Page 72 of Hell’s Half Acre

Werewolf.

Why not? Everything else happened to her.

Life had enough drama in it without adding that. And to be honest, she was stunned that little nugget hadn’t been tossed at her already. God knew, it seemed like everything else landed on her shoulders.

Reyes crossed her arms over her chest. “So how did you find out about my brother?”

“Larry Osbourne was the call you sent us to.”

She went pale so fast that Sorcha feared Reyes might fall out of her chair. “Larry?” she repeated.

Luke nodded. “I didn’t know they were friends until his widow mentioned your brother was in a unique club with him that met once a month.”

Which on the surface sounded like any and every club Sorcha had ever heard of.

Except for when it involved werewolves.

What the hell? Literally.

Since the moment she’d shot her partner, her life had taken a header into a dumpster fire that never let up. Every single day she woke up was a whole new study in what the fuck?

Now werewolves.

Why not?

And before Reyes could say anything else, Sorcha’s phone rang.

It was Rory.

Puzzled as to why he’d be calling, she answered.

“Are you at your office?”

That was even stranger. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can you come down to the house on the corner from your office? The big blue one.”

“May I ask why?” she repeated.

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise. And bring the hemorrhoid with you.”

“I’m assuming you mean Luke.”

“Yes.” There was such an odd note in his voice that it actually sent a chill down her spine.

“Okay.”

“And whatever you do, Sorcha, don’t tarry.”

Tarry? Who used that word?

Completely baffled by their conversation, she hung up just as Bernadette stuck her head in the door. “Has anyone else noticed there’s a ton of Savannah’s finest outside?”

“Here?” Reyes asked.

She shook her head. “No. At the corner.”

“Yeah…that was Rory asking if Luke and I could go take a gander at the scene.”