Xavier showed white teeth in a smile. “Yep. But these Shifters are my friends.”

“Are you going to kill me?” the driver asked, looking fearfully up at Graham. “I have a wife, and two little girls…”

Nell patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll go home to them.”

“Maybe,” Graham rumbled.

“Who’s your boss?” Eric asked. The driver’s attention swiveled back to him.

“I work for Sun Valley Transportation. It says so on the side of the bus.”

“Yes, but who hired your company? These aren’t the buses that brought the rest of the Shifters in this morning, are they, McNeil?”

“Nope,” Graham said. “Those were government crap-mobiles.”

“Find out,” Eric said to the driver.

“What?”

“Find out who hired the bus. Tell me, and no one else, and life will be good for you.”

The driver stared. “Find out? I won’t be able to, will I? I’ll lose my job over this.”

“No, you won’t.” Eric laid a strong hand on the man’s trembling shoulder. “You’ll deliver the Shifters to Shiftertown as requested, and then you’ll go turn in your bus, wash it off, whatever you do. As soon as you can, find out who asked for this special service, and call me. Where’s your cell phone?”

Xavier was the one who took a phone out of his own pocket and handed it over. Of course, Xavier would have relieved the man of any kind of communication ability first thing. The bus’s radio was dead as well.

Eric punched his phone number into the driver’s top-of-the-line smartphone. He was willing to bet that the phone had been a gift from one of the driver’s kids, and that the driver probably had never figured out how to use all its functions.

“That’s me, E. W.,” Eric said, handing the phone back. “Now we’ll get you out of this little ditch and on your way. I’ll ride with you to make sure nothing else goes wrong.”

“And me,” Graham said. Little Matt or Kyle must have understood that Graham was staying with them, because his tail wagged faster, and he leaned down to start working on Graham’s ear with his tongue.

“And me,” Nell said. “We can have a nice chat on the way back, and I’ll look after these little guys.”

“You’re not a wolf,” Graham said.

“Maybe not.” Nell reached up for the second cub, who wriggled his hindquarters and then took a leap into her outstretched hands. “But I raised two grizzlies on my own, and these kiddos could never be anywhere near the trouble Shane and Brody were. Still are.”

Eric smiled at the driver, letting his teeth get a little pointed, and his fingers sprout a claw or two. “See? You do what we say, and everything will be just fine.”

Iona didn’t have any trouble getting Frank Kellerman to agree to come to her office.

Kellerman said that, yes, it would be a good idea to go over some details, and he’d make the trip to her construction company to talk to her and her mother that afternoon. Iona was surprised he didn’t ask her to come to his office, but Kellerman half explained by saying he wanted to see their setup, their construction company in action.

Iona spent the rest of the morning trying to get work done and giving up. Eric was out running around the desert with Graham McNeil, going to that compound that she knew was dangerous. She wished he’d call and tell her all was well, but her phones remained silent.

She felt strange wearing her office clothes—dressy pants, sleeveless knit top, blazer, and high-heeled pumps. In the two short days she’d been in Shiftertown, she’d gotten used to casual jeans and T-shirts, or Cassidy’s loose skirt and top—clothes that could be quickly removed for shifting.

It was also strange for Iona to have to rein in her Shifter side again, to be careful not to growl or make sure her eyes weren’t changing. She couldn’t stop using her scent ability now, and smells came to her nonstop—her mother’s soap, the foreman’s habitual cloying cologne, the sweat and dirt on guys who’d come in for paychecks. Iona had to stop herself closing her eyes to sort out all the scents as they flooded past her.

Her hunger was driving her nuts as well. She’d downed two and a half cheeseburgers at her desk at lunch before she realized that her mother and the foreman were giving her strange looks.

Damn it, Eric. Call.

Kellerman showed up at two, a little early—Iona had set the appointment for two thirty. Nothing yet from Eric.

Iona pasted on her best customer service smile when she greeted Mr. Kellerman. Kellerman was on the tall side for a human, and looked like any successful businessman—he kept himself in shape but not buff, wore a suit of lightweight cashmere, and had neatly trimmed dark hair going gray but didn’t try to hide his bald spot. He smiled back at Iona when she shook his hand, but the smile never reached his eyes.

Kellerman’s position on the Shifter liaison council was voluntary, a successful man trying to look like he cared about the community. He’d made his money in retail, not hotels and casinos, and by owning land that he sold at the right time to hungry developers.

Iona had looked all this up about him, knowing she might have to carry the conversation before Eric arrived—if Eric arrived at all.

Penny put on a more genuine smile as she came around her desk to say hello. As far as Iona’s mother was concerned, Kellerman, cold and calculating or not, was giving them a lot of business.

“So good to see what you ladies have going here,” Kellerman said.

Instead of bristling, Penny smiled at him. She’d gotten used to the condescending attitudes of men who found themselves dealing with a woman-run business, especially a traditionally masculine business like construction.

“The surveys are going well,” Penny said. “I don’t think there will be much trouble. Ground breaking will start soon.”

The Shifter council expected Duncan Construction to build the houses almost overnight, but there were permissions, inspections, and the involvement of the county and city, plus the power and water companies to slow things down. Because this was about Shifters, state and federal segments had to sign off on things too.

At least Penny and Kellerman had plenty to talk about while Iona sat at her desk and fidgeted.

“Why don’t we take a trip out to Shiftertown?” Kellerman suggested. “Walk over the site? A couple of reporters are following the story—maybe they can join us.”