Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

always get her with my grease gun.
    â€œIt’s Saturday,” I told her amiably, cheered by my thoughts. “I work whatever hours I want to on Saturday. However, I believe in being fair. Since you had to wait for me, why don’t you count that as a good effort and go on home?”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Because Adam sent me here to watch you and make sure the boogeyman doesn’t come and eat you. And as much as I’d like to see that happen, I don’t disobey the Alpha.”
    There were a lot of reasons I didn’t like Honey.
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    The car I was working on needed a new starter. That’s how it all began. Three hours later I was still sorting through unlabeled dusty boxes in the storage shed that predated Gabriel’s reign of order on my parts supply.
    â€œSomewhere in here there should be three starters that fit a 1987 Fox,” I told Gabriel, wiping my forehead off on my sleeve. I may not mind the heat usually, but the thermometer on the outside of the shed read 107 degrees.
    â€œIf you told me that somewhere in here you had Excalibur and the Holy Grail, I’d believe you.” He grinned at me. He’d only come out after he’d finished the parts supply order so he still had energy to be happy. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run down to the parts store and pick one up?”
    â€œFine,” I said dropping a box of miscellaneous bolts on the floor of the shed. I shut the door and locked it, though if I’d left it open, maybe some nice thieves would come and clean it out for me. “Why don’t you pick up some lunch for us while you’re out? There’s a good taco wagon by the car wash over on First.”
    â€œHoney, too?”
    I glanced over at her car where she was sitting in air-conditioned comfort as she had been since I came out here. I hoped she’d had her oil changed recently—idling for hours could be hard on an engine.
    She saw me looking at her and smiled unpleasantly, still not a hair out of place. I’d been sweating in a dusty and greasy shed all morning and the bruises Littleton left on my face were a lovely shade of yellow today.
    â€œYeah,” I said reluctantly. “Take the lunch money out of petty cash. Use the business credit card for the starter.”
    Gabriel bounced back into the office and was on his way out by the time I made it to the door. The air-conditioning felt heavenly and I drank two glasses of water before going back to work. The garage wasn’t as cool as the office, but it was a lot better than outside.
    Honey followed me through the office to the shop and managed to ignore me at the same time. I noticed, with some satisfaction, that soon after she left the office, she broke out in a sweat.
    I’d just had time to get a good start on a brake job when she spoke. “There’s someone in the office.”
    I hadn’t heard anyone, but I hadn’t been listening. I wiped my hands hastily and headed back into the office. I wasn’t officially opened, but a lot of my regular customers know I’m here on Saturdays more often than not.
    As it happened the face was familiar.
    â€œMr. Black,” I said. “More car problems?”
    He started to look at me, but his eyes ran into trouble as they hit Honey and refused to move off of her. It was not an uncommon reaction. One more reason to hate Honey—not that I needed another one.
    â€œHoney, this is Tom Black, a reporter who wants the skinny on what it’s like to date Adam Hauptman, prince of the werewolves.” I said it to get a rise out of her, but Honey disappointed me.
    â€œMr. Black,” she said, coolly extending her hand.
    He shook her hand, still staring at her, and then seemed to recover. He cleared his throat. “Prince of the Werewolves? Is he?”
    â€œShe can’t talk to you, Mr. Black,” Honey told him, though she glanced at me to make it clear that the words were directed at me. If she weren’t more careful, she’d find herself outed as a werewolf. If she weren’t dumber than a stump she’d have known I don’t take orders. Not from Bran, not from Adam or Samuel—certainly not from Honey.
    â€œNo one ever told me not to talk to reporters,” I said truthfully. Everyone just assumed I’d be smart enough not to. I was so busy tormenting Honey that I ignored what the implicit promise in my statement would do to the