I do. “We’ll play it by ear.”

Ethan nodded and opened his door, letting in a frigid draft. I started to follow him, but before anyone could get out of the car, Dan cleared his throat, drawing our attention. “Guys, I don’t know Pete Yarnell real well, but I know him by sight, and he’s…a pretty good size.”

“Size isn’t everything.” I pushed my door open but remained seated. “Anyway, compared to me, you’re all huge, and I’ve never had any trouble taking Ethan down.”

My brother’s expression lightened, and he stuck his tongue out at me, but Dan wasn’t done. “I don’t know if you could tell from that little bit of his scent on the doorknob, but Pete was there that night. Durin’ the ambush.”

I closed my door again and twisted to face Dan directly, a spike of anger quickening my pulse. “No, I couldn’t tell.” I’d only fought a few of the strays we faced that night, and there were too many personal scents floating around for me to concentrate on any one of them. “That settles it, then. If Mr. Yarnell doesn’t start talking pretty damn quickly, this is gonna move beyond chitchat. Everybody ready?”

Dan nodded and stepped out of the car, and the rest of us followed.

On the way across Yarnell’s tidy, winter-brown yard, a fluffy miniature pooch of some kind barked at us with his head sticking out of an igloo-shaped doghouse in the neighbor’s side yard. I snarled, and the dog turned a tight circle and cowered at the back of his house, whimpering like a scared…well, puppy.

Damn right.

From Yarnell’s front porch, I heard television violence and the soft hum of a central heating unit. I made a motion to the guys, and they stepped back against the front wall of the house, where Yarnell wouldn’t be able to see them from the door. Hands stuffed into their pockets for warmth, they tried to look casual, in case we were being observed by any of the neighbors. I thought they looked guilty as hell, but then, I knew what we were up to.

I took a deep, calming breath, then knocked on the door and struck my clueless-motorist pose. When no one answered, I knocked again, and that time the TV went silent, then the door swung open to reveal a tall, bullnecked man, separated from me by nothing more than a decorative storm door.

“Can I help you?” Yarnell’s voice was deep, as was his scowl, until his gaze landed on my face, then quickly traveled south.

“Hey!” My breath puffed from my mouth in a cold white cloud, and I arched my brows in fake excitement and relief. “I’m lost and my cell’s dead. Could I maybe come in and borrow your phone? Please?” I cocked my head to look harmless and vaguely stupid, mentally crossing my fingers in hopes that he wouldn’t think to check my scent.

He didn’t. He never got past the view of my cleavage, easily visible through my unzipped black leather jacket. I honestly hated playing the boob card, but I’d have done almost anything for a few private moments of Pete Yarnell’s time.

“No problem. Come on in.” Yarnell pulled open the screen door and stepped back, one thick, extended arm welcoming me into his home.

“Thanks!” I stepped into the large, warm living room, past a gas fireplace and a huge television, and when Yarnell tried to close the door behind me, Parker’s broad palm was there, holding it open.

“What the hell?” Yarnell’s initial reaction was to push back, and I couldn’t help but admire his instinct—answering with aggression in the face of a threat. If he weren’t a bad guy—and easily distracted by cleavage—he might have made a good enforcer.

Clued in now, Yarnell sniffed the air, and his eyes darkened in outrage as the line of his jaw tightened.

Ethan followed Parker into the room and waved one hand at the couch. “Have a seat, Pete.” He grinned amiably at his own rhyme—dork—then nodded at me in acknowledgment. “Good work, sis.”

“Thanks.” But I barely glanced at him. My attention was focused on Yarnell, who’d backed toward the couch to put some space between himself and the sudden crowd in his living room, but had yet to sit.

Yarnell scowled, staring over my shoulder at Dan, the last arrival. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Apparently he remembered Dan.

“These are Marc Ramos’s friends.” Dan spoke softly, his voice heavy with quiet anger, and I glanced over my shoulder to find him watching Yarnell calmly, a formidable, silent threat in his steady gaze. Marc had taught him well. “Just answer their questions, and we’ll go away.”

“Like hell. You can’t just walk in here and start asking—”

“There are four of us, and only one of you.” Ethan pulled the drawstring on the blinds covering the living room windows, and they slid down, darkening the room and shielding us from potential Peeping Toms. “So right now, we can do just about any damn thing we want.”

I glared at my brother over my shoulder. No wonder most of the free zone thought we were a bunch of elitist tyrants. But Marc’s safety was more important than our reputation, so I turned back to our host, now flanked by both Dan and Parker.

“Mr. Yarnell, I’m a big fan of civil rights, so normally I’d agree with you. But today we’re here under the authority of the south-central Pride, in search of information we have reason to believe you can give us. And honestly, until I know that Marc Ramos’s well-being is secure, I don’t give a flying fuck about yours. Consider that your one and only warning.”