Night Broken (Mercy Thompson #8)(56)

“Zee’s insights into the problem with Beauclaire and the walking stick have showed me I need to start thinking outside the box more,” I said.

“Oh?” Adam glanced at me, then back at the road.

“I thought we should apply that kind of thinking to the matter of Christy’s stalker.”

He gave me a skeptical look.

“No, really,” I said. “Now that we know that Flores is really this nasty, fiery, superpowerful nothing-can-kill-me demon from hell, maybe we should consider just giving Christy to him?”

He laughed.

“I’m serious,” I said. And I was. Really. If only a little bit.

“Right,” he said affectionately. “I know exactly how serious you are. We’ve got a twenty-minute drive ahead. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest up?”

It sounded like a plan. My hands hurt, my hip hurt, my cheek throbbed, and someone had thrown a finger at me—and I hadn’t eaten today. Adam’s hand curled around the top of my knee, and I relaxed and let myself drift off. Nothing was so bad that Adam’s touch couldn’t make it better. Even if he wouldn’t let me give Christy to the fire-dog from hell.

8

Kyle let us in with a sincere, heartfelt gratitude that didn’t speak well of his guests.

He frowned at my face.

“The EMT told me the cheek will probably scar, but putting stuff on it won’t help,” I told him. “He also advised avoiding fights where throwing fire is involved.”

“I know of something that might help,” Kyle said. “I’ll talk to my hairdresser and see if I can’t get you some. Of course, if you keep fighting with people who throw fire at you, it’s unlikely to be of any help in the long run.”

“Let’s get through with Gary Laughingdog first,” said Adam. “And then I’ll tell you what happened tonight at Mercy’s garage.”

“I know most of it,” Kyle said. “Warren called a while ago and gave me a play-by-play. But the conversation was in my bedroom, and I haven’t passed anything along just yet.”

He ushered us to the ground-floor sitting room, where the defensive posture of our newest wolf put Adam on edge. Zack had pushed himself as far into the corner of the sofa as he could get. Gary Laughingdog, barefoot and dressed in jeans and a stained white t-shirt, was sitting on the back of the same couch, though right in the center of it. But he was leaning toward Zack, using body language to put pressure on the wolf.

“So,” Laughingdog said as we came into the room, “do you swing the same way as your host, Zack? I usually go for women, but you’re cute enough I could do you if you want.”

“No,” Adam said, and he wasn’t answering the question Gary had raised.

Laughingdog turned to look at Adam, his posture relaxed. He’d known we were coming in, and the pressure he was putting on Zack was to see what we would do. His eyes widened as he took in Adam. “I’d do you, too.” He wasn’t lying. “Almost-Sister, you picked a real catch.”

“It was I who caught her,” Adam said softly. “It took years. And no, not interested, and neither is Zack. If you don’t back off him, we may never find out just what it is that you have to tell my wife. That would be too bad.”

“Zack doesn’t mind me,” said Laughingdog with one of those false-friendly smiles he’d used on me. “Do you, Zack?”

“One,” said Adam coolly.

“You’re going to count to three? Really? How old do you think I am?”

Kyle stalked over to the couch, grabbed Laughingdog by the back of his t-shirt, and jerked him all the way off the couch and onto the floor. I’d have thought such a fit of violence was completely out of character for Kyle, but somehow it didn’t seem forced. Maybe Gary Laughingdog had the same effect on people that I occasionally did.

“I told you to back the f**k off,” Kyle snarled. “You are a temporary guest in my house, and I am done with you.”

Laughingdog, sprawled out on the floor, didn’t look the least bit fussed. “Sorry,” he said unrepentantly. “I can’t help but push them when they squirm.”

“Uncomfortable is one thing,” said Kyle, who also tended to push people when they squirmed. “Scared is another.”

Laughingdog froze and glanced up at Zack, who hadn’t moved from his corner and was not looking at anyone. He was, in fact, barely breathing. Submissive wolves don’t go around cringing. Peter, Honey’s mate, had been a good fighter. Submissive means a wolf has no desire to be in charge.

“Ah, damn it all,” Laughingdog said, sitting up. “I didn’t catch it. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up and not notice what my nose tells me. I know what ‘no’ means, kid. No always means no.”

“Mercy,” Adam said. “You and Kyle take Laughingdog somewhere else and let me talk to Zack. Evidently ‘no’ doesn’t always mean ‘no.’”

Zack came to life at that. “I’m fine,” he said hurriedly.

“No,” said Laughingdog softly. He pushed himself across the floor until he was on the other side of the room from the couch. “I don’t think so, man. But no harm will come to you here, right?”

Adam looked at Zack, then looked at me. “What do you think?”