I stripped out of my overalls in the bathroom for a second time that day. I paused by the mirror, sighed, and washed my face because, while the gloves worked fine for hands, they still transferred grease to my cheek and mouth.
I wished I could get rid of the smell of my job as easily as I scrubbed the black smudges off my face. Christy couldnt smell it, but the werewolves all could. Christy wore some kind of subtle perfume that smelled good to werewolf noses and mine, too. Apparently, Adam had found it for her while they were still married, and she still wore itor at least she was wearing it while she was here.
I left the bathroom and reached out to hit the lights when, in the security monitor, I saw a nearly new Chevy Malibu pull into the parking lot in front of the office. I wouldnt have been alarmedpeople can be optimistic about finding mechanics for cars that just have to be ready for a trip at 5:00 A.M. tomorrowexcept that there was a big dog in the backseat.
It wouldnt hurt to err on the side of safety. I reached for my phone.
Hello, said Christy cheerily. Adams phone.
Get Adam, I said, watching the lights on the Chevy turn off as he parked the car. There was a bumper sticker advertising a rental car chain on the back of it.
Im afraid
You should be, I told her in a low voice. Hungry and tired from the long hours Id put in, I was abruptly sick of her stupid games and ready to quit playing. Get Adam. Now.
Dont snap at me, Christy said, all cheer gone. You dont get to order me around, Mercy. You havent earned the right.
The man who opened the drivers door didnt look like someone to be afraid of; he was wearing expensive clothes and slicksoled shoes. But the dog he let out of the backseat more than made up for his owners civilized appearance.
The dog looked like the photos Id seen of the presa Canario, but in my parking lot it seemed bigger and nastier, a male with a broad face and broader chest. Lucia had said that people trimmed their ears to make them look fiercer, but no one needed to make this dog scarier.
The dog was just a dog, though. No matter how big and fierce a dog was, after running around with werewolves, no dog scared me. So there was no reason, really, for
me to be afraid of them, a man and his dog. But I was.
The image of the dead bodies on the edge of the hayfield in Finley insisted on making itself present, and I tried to shove it off to the side. The worst of the fear, I thought, was because Id been raped here in my garage, and I no longer ever really felt safe here, security system or not.
Christys exboyfriend was no one to be underestimated, but he was human and I had a gun readily available. The chill of fear that slid down my spine was unimpressed by logic.
In my ear, Christy was nattering away about manners and me being jealous for no reason.
Christy, I interrupted her, and let menace color my voice because I refused to let her hear the fear, if you dont give Adam the phone right the hell now, so help me, I will put you out with the rest of the trash in the morning.
From the speaker on my cell phone I could hear some shocked exclamations. Apparently, there were some other werewolves in the room when Christy answered, and theyd overheard me threaten her. Id probably care about that later.
I wont stay where Im not wanted, she said tearfully. Not even in the home that was mine before She squeaked, and her voice cut out, replaced by Adams.
Mercy? His voice was very calm, that people are going to die calm only he could do. As soon as he started to speak, silence fell behind him because I wasnt the only one who knew that voice. I see him on the camera. You stay right there, dont make any noise, and hopefully he wont be sure you are in there. Im on my way. Sit tight, and dont let him in. Im going to hang up right now and call the police and Tad.
Adam was fifteen minutes outbut Tad was only five. What could happen in five minutes?
7
I didnt carry at workwith Tad there, there was no reason, and a gun just got in the way while I was squirming around in engine compartments and under cars. My carry gun, the 9mm, was locked in the safe with my purse. I wasnt going into the office to open the safe because the office had big picture windows, and someone who had burned down a building that housed dozens of innocent people wouldnt hesitate to break a few windows.
Paranoia meant I had a second gun tucked in a special lockbox attached to the underside of the counter nearest the office. My fingers pressed the code, and a half second later I had the cool and heavy Model 629 Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum in my hand. I wasnt Dirty Harry, but Id shot my foster fathers Model 29 since I was big enough to handle it. My foster fathers .44 was in the gun safe at home, but the only difference between it and the 629 was that the 629 was stainless steel. Both of them were too heavy for me to shoot for more than a few rounds, but I could hit a pretty tight pattern on a target at fifty feet with the gun as long as it was in the first twelve shots.