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human town a lot, of course, but we do know all the major players over there. We do some business with them from time to time. Once a year we have a human-shifter social, and we visit each other’s towns to check out the Christmas decorations. In all the years I’ve known him, Mitch has never seemed prejudiced against shifters. Our people buy livestock and feed from his ranch. And yet all of a sudden, he’s insisting that we’re coming on to his land and stealing his sheep.
    “Is the land valuable for any reason, the land that he’s asking for?”
    “No, it’s just more forest land. He already owns a huge spread. Nobody’s clamoring for our property—we’re out in the middle of nowhere, not near any major roads or towns. However, we’re not going to shrink our territory and hand over a big tract of land just because he says so.”
    “Well,” Chelsea mused, “I hate it say it, but times have been tight economically. And it sounds as if it’s out of character for him to just randomly accuse shifters of something without cause. Is it at all possible that he’s right, that it’s somebody from here stealing his sheep?”
    “Not from here,” the mayor said, then flinched. “Don’t tell Roman I said that.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Well,” the mayor said slowly, “the attacks started right after Roman’s pack showed up. But the council actually sent a shifter investigator out here twice because Mitch complained, and both times the investigator scented real wolves at the site where the sheep had disappeared. Not shifters. So the council declared the case closed.” He looked at her hopefully. “Maybe that problem will go away once you arrest Roman. Not that I’m saying Roman had anything to do with it,” he added hastily.
    Of course you’re not saying that , Chelsea thought. Because it would take a set of testicles to say that, and clearly you’re lacking those.

Chapter Six
     
    It was pitch dark out, the woods illuminated only by the silver crescent of the moon. Chelsea was sprayed head to toe with Wolf’s-naught, provided by Lorena, who had an herbal section in her store. The concoction would prevent her from being scented by the pack so she could sneak up on them.
    She’d left Pepper at Erika’s house, and Erika had promised to take care of her until Chelsea got back. She’d also offered to go with Chelsea, but Chelsea had refused. This was Chelsea’s mess, she’d gotten into it herself, and she wasn’t going to risk anyone’s life doing it. Also, if she died during her attempt to bring Roman to justice, she needed someone to take care of Pepper.
    She was wearing jeans, a button-down denim shirt and hiking boots. She’d pinned the sheriff’s star on her shirt. She’d been told that the sheriffs here wore civilian clothes, but she figured that her frilly, lacy outfits would be pushing it.
    She was hauling along the non-lethal weapons she’d selected from the arsenal dropped on her desk the previous afternoon, courtesy of the mayor. She had refused the silver bullets; she wasn’t killing anybody.
    She stood in the clearing and surveyed the camp.
    There was a group of tents clustered together, and others scattered throughout the surrounding woods. There was a big ring of stones circling a fire pit. There were picnic tables with benches. The tents were all big and sturdy, canvas draped over criss-cross log tent poles, and elevated with wooden platforms. Everything looked well-constructed and solid.
    She moved closer to the tent on the hillside that she knew was Roman’s. Erika had introduced her to some of the outlaw groupies, shifter girls who liked to visit the camp and have a good time with the bad-boy outlaws. For those girls who didn’t want anything serious, the fact that the guys would be moving on in a few months was part of their appeal. One of the girls, who was mad at Roman because he’d turned her down, had described the layout of the camp to Chelsea.
    Fortunately,