by C. D. Hersh
Harry leaned closer and whispered, “There’s a shopping mall parking lot not far. Want to stop there first?”
“Campsite,” she said. “After you hook up the toilet, the shower, the water, and the electricity.” She smacked her hand on the side of the RV. “Then we’ll rock this baby.”
“I can hardly wait,” he said in a voice meant just for her ears.
“Remember, Delaney,” Eli said. “I’ll need ye back tae finish Alexi’s training and tae present her tae the council next Samhain. Afterwards, Delaney’s all yours, Captain.”
“Harry, please,” he said. “Lieutenant Alexi Temple will have that title within the year.” He gave Rhys’ hand a firm shake. “Good luck with the new PI business, Temple. I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”
“Thanks, Captain. I mean, Harry.”
A round of hugs and good-byes followed and then Harry and Delaney climbed into the RV and headed out.
A few cars lengths down from the house, Owen Jordan Riley watched the happy scene, anger boiling inside of him. The wrong man had died in the fight across from Tess and Tango’s bar. His friend Roc.
He rotated the bloodstone ring on his finger. Mom hadn’t wanted him to take Roc’s ring and read the inscription. Some bull about still being under Roc’s influence. But Roc was the only shifter who ever treated him like a man, and it would take a shifter to kill a shifter.
The only good shifter, in his opinion, was a dead one.
