Page 9 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

Sam’s smile widened. “This will be interesting.”

“What’ll be interesting?”

“Just…be gentle with my big brother, okay? He’s generally not good with change, and he’s had a lot of it lately.”

I considered that for a second. “Is that why he was so grumpy?”

Sam’s expression turned serious though his tone was sarcastic. “Oh, I’m sure that was it.”

“Well.” I let out a breath. It seemed I was missing out on some private joke between brothers, but I was glad to hear I wasn’t the sole cause of Reese’s bad mood. “That makes me feel better.”

“Anyway.” Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t just stop by to introduce myself. I was delivering these to all the staff when I heard someone had been put in this room.” He handed me a folder. Inside were my tax and other employment forms. “If you could fill these out and give them to Reese tomorrow, that would be great.”

I flipped through them. “Can do.” John Riordan had not only set me up with a new last name, but with new government ID documents too.

Sam looked past my shoulder and into my room. “What kind of music is that?”

I followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh. It’s...uh...ASMR. I’m trying to get a nap in before dinner. I had to get up really early to catch my first flight this morning.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy trekking all the way up here, but it’s worth it once you arrive.”

“I’m counting on it,” I said. I was counting on itbig time.

“Get some rest,” Sam said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah. Six o’clock. Thanks.” I closed the door, then glared at my bed as if it were the enemy.

Maybe I should unpack and give the sleeping pill a chance to kick in.

My phone rang and John Riordan’s name appeared on the screen. I answered it with a forced but breezy, “Hi!”

“Ms. McAvoy. Are you settled in?”

I glanced around the room, then down at my suitcases. “I’ve arrived. I’m not so sure about ‘settled.’”

“Is something wrong?”

I paced the room. “No. No, of course not. Just really tired from traveling. Did you know that my boss is no longer Tony Fitzpatrick? It’s his son Reese.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I’m calling. We just learned that Tony Fitzpatrick died several weeks ago.”

“What?” I pressed my hand to my chest. “Did DaBruzzi have something to do with it?”

“Of course not.” John sounded surprised I’d even think that. “It was a freak accident. A gun accidentally discharged. Don’t worry; this changes nothing. Everything is still in place. Your job and housing are still secure. But let me know immediately if you have any problems.”

“Still. Shouldn’t you have heard about his death a little sooner?” The delay in his information didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But his death records were held up in an administrative queue.”

“They’ve given me a new assignment. I’m not in housekeeping anymore.”

“You’ll be fine, Sarah.”

“They have me planning events for the resort. I don’t know anything about how to do that, and what if—”

“I doubt anyone in the DaBruzzi camp is going to plan their next party at some obscure lodge near the Canadian border. But get me all the guest lists and I can compare them to our database.”

I filled the dresser drawers with my neatly folded items while John updated me on the second reason for his call: a status report on the trial proceedings. Carmine DaBruzzi was being arraigned on Wednesday.

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