Richard kissed my damp hair. He was trying to remind me to be a good girl. To not start another fight. He was right, in a way. We certainly had enough fights on our plate without starting another one.
"Answer me, Verne," I said.
"Most of my pack passes for human, Anita. Do you really think some shithead would have kept his mouth shut?" He leaned forward in the chair, hands clasped together. Mr. Sincere.
"He was our only link to the other bad guys, Verne. The only one that was willing to talk to us."
Richard's arms wrapped just a little tighter around my arms. I realized that if he squeezed, I wouldn't be able to point the gun. "I'm not going to shoot him, Richard. Chill, okay?"
"Couldn't I just be hugging you?" he asked, voice so close to my ear I could feel his breath.
"No," I said.
His arms slid to either side, loosely around my waist, which put his hands almost in my lap, since I had my knees up. Under other circumstances, it would have been an interesting position, but when I have a point to make, I don't distract.
"The pack is my priority, Anita. It has to be."
"I would never do anything to endanger your pack, Verne. But I gave my word that if he told us what he knew, we'd take him to the hospital and let them try to reattach his arm. I gave my word, Verne."
"You take your word that seriously," he said.
"Yes."
"I respect that," he said.
"You killed him, didn't you?" I asked.
"Not personally, but I gave the order."
Richard's arms tightened around me. I felt him struggling to relax against me. He rubbed his chin against my wet hair, hands rubbing up and down my bare arms like you'd soothe a dog that you were afraid was going to bite someone.
"And I gave my word," I said.
"What can I do to make this right between us?" Verne asked.
I wanted to say, "Nothing," but Richard was right. We needed them. Or we needed someone, and they were all we had. What could he do to make this right? Raising the dead was my department, and bringing him back as a zombie wouldn't be the same thing, anyway.
"Truthfully, Verne, I don't know. But I'll think of something."
"You mean, I'll owe you a favor," he said.
"A man's dead, Verne. It would have to be one hell of a favor."
He looked at me for a long, measuring moment, then nodded. "I guess so."
"Okay," I said, "okay. We'll leave it there for now, Verne, but when I come up with something to ask for or of you, disappointing me again would not be a good idea."
He gave a quick smile. "I don't know if I'm looking forward to you and Roxanne meeting or dreading it."
"Who's Roxanne?" I asked.
"His lupa," Richard said.
Verne stood. "Richard said you and Roxanne would like each other if you didn't kill each other first. I know what he meant now." He walked over to us. He held his hand down, as if offering to help me off the floor. But call it a hunch, I thought it was more than that.
Richard's arms opened, and I took Verne's hand. He didn't so much pull me to my feet as just hold my hand while I stood. The other hand still held the Browning.
"If you ask for something that harms my pack, I can't promise that. But short of that, you have my word. Ask it of me, and it's yours." He grinned suddenly, then looked past me to Richard. "God, she is a tiny thing."