“And just because Dawson has money doesn’t make it right for him to intimidate people into getting whatever he wants,” I pointed out. “So which is worse—me assassinating Dawson for threatening the Foxes or him telling his brother to go rape and murder Violet just to send a message to her grandfather?”

Caine blew out a long breath. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. But two months ago, I would have taken you in for plotting to kill someone. Slapped my handcuffs on you and dragged you down to the station, no questions asked.”

“And now?”

Donovan looked out at the road, although I got the impression he wasn’t really seeing it. “Now, I’m thinking about helping you get to him.”

“Don’t sound so broken up about it, detective. Getting rid of Dawson is the right thing to do.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s what you want to do. I’m just going along with you.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why go along with me if it bothers your conscience so much?”

Donovan stared at me. Emotions flickered like candle flames in his eyes. Guilt. Desire. Need. Weariness. Resignation.

“I don’t know that either.”

Tires crunched on the gravel, and a classic convertible pulled into the parking lot. The vehicle was as black as black could be, with a long body and swooping fins. Despite its pristine, gleaming beauty, the convertible always reminded me of a hearse. The top was up, but I didn’t need to see inside to know who was driving. Sophia Deveraux had arrived. I got to my feet.

Donovan tensed. “Trouble?”

“Relax, detective. I called a friend to come help Finn watch the Foxes, while you and I sneak off to Dawson’s mine.”

Sophia opened the driver’s door and stepped out.

The detective frowned. “Isn’t that your cook from the Pork Pit? The one who was working when Jake McAllister tried to rob you?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “She moonlights as a badass, just like me.”

But Sophia wasn’t alone. The passenger side door opened, and a mound of bleached, white-blond curls appeared, partially covered with a sheer pink headscarf.

Sophia had brought her big sister, Jo-Jo, along with her.

Jo-Jo said something to Sophia that I couldn’t hear, and the Goth dwarf grunted back in response. Then the two women shut their car doors and headed toward us.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Sophia gave Donovan a flat, uninterested look, but Jo-Jo’s eyes lit up at the sight of the rugged detective. In addition to being a social butterfly, the dwarf was also a terrible flirt, just like Finn was.

“Well, now,” Jo-Jo asked, her pale eyes landing on Donovan. “Who is this?”

I stood and made the introductions. “Jo-Jo Deveraux, this is detective Donovan Caine with the Ashland Police Department. And vice versa. The Goth chick is Sophia, Jo-Jo’s sister.”