HOPE: GODFATHER

I checked for chaos vibes and felt nothing. Still, any time a hulking half-demon stranger sought me out hundreds of miles from my home, I had reason to be alarmed.

“Let’s head over there.”

He nodded to a quiet corner under an elm. When we stopped, he shivered and looked up into the dense branches.

“Not the warmest spot,” he said. “I guess that’s why it’s the one empty corner in the park. No sunshine.”

“But you could fix that.”

I braced myself for a denial. Instead I got a grin that thawed his ice-blue eyes.

“Now that’s a handy talent. I could use that in my line of work.”

“And that would be?”

“Troy Morgan,” he said, as if in answer. “My boss would like to talk to you.”

The name clicked-Benicio Cortez’s personal bodyguard.

I followed Troy’s gaze to a vehicle idling fifty feet away. A white SUV with Cadillac emblems on the wheels. Beside it stood a dark-haired man who could pass for Troy’s twin. If both of Benicio Cortez’s bodyguards were here, there was no doubt who sat behind those tinted windows.

My hastily eaten breakfast sank into the pit of my stomach.

“If it’s about this-” I waved at the crime scene, “-you can tell Mr. Cortez it wasn’t a werewolf, so…” I trailed off, seeing his expression. “It isn’t about the werewolf rumor, is it?”

Troy shook his head. Why else would Benicio Cortez fly from Miami to speak to a half-demon nobody? Because I owed him. The bagel turned to lead.