Better." "All right." He left, and there were still too many people in the room.
"So now that the cops are gone, are you going to tell me what this morning was all about?" Heart asked.
"Why someone would get us all the way out here from California to play an elaborate practical joke that could have gotten people killed?" "No," said Adam.
Heart took two steps forward and stood over Adam.
"What did your errand boy go chasing after across the street?" Before I could mention that threatening a werewolf was a little rash, Adam had the bounty hunter pinned against the door, with a forearm across his throat.
Heart was taller, bigger, and more obviously muscled--but he wasn't a werewolf.
"Not your business," said Adam in a low, hungry voice.
"He's not the enemy," I told Adam.
"Don't kill him.
And, Mr.
Heart, if you are going to hunt werewolves, you ought to do your homework.
Don't try threatening an Alpha.
They don't like it." Adam increased the pressure against the bounty hunter's throat, but Heart, after an abortive effort to break free, quit struggling.
Adam took a step back, opening and closing his hands several times--maybe to shake off the desire to hit the bounty hunter.
When he turned his back on Heart, I think everyone took a relieved breath.
"I'm as upset as you are," Heart told Adam.
"Daphne .
.
.
My producer is missing.
She's a good person.
Someone gave her that file and had her send me after you.
She's not in her office, she's not answering her phone, and her housekeeper hasn't seen her for three days.
And I don't even know where to look." Adam sighed and stretched his shoulders to relieve the tension.
"I don't know where she is.
I don't know who planned this or why--or even if I was the real target.
Give me your card.
If I find out something that might help, I'll get in touch." "Is your producer fae?" I asked him.
Adam put his hand on my shoulder--a clear signal I should shut up.
He didn't want me making Heart curious.