Figure out who they are, ordered Adam, pulling his head back so he could look me in the eye.

“Follow the money,” I agreed, pulling him back down. I needed his warmth against me more than I needed to see him. My body believed better than my eyes, which knew I was looking at a figment of memory. “Kyle already suggested it. Now if I can just work out a way to do that.” I could set Adam’s associate Gutstein on that, couldn’t I?

Gutstein can look. You were talking about the police. What have you been up to that the police were involved?

“When the bad guys took Warren, they took Kyle, too. Held him at his house.”

Adam growled, and so did someone else. I couldn’t see him or feel him, but my nose told me it was Warren.

“He’s okay.”

Adam stiffened, and that other wolf who was Warren snarled.

“I said okay, not terrific,” I grumbled at them. “I wasn’t lying. He got beaten up—Stefan killed the one who did it, though Kyle has to claim credit for it. He handled it, Warren. He’s smart and tough. He’ll be waiting, so you’d better survive this.”

The snarl died, and Adam and I were alone in our bed in the huge house that served as pack HQ and as our home.

“Ben and I helped Stefan,” I murmured to Adam. “They had Kyle alone and were trying to get him to speculate where Jesse and I would be likely to show up. Stefan killed the one and tied up the other. Kyle called the police, and they swarmed the house and saved the day.”

Jesse.

He didn’t have to say anything more. In this dream of mine I heard his terror, his fierce burning protectiveness.

“She’s safe,” I promised him. “I hid her with Gabriel and set Tad to watch over her.”

Adam’s body stilled, the stillness in a hunt that occurs just before something dies. Tad?

Here in my dream, safe with it just between us, I could tell him. “Zee told me that Tad could keep Jesse safe.” Not in those words, but that was what the grumpy old fae had meant. Truths that you can read between the lines in a fae who is your friend are as far from a lie as a fae can get.

Adam’s body softened, turning warm and melting into mine, the distance between us blurring into nothing. Then she is safe.

His mouth sought mine. He tasted of heat and love. But he tasted also of illness born of silver, and I was crying before he was finished. They were killing him, I could feel it. Much more silver, and he would no longer be able to link with the pack and he would die while the bastards who had him were still waiting for signs of weakness.

His chest rose and fell, and his heart stuttered against mine. I could feel how close his death hovered—too much silver, too much of the drug that slowed his reflexes.