David, my alpha, wasn’t having anything to do with it, seeing as he hadn’t wanted a pack in the first place. It was why he’d bucked the system and started one with a witch in order to keep his job. And so Brett was reduced to lurking on the outskirts of my life, looking for a way in. It was flattering as all hell, but depressing. I was going to have to talk to David. Having a militant Were attached to my chaotic life wasn’t a bad idea, and Brett truly wanted someone to look to. It was how most Weres were put together. David’s protest that Brett was trying to get in good with his original alpha by spying on me to see if I had the Were artifact that had instigated the kidnapping attempt was crap. Everyone believed that it had gone over the Mackinac Bridge, though in truth it was hidden in David’s cat box.

Jenks cleared his throat, and when I glanced at him, he rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal indication of money. My eyes followed his to Glenn.

“Hey,” I said, shifting in my seat, “this pays, right?” Glenn smiled, and, irritated, I sharpened my voice. “It does pay, right?”

Chuckling, the FIB detective glanced in the rearview mirror at Brett and nodded. “Why—” he started, and I interrupted.

“He wants into my pack, and David is balking,” I said. “What’s so important about this body that you need me to look at it? I’m a lousy detective. It’s not what I do.”

Glenn’s square face was heavy with concern as he looked back at me from the Were behind us. “She’s a Were. The I.S. says suicide, but I think it’s murder and they’re covering it up.”

I let the air pressure push my hand up and then down, enjoying the breeze in my shower-damp hair and the feel of my bracelet sliding against my skin. The I.S. is covering up a murder? Big surprise there. Jenks looked happy, silent now that we were working and the question of money had been raised, though not settled. “Standard consultant fee,” I said.

“Five hundred a day plus expenses,” Glenn said, and I laughed.

“Try double that, ketchup boy. I have insurance to pay.” And a church to sanctify, and a living room to repair.

Glenn’s attention on the road went distant. “For two hours of your time, that would be what? Two-fifty?”

Crap. He wanted to go hourly. I frowned, and Jenks’s wings slowed to nothing. That might pay for the paneling and the guys to put it in. Maybe.