Goldstein knew very well Smith wasn’t her name—Anna didn’t like him rubbing her nose in it. She and Charles had made it plain that Smith had been a nom de nécessité, and not their own—for heaven’s sake, why else would they have used “Smith,” notorious in fact and fiction as a false name?

Goldstein’s words smacked of a power play—and Anna disliked politics intensely. Too bad her mate was only slightly more inclined to diplomacy than certain axe-wielding Vikings of her acquaintance. Which left the role of negotiator to her.

This, she thought ruefully, was bound to be a disaster.

Several years of being trapped in a pack where brutality was a fact of everyday life had given her some skills in negotiating with terrorists, however. She wasn’t quite ready to put Leslie Fisher in that category, but it was probably best to assume the worst.

First, show no fear. This was much easier to manage with Charles waiting behind her than it had been when she’d been alone, especially since the FBI had sent people she knew and liked. This was probably not a hostile move on their part. Not yet, anyway.

“My name,” Anna said, letting ice coat her voice, “is Anna Cornick.” Since they were standing on her porch, they already knew her real name.

Second, give the appearance of cooperation—but don’t give them anything you don’t have to.

“He was trying to be tactful,” Leslie said, though she didn’t believe it.

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Werewolves can smell lies.” This was something, like her name, that they also already knew.

Leslie flinched subtly and gave her cohort a grim look. The next sentence out of her mouth was the truth, and she sounded more like a professional agent than a friend. “I’m sorry for the surprise, but we do need to talk to you. Rather than advertising that the FBI came to call on you, can we come in?”

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. “This is a small town. Everyone already knows you’re here. Sometime in the next ten minutes they’ll look up your plates.”

“It’s a rental car.”

Challenge accepted, Anna thought. “Helen Oxford has a sister who works in the airport in Missoula with the rental car agencies. She won’t have any trouble finding out who rented the car.”

“We drove in from Spokane, not Missoula,” said Leslie.

“Rental car agencies are nationwide companies,” Goldstein remarked to no one in particular. Then he said, “Point taken, Ms. Cornick. If you wish to discuss this on your doorstep …” He looked around.

They were surrounded by mountains and forest. There were no nearby houses. The closest neighbor was a half mile away.

“… then I see no reason we cannot do that.”

Invite them in, said Brother Wolf.