“I would love to call the Griz and have them pick you up, but they can’t come here and you’re in no shape to go to them.”
“Put me in a cab.”
She nodded. “That would work, but I need your help. I want you to stop the person responsible for the Detroit Flu. And you can’t do that if you’re laid up in the back of Griz Hardware.”
The Griz home base used to be an Ace Hardware store, so the nickname had some merit. He still didn’t like it.
“Who’s responsible?”
“Raoul Wolf.”
He grimaced. “Nanook was right. It is the wolves.”
“Not the wolves.Onewolf. Raoul.”
“Proof.”
She threw up her hands. “If I had the proof, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”
He dropped his head back against the wall. The clunk added to a headache he hadn’t even noticed before. “What can I do?”
“Arrest Raoul before the war starts.”
He frowned. “What war?”
“Wolves against bears. You’re going to die, then we’re all screwed.”
He snorted. “Bring it on, wolf. We’ll see who gets bloody.”
She stepped backward to lean against the stair railing, her eyes infinitely sad. “I thought you were different,” she said quietly.
Meanwhile, the older woman snorted. “Told you. I don’t know why you’re messing with him. Only chance is with the Griz women.”
“They’re all snobby bitches who won’t lift a finger against their men.”
Ryan frowned. Protecting your man was a good thing. Man, woman, holding together against the storm. But his mind was churning on her earlier statement. “Different than who? How do you know me?” He straightened as much as he could against the wall. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t tell him!” the older woman huffed. “Let’s put him in a cab and send him away.”
“I need him!” the wolf woman responded. “He’s the only shifter cop in Detroit. Anybody else is going to require proof against Raoul.”
He narrowed his eyes, really focused on her face. His memories were foggy, but he was able to put the pieces together. She was a wolf-shifter. She was high enough in the werewolf hierarchy to know who was responsible for what. And since he made it his mission to know his adversary, he ran through the wolf family tree to find a woman. Someone who hid in the background but was—
“You’re Frankie, the bastard daughter.” How the hell had he missed that before?
He’d only met her once, but she’d stuck out. She’d been the driving force behind a new community center in the heart of werewolf territory. She’d lobbied the city, raised money for it from all over the state, and put together a design with careful forethought. He’d met the staff and had been impressed by their qualifications, but none had held a candle to the quiet efficiency of Francesca Wolf. She was charming, beautiful, organized, and determined. All qualities he admired. When he saw her at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, he’d been struck with a physical need to be with her.
He’d planned to ask her out right then and there, but he hadn’t had the opportunity during the festivities. He’d been willing to break normal shifter lines and date a werewolf even though he was a bear. But that was also the day his work problems in the robbery department began. Before long, he had too many of his own issues to deal with to think of adding romantic entanglements on top.
“I’m not a bastard,” she stated with force.
Touchy subject? The rumor mill said she’d never shifted and therefore had to be a bastard. Since Emory had never contradicted the rumor, the idea stuck. Well, Ryan now could say with certainty that Frankie was no shifter slouch. Anyone who could support his body weight had to be a full shifter.
“And that doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Do you want to stop the Detroit Flu or not?”
That was an easy answer. “I do.”
“So, arrest Raoul.”
