I couldn't exactly deny that statement when it was the complete truth. So I simply said, "Have you managed to track down the wife's current location?"
"Certainly have," he said cheerfully. "Want to meet me there?"
"Maybe. If you'll share where ‘there' is."
"Oh. Yeah." He paused, and in the background, paper rustled, meaning he was flipping through his notebook. He'd never really taken to the electronic kind—he'd always said they were too easy to steal. Although if his rat-gang story had been stolen, then his scribbling barely legible notes in a book wasn't exactly foolproof, either. "Okay, she's a waitress at Dino-Bar over on Swan Street. She works the morning shift and takes a break about one, so our timing should be perfect if we both head there now."
"The porce obviously didn't go well if she's forced to waitress for a living."
"Yeah, it was nasty, from all the reports. He got the better lawyers, and they really did a number on her."
And a bitter woman was more likely to tell tales. "I'll see you in about twenty, then."
"Righto."
He hung up. I told the taxi to wait as we drew up beside the hotel, then dashed inside to dump my purchases. Within minutes I was on my way again, heading to Swan Street.
Jak was waiting for me outside the Dino-Bar. Which was, I noted with some annoyance, a male strip club. Just what I needed when my hormones were so primed for action. Obviously, my annoyance showed in my expression, because he held up his hands. "It's not a deliberate choice on my part. I had no idea it was a male strip club until I got here."
"This is a general pissed-off look, not one specifically aimed at you." I studied the plain, yet oddly gaudy facade. The Dino-Bar was obviously not one of your more up-market strip clubs. "Are you going to have a problem getting inside?"
"No—all sexual orientations are welcome, from what I've briefly seen."
"Then let's get inside."
He touched my back, guiding me. Heat crawled from the epicenter of that light touch, spreading through me in wicked waves.
I swallowed heavily and did my best to ignore the sensation. The interior was dark, and smelled of humanity, booze, and arousal. The building was wider than it was long, the bar along the left wall and a high stage dominating the back. Two men in cages were gyrating to a slow, heavy beat, their movements mechanical and about as far from sexy as you could get—at least to this half werewolf's eyes. But apparently I was the only one who thought that, because the crowd gathered beneath them was whistling and catcalling.