Wolfe nodded, his brown eyes more mellow than usual. “Yep. Three armed teams showed up and cleared us out. Who’d want that scarred furniture?” He gestured, and his broad hand impacted an empty Jack Daniel’s bottle that fell onto its side and clattered away.

Nari narrowed her gaze. “You’re all drunk?”

“We had to say goodbye. We’re touchy types of folks,” Wolfe said.

Jethro snorted in a very un-British way and looked at Angus. “Drunk? Are we?” He slurred only a little.

Angus lifted one powerful shoulder. “Could be.” Another bottle—this one half full—sat by his hand. There was no mellowness in his gaze, unlike Wolfe’s. No. Angus looked at her, his eyes glittering with something she couldn’t name but made her body flush with a heat that was as annoying as it was intriguing. He cocked his head. “How’d it go at headquarters?” His sarcastic drawl helped her gain her equilibrium.

“Obviously not good.” She swept her hand around the empty and rather dusty room. The HDD had even taken the painting she’d plastered on one wall for some color. Annoyance ticked right up to anger, and she let it reign. “You three are grown men, for goodness’ sake. Stop acting like college freshmen who just lost their first love. Buck up.” Drinking never helped anything.

Roscoe padded out of Angus’s office and sat at the far end of the bullpen, his nose slightly in the air.

Nari’s eyes widened. “Tell me you didn’t let him have any alcohol.” The dog had a problem.

Angus rolled his eyes. “Of course not. That’s why he’s acting all pissy.”

Wolfe’s phone dinged and he tugged it free of his back pocket before glancing at the face and quickly reading the text. He smiled. “Dana’s here. I don’t want her in that elevator, so I told her to wait in the truck. Let’s go.”

Nari softened. Wolfe in full protective mode was kind of cute, so long as she wasn’t on the other end of it. “How’s Dana feeling?”

“Good. Finally stopped puking all day. That boy inside her is going to be a handful.” Wolfe leaned down and hauled Jethro up. “We’ll give you a ride.”

“Could be a girl,” Angus said, not moving.

Wolfe shook his head. “God wouldn’t do that to me.” He glanced down. “You and Roscoe want a ride?”

Angus hadn’t looked away from Nari, his glittering green eyes holding her captive with just a look. “No. Roscoe and I will be fine.”

Awareness prickled over Nari’s skin in a spiral of heat. Why her body reacted that way to jerks was something she should figure out; after all, she was a psychologist.