“Stop it! Stop it!”
“But I thought—”
“I don’t need your help,” I spat at Will. “Sampson, let him go.”
There was huffing and grunting as Sampson and Will untangled themselves from one another. I stood in the middle, pushing them apart.
“Sampson?” Will said, sandy eyebrows raised.
My heart, which was already doing a thunderous double-thump, dropped firmly into my knees.
“Isn’t Sampson your old boss?”
Sampson pierced me with a glare. His lips were set firm, nostrils flaring. “Sophie . . .”
“No, Sampson,” I said, grabbing him by the shirtfront. “This is Will. My Guardian.”
The two men evaluated each other much the same way cage fighters evaluate each other before going for the jugular. “He lives across the hall and enjoys the heady, albeit rare, scent of bacon. And Will, this is Mr. Sampson. You’re right; he used to be my boss at the UDA.”
“Didn’t he also used to be dead?”
“Theoretically.” I turned to Sampson, watching as uncertainty flitted across his face. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Don’t worry; Will’s a good guy.”
Will spread his legs slightly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His brows were drawn, his eyes laser focused on Sampson. “So is Sampson.”
There was a momentary retreat to corners until Sampson pulled out the plate that had been keeping warm in the microwave. “Bacon?”
We sat down with bacon as the universal peacemaker. As Sampson heaped the table with breakfast, Will jutted his chin toward me.
“What’s all this about?”
My hands immediately went to my hair and I shook out a leaf. In all the commotion I had forgotten about my blitz attack. “No biggie. Someone attacked me at the park.”
Will crossed to me and circled my body, examining, gently poking at my scratched skin. “Who attacked you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
“The park is wide open, love. And last I checked the sun is working overtime. How did you not see him?”
“Blitz.” Sampson said. “Got her from behind.”
I pushed away from Will’s probing fingers. “I’m fine.”
“I’m not. Who do you think did this? Fallen angel?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, winced at the starburst of pain in my ribs, then put my hands on my hips. “You’re asking me if it was a fallen angel? What am I paying you for?”
“With all due respect, love, you’re not paying me at all.”
I poked the donut in his hand. “Consider that payment. And no, I don’t think it was a fallen angel.”
Will quirked an unconvinced eyebrow and I groaned.
“Fallen angels don’t jump their prey at a dog park. They light stuff on fire, make you eat bugs, and accuse you of murder.”
Sampson raised his eyebrows.
“It’s been a challenging year,” I told him.
“But—”
I held up my hand, effectively silencing Will. “I know you’re concerned about my safety and I appreciate that. But you realize there are donuts to be had.”
Sampson handed me a donut. “Same old Sophie.”
It wasn’t that I wasn’t concerned about the dog park jumping. I was. But a little bit of tanbark up my nose quickly paled in comparison to everything else going on in my life. And also, there were donuts.
I was polishing off my second (third) donut and mowing down a heap of cheese-flecked scrambled eggs while Sampson gave the basic overview of his story to Will.
Will nodded, listening intently, and when Sampson finished, Will wiped his hands on a napkin. I stopped him before he could talk.
“So, Will, when Alex and I were at the crime scene, we saw a werewolf hunter.”
Will frowned. “You didn’t tell me there was a crime scene.”
I shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve seen you.”
He cocked his head. “You’ve seen me.”
I couldn’t tell if his sentence was an innocent statement, or a cheek-reddening reminder that I had, in fact, seen him—naked. I said nothing until Will rambled on.
“What kind of crime? Real blokes or some of your gobblygooks?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s offensive. And it was a double homicide.” I grabbed another piece of bacon and stuck it in my mouth, relishing the oozy, salty flavor. The fact that I could eat and talk homicide said volumes about how far I’d come in the investigative world—or in the culinary one.
Sampson pushed his plate away and folded his arms on the table, his eyes fixed on me, lips pressed in a hard thin line. “Her name is Feng. Her family—”
“Feng!” Will put in. “The bird who tried to strangle you. I’d almost forgotten. How is the old gal?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“Did you have a nice chat?”
“No. She just kind of glared at Alex and me.”
Will’s shoulders flexed, the movement tiny, almost imperceptible. “You were with Alex?”