The kitten jumped onto Dana’s lap and snuggled in with a soft purr.

“Finally.” Wolfe let the curtains drop and yanked the door open.

Roscoe was the first through the door, making a beeline for Dana to scratch his ears. She leaned over and petted the pooch, wanting all of a sudden to bury her face in his fur. She cleared her throat.

Angus followed, along with the British guy and then a gnarled bald man, around sixty years old, wearing a white lab coat and holding an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.

“Ah, shit,” Wolfe muttered, slamming the door. “You brought Doctor Crazy?”

“You said to keep it quiet,” Angus replied, moving toward Dana and halting a few feet away. “Are you all right?” Concern glowed in his deep green eyes.

She forced a smile, trying not to freak out any more than necessary. Nope. “I’m fine. Wolfe is blaming himself, and he needs to stop it right now.”

Angus sighed. “This is Dr. Georgetown, and he often does work off the books for us.”

The doctor gave a half bow. “Happy to be of service.” He shoved wire spectacles up his nose. “Angus filled me in on the way here, even though the British chap drives like a bat out of, well, heck.”

Jethro eyed the sandwiches. “It’s not my fault Force can’t find his truck and you all needed a ride.”

Angus flushed. “My truck is in the shop.”

“Uh-huh,” Jethro returned.

“You can have my sandwich—I’m not hungry,” Dana said, nudging the plate toward him.

Jethro dropped into the adjacent seat. “Perhaps we could split it.” He neatly tore it in two and leaned to the side. “What were your symptoms?”

“Euphoria, arousal, and then missing memory,” Dana said, accepting the other half.

“Hmmm.” Dr. Georgetown set his bag down on the table. “We’ll do a blood test and not worry about urine since there should still be time to get everything we need from your blood. I’m dating the medical director of Lambert Hospital, and he’s a board-certified pathologist. I’m sure he’ll do us this favor since you were both dosed.” He drew out a syringe and several vials. “Any other symptoms?”

Wolfe leaned against the fridge in an obvious attempt to appear casual. “Nausea and an aching jaw.”

The doctor pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “Aching jaw? Interesting. With the euphoria, I was guessing GHB, but with the jaw aching, it’d be MDMA.”

Dana held out her arm after making sure the syringe had been in its original wrapper. “I don’t know what those are.”

“Liquid X and Ecstasy,” the doctor said, smoothly withdrawing blood after using a rubber tourniquet. “I’ll have Donald check for those as well as a few other drugs that could’ve been slipped in your drinks.”

Had they finished their drinks? Dana couldn’t remember exactly, but she didn’t think so. “Long-term effects?”