Okay. The Mulberry sisters were nuts. He should probably be careful not to piss them all off at the same time. “I’m glad the moms stepped in,” he muttered.

“Me too.” Dana speared a piece of melon and plopped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“Have you ever been in a physical fight?” Wolfe asked.

She shook her head. “Not unless you count fighting over the television remote control with one of my sisters.”

“I don’t,” Wolfe said.

“Then, nope. Never been in a fight.”

He needed to teach her how to fight. Not that he wanted her to fight, but those skills were necessary in their work. Even in her work as a journalist. “You should know how to protect yourself,” he said.

She snorted. “You know I could help you on your case, right?”

He wasn’t going to argue with her in front of her family. “You are not on my case, and that’s the end of it.” He kept his voice low, but nobody seemed to be listening to their conversation, anyway.

She patted his jean-clad thigh. “We can talk about that on the drive home. Either way, I’m on the payroll now, remember? We have actual assignments.”

That was fine, but his fight with Rock could get her killed. During this escape from reality, he’d been able to banish the images of Candy Folks’s autopsy, but soon he’d be back at his crappy office searching for the guy who’d killed her while also preparing to either kill Rock or die trying.

Dana brushed his arm, and the scent of orange blossoms wafted over him. “Congrats on winning bingo. Beginner’s luck and all.”

“Thanks.” A chill clacked down his spine, and he stiffened, going on alert. He scouted the room, landed on a couple of kids eating pancakes in the corner, and then kept going to a window facing the golf course.

Gary Rockcliff stood framed in the window, looking right at him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wolfe’s muscles tightened, and ice flowed through his blood. Gary Rockcliff jerked his head to the south and then disappeared. Barely keeping his cool, Wolfe set his napkin on his plate. “Excuse me.”

Dana’s eyebrows rose, but everyone else kept up their conversations.

His knife was in his boot. Oh, he’d end up in jail and probably be banished from all future Mulberry breakfasts, but if he got the chance to kill Rock right now, he was going to take it. All sound disappeared as he strode through the restaurant and outside to the club grounds, spotting Rock lounging in an outdoor seating area next to a board set up for tournaments.

Wolfe counted the civilians in the area as well as the avenues of escape, his gaze never leaving his enemy. Heat and humidity swam around him, making his shirt too tight.