“Did you find the wolves?”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin, the sound like rough sandpaper. “Baker isn’t going to be happy.”

“They’re dead?”

“Not just dead, but absolutely torn apart. I found a dart near one of the bodies. The poor bastards didn’t have a chance.”

I thrust a hand through my hair. “How the fuck did Rinaldo know about the werewolf guards?” Because he had to have, if his men had come here prepared with darts.

“Baker either has a spy in his midst, or his office is bugged.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be a spy. He’s dealt with vampires for years; he’d be well aware of their tricks.”

By the same token, I couldn’t imagine he’d be naive enough to believe no one would bother bugging him. Not when it seemed to be a very common practice here in Melbourne. The lab I’d worked for—as well as many other private organizations that had governmental links—was regularly swept of bugging devices.

“We need to ring him.” Even as I said it, I pulled the phone out and did it. The minute he answered, I said, “It’s Emberly Pearson, and I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, “My men are dead, aren’t they?”

“Yes. And they were darted before they were killed. Someone knew they were watching Shona and came prepared.”

“Who did you tell?” His voice was flat, angry, but whether the anger was directed toward us or was because of the loss of his men, I couldn’t say.

“No one. Not even PIT knew.”

“Suggesting I have a leak in my own organization. I’d feared that.”

“Rinaldo seems to have a finger on the pulse of all the major players in this city,” I said. “But he’s an extremely strong telepath, so it might simply be a matter of reading the mind of someone close to you.”

“Just as telepathic wolves are a rare find, it’s also rare for wolves to be telepathically invaded. We are somewhat immune.” He was silent for a second, and then said, “I’ll check, however. Thank you for the call, and please remember to pass on any information you get on this bastard.”

He hung up. I blew out a breath. “Rinaldo is dead meat if Baker ever gets his hands on him.”

“That can be applied to us, PIT, the rats, and whomever else Rinaldo might have crossed.” Jackson caught my hand, tugged me close, and kissed me. It was as much about grief as an affirmation of life. After a few moments, he added, “What did PIT say when you called?”

“A crew will be here shortly.”

“Good, because we need to get moving if we’re to meet Rinaldo on time.”

I hesitated. “I don’t really think—”

“Do not try to stop me from coming along.” His expression was hard. Determined. “Because you know that’s not going to happen.”

“But he won’t be at the meeting. He won’t risk it.”