Leonie had a lot of experience in pulling teams together. Sometimes, you needed to sit everyone down to talk through their feelings and come to a group consensus. Other times, you just needed to take charge.
This, she had decided, was definitely one of those times.
“We’ll put you in here,” she announced, leading the way into a cabin. “Fortunately, one of the counselors I’d assigned to this group isn’t due to arrive until this evening. You can have his room.”
Shan trailed behind her, having to duck to squeeze through the door. “Ms. MacCormick. This will not work.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you aren’t displacing anyone,” she said, though she knew perfectly well that wasn’t his objection. “I’ll just shuffle the room assignments and put the other counselor with a different pack. And it’s Leonie. Camp policy. All the staff to go by first names, with the kids as well as each other.”
Shan still had that stunned, deer-in-the-headlights sort of look, at least if the deer in question was wearing sunglasses. “Ms. MacCormick?—”
“Leonie,” she corrected firmly. She opened the door to one of the counselor bedrooms, next to the main dorm where the children slept. “Here we are. It’s small, but cozy. I’m sorry I can’t put you in your own private cabin, but those are reserved for senior staff. We don’t want campers to start wondering why a regular pack counselor is getting special favors. Anyway, you should be comfortable enough here. Can you call wherever you were staying and get them to send over your things?”
Shan stood in the middle of the small, simply furnished room, looking as out of place as… well, a secret agent at a summer camp. “I was not staying anywhere. I did not anticipate this case would take more than a few hours to resolve.”
She clicked her tongue, flipping to a fresh page in her clipboard to start a new list. “I’ll send Conleth out to get you some essentials to tide you over. Let’s see, you’ll need sneakers, socks, swim shorts…”
“Ms. MacCormick,” Shan tried again.
“A couple of pairs of jeans, some non-camp T-shirts for when you’re off-duty, maybe a sweatshirt or two,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Oh, and underwear, of course. What’s your waistband size?”
“Ms. MacCormick.” Shan placed a gloved hand on her clipboard, halting her busy scribble. “Leonie. You cannot do this.”
She pulled her pencil out from under his hand. “Yes, I can. Believe me, I’ve dealt with much bigger disruptions at much shorter notice. Compared to some of the nonsense Conleth and Zephyr have dropped on me in the past, you’re a piece of cake.”
“Let me rephrase.” Shan kept his fingers spread across her half-formed list. “Icannot do this.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Is this where you try to claim to be a big, tough guy who could face down a room fullof armed thugs without batting an eye, but breaks out in a cold sweat when confronted with a bunch of children? Because I don’t believe that for one second. You were great with the kids back there.”
He shook his head. “Leonie, why do you think I am here?”
Now it was time to let him talk. She sat on the bed, patting the blanket to invite him to take a seat next to her. “Because it’s your job. And it’s clear you take your work seriously.”
He remained standing, stiff as a soldier under inspection. “Did you not wonder why I am able to remain at camp as long as required? Why my superior is happy to have me occupied with—forgive me for being blunt—such a trivial case?”
“Not really,” she had to admit. “Sorry. I spend so much time here, it’s all too easy to forget there’s a world outside summer camp. I should have realized a special agent would have better things to do.”
“It is not that.” Shan fell silent for a moment, looking down at his gloved hands. “I need to show you something.”
He took hold of one glove, loosening it until he was able to peel the tight-fitting leather from his skin. Silently, he held out his bare hand.
Over the years, dozens of worried kids had trusted her with their deepest, darkest secrets. Whether the confessions were heartbreaking or hilarious, she’d learned not to react.
Even so, she barely managed to stop herself from gasping.
Orange fur covered the back of his hand from the wrist down. His short, thick fingers were crooked, like he couldn’t fully straighten them. Black claws curved from the tips, wickedly sharp.
Shan was holding very still. Even without being able to see his eyes, she somehow knew his hidden gaze was fixed on her face, trying to gauge her reaction. She had the sense ofthe moment teetering on balance, waiting for her next action.
She reached out. Shan twitched, but let her take his hand. His fur was as soft as velvet, warm against her palm. Turning his hand over, she discovered rough, dark pads, like a cat’s paw.
It wasn’t very professional, but she couldn’t help the delighted smile that broke across her face. “You have toe beans! Well, finger beans, I suppose. That’s adorable.”
Whatever Shan had expected her to say, it clearly wasn’t that. He stared at her—or at least, she assumed he did.
“Sorry.” She patted his hand, adopting a serious expression. “Let me try again. My, what big claws you have. Very impressive.”
Shan seemed to have temporarily misplaced the ability to speak. His mouth opened, then shut again.
