“Here.” He held it a moment when Tony reached out to take it. “You know this guy, right? That’s how you knew this wolf was the wrong one.” Then comprehension lit his face, and he let go of the card and looked at Adam. “Adam Hauptman?”

Adam nodded. “I’d say pleasure to meet you, but I don’t like lying. What is it I’m supposed to have done?”

The younger cop strolled back from his car, shaking his head.

Kelly looked at the cop, then sighed. “What a cluster. I take it you haven’t been killing young women and leaving their half-eaten bodies in the desert?”

Adam was ticked. I could tell it even if he was looking like a reasonably calm businessman. Adam’s temper was the reason he wasn’t one of Bran’s werewolf poster boys. When angered, he often gave in to impulses he wouldn’t otherwise have given in to.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Adam told Kelly in silky tones. “But I prefer rabbits. Humans taste like pork.” And then he smiled. Kelly took an involuntary step backward.

Tony gave Adam a sharp look. “Let’s not make things worse, if we can help it, gentlemen.” He pulled out his cell phone and, looking at the card, dialed the number. It rang until the voice mail picked up. Tony didn’t leave a message.

“Okay,” Tony said. “I’d like to get a statement from you about this warrant. If we’ve got someone falsifying warrants, we need to know about it. We can do that here, or down at the station.”

I left Tony and the police to deal with the fallout, and went back into my office, letting the door shut behind me. I left Sam outside, too. If he hadn’t killed anyone yet this morning, he wasn’t going to.

I had other matters to deal with.

Gabriel had his youngest sister on his hip, her wet face on his shoulder. The other girls were sitting on the chairs I had for customers, and his mother had her back to me.

She was the only one talking—in Spanish, so I had no idea what she was saying. Gabriel gave me a desperate look, and she turned. Sylvia Sandoval’s eyes were glittering with rage as hot as any I’d ever seen on a werewolf.

“You,” she said, her accent thick. “I do not like the company you keep, Mercedes Thompson.”

I didn’t say anything.

“We are going home now. And my family will have nothing further to do with you. Because of you, because of your werewolf, my daughter will have nightmares of a man pointing a gun at her. She could have been shot—any of my children could have been shot. I will have a tow truck come to pick up my car.”

“No need,” I told her. “Zee has it almost up and running.” I assumed. No telling how much he’d done with his magic.

“It is running,” Zee said. I hadn’t realized he’d come into the office, but he must have come in through the garage. He stood by the inner door, looking grim.