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fare?”
    “Seven injured at the scene.” Her voice came out tinny. “One fatality.”
    The urge to rest my hand on hers and offer comfort twitched in my fingers, but I honored her wishes. “Is Thierry okay?” The last time I saw her, Shaw had been carrying her toward a truck.
    “She’s fine.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.” That meant I wouldn’t have dreams of incubus assassins dancing through my head tonight. “She’s the one who did all the heavy lifting.”
    “That’s not how I remember it.” Harlow ducked her head and pressed her index finger to my wrist. No. I got no buzz off her skin, no feedback from her magic. She was touching something on my wrist. “Thanks, Cam. I mean it. For having my back.”
    Cam . No one had called me that in years. In that moment I realized how much I had missed the intimacy of it.
    I studied her, curious why she would grant me a boon and even curiouser about the warm weight pressing against my pulse. I raised my arm. A simple bracelet strung with luminous peach-toned pearls hung from my wrist. Intricate designs were carved into the surface of each one. How had I missed it? Had we bumped heads that hard? “What’s this?”
    “I dive for raw materials.” She worried one of the holes in her top with her index finger. “I make things sometimes.”
    I ran my finger over the bumpy grooves. “You made this?”
    Another shrug.
    “It’s beautiful.”
    Harlow scooted her chair back and stood. “You should eat something. I can hear your stomach growling from here. Menus are there, and my number’s on the pad by the phone if you want some company.” She pointed at a dusty frame housing a bland flower mural on the wall beside the door. “I’m right across the hall. If you need anything, holler.”
    I was pawing through the top drawer of my nightstand before she reached the door, and mulling over my options before she shut it behind her.

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    R aised voices greeted me when I emerged from the shower. It was late, a shade past midnight, and I had missed the cutoff for room service. If I wanted to eat before climbing back into bed, I was going to have to brave the diner across the street. Wrapped in a threadbare robe embroidered with the hotel’s insignia, I towel-dried my hair, twisted it up on top of my head, then followed the yelling to my door where I peered through the fisheye lens into the hall.
    Harlow stood with her back pressed against the door to her room and her hand circling the knob. Thierry stood on her left side and Shaw on her right. His shadow engulfed her, and it gave that side of her face a bruised appearance. Three other people crowded the hall between our rooms. Their backs faced me. Two women and a man. At the point of their triad, a brunette with tangled hair yanked into a lopsided ponytail shook her fist while screaming at Harlow. An older woman with a long, gray braid stood behind her to the left while the brown-haired man supported her elbow.
    Before I could rein in the impulse, I had taken the knob in hand and twisted until the latch gave and a crack appeared in the door. They didn’t hear the rattle or click over the shouting. They didn’t notice the gap either. Their gazes were fixed to the left. I knelt and stuck my eye to the hairline space.
    “…is dead because of you…”
    “…knew what he was getting into…”
    “…kids grow up without their father…”
    A pang rocked me when I realized they were talking about the marshal who had died in the line of duty. Why or how the woman had fixated on Harlow puzzled me. Part of me worried it was my fault. If Harlow hadn’t stayed behind an extra night in Wink to babysit me, she would have left town before the widow got a chance to confront her. The whole situation made me that much more nervous about the secrets she was keeping.
    “I’ll take this up with the magistrates,” the angry woman cried. “ She never should have been on the scene.”
    “She’s a consultant.” Thierry sounded