Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

truck.
    â€œI’ll see if I can’t find out something from the serial numbers,” he said. “The way she just left it probably means that she doesn’t think we can trace it to her anyway, but it would be stupid not to check.”
    â€œYou will be careful,” I told him.
    â€œSweetheart”—he bent down and kissed me—“I am always careful.”
    â€œWhat’ll you give me if I watch out for him?” It wasn’t what Ben said; it was the way he’d said it. I have no idea how he made those words sound suggestive, but he managed it.
    Adam shot him a look. Ben grinned unrepentantly and ducked around the side of the truck and hopped in.
    â€œI was on the way to a job site when I got the call that something was up,” Adam told me. “I’ve got to get back.”
    â€œNo worries,” I said. “I’ll lock up. I don’t think I’ll be doing anything more here today.”
    He opened his door, and stopped with his head turned away from me. “I’m sorry about your counter.”
    I took a couple of steps forward until my nose pressed against his back and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But I’m glad I have you.”
    He hugged my arms. “Me, too.”
    â€œGet a room,” said Ben from inside the truck.
    â€œStuff it.” Adam turned around, kissed me, and hopped in the truck.
    Sam and I watched him drive away.

    I STOPPED AT A SANDWICH SHOP AND BOUGHT TEN subs with double meat and cheese. Then I drove the Rabbit to the park on the Kennewick side of the river to eat. There wasn’t any snow yet, but it was a cold and dreary day so, other than some distant joggers and a serious-looking biker, we had the place to ourselves. I ate half a sandwich and drank a bottle of water. Sam ate the rest.
    â€œWell, Sam,” I asked, when we were both finished, “what do you want to do today?”
    He looked at me with interest, which didn’t help much.
    â€œWe could go run,” I told him as I threw our garbage into a can next to where I’d parked the Rabbit.
    He shook his head with emphasis.
    â€œHunting not a good idea?” I asked. “I’d think it would help you to relax.”
    He lifted his lips to display his fangs, then snapped his teeth five times, each snap faster, more savage, than the one previous to it. When he stopped, he was perfectly calm—except that I could see that he was breathing harder, and there was a deep hunger in his eyes even though he’d just eaten nine and a half feet of loaded submarine sandwiches.
    â€œOkay,” I said after a pause to make sure my voice wasn’t shaking, “hunting is a bad idea. I get it. Something peaceful.”
    I opened the passenger door to let him in and saw the towel-wrapped bundle on the backseat.
    â€œWant to help me return a book?” I asked.

    THE UPTOWN WAS BUSTLING WITH SATURDAY SHOPPERS, and I had to park a good distance away from the bookstore. I opened the door for Sam. He hopped out, then froze. After a second, he dropped his nose to the ground—but whatever he was looking for he didn’t find because he stopped and drew in a deep breath of air.
    My nose is better than a normal human’s, if not as good as it is in my coyote shape. I took in a deep breath, too, but there were too many people, too many cars, for me to figure out what had set Sam off.
    He shook himself, gave me a look I couldn’t fathom, and hopped back into the Rabbit. He flattened himself on the seat, stretching across the gap between and lowered his muzzle to the driver’s side seat.
    â€œYou’re staying here, I take it?” I asked. It must not be anything dangerous, or he wouldn’t let me go on my own—Sam with his wolf ascendant had always been even more protective of me than Samuel himself had.
    Maybe one of the other werewolves was nearby. It would make sense for Sam to avoid them. I took another deep breath. I still didn’t scent anyone I recognized, but Samuel’s nose was better than mine outside of coyote shape.
    I moved his tail out of danger and shut his car door. I opened the back door to get the book—and reconsidered. Phin’s neighbor might have been fae and faintly creepy, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong. But there could be, and with Sam in the car, the book was just as safe here. If Phin was at the bookstore, I’d