Before I could mention that threatening a werewolf was a little rash, Adam had the bounty hunter pinned against the door, with a forearm across his throat. Heart was taller, bigger, and more obviously muscled—but he wasn’t a werewolf.

“Not your business,” said Adam in a low, hungry voice.

“He’s not the enemy,” I told Adam. “Don’t kill him. And, Mr. Heart, if you are going to hunt werewolves, you ought to do your homework. Don’t try threatening an Alpha. They don’t like it.”

Adam increased the pressure against the bounty hunter’s throat, but Heart, after an abortive effort to break free, quit struggling.

Adam took a step back, opening and closing his hands several times—maybe to shake off the desire to hit the bounty hunter. When he turned his back on Heart, I think everyone took a relieved breath.

“I’m as upset as you are,” Heart told Adam. “Daphne… My producer is missing. She’s a good person. Someone gave her that file and had her send me after you. She’s not in her office, she’s not answering her phone, and her housekeeper hasn’t seen her for three days. And I don’t even know where to look.”

Adam sighed and stretched his shoulders to relieve the tension. “I don’t know where she is. I don’t know who planned this or why—or even if I was the real target. Give me your card. If I find out something that might help, I’ll get in touch.”

“Is your producer fae?” I asked him. Adam put his hand on my shoulder—a clear signal I should shut up. He didn’t want me making Heart curious. I was more worried that he might know something that we needed—something that might tell us if the intended victim was Adam.

“No,” Heart said. “Why? Do the fae have something to do with it?”

“Not that we know of,” said Adam.

“Then why ask about fae?”

“You sound a little too certain that your producer isn’t a fae,” observed Ben.

“She’s a member of several fae hate groups—which takes guts in Hollywood today—and likes to rant about how the country is succumbing to the wiles of the Wee Folk.”

“When did you find out they were sending you here?” I asked.

Heart turned to me, his face thoughtful. “Yesterday morning. Yes, that means that Daphne hadn’t been home for two days before that.” He smiled at me. “You were supposed to be the Alpha’s eye candy.”

Adam laughed.

“What?” I asked him. “You don’t think I’d be good eye candy?” I looked down at my overalls and grease-stained hands. I’d torn another nail to the quick.

“Honey is eye candy,” said Ben apologetically. “You’re… just you.”

“Mine,” said Adam, edging between Heart and me. “Mine is what she is.”