To my left, Mrs. Sarong stiffened, but she looked pissed, not afraid.

“And I’m not going to go after Mr. Ray for you,” I added.

Mr. Ray harrumphed, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief. “I don’t need your help to pin the whiny bitch,” he said, and the men surrounding him tensed as if to rush her.

That just ticked me off. This was my party, damn it. Weren’t they listening? “Hey! Hey!” I shouted. “Excuse me, but I’m the one you both wanted to contract to kill each other. I suggest,” I said sarcastically, “that we all sit at that big table over there, just you, and you, and me.” I looked at the weapons still cocked and pointed. “Alone.”

Mrs. Sarong nodded in a show of acquiescence, but Mr. Ray sneered. “You can say anything in front of my pack,” he stated belligerently.

“Fine.” I stepped from David, and he uncocked his weapon. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Sarong.”

The collected woman smiled cattily at the flustered man and turned to give her daughter a word of instruction. She was just as stymied as Mr. Ray, but by calmly capitulating rather than insisting we do it her way, she looked more in control. Intrigued, I filed the wisdom away for more thought later. If I have a later.

“You got this okay?” I murmured to David.

I could smell the musk coming off him, thick and heady from his tension. The depression was gone, leaving only a capable-looking man with a rifle that could blow a hole in an elephant. It was a vampire killer. It would work on Weres, easy.

“No problem, Rachel,” he said, his brown eyes everywhere but on me. “I’ll keep them right where they are.”

“Thanks.” I touched his upper arm. He flicked his gaze to mine, then backed up a step, his duster furling about the tops of his boots.

My breath came out in a long exhalation. Pulse slowing, I stepped between the two Were factions and those guns, headed for the table at the foot of the stairs. Kisten was still standing in the middle of the room, and he was pulled into my wake as I passed him. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but it was from the Weres, not him.

“I’ve got this under control,” I said softly, my lips barely moving. “Why don’t you go fold more of those napkins?”

“I can see that,” he said, smiling despite the tension in his soft voice. Jenks joined us from the ceiling, and under their twin scrutiny I rubbed my fingertips into my forehead. Crap, I was getting a headache. This wasn’t the way I had planned it, but how was I supposed to know they both wanted to contract me to kill each other?