Page 112 of Crimson Moon Falling

“Unofficially?” His voice dropped. “Watch your back because these people don’t fuck around. And come back in one piece. I’ve got enough paperwork without adding an agent’s death to the pile.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do.” He hung up.

Gunnar cocked a bushy eyebrow. “That went better than expected.”

“Fergus isn’t stupid. He knows something’s happening, and he’s choosing not to get involved. It gives him plausible deniability.”

He smiled grimly. “That’s Fergus for you.”

I picked up my phone and stood. “I’m going to clean up.”

Gunnar nodded and stretched. “I’ll rustle up some food.”

I walked into my room, closed the door, and dialed Parker. He answered on the first ring.

“What’s going on now? You good?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to Washington. Or maybe New York.”

He went quiet. “You still going through with this?”

“Yes. Can you contact your EOD tech Marine buddy?” Then I explained to him what I needed.

I pictured him standing at the bar, one hip braced against the counter, his light brown hair wild, those cold eyes narrowed. Then I thought of the new Pack house next door, within walking distance, with Feeny and Freda there. And whoever else came and went. I closed my eyes against the homesickness surging in my chest.

“You sure? There’s no going back.”

I exhaled. “Yes.”

“Does Conall know?”

“He will.”

Another pause. “I’ll make the calls. Becker’s dead, by the way.”

The switch in topic threw me off. “What?”

“Doctor Becker is dead. Wilson’s man. The same one who touched you.”

“What happened?”

“I went after him, but Conall got there first.”

“How’d he die?” I was probably going to regret asking.

“He was eviscerated, and someone ripped off his dick and left him to bleed out. It took him a while to die, so tell Conall I approve. Watch your ass, Bug.”

He disconnected as I stared unseeing at the wall. I hung up and walked slowly back out to the kitchen.

Gunnar was reheating his leftover stew, and Ash had made grilled cheese sandwiches. I stayed away from the stew.

The day was gray and drizzly, so we ate in front of the hearth. The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney. Edwina stretched out on the couch, and Gunnar sat beside her, feeding her bits of meat from his mystery stew.

Setting my plate aside, I stared at the strange-looking cat. “Gunnar, can you take care of Edwina until we figure out what to do with her? I’m not sure she’d enjoy living in a house full of wolf shifters.”

He gave her a head scratch. “Yeah. I don’t know how my cats are gonna react to her, but I can take her home and see.”