Page 28 of The Hive Queen

“Hot damn.” Flint reaches for the handle and opens the back door before Johannsson can protest. “Amalia, what are you doing in Clearhelm? Didn’t you say you would never step foot back on this continent?”

“Finally, some people I can trust.” The woman unfolds from the car, revealing a lanky body decked out all in black. A thick black braid circles the top of her head, the ends tucked out of sight, leaving her angular features in stark relief. Blade-sharp cheekbones contrast with full, pouty lips, which press into a thin line of displeasure as she takes me in. “Who’s the suit? Did you guys finally get strong-armed into working for the law?”

Flint presses a hand over his heart. “Purely for the money, I assure you.”

Pen elbows him before turning to me to explain. “Amalia is a bounty hunter. We’ve worked on a few cases with her. She tracks demons better than anyone I know.”

That’s high praise coming from Pen. I take another look at the woman, but it’s impossible to tell from what I see on the surface whether she’s witchblood, demon, or something else.

She stares right back at me, and something sparks in the depths of her eyes, a sense of recognition on her side, though we’ve never met. At least, not in the lifetime that I remember.

“If you’re a bounty hunter, you should have just shown your credentials.” Johannsson thrusts out a hand. “Give them here, and I’ll log them.”

Amalia slips her hands into her pockets, her eyes dropping to Johannsson’s outstretched palm as if it’s a viper ready to bite her. “Must’ve left them at home.”

“We’ll vouch for her.” Flint slings an arm around her shoulders. “She’s one of us.”

Johannsson scowls at them. “Your word doesn’t cut it. Bounty hunters have to be registered. If she’s here working a case outside of the law, then you can damn well put her back in the car where you found her.”

Flint and Pen both turn to me, expectation clear on their faces. But Johannsson’s right, and I’m impressed he knows the law so well. He really has been stepping up his game. If their friend isn’t doing things by the book, then that makes her a regular citizen. And a hostile one at that, since she refuses to report what she saw.

Flint groans. “Come on, Sharpe. Put away the cop face that says you want to throw someone in jail.”

“Technically,” Amalia says, “I didn’t catch anyone, so I’m not doing anything illegal.”

“Are you willing to tell my officers what you saw?” I ask, offering her a way out of this situation.

“You mean mustard tie over there?” She jerks her chin toward Johannsson. “Not on your life. I’d rather go back in the car.”

“Amalia…” Pen protests.

“You heard the woman.” Johannsson points toward the open back door. “We’re taking her to the station.”

Flint widens his eyes at me, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy.

I shake my head firmly. “We can sort this out back at the office. But for now, we have a crime scene to look at.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” Flint steers Amalia back to the open door. “We’ll spring you in no time.”

“Make it sooner rather than later.” Amalia folds herself back into the car. “Time is of the essence on this one.”

Before she can say more, Johannsson reaches out and slams the door shut. “Next time, leave my suspect where I put her.”

“When did you become such an asshole?” Flint demands.

Pen’s eyes widen. “When did he stop being an asshole?”

“Good point.” Flint looks back at Johannsson. “Try to be less of an asshole.”

Sometimes, they make me feel like I’m overseeing children. “Stop bickering at the crime scene.”

“He started it,” Johannsson and Flint say at the same time, each pointing at the other man.

Scowling, Johannsson turns his back on Flint to focus on me. “The techs are working on the scene now, but it’s a rough one. Mayn is already back there pacing around.”

“Got it. Good work. Holler if Bailey’s people get any closer.” I clap him on the shoulder, then motion for Pen and Flint to follow. “And ditch your tie.”

The last thing we need is for someone to photograph Johannsson with his stained tie and run headlines about our sloppiness.

---