“No. I can’t promise the same from my associate, however.” He paused. “Do you want me to keep our conversation between us?”

“No, I’d like that big, hairy son-of-a-bitch to hunt me down and rip my head right off my neck. What do you think?” I pressed my palm to my forehead. One of the disadvantages of being room temperature was the fact that if the “room” happened to be one-hundred-and-two degrees, you ended up one-hundred-and-two degrees, as well.

The Painted Pony Motor Inn was probably air-conditioned. Byron, you lucky bastard.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Sarcasm is terribly overused in your day and age.”

“You can gripe about it in your book.” I flopped back against the lumpy sleeping bags. “But thanks for the help.”

“No problem. I don’t know what you’re mixed up in, but these vampires are no group to trifle with.”

I closed my eyes, praying for strength. “I think I can handle them.”

“If you need help, feel free to call. My associate won’t room with me. He thinks I am, and I quote, ‘a faggot.’” I could hear Byron’s wry smile over the phone. “Good luck, milady.”

And what great luck I had. I didn’t need to worry about finding Cyrus. Like a bookie coming to collect on a gambling debt, Cyrus had found me.

At least, a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew where Cyrus was found me. Since I’d had no idea where to go or what to do when I got there, I would have to take what I could get.

I would just have to follow Byron.

As the policeman poked his flashlight into the hedges, Max thought, This was an incredibly stupid idea.

He’d tracked the bitch-dog here, to Ah-Nab-Awen Park. Max hadn’t been far from where Nathan had allegedly ripped poor Ms. Allen’s throat out when he’d thought the werewolf had picked up his scent. Max’s first instinct had been to hide, not because he was afraid of her but because he didn’t want her to follow him to Nathan. It had never crossed his mind that the steps coming down the path might have belonged to someone else.

Someone like law enforcement.

It also hadn’t occurred to him that lurking in the very same bushes a madman had hidden in before he brutally murdered an innocent pedestrian might look a tad suspicious.

Harrison, you moron.

A loud, resonant howl caused the officer prodding the bushes to jump and drop his light. Max gave silent thanks to the dog.

The officer’s shoulder radio crackled, then a long stream of garbled jargon spewed forth.

“Affirmative,” the officer responded, groping through the foliage with a clumsy hand. “There’s nothing out here, anyway. Everybody seems to be sticking to curfew.”