Gabriel had his youngest sister on his hip, her wet face on his shoulder.
The other girls were sitting on the chairs I had for customers, and his mother had her back to me.
She was the only one talking--in Spanish, so I had no idea what she was saying.
Gabriel gave me a desperate look, and she turned.
Sylvia Sandoval's eyes were glittering with rage as hot as any I'd ever seen on a werewolf.
"You," she said, her accent thick.
"I do not like the company you keep, Mercedes Thompson." I didn't say anything.
"We are going home now.
And my family will have nothing further to do with you.
Because of you, because of your werewolf, my daughter will have nightmares of a man pointing a gun at her.
She could have been shot--any of my children could have been shot.
I will have a tow truck come to pick up my car." "No need," I told her.
"Zee has it almost up and running." I assumed.
No telling how much he'd done with his magic.
"It is running," Zee said.
I hadn't realized he'd come into the office, but he must have come in through the garage.
He stood by the inner door, looking grim.
"You will tell me how much I owe you over and above my son's last check." Gabriel made a protesting sound.
She glanced at him, and he bit back whatever he intended to say, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"My son thinks that because he is almost a man, he can make his own decisions.
As long as he lives in my house, that is not true." I was pretty sure that Gabriel could go off and do all right on his own--but that without his extra income, Sylvia would be hard-pressed to feed their family.
Gabriel knew it, too.
"Gabriel," I told him, "I have to let you go.
Your mother is right.
My office isn't a safe place to work.
If your mother were not involved, you still wouldn't have a job here anymore.
I'll mail you your last check.
When you are looking for work, you can tell them to call me for a recommendation." "Mercy," he said, his face white and stark.
"I couldn't have lived with myself if something had happened to you or one of your sisters today," I told him.
"Oh, poor Mercy," said Sylvia with false sympathy, her English getting worse.