A wide grin split Curran’s face.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny. Besides, it’s better this way.”

I swiped my jeans off the chair and pulled them on. “They kicked my kid out of their school. How the hell is that better?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find Julie and I’ll ground her ass until she forgets what the sun looks like, and then I’ll go over to that school and pull their legs out.”

Curran laughed.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s also not their fault. They tried to help her and cut her a lot of slack. She hates that damn school. You shouldn’t have put her there in the first place.”

“Well, thank you, Your Furriness, for this critique of my parenting decisions.”

“It’s not a critique, it’s a statement of fact. Do you know where your kid is right now? No, you don’t. You know where she isn’t: she isn’t at the school and she isn’t here.”

Pot, meet kettle. “As I recall, you didn’t know where your chief of security and his entire crew were for almost a week.” I pulled on my turtleneck.

“I knew exactly where they were. They were with you. I could’ve fixed that situation, but some wannabe pit fighter stuck her nose into my mess and made a mistake into a disaster.”

I picked up my sword. “No, I saved the day. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Curran leaned forward. “Kate.”

The sound of my name in his voice stopped me in midturn. I don’t know how the hell he did it, but whenever he said my name, it cut through all other distractions and made me pause, as if he’d clenched me to him and kissed me.

Curran rubbed my shoulders. “Put the sword down for a second.”

Fine. I put Slayer back on the night table and crossed my arms.

“Humor me. What’s the harm in keeping Julie here? With us? She has a room already. She has a friend—Doolittle’s grandniece really likes her.”