“I’d have called you if I had time,” I said. “And I’ll . . . try to do that in the future.”

His smile warmed. “Maybe we could both do better on that end.”

“Apology accepted.”

Connor rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of checking in, I am in need of some ideas to avoid having to surrender to the AAM, so I think we need to have a team meeting.”

“Do we have a team?” he asked, opening the passenger door for me.

“Right now, we have a Lulu and an Alexei. So we’ll make do.”

* * *

* * *

We went back to the town house and found Lulu at the round table in the dining nook in the bay window, picking vegetables from a take-out box with a pair of tear-apart chopsticks. The house smelled like pork and pepper, and my stomach rumbled.

“Team meeting,” I called out. “I don’t suppose you ordered extra?”

She just grunted, dug in the box for more. And I saw the mountain of take-out boxes and bags on the kitchen island.

“Uh-oh,” I said.

“Jackpot,” Connor said, then looked at me. “What? Why?”

“I’m pretty sure this is a breakup binge.” I unfolded the box tops, found half a dozen different dishes that ran the gamut from fried pork to wobbling tofu in spicy sauce. “Damn.”

“What should we do?” Connor’s words were garbled, and I looked back to find him chewing pork. “What? I was hungry and it’s here. And it’s my house.” He swallowed. “I can’t help having a shifter appetite.”

I rolled my eyes, walked to the dining area, sat down at the table beside her. “What happened?”

“I was at Mateo’s.” She speared what looked like peppered beef with a chopstick. Aggressively. “He said I had too much drama. It was messing up his artistic juju. He decided Nadya would be a better match.”

“Prick,” I said, but felt a wave of guilt. I was certainly the reason for some of that drama. “How can I help?”

She slumped a little as she looked back at the take-out containers. “I might have ordered too much food.”

“Fortunately,” Connor said, joining us with a container and fork, “you’ve brought it to the right house.”

“Thank you,” Lulu said, tears brimming.

“You’re welcome. Want to throw darts at a picture of his head later?”

She gave me a watery nod.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

* * *

* * *

We moved the take-out boxes to the dining room table and ate directly from them, sliding them around to get the combinations we wanted. Connor turned on music, and we ate through Nina Simone and Otis Redding, the heartfelt crooning he preferred to the jarring guitar usually played at the Pack’s bar.

I turned at the sound of footsteps, found Alexei padding through the kitchen, naked but for a pair of very snug boxer briefs.

His body was remarkable, every inch toned and taut, from strong shoulders to flat abdomen to the hard lines of muscle that ran past his hips toward his . . . other apparent assets.

I glanced at Lulu, found pink on her cheeks and her gaze very focused on her food.

“As his grandfather liked to say,” Connor mused, “Alexei is . . . unburdened by humility.”

“I mean, if you look like that,” I murmured, “why would you be? You might be the third-prettiest boy in the Pack,” I whispered to Connor. I’d teased him before that one of Lulu’s exes, Riley Sixkiller, was in second place.

Connor flicked my arm. Which I probably deserved.

Lulu worked very hard not to notice, but her gaze followed as Alexei moved across the kitchen.

“Chinese take-out leftovers,” I said. “Help yourself.”

He looked across the spread, then back at us, gaze settling on Lulu. “What happened?” he asked, and there was no irritation in his voice now, and no teasing sarcasm. Just concern.

“I was dumped,” Lulu said, and she broke open a fortune cookie, spread the tiny paper between her fingers, read it. Then scoffed and tossed it into the pile with the others she’d pillaged. “But it’s fine. I’ll stuff myself with broccoli beef now, and we’re going to throw darts at his picture later.”

“No,” Alexei said and, without another word, walked out of the kitchen.

“Hmm,” was all Connor said. We waited in silence for the two minutes it took him to come down again.

He’d added jeans to his ensemble, carried a small black case. He walked to Lulu and, while she stared, set it on the table in front of her. Tapped it once.

Blinking, she opened it. The case spread into three sections, each holding a throwing knife of gleaming silver.

“I don’t have his picture,” Alexei said. “But these are more satisfying than darts. I’ll show you how to use them.”

Silence, then Lulu swallowed hard, nodded once.

When he turned to walk back to the kitchen, I took his hand as he passed. His eyes widened in surprise, darting down to the contact.

I almost pulled my hand away, afraid I’d insulted him or that physical contact just wasn’t his thing. But he squeezed my fingers, nodded, and headed for food.

* * *

* * *

Shifters and vampire made a decent dent, but Lulu and I would be eating leftovers for many nights to come. Or would, once we were able to go home again. And because there was no chance of that without dealing with the AAM, I called the meeting to order.

“Why did we need a meeting?” Lulu asked, rubbing her belly.

“Because your BFF,” Connor said, “offered to meet the AAM in forty-eight hours.”

Lulu stared at him for a minute, then turned her icy gaze to me. “She did what?”

I told her about the AAM showing up at Cadogan House, the threats Clive had made, and what I’d agreed to. She slugged me in the arm.

“What the hell,” I said, rubbing it and looking between them. “I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve that for being incredibly noble.”

“You should have told me,” Lulu said.

“Supernatural shenanigans,” I said with emphasis. “I was trying to protect you.”

Lulu rolled her eyes. “There are obvious exceptions to the no-shenanigans rule when my now rent-paying roommate is in danger.”

“So your interest is financial,” I muttered. “Maybe you shouldn’t have spent the difference on Chinese food.” I held up a hand to stop more argument. “We are under a literal deadline, so let’s skip the blame and get to the solution. Given the running from attacks and stalkers, I haven’t had a lot of time to brainstorm.”

And forty-eight hours would slip by quickly. Especially since I’d be unconscious for a good chunk of it.

“Do we get T-shirts like the OMB has?”

We all looked at Alexei.

“What?” I asked.

“Our team. We can call ourselves ‘Lace.’ L, A, C, E,” he said, pointing to Lulu, himself, Connor, and me in turn.

“Can we put ‘Sups against Fangs’ on the back?” Lulu asked.

Alexei grinned, but I shook my head. “Obviously not,” I said, “since one of us—in literal point of fact—has fangs. And I’m calling this meeting to order. The floor is open for suggestions.”

Connor’s grin went wicked, his blue eyes drowsy.

“Strategic suggestions,” I clarified.

“What about a duel?”

We all looked at Alexei.

“If they’re good enough for secretaries of the treasury, they’re good enough for vampires. I’m just saying, if you and Clive had it out in some kind of winner-take-all scenario, would he pack up and go home?”

That was along the lines of Uncle Malik’s thoughts. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I could probably take him one-on-one. His katana skills weren’t that impressive.”

“Not slick enough,” Alexei said.

“Not nearly,” I agreed. “And I’m sure I could provoke him into a fight. But I don’t think that would resolve the other issues.”

“Blackmail?” Connor asked.

“I’m also not above blackmailing a bully,” I said, “if we had any information to use against him. Which we don’t.”

Connor and Alexei looked at each other. “Maybe we could obtain something from the Consolidated Atlantic Pack.”

The shifters of the eastern seaboard. Their territory abutted the NAC’s. “You think they’d be able to dig something up on an Atlanta vampire?” I asked.

“Maybe. Relations between shifters and vamps out east are a little . . . testier . . . than those here,” Connor said. “If there’s information to be found, the Atlantic may be able to find it.”

“I don’t want to damage the AAM,” I said. “Just put a little pressure on Clive.”

“Understood,” he said, and nodded at Alexei, who took out his screen, slipped out of the room.

“If that doesn’t pan out,” Lulu said, “you could go the bargaining chip route. The stalker killed Blake, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“So you find the stalker—and Blake’s killer—first, and we offer him up to the Compliance Bureau. A trade.”

“That’s not bad,” I said, sitting up. “Except that we aren’t any further in figuring out who that is. And we don’t have any leads independent of the OMB.”

“So make him come to you. Lure him out. And when he shows up, kick his ass and deliver him to the AAM for a price—your freedom. And Bob’s your uncle,” Lulu said and mimicked wiping dirt from her hands. “All is well in the kingdom again.”

“My uncles are Ben and Christopher and Derek and Eli,” Connor said with an admirably straight face.

She just rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have a squeak toy to gnaw on somewhere?”