So what the hell had worried his little Jessie Ann?

As soon as Jess stepped off the elevator, her friends made a run for it. They got away except the one she wanted to catch anyway.

“Jess! Be reasonable!” She dragged Phil into her office by his collar and slammed the door. She had about ten minutes before the others would sneak back in. She had to make this fast.

Phil, however, was busy defending his actions of deserting her with a crazy hillbilly wolf. “We figured we all didn’t need to go to the hospital with you.”

“Shut up about that. I’ve got a question for you.”

“What?”

“Do you remember Walt Wilson?”

Phil thought for a second. “The name sounds familiar... ”

“Kristan’s biological father.” And the man who’d unceremoniously dumped an eighteen-year-old Maylin because “That thing inside you ain’t mine.”

“Oh. Him,” Phil sneered. “What about him?”

“I think I saw him.”

“In New York?”

“No, in space.”

“Okay. Sarcasm a little unwarranted.”

Jess paced to the big window behind her desk. She rarely looked out it. She rarely had time.

“You sure it was him?”

“No, but I think it was. I saw his picture once in May’s photo album. She kept only one picture of him so Kristan would know what he looked like.” She frowned. “He’s lost a lot of hair for a wolf. Got a giant receding forehead.”

“I don’t think foreheads can recede.”

“You’re gonna argue this with me?”

“Whoa. Is all this tenseness about Walt Wilson?” Phil grinned. “Or about that big ol’ country wolf?”

When Jess pretended to lunge for him across her desk, Phil wrapped his arms around his chest. “Not the nipples!”

“Track Wilson down,” Jess told him. “If he’s in town, I wanna know.”

“Okay.”

“I find the timing of his appearance a little suspect, Phil.”

“I was thinking that.”

“And I won’t have Kristan hurt. Not by this asshole. But keep your mouth shut until we know something.”

Phil walked around the desk and stood beside her, mimicking her stance. “What else is wrong?”

“Wilson is a bigger problem than any of you realize.” She let out a breath. “He’s a Smith. Distant cousin or something. I’m not sure of the bloodline, but it’s there.”

“Great. Just great.”

“Yeah, you know how the Smiths are about family. And if they think we’re crossing him—”

“Let’s not go there yet. I’ll see what I can find outand I’ll be discreet.”

“Good.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t worry.” Phil grinned. “We’ve got the Smitty hookup now.”

“I’m not asking him to go against his family, you bonehead.”

“Awww. You’re protecting him. Is love in the air? I bet you just need a little help from me to get this thing moving. Just trust the love doctor to—and don’t throw anything at my head!”

Jess put the five-inch pewter dragon statue back on her desk. “Don’t irritate me, Phil.”

“Yes, ma’am. But you know Wilson may just be here to see the kid.” Phil shrugged. “Maybe he already has.”

“I thought about that.” Jess sat back on her desk. “But she’s either with Keith”—Sabina and Phil’s oldest boy “—or her sisters.”

“You don’t think they’d cover for her?”

“No way. No one’s stupid enough to cover for Kristan’s crazy ass.”

Johnny moved his book to the side so the waitress could put down his burger and fries. He’d never been big on the fantasy stuff. He liked westerns and murder mysteries. But Jess went on and on about Tolkien’s work, and to shut her up, he grabbed one of the many copies from the many bookshelves all over the Pack house. Johnny had to give it to her, though, the book was really good. He’d enjoyed the movies, but Tolkien’s written word spoke to him on another level entirely.

“Hello? Calling bonehead.” Annoyed, Johnny pulled his gaze away from the book and into the pretty face of Kristan Jade Putowsky.

“What?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Not on your life.”

He returned his focus to the book, but Kristan’s hand slapped down over it, covering the page. “Please?”

“What?”

“I need you to cover for me.”

“Cover for you?”

“Yeah, you gotta go rehearse or practice or whatever, right?”

Every weeknight, Johnny spent three to four hours practicing on his violin. Jess had actually rented him rehearsal space at a nearby music studio.

“Yeah. So?”

“If they ask later, just say I was with you. You usually get home around nine, right? I’ll meet you out front at nine.”

“Forget it.”

“Come on, Johnny. Please?”

“No.”

“I’d cover for you. I’ll owe you one. I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need a cover?”

“Can’t you do this for me without asking a bunch of questions?”