Page 16 of A Bloom in Winter

“What,” Tohr demanded, in the brusque tone of voice he used when dealing with new recruits—or when two of his brothers were arguing.

So not the kind of way he ever spoke to Saxton.

The solicitor put his palms forward. “I have no opinion—”

“You’re a lawyer. That’s your job.” More gently, Tohr tacked on, “I’m asking you what you think.”

The reply came out in a rush. “No one comes in here without authorization, and everybody knows we have monitoring cameras all over the place. Why would someone leave these papers and then lie about it? It doesn’t make sense.”

Tohr nodded and tucked the folder under his arm. “I’ll take it from here.”

Saxton glanced at the neat piles on his desk.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tohr said. “This is not on you, and of course I’ll let you know everything I find out.”

The male flushed. “I worry, you know. About everything that happens here. Loose strings, things that feel messy? I cannot abide by them.”

“Understood.” Putting a hand on the solicitor’s shoulder, Tohr nodded. “And that’s why you’re so good at your job—”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he held up his forefinger as he took it out. “’Scuse me.”

When he got a look at who it was, he frowned. “Hey, Hollywood, what’s—”

Rhage’s words came hard and fast. And when the report was finished, Tohr cursed under his breath. “I’ll be right there. Yeah, I know the address.”

As he ended the call, Saxton said, “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” Tohr gave the folder back to the solicitor and headed for the door. “You need to take that to V, right now. I’ll check in when I can.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The Adirondack great camp was a sprawling, cedar-shingled throwback to the cusp of the twentieth century, when a class of humans with railroad, coal, and banking wealth built wilderness retreats away from the hot lock of Manhattan’s summer swelter. With log post supports on its wraparound porch, chimneys at the peaks of its roof, and diamond-paned windows, the structure was both grand and charming in its blanket of snow, the tendrils of smoke and all the yellow light glowing out of that old-fashioned bubbled glass a halo of homeyness.

The plowed lane passed an outbuilding and circled up to the front entrance, and Apex stopped the SUV in front of the porch steps. He’d barely hit the brakes when Mayhem opened his door and jumped out.

While the male shot around to the other side, Apex glanced over his shoulder. “Your father doesn’t know you’re here, does he.”

Mahrci stared down at her bloody glove. “No, he doesn’t.”

“So you called off the mating.” When she didn’t reply, he shrugged. “Why else would you run up here?”

The door beside the female opened and Mayhem leaned in. His eyes had a focus that Apex had never seen before—not that he was all that close with the guy—and when Mahrciinsisted that she could get out herself, the guy looked like she’d volunteered to walk into a volcano carrying a gas can.

But she got out and even managed to stand. For a second or two.

As she listed to the side, Mayhem was ready to be her fetch-and-carry again, scooping her into his arms before she face-planted on the shoveled walkway.

“Ah, the romance,” Apex muttered to himself.

Sure enough, Mayhem carried her up onto the porch as if he were holding a treasure in his arms, and at the door, she did the duty on the latch, opening things for them. They disappeared inside, leaving the entrance wide, just like the rear car door.

“Thanks.” Apex cursed and curled his hands on the steering wheel and squeezed. “And don’t worry about all the Antarctica around here.”

Except he didn’t really feel the cold leaching into the SUV, either.

Nah, all he could think about was heading back out the lane and seeing if that truck was still there. And if it was, he was inclined to just put shit in park and wait it out.

The wolven would return for it, sooner or later.

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