Cara’s grin widened. “Suit yourself.”
“You two done yakking?” Kade got in and slammed the driver’s door. He rolled the window down. “Time to go.”
Zach’s brows dropped as he moved around the truck to the passenger side. He opened the door, and two paper coffee cups fell out onto the road.
Zach juggled the cat with one arm and bent to retrieve them. Kade reached across to sweep a variety of fast-food containers and wrappers to the floor.
“Neil’s a slob,” he grumbled as Zach pulled himself in, crushing various things underfoot.
He glanced into the back seat of the pickup to the large, dark stain on the fabric. The same drops were all over the panels and dripped onto the mound of garbage littering the back. Zach swallowed. Neil’s blood. His fingers increased their massage of the cat’s fur.
“He’s lucky to be alive,” he commented.
Kade started the truck. “Yep.”
“How hard is it to kill a Were?” Zach figured he was entitled to know, now that he was in the middle of this mess.
Kade’s thick fingers tightened on the steering wheel. But he seemed to respect the question. “We’re pretty damned tough. Bullets to the body only slow us down. Head shots, though—a bullet to the brain will usually do us in, so long as it does enough damage.” He paused at an intersection to check for oncoming traffic.
Usually? Zach’s gut twisted. “What if they’re silver?”
Kade snorted as he turned. “Got shot by one of those once. Some human wannabe werewolf hunter. Stung just like any other bullet. Can’t say I noticed the difference.”
Zach swallowed. He’d seen the scars on Neil and all over Kade’s arms.
Buffy purred louder.
Kade continued as he pulled onto Archibald Street. “The surest way to finish us is to remove the head. Or at least part of it.” His eyes darted to Zach. “Don’t ever turn your back on a Were until you’ve removed its head. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
“How the bloody hell do I remove its head?” Zach asked. “I don’t exactly keep swords handy. What do I do, chew it off?” He opened his mouth to continue and then closed it again. Had Kade chewed the head off the Were that attacked Jessie?
In answer, Kade held up a hand. The fingers lengthened and thickened, and wicked, five-inch claws sprouted from the fingertips. Claws as sharp as blades.
“You need a good knife or two,” he commented. “I’ll give you a couple of mine. Don’t use ‘em much.”
“I have knives. Having them is one thing. Using them is another,” Zach pointed out.
“Haven’t you ever hunted?”
Zach stared at him. “No.”
“Been in a fight? Humans are always scrapping.”
When Zach didn’t answer, Kade peeled his lips back from his teeth. “So you spend all your time making deliveries?”
“And training horses. Fighting isn’t my thing.”
Kade’s face tightened. The Were seemed focused on driving, but he couldn’t hide his disapproval from Zach.
Zach looked away. He didn’t need or particularly want Kade’s approval. What he needed was to get home.
Buffy blinked blue eyes up at him and curled into a tighter ball on his lap. Zach’s exhaustion pulled at him, making everything around him blur. As the truck moved along Archibald, people’s emotions provided him with fractured glimpses into their lives. A husband and wife arguing. A child playing with a dog. A woman crying over a broken relationship. A couple walking arm in arm in the darkness.
Weres and Manticores and gateways to other realms. Zach struggled to focus on what really mattered—Jessie.
“What are her odds?” he asked.
Kade didn’t answer right away. Then he growled, “One in three make it.”
