C... .”
“You don’t need that much help,” Tia protested, settling in next to me.
“Stop lying,” I told her, slamming my own door shut. “You don’t have to do that with me.”
CHAPTER 5
I stood alone in my room late that afternoon and made two twirls in front of the mirror. And then—just because I had the momentum going—I made a third spin.
Unbelievable. Tia’s stylist had tamed my out-of-control hair into sleek copper layers. I ran it through my fingers. The kicker was I could still tie it away from my face. Only now I didn’t need to.
Tia showed me how to wear makeup without looking like I was wearing makeup. You’d think that would defeat the point, but I stopped debating her on it after she almost jammed a mascara wand up my nose.
Tia was easily flustered.
I rubbed my lips together, tasting a hint of cherry gloss. I looked like me, only better.
Yes, she’d forced me into white pants, which are a really bad idea if you want to wrestle a murderer to the ground. And don’t even get me started on the flimsy emerald top. Tia said it matched my eyes. I wasn’t sure why that was important, but I figured she knew style just like I knew how to slap a pair of handcuffs on a drunken werepoodle.
Speaking of cuffs, I had both pairs in my what-cha-ma-call-it Softy Calf Hobo bag. The silly purse cost more than a case of those fancy cigars Finnegan liked to smoke, but I figured he owed it to me for making me wear mascara.
Tonight would be my big chance. The vulture herself was throwing a luau, complete with a roasted hog, in honor of me and Lucien. Of course, if Francine had her way, I’d be the one tied to the spit.
Let her try. The deep pockets allowed enough room for my mace. I’d sliced a stun gun holder into the lining of my fancy new purse. The cut of the pants was generous enough for my two fixed-blade daggers, and I had my lucky boot knife in my bra.
Gorgeous.
The silk against my skin made me feel almost naked. Sleek. I placed my hands on my hips and studied the image in the mirror. I looked like I could pull this off.
Tia had even suggested a bottle of the vulture’s favorite French perfume as a hostess gift. The contents of the tiny gold bottle smelled like half-dead rabbit. I had to admit it wasn’t bad.
My heels caught every crack in the sidewalk as I hobbled over to Francine’s hacienda-style home. The scent of roast pig lingered in the air, and I could hear voices and laughter coming from the back of the house. A plant-filled courtyard dominated her front lawn, featuring terra-cotta birdbaths, lush floral arrangements, and tasteful sitting areas. I took the stone path through the garden and straight to the looming stucco house, painted in burnt orange. Before I could even knock on the heavy wood door, it opened.
“Hola, missus,” a uniformed housekeeper in her midfifties answered. She led me though the foyer and into a boldly decorated room that led to I didn’t even want to know how many more. This place could have fit half our pack.
A bank of glass at the back of the house opened out to a patio.
“Mitzy!” a voice called from the kitchen as we passed.
I stopped short as an impossibly skinny woman with a broad-brimmed hat poured herself a glass of white wine laced with fruit. She had a helmet of straight black hair that ended stylishly at her prominent collarbone.
“Care for some dinner?” she asked.
“Where?” I asked, not sure what to make of her.
“Here.” She jiggled the pitcher.
“I think I’ll wait,” I said. I wasn’t really into drinking, especially now, when I needed to keep my wits.
“Suit yourself,” she said, leaving the pitcher behind for the maid. “I’m Nina, by the way.”
One of the Predators.
And a wereleopard from the way she smelled. She was impossibly bony, yet sleek, and she moved with a fluid grace.
“Tia told me about your little shopping trip,” she said, a conspiratorial smile tipping her lips.
It was then I noticed she was wearing a silver bikini under an elaborate white silk wrap.
“Don’t worry. It’s not real silver,” she said, as if that’s why I was staring.
A ribbon of dread wound its way through me. “This is a pool party,” I said, stating the obvious.
And I was in pants.
I could have sworn I knew how these things worked. I’d watched