Two club-goers slipped into the alley. A noise from Karl that I knew he’d call a mutter, but was indistinguishable from a dog’s low warning growl. He aimed a glare at the intruders, jaw tensing, and I knew he’d love nothing more than to stride down there and shoo them out—by the scruff of their necks if necessary. He was in this alley, therefore it was, for the moment, his territory. But, like the growl, he’d never admit to the impulse. He was a civilized man, not a half-wolf savage, and anyone who made that mistake would be quickly corrected.

So he settled for glowering at the intruders and pretending he felt no inclination to tear down there and kick their asses. They completed their transaction—drugs, I presume—and left. He watched them go, then turned to me, and when he did, the anger—all the anger—had faded from his eyes and he just looked tired.

“I need to discuss this with you, Hope, but it can wait until morning. Go back to your…friend.”

I thought of returning to Jaz, but the evening’s high had evaporated, and I wouldn’t find it again.

“No, let’s get this over with,” I said.

I TEXT MESSAGED Jaz, saying I was in trouble with my parents and had to get back to my apartment. He wouldn’t be happy, but I’d deal with that tomorrow…after I’d handled this and sent Karl on a fast plane home.

I told Karl what I’d done.

“I give him ten minutes to be at your apartment door.”

“He won’t.”

Karl snorted. “You think he’s just going to let it go at that? He—”

“He won’t because he doesn’t have my address.”

“No?”

“No.”

A grunt of something I couldn’t make out. He led me into a lot and toward a trio of cars—a Porsche, a Ferrari and a Lexus. I glanced at the Lexus. Nothing sporty or eye-catching—just sleek, powerful and luxurious. A banker’s car. I walked over to it. Not a rental sticker to be seen. I stopped at the passenger door. A blip of the key fob and the door opened. I got inside.

“This probably isn’t something we should discuss in a public place,” I said as he started the car. “Where’s your hotel?”

“I don’t have one. We can talk at your apartment.”

I tried to think of a way out of this that wouldn’t sound petty. When I couldn’t find one, I gave him directions.

WE DROVE A couple of miles in silence, then Karl said, “Back there in the alley. What you said about that morning, about what I said…it wasn’t like that.”

“You didn’t say it?”

He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I meant that your interpretation wasn’t my intent.”