Page 61 of The Thief

“I think two dozen is enough.”

Salem pointed at a jar filled with needles—some big and others small. “I got the larger ones out first, but he has hairlike needles on the back of his arms, neck, and lower waist. Some of them are nearly invisible to the naked eye, and I can’t grip them with tweezers.” Salem tapped the binocular-looking things over his glasses. “These help. Once I pull as many as I can out, we’ll cover him in glue.”

I chortled. “Are you kidding me?”

“Glue is the most effective method. It won’t extract them all, but after it dries, most will pull out when we peel it off. It’s possible the rest will push out when he shifts, but it’s more likely he’ll develop a rash until his body expels them naturally.”

I gestured to Virgil’s bare tushy. “Are there any needles in there?”

“Not anymore.”

“Salem was very thorough,” Virgil said around a mouthful. “He’s got an angel’s touch.”

I shook my head at Salem. “Maybe you should drape a towel over him.”

Virgil licked his lips. “What’s the matter, Shortcake? As it so happens, I have a spectacular gluteus maximus.”

I glanced down at it. “I don’t know if maximus is the word I would use to describe it.”

Virgil licked the remaining crumbs off his plate. “Yes, now that you mention it, I suppose there are other men in this pack with a more”—he gave me a furtive wink—“globular posterior.”

It was too late now to take back everything I’d told him about Bear and me, but I didn’t react to his suggestive remarks. It would only encourage him.

I flicked a gaze out the front windows, then craned my neck to look through the game room. “Has anyone seen Bear? We have to get to work soon.”

Salem painstakingly plucked at Virgil’s neck. “He went to fetch glue and a flat applicator at the store. You’re not to leave without him. He instructed me to pass along the message.”

The chime sounded that let us know someone had opened the gate.

“I’ll go help him,” I said.

Not only had the rain cleared out, but the clouds had dissipated, revealing a blue carpet overhead. Dappled light leaking through the treetops looked like a shifting kaleidoscope of patterns on the ground. The grass glistened, and puddles of water reflected the canopy of trees above them. Once we laid down more sod and planted bushes and flowers, that would help soak up rainwater. The less mud we had to deal with, the better. Most of us had the common sense to take off our shoes if they were dirty, but it still tracked on the porch and inside.

A large paved parking area connected to our driveway. I couldn’t see the gate from the house, but I could sure hear Catcher barking up a storm in the distance. While I waited in the driveway for Bear’s SUV, the front door flew open, and Archer barreled down the steps with a gun in hand.

“Tell Montana we’ve got company!” he yelled while running down the drive. Mud splashed beneath his sneakers.

Archer had access to the video cameras, and his reaction sent me into panic mode. I shot around back and relayed the news to Montana, who dropped everything and tore out of sight. I followed him and jumped on my Vespa. Speeding toward the gate, I finally caught up with Montana, who was sprinting like a professional runner.

“Hop on!”

He sat behind me, and we flew down the long drive, passing Archer. Up ahead, a fancy red car was parked in front of the open gate. A man with a cigarette in his hand casually watched Catcher and another wolf fighting on the main road. When my bike skidded to a stop, Montana jumped off.

“Get your wolf off our land,” Montana growled, stalking toward them.

The man with the curly mustache blew smoke toward him. “Technically, you don’t own this road.” He had a sharp, gritty voice with a Texas accent. A flutter of power skated across my skin and made my hair stand on end.

Alpha wolf.

I dismounted and scanned the area, searching for other wolves.

“Break it up!” Montana shouted, waving his cowboy hat at the fighting wolves.

The man eyed me with a look of disdain, and I judged him equally by his expensive suit and luxury car.

He tipped his head at me. “Hamish Macgregor.”

So this was the famous neighbor I’d heard about.

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