Kitty and the Silver Bullet (Kitty Norville 4)

“No. I think I’ll be okay. I just need to think.”

“Yeah, you do. Be careful, okay?”

She looked at me. It wasn’t a wolf’s challenging stare. Rather, it was intense and studious. Like she was trying to guess what I’d do next—a subordinate watching her leader for a sign. She was making me nervous.

“You’re not at all like Carl and Meg,” she said.

I had to smile. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She walked away, ducking to the back of the building and leaving by the alley.

I started for home, but I only drove a couple of miles before my cell phone rang. It was Jenny saying, “Can you come get me?”

Ben was waiting in the living room of the condo, sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. When I opened the door, he set the magazine aside and crossed his arms. He was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, looking ready for bed. Only the living-room lamp was on, and the place seemed dark.

I pulled Jenny in with me and shut the door quickly. Glancing sidelong at Ben, she huddled near the wall, arms crossed, slouching.

Ben said, “This is keeping your head low? Avoiding confrontation?”

“What was I supposed to do?” I touched her shoulder, trying to peel her off the wall. “Jenny, this is Ben. He’s one of the good guys.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ben muttered wryly.

“Ben, this is Jenny.”

“Hi,” he said. She managed a brief smile.

“Jenny, you need anything? Will you be okay while I make some calls?”

She shook her head. “It smells wrong, it’s not like pack in here.”

“Different pack. Different territory.” I hadn’t thought of Ben’s condo as territory before—this tiny little pocket of Denver that didn’t belong to Carl. I liked the image.

“It’s weird.”

“You don’t have to stay.” And when she went back to Carl, she’d smell like me. She’d smell like a different pack, and Carl would know. God knew what he’d do about it.

“No, no—I’ll stay. I need to figure things out.”

“That’s the spirit. Do you want to see if maybe you can get some sleep? Things might look better in the morning.”

“You can have the sofa,” Ben said, patting the leather cushion next to him. “It’s a great napping sofa. I’ll get some blankets.”

“That okay?” I asked her.

“It’s up to you,” she said.

“No, see, that’s exactly the kind of thing you have to get over. If you’re going to do this, you have to make some decisions. Otherwise, you’ll let anyone who happens to come along walk all over you.”

She looked away. “Yeah. Okay.”

Ben gave her blankets and a pillow, and Jenny curled up on the sofa, hugging a blanket around her, and fell asleep in seconds, like this was the first real, relaxed sleep she’d had in weeks. Months, maybe.

r /> We retreated to the bedroom.

Ben sat on the bed and watched me pace back and forth while I talked.

“I shouldn’t be doing this. This is ridiculous. I can’t protect her. I should never have brought her here.”