At a guess, Sylvia had just snatched her daughter away from the big bad wolf.
"I have a warrant for him," continued Heart, wincing a little.
I couldn't tell if it was the volume that bothered him or the pitch, which was approaching ultrasonic.
I raised my eyebrows and indicated the gun with a jerk of my chin.
"Wanted dead or alive?" Samuel wasn't out.
And the only one I was worried about coming after Samuel would never send a bounty hunter.
It would be Bran who killed him, when and if the time came.
Heart's warrant couldn't be for Samuel.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what werewolf people would expect to find around my place of work: Adam.
How a bounty hunter got a warrant for him, when, to my knowledge, Adam was in good standing as a law-abiding citizen, I didn't know.
I was vague on bounty-hunter lore, but I was pretty sure that they mostly hunt down people who are wanted for bail-skipping, and then the bail bondsmen pay them a percentage of the bail money they would have otherwise lost.
The Kennewick Police Department wasn't very far away.
Even so, the first vehicle in my parking lot was Adam's.
He parked his truck in front of the van, blocking it where it was.
"You're mistaken," I told Kelly Heart, Bounty Hunter, keeping my eyes on him no matter how much I wanted to look at the man who had just closed the door of his new truck.
"There aren't any werewolves around here who have a warrant out for their arrest." "I'm afraid you're wrong," Kelly told me kindly.
Against my will, I was impressed by him.
He was calm and cool while lying on his back like a turtle--on top of his cameraman, who was scared out of his mind and focused on the mouth of the gun I held.
Another truck door opened and closed--Adam had someone with him.
The wind didn't favor me, so I couldn't tell who it was.
And I wasn't going to be stupid and look.
Not that I really thought the bounty hunter was a threat anymore.
At least, not a threat to the children behind me.
I could hear the woman in the T-shirt saying in a frantic voice, "Don't make her shoot again, Kelly.
Forty bucks.
Forty bucks those cost.
Each." "Don't worry," I called to her.
"You can dig them out, and they'll look just about like what they do now.
You might even be able to reuse them." Silver doesn't deform as easily as lead, which makes it a lousy ammunition--unless you're shooting at werewolves.
"She doesn't seem too worried about you," I told Kelly with mock sympathy as Adam walked toward us.