He nodded. “Yeah. A decade as an investigative journalist will do that. Well, if you’re a good one.” He tilted his chin and rubbed against Kat’s furry head.

Brigid studied him. He wore a dark T-shirt with a faded flag emblem across the chest, jeans, and black boots. His jacket was tossed over his chair. His buzz cut dark hair was growing out, and he had several days’ stubble across his square jaw. Even though he sprawled in the chair, a sense of danger emanated from him. He looked like a panther snuggling with a kitten.

“What?” Wolfe asked.

“You and Dana,” Brigid replied quickly. “There’s more than friendship.” In fact, Wolfe seemed very interested in the pretty reporter’s safety.

“Nope.” Wolfe yawned, nearly dislodging the animal. “Just friends. Can’t be anything more.”

“Why not?” Could she finally get Wolfe to talk?

He exhaled, his massive chest moving. “Lots of reasons. One, I have a job to do and am working to make it happen. Two, if I get it done, I might go back to the teams. Three, after the explosion that took me off the teams, my head ain’t all the way right.” His smile revealed a shocking dimple in his left cheek. “And I wasn’t all that right to begin with.”

The elevator dinged, and they both turned, Wolfe reaching for his desk drawer. Then he paused.

A five-foot-tall woman with bright purple hair, several earrings, and hazel eyes strode out lugging a matte-black briefcase that looked heavier than she did. She looked up, drew out a badge, and flipped it open to reveal she was an HDD operative.

Wolfe set the kitten on the desk and dropped his feet to the floor with a loud clump. He stood and strode toward her, reaching for the bag. “Let me help.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “Nope.” The woman had to be in her midtwenties and was dressed in a flowing skirt and lime-green tank top beneath a mauve suede sweater. She looked more like a gypsy than an HDD agent.

Angus and Raider strode out of the case room and around the hub of desks.

Angus reached for the briefcase. “Agent Frost, I assume?”

Agent Frost? The name couldn’t fit the woman less. “Yep.” She kept hold of her briefcase and shimmied around the men toward the hub in the center. “Hi,” she said to Kat before gently laying down the case.

Kat looked her over and then gingerly scampered over the desk to reach her, instantly rubbing against her belly. Agent Frost glanced down. “Whose kitten?”

Wolfe shrugged. “He stays with me, but he’s his own little man.”

“Can I pick him up?” she asked, her gaze softening.

“It’s up to him,” Wolfe predictably replied.