“Piss on my daises …” Jenks said. “That’s why he picked a fight.”

Ivy’s bewildered face cleared in understanding. At least she thought she understood. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing herself away from the I.S. vehicle.

“Ivy, wait,” I said, wishing I’d told her what I had done, though it wasn’t as if I could shout that Nick had a fake. I pushed from the tailgate. Pain shot through me, reminding me I had just been hit by a truck. “Ivy!” I shouted, and an I.S. guy headed after her.

“Won’t take but a moment!” she called over her shoulder. She stormed across the closed lanes, uniforms coming from all over to head her off. I moved to follow, immediately finding my elbow in the grip of one of the mustache guys. Images of court dates and jail cells kept me still as the first man to touch Ivy went down when she stiff-armed him in the jaw.

A call went up, and I watched with a sinking sensation, remembering when she and Jenks had taken out an entire floor of FIB officers. But it was I.S. runners this time. “Maybe we should have told her,” I said, and Jenks smirked, rubbing his wrist where his cuffs had been.

“She needs to blow off some steam,” he said, then whispered, “holy crap. Look.”

His green eyes were brilliant in the mercury light hammering down on us, and my jaw dropped when I followed his gaze to the wrecker. The brighter light made obvious what the shadows had hid before. The garage guy’s hands were spotlessly clean, and the dark stain on the knee of his blue overalls was too wet to be oil.

“Nick,” I breathed, not knowing how he got his hair that dirty white so fast. He was still wearing my disguise amulet, but with the overalls and cap, he was unrecognizable.

Jenks stood beside me, whispering, “What in Tink’s garden of sin is he doing?”

I shook my head, seeing the Weres watching him too. Double damn, I think they knew it was him. “He thinks he has the focus,” I said. “He’s trying to get the original too.”

“Leaving us holding the bag?” Jenks finished in disgust. “What a slug’s ass. If he doesn’t go to the hospital and die on paper, then we have a dead vamp to explain and will be brought up on insurance fraud. Rache, I’m too pretty to go to jail!”

Face cold, I turned to Jenks, my stomach in knots. “We have to stop him.”

He nodded, and I cupped my hands to my mouth. “Ivy!” I shouted. “The wrecker!”

It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it got results. Ivy took one look and realized it was Nick. Crying out, she slugged the last I.S. agent and took off running, only to be brought down by a lucky snag by a previously felled officer. She sprawled, cuffs on her in two seconds flat.

Jenks flowed into motion, distracting the surrounding FIB officers. Thinking this was going to look great on my résumé, I sidestepped them and ran for the wrecker. People were shouting, and someone had probably pulled a weapon as I heard, “Stop, or I’ll use force!”