“That’s probably the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Lana strolled over and caressed his face. Her fingertips caused warmth to spread over his bruised cheek. Violet eyes bored into his. Her hand moved down across his chest, tracing the lacerations from the claw marks. A succubus could go from cold to hot faster than a microwave burrito. “Oh, Franks, how could I ever stay mad at you? I’m such a sucker for the strong silent types. And you are . . . so very strong.”

“What happened to your wings?”

She smiled. Her fangs were showing. “For you, Franks, I’ll regrow them.”

* * *

Special Agent Dwayne Myers was back.

And there was much rejoicing, Archer mused. The difference was remarkable. Ten minutes ago the ops center the MCB had commandeered at Homeland Security had been a depressed, muted, almost sullen place. They were chasing leads and shaking the trees, but hadn’t come up with anything. The manhunt was a failure so far, the morgue was filled with their friends and brothers, and the suspect was still at large. The agents were stuck, frustrated, and grieving.

Yet the room seemed to come alive when Myers walked in.

Archer was by himself inside a conference room with glass walls, left there and forgotten after SAC Fargo couldn’t decide if he was telling the truth about the hospital or not, and she’d not decided what to do with him yet. Luckily they’d not closed the blinds for his debrief, so he watched the transformation without the benefit of sound. Myers came through the door, and everything just stopped. He could see the expressions brighten on all of his fellow agent’s faces. This was the man who could get them through any situation. This was the best leader they’d ever had, and if anybody could make this right, it was Myers.

A crowd gathered around him immediately. It didn’t matter that he was no longer in charge of them, they’d always look to him for guidance. Myers answered questions and returned handshakes, then he asked a question and one of the Media Control staffers pointed directly at Archer. Myers thanked him, and walked quickly toward the conference room.

Uh oh . . .

Myers entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Please, no need to stand. We don’t have much time.” The former Acting Director closed the blinds, blocking the views of twenty curious agents. “Only the SAC knows I’m as much a suspected collaborator as you are. I asked for them to fetch Grant, so hopefully he gets here before Fargo hears I’m back.”

“Sir, I don’t think Franks did this—”

Myers held up one hand to stop him. In his other hand he was holding a small device. He waved it back and forth, scowling at the readout. “Okay, the room is clear. I don’t think Stricken is listening to us right now.”

Archer swallowed hard.