"Okay, send someone else to the office. Surely, Marcus must trust someone."
"Richard has forbidden anyone to contact you."
I just looked at him. "Forbidden?"
Irving nodded. "Anyone lower in the pack order contacts you at their peril."
I started to smile and stopped. He was serious. "You're not kidding."
He raised a three-fingered salute. "Scout's honor."
"So how come you're here? You looking to move up in the pack?"
He paled. Honest to God, he paled. "Me? Fight Richard? Hell no."
"Then Richard won't mind you talking to me?"
"Oh, he'll mind."
I frowned. "Is Marcus going to protect you?"
"Richard gave a specific order. Marcus can't interfere."
"But he ordered you to come see me," I said.
"Yep."
"What's to stop Richard from busting your chops about this?"
Irving grinned. "I thought you'd protect me."
I laughed. "You son of a bitch."
"Maybe, but I know you, Blake. You won't like that Richard's been keeping things from you. You certainly won't like him protecting you. Besides, I've been your friend for years. I don't think you'll stand by while your boyfriend beats the hell out of me."
Irving knew me better than Richard did. It was not a comforting thought. Had I been fooled by a handsome face, a nice sense of humor? Had I not seen the real Richard? I shook my head. Could I be fooled that completely? I hoped not.
"Do I have your protection?" He was still smiling, but there was something in his eyes. Fear, maybe.
"You need me to say it out loud for it to be official?"
"Yeah."
"That a rule in the lycanthrope underground?"
"One of them," he said.
"You have my protection, but I want information in return."
"I told you I don't know anything, Blake."
"Tell me what it's like to be a lycanthrope, Irving. Richard seems determined to keep me in the dark. I don't like being in the dark."
Irving smiled. "I heard that."
"You be my guide to the world of the furry, and I'll keep Richard off your back."
"Agreed."
"When does Marcus want to meet?"
"Tonight." Irving had the grace to look embarrassed.
I shook my head. "No way. I'm going to bed. I'll meet with Marcus tomorrow, but not tonight."
He looked down into his coffee, fingertips touching the mug. "He wants it to be tonight." He looked up at me. "Why do you think I've been camped out in my car?"
"I am not at the beck and call of every monster in town. I don't even know what Fur Face wants to meet about." I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms. "No way am I going out tonight to play with shapeshifters."
Irving squirmed in his chair, rotating the coffee cup slowly on the table. He wouldn't meet my eyes again.
"What's wrong now?"
"Marcus told me to set up a meeting with you. If I refused, he'd have me. . punished. If I come here, Richard gets pissed. I'm trapped between two alpha males, and I ain't up to it."
"Are you asking me to protect you from Marcus, as well as Richard?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, "no. You're good, Blake, but you aren't in Marcus's league."
"Glad to hear it," I said.
"Will you meet with Marcus tonight?"
"If I say no, do you get in trouble?"
He stared into his coffee. "Would you believe no?"
"Nope."
He looked at me, brown eyes very serious. "He'll get mad, but I'll live."
"But he'll make you hurt." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah." That one word so soft, so tentative. It wasn't like Irving.
"I'll see him on one condition. That you're present at the meeting."
His face bloomed into a grin that spread from pole to pole. "You are a true friend, Blake." All the sadness was gone, washed away in the rosy glow of finding out what the hell was going on. Even ass deep in alligators, Irving was a reporter. It was who and what he was, more than the lycanthropy.
The smile alone was worth a meeting. Besides, I wanted to know if Richard was really in danger. Meeting the man who was threatening him was the only real way to find out. Also, I didn't really care for someone threatening one of my friends. Silver-plated bullets only slowed down a vampire, unless you can take out the head and heart. Silver bullets will kill a werewolf, no second chances, no healing, just dead.
Marcus might remember that. If he pushed it, I might even remind him.
10
Irving had called Marcus from my apartment. Again Irving didn't know why, all he did know was Marcus said to call before we came. I went into the bedroom. Hung up my dryclean-only suit, and changed clothes. Black jeans, red polo shirt, black Nikes with a blue swoosh, and real socks. I abandoned jogging socks for everyday wear once winter set in.
I reached for the bulky green sweater I had laid out on the bed. I hesitated. It wasn't the fact that the sweater had stylized Christmas trees on it, and it might not be the coolest thing to wear. I didn't give a damn about that. I was debating on whether to carry a second gun. A fashion accessory nearer and dearer to my heart than any piece of clothing.
No lycanthrope had threatened me yet, but ol' Gretchen the vamp had. She might not be a master vampire but she was close. Besides, the memory of the cop taking the Browning away was still fresh. I had too many preternatural enemies to go unarmed. I got out my Uncle Mike's sidekick inner-pants holster. A comfy fit that didn't ruin the line of your jeans unless someone was really looking.
My main backup gun is a Firestar 9mm. Small, light, pretty to look at, and I could wear it at my waist and still be able to sit down. The sweater hung to midthigh. The gun was invisible unless you frisked me. The gun was set in front, ready for a cross-draw. Probably wouldn't need it. Probably.
The sweater bulked up around the straps of the shoulder holster. I've seen people wear shoulder rigs underneath bulky sweaters or sweatshirts, but you lose a few seconds groping under the cloth. I'd rather look less than fashion perfect and live.
The sweater was too long for my leather jacket, so I was back in my black trench coat. Me and Phillip Marlowe. I didn't take any extra ammo. I figured twenty-one rounds was enough for one night. I even left my knives at home. I almost talked myself out of the Firestar. I usually didn't start carrying two guns until after people had tried to kill me. I shrugged. Why wait? If I didn't need it, I'd feel silly tomorrow. If I did need it, I wouldn't feel silly at all.
Irving was waiting for me. Sitting on the couch like a good little boy. He looked like a schoolboy whom the teacher had made stand in the corner.
"What's wrong?"
"Marcus wanted me to just give you directions. He doesn't want me at the meeting. I said, you wouldn't come without me.