Hart and Hunter

Chapter 18

Ch. 18: Julian

"Freya says she'll come," Dane tells me the following morning when I emerge from the shower and join him in the kitchen.

I've quickly learned to do most things with one hand, but I see he's made me breakfast and take a seat as he serves me biscuits, scrambled eggs, sausages, and fruit.

"Great. She can help me with the mountains of food you keep dropping in front of me," I say, lifting my brows at the Dane-sized portion on my plate.

"You need good nutrition to heal. Not grab-and-go breakfast bars."

"Those bars have 13 grams of protein," I counter, shoveling fluffy eggs into my mouth. "It's like a complete meal."

"No, it's not. Good food doesn't come in rectangles."

"What about chocolate?"

"Chocolate's an ingredient."

I roll my eyes and give up. He has strangely strong opinions about food, and he can keep them. Besides, he's a much better cook than I am, and I'm not complaining.

"Ingrid's out already?"

He nods. "She took your car. I think it's love."

I laugh. "Wait till it breaks down on her. What else is on the menu today?"

He joins me at the table, handing me a cup of coffee prepared the way I like — with what he considers far too much cream.

"I figured we'll start with the other shop owners. See if anyone noticed a change in Lagrange's behavior recently — and if they've noticed the same in anyone else. Something that might help tip us off. Halloran texted me earlier. He and Vasquez will visit the funeral home."

"He's taking Vasquez along?" I frown. "Won't that make it hard to ask the right questions?"

Dane lifts a shoulder and drains his coffee in a few gulps.

"Nah. Not any harder than asking without really asking, if you know what I mean. Get a reputation pretty fast if you keep bringing up things like 'skin-changers' in every interrogation."

I frown, still not entirely satisfied.

"What's wrong?" Dane asks. "Whiskers in your gravy?"

"What?"

He shakes his head and smiles. "Nothing. Just something my mom used to say when someone looked preoccupied."

"Oh. It's just... I guess I thought you'd want a crack at the funeral home. It seems like the most promising lead."

Dane shrugs. "Might be. But more than likely they were just following directions. Anyway, Wolf or not, I still gotta follow the rules, and Halloran and Vasquez are the leads on this. I don't get a say."

"Does that bother you?"

He tilts his head to the side. "You think it should?"

I chew a bite of biscuit before answering. "Sometimes it seems like you miss it, is all. Being a cop — badge and gun, power and authority. All that."

He looks away. "Sometimes I do."

"Would you go back?"

After a moment, he shakes his head. "No. Being a cop had a meaning it doesn't have for me anymore. It's not where I belong. Now..." He looks at me again. "Now this is where I belong."

I turn my attention back to my plate, but I'm already full. Dane reads my thoughts and pulls the remains of my breakfast towards himself.

"Will you tell me?" I ask, the question rising like a bubble, unconscious and unstoppable, to my lips.