever that they're going to her house."

"Okay, so...what are we waiting here for? Let's just beat them to her house. We'll be ready once they get there. " She watches carefully as Shiloh bows his head in thought. Her impatience shows through her fixed gaze.

"I know the odds are good, but there's always a chance I could be wrong." He hands his mate her helmet before putting donning his. "I wouldn't want to just wait for them all day. The neighbors could get suspicious."

"I trust your instincts. They'll be there. By the way, thanks for breakfast."

Content with their reasoning, the wolves make a hasty retreat from the parking lot, just seconds before the condemned couple does. Mr. Thompson and Mrs. Daltrey share another friendly kiss before heading into a shiny, red convertible. (By the time they drive away, the wolves are about two minutes ahead of the marks.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mrs. Cross exits the ladies' restroom, wiping her hands with a paper towel. She crumples it authoritatively between her hands and looks around. After a slight yawn, she moves to her left, toward the lobby. She pokes her head through but does not actually leave the dark hallway. There is a feeling of nervousness about her. For some reason, what she sees makes her shake her head.

The large room is bustling with activity. There are more chairs than usual at the lobby and they have been arranged with an aisle down the middle of the room. The arrangement accommodates the large number of anthros who have appeared for this morning's meeting. The chief observes the workers one by one, whispering their names to herself. Benny and Boris are there, sitting next to each other at the front row. Pica and Dunn are sitting together up front on the other side of the aisle. Inverness sits behind them. The tiger brothers, Ravi and Gonal, sit behind the red foxes. Behind them, Rory and Greenleaves sit next to one another. They are talking quietly with each other, but they continue looking at the front door behind them. It looks like they are expecting someone.

Prosper, the beagle, sits with Inverness in the same row, a couple of chairs away from him. Behind him is Baua, the greyhound, who has dressed up in a suit and tie for today. Sitting to his left is Hoeness; sitting to his right is Stefano. In the back of that row sit two "newcomers," two more workers who have just returned from their vacations. One is a polecat, wearing a brand new Panama hat and a red tuxedo. The other is a snowshoe hare.

There seems to be a lot of people there already, but the front door opens to let someone else in. To the great surprise of everyone in the room, the leopard Loiola gingerly enters, crutches and all. He has some trouble getting past the door, but soon he is walking across the aisle. Hoeness helps him to a nearby seat. St. Croix suddenly appears from the storeroom. He stands in front of the crowd and waves hello. There are no females among the group.

The wall clock strikes 8:30. Nobody notices until St. Croix announces it. Soon after, the loud discussions stop and everyone focuses on the front desk. Impressed, the chief nods at the organization on display, then looks at her watch to confirm the time. "Right on time," she says quietly.

Suddenly, someone appears behind her. The dark figure clears his throat and taps her left shoulder. Mrs. Cross turns quickly, almost jumping. She takes a couple of breaths before relaxing at the sight of a familiar face. "Simon. Sorry, I didn't hear you come by."

"Excuse me, ma'am." Holding a laptop and projector, Simon Blank passes her and greets the waiting crowd. The meeting immediately commences.

Mrs. Cross decides to watch as the executive starts off with the somber announcement of Paraná's condition. For almost all of the boys, it is their first time hearing about the attack on the jaguar. The room quiets down, allowing Simon complete command of the floor. Those who know the jaguar personally, almost all of them, look on with dropped jaws.

"I couldn't get the doctors to tell me the extent of his injuries, just that the surgery went well. They say he can't have visitors for now, so save yourselves the trip to St. Johns. Just know that he's going to be fine. If any of you know any prayers, say as many as you can."

Before he can continue, the front door opens one more time. Everybody turns to see Shiloh and Winter make a rare joint appearance. She comes in grinning slightly; she and her mate had been acting playful just outside the door. He hands are on her shoulders and it looks like he is pushing her inside. He laughs heartily and rubs the top of her head. She whispers, "Stop it," and laughs just as loudly.

The playfulness ends when they notice that at least fifteen pairs of eyes are fixed on them. Winter's face is the first to sour. She stops in her tracks, causing Shiloh to bump into her back. She looks down and clears her throat in embarrassment. They hardly expected such a multitude of workers there and have been caught completely off guard. They also realize now that they are late. She swallows haltingly, but he calmly whispers, "Don't worry. Just step forward."

With great trepidation, Winter chooses an empty seat at the back row left of the aisle, all the while eyeballed by some of the group's more tenured members. Hoeness and Loiola have exasperated looks on their faces. Pica and Dunn show their disgust, out of sight from the wolves. Shiloh returns a scornful look to the German Shepherd.

As Simon continues with the meeting, Mrs. Cross steps away from the lobby light and turns back into the dark hallway. A long, drawn out sigh escapes her mouth. Her face showed a slight twinge of concern while she was watching the furries come in. She walks slowly, more like someone who just got out of bed rather than with her regular gait. It takes her a minute to get to her office door. For some reason, she hesitates to turn the knob. Her fingers hover around it for a few seconds and she lets out another breath. It looks like she does not want to go into her office.

As if forcing herself, she quickly turns the door knob and pushes her way inside. The second she enters, she says, "All right, listen. I don't want to hear another word out of you until I've had my say. I've just about had it with you and the work day hasn't even started yet. Now, I appreciate you coming to me before nine o'clock so that no one sees you. I appreciate you being as discreet as you have been since we first met. However, I do not welcome the smugness, the attitude that has been dictating our discussions of late. It's not too hard to remember, is it? I'm the boss. I'm your boss. Whatever I say goes. You can't just change the rules that have been working for this company for the past three years."

"Who's being smug? I'm just stating the facts."

Right now, the chief is looking at the back of the young man's head. Frustrated, she walks around her desk to face him and sits down in front of him.

Peter Petrescu has returned. He looks much better now than he did the day he last came here. His hair is growing back; there is the slight distinction of fuzz on his head. He is wearing a black suit and a black necktie. The suit has cufflinks on the sleeves and the brand new silk tie looks exorbitantly expensive. The change is a bit severe; Peter looked like a prizefighter when the chief last saw him. Now he looks like he works in the building.

He clears his throat and adds, "The facts are these. I've kept out of sight, just as you've asked, for the last three weeks. I've communicated with you, and only with you, for tips and suggestions, which I thank you for. I've done everything asked of me. But, and please don't hyperventilate when I tell you this." He leans forward, putting his elbows on the desk. "I've killed two marks in three days. Let me repeat that--two marks in three days. I was efficient, I was clever, and I was too fast for police. The cases are still unsolved and there's no evidence connecting me, or anyone else for that matter, to the deaths. None of you will be implicated. Your second-in-command, Ted, told me that it was an amazing feat. I think I've more than proven that my skills are top notch."

"The others have been at this longer than you and are far more skilled. The two criminals you've killed were amateurs; they mean nothing in the big picture."

"Again, two in three days. I dare you to show me any one of your workers who have been as efficient as I've been. I mean it. Is there anyone out there who can give you that kind of productivity?"

"Stop it with the comparisons. You're wasting your breath. I'm telling you, you're not on their level. Not even close."

"Not on their level?" Peter smiles and starts to laugh. "Babe, I'm one of them. And as a member of that group of killers, I'd like to be involved in their day-to-day activities. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like you to introduce me. I mean, you might as well since I'm bribing you and all."

The chief shakes her head in disbelief. "Stop being a bonehead! I'm not gonna do something that stupid. Just because I've shown you how the system works here and how the workers get their marks, it doesn't make you one of them."

Peter leans back in his seat, inhales sharply, and folds his arms. He looks to be in control of this conversation, and not just because he is sitting taller than she is. He shows off a quiet confidence that effectively counters the chief's attempt at reason. Looking like the CEO, he quietly clears his throat and peers at her. "Why not?"

Mrs. Cross answers quickly. "You already know the answer to this, don't you? You'll never be one of them...or on par with any of them, no matter how hard you try. They'll never accept you; they'll never trade with you...." She leans forward, as close to him as she can while still sitting down. "They...will kill you."

The miscreant only shrugs and half-closes his eyes. "This attempt to scare me? Pathetic at best. I've faced death before, and I've worked with some unscrupulous people, furries included. You still haven't given me a reason not to get to know any of the furballs who work here. I should get to know at least some of them."

"Half of them hate human beings...on principle. Even the ones who don't would hurt you to preserve their privacy. For some of them, this job is their only means of livable income. They'd kill to protect that." She leans back and takes a deep breath. "Besides, I've had to dock some of their pay in order to pay you. I'm sure most of them know why by now."

"Fine. So you say I can't actually work side by side with them. _But--_at the very least--allow me to just walk among them. I'm tired of coming through the back like I'm a servant or something. Let me go through the front door. And yes, I know my car's on the rear lot."

"Hmm. Just walk out in front of everybody?"

"How many are out there now?"

"More killers than you've ever met in your life, that's for sure." She sighs once again and after a few seconds of looking at him, makes a decision. She looks like she dreads it, but she stands, going forward all the way. "All right, Mr. Petrescu. Here's what's going to happen...."

In the meantime, the clock strikes 8:45 and Simon is almost done showing off this new gallery of potential victims. The meeting is going smoothly with limited interruptions from the crowd. Everyone is focused. A couple of them smile through the executive's speech; looking like they have found at least one mark they like.

Shiloh does not look as focused. He has been spending most of the time looking carefully at Winter. He was undoubtedly listening to Simon speak, but was more concerned for his mate. She keeps looking at the hallway, away from the moderator, as if expecting someone to come through. Every few seconds, she would tilt her head to the right, stare at the hallway for a bit, then turn back to Simon. Shiloh noticed this after a few minutes and has since been watching her do it. "What's wrong? What are you looking at?"

His whispers barely register with her. She looks nervous and ready for something to happen. He puts his right arm around her rigid shoulders, causing her to look at him. A slight smile on her face appears, but it comes across as desperately forced.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

On the other side of the aisle, Hoeness turns his head and loudly shushes the couple, causing half the room to look at them. Simon hardly breaks stride, though he does turn to the wolves' direction for a split second. He goes through the last of the marks quickly and loudly.

"That's everyone, but there's one more thing before I go before you begin choosing and trading. It concerns a past mark whom we haven't heard from lately. Matthew Ambrose has suddenly, apparently, disappeared. Is he dead or is he alive? The client would like to know."

Winter's heart skips several beats upon hearing the name of her past mark. She swallows as Simon turns directly at her. She brushes Shiloh's arm off her shoulders, trying to keep him out of this particular matter.

"Winter, this mark was yours, but you haven't told me what's become of him since he ran away from you weeks ago. So, what's become of him?" He and everyone else looks at the wolves in the back row. She is trying to keep her mate off of her as she tries to answer the question. Simon sighs impatiently. "You don't have to stand."

She does anyway. "Sorry, sir. I just haven't been...." The wolf is trying to feign confidence and clears her throat a couple of times. She continually flexes her hands as her brain searches, either for answers or the right words to say. More than thirty seconds pass without a response. She immediately looks down at her mate for help.

"You've...lost track of him?"

"I just haven't been...I mean, I've been real busy. I've killed two marks since then, including one yesterday. Um...actually, that one was Shiloh's, so--"

"Okay, two things. First of all, just because he escaped you doesn't mean that your responsibility is at an end. You still have his picture with you, which means Mr. Ambrose is still yours. If you've stopped looking for him, bring his picture back to the front desk so that someone else can get a crack at him." Simon pauses as she sits back down. "Secondly, the client is really impatient and has told me, in no uncertain terms...." Simon sighs deeply, looking ready to go home. "He's desperate enough to take matters into his own hands. Mr. Ambrose robbed him of half his life savings and he's not above getting revenge on him and the company he used to work for. If we are to remain hidden, our clients need to be satisfied. If they make noise, we could get in trouble." He points at Winter and raises his voice. "You know what you have to do, so do it quickly. If you have any questions, then see me when the meeting is...." He suddenly looks up, catching a glimpse of the wall clock above him. "Ah, damn. We're past 8:50. I don't know if anybody'll have time to trade today...."

The executive starts to summarize the marks he has for the workers. Meanwhile, Shiloh lovingly caresses his mate's left thigh. "Calm down. It's all right."

Winter bows her head dejectedly. "I've forgotten all about that," she whispers. "The picture is under the bed back home."

"You should have said something just now. The tigers caused your hunt to fail. It wasn't your fault."

"I didn't want to accuse them in front of everybody. It wouldn't look good."

"Well, haven't you told anybody?"

Winter looks around the room, first at the hallway, then at the executive. "I told Simon a couple of weeks ago."

Shiloh's face scrunches in anger. "And he hasn't done anything about it?" He looks at Simon angrily as the meeting starts to wind down. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him. When this is through, I'll corner him and find out what's going on." He turns back to his lover who continues to glance at the empty hallway. He gently caresses her cheek. "What's wrong? Why do you keep looking over there?"

"I thought I heard something."

Simon unplugs the projector and collects the laminated pictures from the desk. "I'm sorry, fellas. I'm afraid nobody will be picking and choosing marks today. I promise you all that I'll have all these pictures available tomorrow. We'll end the meeting early so you all will get extra time picking who you want."

The room starts to stir as the workers anticipate leaving the lobby. Hoeness is the first to stand. Once he does, everybody does. Simon comes from behind the desk with his hands full. The room is busy with activity and about to move forward. Suddenly, the executive stops in his tracks and opens his mouth in surprise. Peter Petrescu is standing right in front of him.

The young man had just stepped into the light without anyone noticing, except maybe Winter. He looks around the room with a smug grin on his face. It takes a few seconds for his presence to register. He basks in their ignorance until all eyes are on him, then he turns serious. Dunn and Pica are sitting in the front row on the left side of the aisle. Even though he sees the entire room, he looks at those two specifically. His stare is scornful, maybe even hateful, as if they either have not been friends or no longer are friends. The tan fox and the bobcat look back just as angrily. Pica, looking defiant and powerful, balls his hands. Peter clenches his in response. Suddenly, as if operated by an on switch, he moves forward.

The on switch is visible this time, in the form of Vivian Cross. She appears behind him and pushes him. "Move," she says, quietly but authoritatively. Peter shrugs and walks forward through the aisle. He passes Simon to his right, who stands there bewildered; the executive almost drops the pictures. He walks past the fox, the bobcat, and St. Croix in the front row, then the tigers, Loiola, Rory, and Greenleaves, all on his left hand side. Ravi puts his hands in the pockets of his brown slacks and raises his eyebrows confusedly. Gonal scratches his head, just as perplexed. The brothers have questions, but neither says a word. Rory looks intimidated and backs up until he hits Greenleaves. The lion pushes the dingo forward slightly. "Sorry," Rory whispers.

The lion looks around him and his voice breaks the silence. "All right, what's happenin'?"

The low voice makes Peter stop for a second. He loses focus for a moment and turns his head to see where the voice came from. But once the woman behind him plants a hand on his back, he jerks forward once again. The man regains focus and continues his walk. When he is halfway down the aisle, Pica whispers to Dunn, "He's surely getting his money. Why aren't we getting ours?"

Greenleaves asks again, louder this time. "Hey, what's going on?" Pica tries to call out to Peter, but Dunn puts a hand across his mouth. The animals have every right to protest, but apparently no noise is to be made now. The lion folds his arms, disappointed that he is getting willfully ignored. He has no idea what is going on and continues staring in bemusement. Meanwhile, Peter has passed Inverness, Baua, Prosper, Benny, and Boris on the right. The polecat and the hare, also on his right, have no idea what is happening either and do not seem interested. As soon as the unwanted human passes them, they head through the aisle and into the hallway.

After half a minute of slow walking, Peter has reached the last row. Hoeness and Stefano are on the right; Shiloh and Winter on the left. They are four of the more powerful and seemingly influential workers in the room, but the human walks by them like a king ignoring peasants. Just as he is about to pass them all, he suddenly stops and turns his head to the left. He looks at the wolves, particularly at Winter, and chuckles. "Jealous?"

"Be quiet!" Mrs. Cross pushes him again and the young man laughs as he is led away. He continues laughing as he is pushed through the front door. She follows him all the way out. Hoeness leaves his seat and heads for the door, peering through the glass to catch a glimpse of the humans. It is an awkward moment since most everyone in there has now turned their attention to Winter. She releases a frenzied gasp and covers her face in her hands. To say she is "embarrassed" would be an insult. Shiloh puts his hands on her shoulders and whispers in her ear. As they sit together, the room starts to buzz.

Inverness joins Hoeness at the door to get a look, but Peter is long gone by now. Ravi, Rory, and Prosper naturally have a lot of questions, so they start asking them loudly. With the questions and the answers coming all at once, the noise ramps up and nobody can hear what anyone is saying.

Simon raises his voice above the din. "All right, show's over! Everybody out of the lobby!"

The progress is slow at first, but soon the workers quietly file out of the room. A minute later, there are five of them left in there. St. Croix starts to take stray chairs into the storeroom. Shiloh is trying to console Winter, who's has allowed her now angry face to be uncovered. "Just go to the cafeteria and wait for me," he says, "while I talk to Simon. It won't be a couple of minutes. We'll leave before nine."

"No, please, let's just go home and get that picture back."

"You telling me you've given up on Ambrose already?"

Watching the wolves are Dunn and Pica, still in the room, still angry themselves. The presence of Peter Petrescu has roiled them. Unbeknownst to Winter, Pica is slowly sneaking toward her. Dunn tries to stop him. "Where the hell are you going?"

The frustrated bobcat pulls off his glasses and looks at his partner as one would look at an adversary. He speaks quietly but firmly. "Look, I don't know how the hell he did it, but Pete's getting paid."

"Stop it. You're jumping to conclusions."

"He just asked Winter if she was jealous. That proves that he's getting his cut of the money he wanted to take from her, and probably even more than that. Let's just go to the bitch and demand our cut of the Doran Mann reward."

"Hey! Put your glasses back on. Don't you see Shiloh's with her?"

"So what? I'm tired of this. We've been waiting since July. It's time for action. Let's just--"

Dunn drags Pica by the arm through the aisle until they are in the hallway. It looks like a wise move since Shiloh is on his feet and coming their way. They enter the men's restroom and Dunn closes the door behind them. "Just cool down. We've talked about this. We can't approach her with Shiloh there. When they're together, she's as invincible as he is. If we manage to get her alone, she'll be frazzled. We stay strong, we approach her together, and we demand the money. Just not today, okay? We still need to figure out a way to trap her so that she doesn't have a choice but to do what we say."

The bobcat presses his hands on his head. He looks to be in pain from Dunn's words of patience. "You're killing me, man. I'd rather get it from her now...while she's still here. You never know when she'll get another mark that will take her out of town. We may never get this chance again."

Dunn kisses his lover's nose, rubs his head playfully, and chuckles. "Calm down, bobcat. Just go to the cafeteria and wait for me. I gotta take a leak. Just don't go after her, okay?" He leaves his partner and heads for the nearest stall.

Pica looks at the floor and sighs heavily. The sounds of his depression bounce off the restroom walls. Angrily, he forces the door open and heads to the cafeteria. He does not get too far when he sees a fascinating scene. In front of him stands a group of angry anthros, just outside of the conference room. The door is being held open by someone inside. The bobcat sneaks forward to get a better look.

Inside the conference room, but totally out of sight, Hoeness, Shiloh, and Inverness are speaking to Ted in raised voices. They remember who Peter is and are complaining loudly. Hanging around outside the room are Stefano, Greenleaves, Rory, Ravi, and Gonal. Each one is listening intently, wondering who Peter is. Pica straightens himself and walks past them. They greet him and he responds with a low "Hi there."

(The bobcat is nervous and rightfully so. He and Dunn used to be friends with Peter and are the reason the human has infiltrated their hallowed ground. The five furries standing outside the conference room don't know this yet, but can hear every word of complaint coming from inside. Hoeness and Shiloh have suddenly remembered what happened the first time the stranger came into their lobby. They are asking a lot of questions. Did Peter get his money? Are the workers' wages being cut as a result? Ted is about to answer their questions. The furries standing outside the room are about to hear the answers; they will get upset. The tall and imposing Greenleaves will surely get upset. Feeling partially responsible for everything happening now, Pica sneaks away before any real anger manifests.)

The bobcat enters the cafeteria and heaves a sigh of relief. Relief soon gives way to curiosity. He hears voices, one of which is Winter's, just a few feet away. He stops in his tracks and listens carefully. The white wolf is having a private talk with Simon. It sounds like an urgent discussion because her voice is impatient and shaky. Pica nods confidently at what he hears. She is, as Dunn already put it, frazzled. Her lack of vigilance toward Mr. Ambrose has gotten to her. He tiptoes himself further inside to get a glimpse of them. He tries not to be seen.

Simon has his hands on the wolf's shoulders, trying to calm her down. "It's all right. I didn't mean to make an example out of you in front of everyone. Everybody forgets a mark from time to time."

"I would have gotten to him if it weren't for Ravi and Gonal. I told you about them a couple of weeks ago. I thought you would have done something about them by now."

"That's not my job. I don't run the show. Ted does. He determines what is right and wrong. I seek out clients and make the transactions official. I don't hand out any punishment."

"But if no one does anything, the tigers will get away with it. I'll get blamed for something they did!"

"Winter, I'm not blaming you for anything and the client doesn't know who you are. He can't blame you either. Don't worry about it. Ignore the tigers. Do you want to continue looking for Ambrose?"

"Yes! Absolutely!"

Simon puts his hands down and smiles. "Well there you go. You have any leads?"

"Well, no...but I've got Shiloh. He tracks better than anyone I know. I'll get his help and--"

"Don't let me stop you. It's nine. I've got to get going." He picks up the laminated pictures from the table behind him and passes the still despondent wolf. "By the way, please extend my congratulations to Shiloh for getting Mrs. Daltrey yesterday. That was a good get." She watches the executive's back disappear and puts her hands on her hips, wondering what to do next.

"Hurry up, Shiloh," she says with a voice that desperately wants to leave the building. She slowly turns to the back door and decides to take her leave. It seems she will be waiting for her mate in the back parking lot. Unbeknownst to her, the bobcat is mere yards behind. He had managed to avoid Simon and is now about to get what he is looking for. They are alone and she is seemingly defenseless.

As soon as she steps outside, he quickly jumps through the door before it closes. "Morning, bitch," he shouts.

The cafeteria is not empty for long. Seconds after the back door closes, a familiar face enters. She is carrying a black trash back in her right hand, full and ready to be disposed of. The bag is proving difficult to carry; it strains and stretches stubbornly as it is carried. Only when the furry janitor lofts the bag over her head does it finally relax.

Pamila looks fresh and spry, with no signs of fatigue or anger that she has usually shown when cleaning. So, she must have just arrived, most likely when everyone else was being distracted by Peter's march down the aisle. She had been emptying the office trash bins and has now collected a big pile of unwanted items. She is wearing black as she has been for most of the month. The T-shirt and black jeans accentuate her black hands. Her sneakers are black as well. She has gotten used to her new, lower paying job, and has apparently done well enough that Tobias hardly needs to be at her side.

Right now, she is headed for the refrigerator. There is a trash can next to it lined with a ten-gallon bag, almost filled to the brim. "Last one," she says. "You know, I've never even noticed you before today." She lifts the white bag, wraps it, and carefully tosses it into the bigger, fuller, black bag. "That's all for now," she says.

A raised voice from outside causes her ears to perk up. She raises her eyebrows and heads toward the sound. As she heads for the back door, she sees two familiar faces standing in front of her. Even though they are not very far away, they pay no attention to the fox at all. She places her hands on the door handle, but does not open it. Instead, she watches the goings on outside. A smirk appears on her face as if she likes what she sees.

Pica yells at and gets in the face of the white wolf. He is loud enough to attract outside attention, but keeps the histrionics to a minimum. His hands are at his sides and his feet are planted to the ground. His words are firm and clear. They are also foul. Pamila watches and chuckles to herself. "Go man, go," she says derisively.

Suddenly, Winter turns her back to him. When the bobcat reaches a hand on her shoulder, she quickly turns and belts him. She punches him in the face. He staggers back, only for her to run to him and punch him a second time. The second one is much harder. He falls on his back, groaning and wincing. A soft "Ooh" comes out from the fox nearby.

Winter gets what she wants, but is just as ill-served. She wrings her left hand wildly and doubles over. She shrieks and whines in pain, making a noise that sounds like a crying dog. Seconds later, the pain is great enough that she kneels.

Supremely satisfied, Pamila opens the cafeteria door and struts down the stairs. Winter and Pica are down and neither notices the fox standing over them. She basks in her security and is glad she does not have to really face either of them. She looks at the wolf for a few more seconds before turning to her left. Her real target is the dumpster at the edge of the lot, where she can toss the trash bag and go her merry way. She starts to move when she feels something at her feet.

Dunn is on all fours, practically crawling to the door. He looks woozy and does not notice that his right hand is on her left shoe. It grabs her sneaker and helps to prop him up. Pamila turns to him and quickly pulls her foot away. Then, as if planned all along, she steps on his hand. At first, it is gentle pressure, but then it becomes torture. She lifts her right foot off the ground; now her entire weight is on his digits. Once Dunn sees what is happening, his hand is in as much pain as Winter's is. He hardly has time to react when the fox leans down until her eyes face his.

"If you touch me again, you'll get stuffed in this bag. Get me?" Dunn responds by growling in pain Pamila scoffs before stepping off him. The wounded bobcat slowly stands and heads back inside without further incident. She then turns to the dumpster, already open, and starts to lift the sack. That is when she hears the white wolf moaning.

Winter is on her feet again, but much worse off. She is carefully inspecting her left hand and tries in vain to flex it. After a couple of quiet ouches, she decides to make her way to the cafeteria. That is when she sees the fox. Pamila is not directly in front of her, so her path is not being impeded. But she stops and they look at each other. Winter tries to be as angry as the fox is, but it is clear she is in considerable pain.

Pamila shrugs, not knowing how to react. Their last meeting did not end well and she is not looking forward to this one, although she was glad to see her down minutes ago. Surprisingly, her angry face has mellowed; her hands hang and drop the trash bag. It is starting to look like she pities the wolf.

She takes two steps forward, causing Winter to take a step back. The fox does not leave the dumpster, but looks like she wants to say something. She raises her right hand towards the wolf and clenches it. "Look...." She shakes her head, dreading this conversation. "Next time, even out your knuckles, like this." She pats the knuckles on her right hand with her left palm. The knuckles are spread evenly against her palm. "Also, tuck your thumb in a bit more." She turns her wrist to show Winter her right thumb, draped against her index and middle fingers. "And the next time you want to hit the face, aim for the nose. It's much softer and dishes out more discomfort." With that, she turns to the dumpster.

The wolf looks at her feet, looking so much like a rookie. She is tired, her left hand smarts, Shiloh is nowhere in sight, and the day is not even half over. Furthermore, she has just gotten schooled by her enemy of the moment. She is angry enough to let it get to her. The fox is too busy laughing and humming to herself to hear Winter close in on her.

Pamila tosses the bag in the dumpster and dusts herself off. Before she can turn around, she feels something ride up her crotch. Winter is picking her up. The fox turns but cannot avoid being lifted into the dumpster. The wolf upends her screaming adversary and dumps her into the receptacle; her legs stick out for a few seconds before she totally falls inside.

Winter stares inside the dumpster, breathing heavily at her fallen peer. She snarls angrily, then starts to back away. Lifting the fox has aggravated her injury and she tries again to flex her left hand. She does not focus too long on the pain though; a sound from the dumpster grabs her attention.

Pamila moans and sneezes. The bags inside rustle and squeak under her weight. Her hands grab the rim of the container as she tries to pull herself out. Winter rushes to the edge and waits. When the fox pokes her head out from inside, the first thing she sees is the wolf's face. Their eyes widen; Pamila recognizes her immediately and opens her mouth, ready to yell.

Winter rears back and delivers a right cross, using her undamaged hand. She hits Pamila's nose. The fox falls backwards, hitting the back of her head, and she slinks back inside the dumpster. The wolf quickly closes it and takes a look at her right hand. She clenches and unclenches it successfully. It stings a little, but it moves without much pain. She wiggles her fingers and chuckles in satisfaction. "Thanks for the advice."

"There you are!" Shiloh appears suddenly, startling his girlfriend. He is standing on the steps in front of the back door. "I told you to wait in the cafeteria. You never know when someone might park out here."

Winter walks over to him and embraces him, being careful not move her left hand so much. She presses her head against his chest and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"Listen, I've got some bad news. Bad for you, bad for...everybody here. It's important that--"

"Could it wait until later?"

"Honey, this news is really important. It could affect how much we're paid. The hits we did yesterday might be worth much less than they originally were."

"Shiloh, the entire day's starting out bad. I forgot a mark and now everyone thinks I'm a fuckup. Let's try to make the rest of the morning good, okay? Whatever it is, tell me later." She pulls back so they can look at each other. She forces a smile which makes him smile in turn.

"All right. The lobby's full of customers, so we gotta go around the building." His left hand takes her right and they stroll through the lot. "I know you're tired of me asking this, but are you all right?"

Without his knowledge, Winter turns her head and looks back at the dumpster. "Well, remember yesterday when you kept asking me what was wrong? Well, something was, but it's over now. I've dealt with it."

"Something I should know?"

Winter faces forward and leans into him. "Nah. Don't worry yourself."

"Okay then. Let's go find Mr. Ambrose."