Wolfe was lying in a hotel bed, having woken up thirty minutes ago, running events over in his mind and trying not to move too much. His leg and right arm still hurt, although his left felt pretty normal at this point. Pulling up his status sheet he saw he had recovered to twenty-five of his thirty health, but had an acquired injury debuff that lowered his health by five. Joy.

Wolfe and Shel had spent two hours looking around the neighborhood last night and not found Kevin. At that point, Wolfe had gotten his remaining money from the safe and stuffed it in a suitcase. He had taken all his guns as well, putting them in his car trunk, and then the two of them had driven to a hotel.

He rolled over in the bed, staring at the second bed where Shel was sleeping. My home has been compromised. Not that I ever really hid it, per se, but very few knew where I lived. I didn’t throw barbecues for the little neighborhood thuglets or anything. But now, the Cobras know. Can’t believe I didn’t fucking cuff Kevin or… anything.

In my defense, I was completely exhausted—and shot.

Wolfe had felt briefly angry about the whole situation, but without his old dog, he supposed it hadn’t truly felt like home anyway. He could always get another cheap rental thanks to his connection to Big Man Grimm.

He mostly hated how stupid he felt. He hadn’t made a mistake like that in years.

Shel sat up in bed, knocking the blankets off and rubbing her eyes. She had slept in just his shirt. It was so large it reached her knees, however, and was pretty damn modest.

“Where…?” she asked, then glanced around. Her eyes found Wolfe, and she very briefly smiled before giving a huge yawn.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Wolfe grabbed his phone. “1:08 pm.”

Shel widened her eyes. “Wow. We slept forever.”

“Well, we had a long day, bad sleep, and a ton of fights yesterday. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Shel nodded, and Wolfe pointed to the hotel-room bathroom. “Go get cleaned and whatever girls do in restrooms. We—”

“They pee and shower, just like the boys,” Shel said, smiling again.

“Don’t sass me, girl. I know you all have more wizardry than that. Makeup and shit. We have a lot to do today, starting with some shopping. That shirt is a lost cause.”

“Yeah, I’m just running around with an entire pack of Maybelline,” Shel said, giggling, but then picked at the sweat, blood, and dirt-stained black t-shirt she wore. “It’s a bit rank, yeah. And my pants are just as bad.”

Wolfe nodded. “That. Go get ready.”

Shel walked into bathroom and closed the door, and within moments, Wolfe heard the shower running. He got out of bed, stretching for a second in just his boxers and then doing a quick set of push-ups and sit-ups. Damn it, should have brought my weights.

After that, he put his pants on in case Shel came out. He took his phone out and sat on the bed, prepared to call various people. Before he did, however, he also brought Cereboo forth.

The giant dog panted happily upon seeing him then leapt onto the bed next to him, dropping beside him with one head on his back, one against his thigh, and one looking out the crack in the curtains of the hotel window.

He pulled the phone up and opened it. He saw that he had a missed message from Victor and Damian both.

He frowned at the missed call from Damian but just called Victor back instead.

It rang three times before Wolfe heard Victor’s voice. “Wolfe, ‘bout time you called. I thought you were dead.”

“Just sleeping late.”

“At home?” Victor asked, sounding surprised.

“No, I’m out… why?”

“Umm… your house burned down early this morning,” Victor said.

Wolfe’s hand gripped the bedspread. I really can’t believe I was so fucking stupid I didn’t secure Kevin… and I’m crazy glad I got smart last night and didn’t take the chance of staying at my old place.

“Well, I wasn’t there,” Wolfe said, casually, despite the adrenaline dump. “Why’d you call?”

“I found out about the guy you asked for—Milf Fucker. He’s an enforcer for the Cobras. Real bad dude, rap sheet is crazy long—attempted murder, rape, assault with G.B.I, even a fucking child molestation charge. I was gonna charge you through the nose for the info, since the Cobras might take exception, but I’ll give it to you for a cool five k given who this guy is.”

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Big Man Grimm is good for it.

“Yeah, you’ll get your money.”

Shel, once again dressed in jeans and Wolfe’s t-shirt, came into the room from the bathroom, running her fingers through her damp red hair as she did. Her eyes widened notably when she caught sight of Wolfe’s chest. He was ripped—but that was literal as well as figurative, with a huge scarring marring his muscled chest. Wolfe reached for his shirt.

“So, the guy’s real name is Billy Jenson. He doesn’t have a place, he’s been staying in different motels and shit—real cheap places. He’s not keeping a low profile or anything, but just given how very mobile he’s been, it’s hard to track him down.”

Wolfe frowned at his phone. “That’s not much.”

“I know, but it should get you started—and I do have one more odd piece of information… and the real reason I can sell the info cheap. Apparently, Jason Klaus, head of the Cobras that Billy supposedly works for, has put out the word that he’ll give an uncommon card or fifty thousand cash to anyone that brings him Billy, dead or alive. Apparently Billy was acting without orders from the top.”

Wolfe put his shirt on as he thought about it. That… makes almost no sense. The cobras have wiped out half our leadership team—if it isn’t on the orders of their head, then who? Wouldn’t some fucker trying to overstep the Cobra’s head honcho just try and help him kick the bucket?

Wolf shook his head. I just need to kill the fucker that murdered Heinrich and the poor girl, not worry about all this crazy shit.

Wolfe finished pushing his head through the sleeves. “Well, I appreciate it, Victor. Also, I’ll still pay if you get some really good tips on anything else to help me get better cards.”

“Will do,” Victor said. “Free advice—companion cards, set cards that can be put together to do make new cards or packs, and orphan cards are all the big new things in this drop, going for crazy cash. Get any and you’ll be set for life.”

Wolfe blinked in surprise. Orphan cards? Why?

Fuck it. Too much to think about right now. “Thanks Victor, I really appreciate it.”

He hung the phone up.

“Find out anything about Kevin?” Shel asked.

“He had my house burned down last night,” Wolfe said.

Shel winced, and her eyes went wide, “I’m sorry, Wolfe, I didn’t mean for—”

Wolfe waved his hand at her. “Whatever. I might throw your brother a beating when I see him next, but I’ll still help you, girl. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Shel gave him a timid smile, her lip slightly trembling. “Thank you, Wolfe… just… thank you.”

“Yeah. Stop making it weird.”

A brief moment of silence followed, and then Shel asked, “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Get lunch for breakfast, then get you some clothes,” Wolfe said, standing. He grabbed his gun from under his pillow and put it in his pants.

“And after that?”

“I’ll figure it out then.”

***

Wolfe whistled—heh—as Shel came out of the changing room door. She smiled and twirled.

She was wearing a new pair of slightly baggy cargo denim jeans and a white button up crop top with long sleeves and lace around the edges that showed her belly off just a bit. It wasn’t the most practical combat outfit Wolfe had ever seen, but it wasn’t bad, per se, and he had to admit it was pleasantly eye-catching.

“You like it?” Shel asked, smiling at him wide enough to show her pearly whites and fiddling with her red hair.

“Quite a bit, girl.”

Wolfe stood from the bench near the changing room in the Nordstrom they were in. He enjoyed giving things to Shel—things he was pretty sure she hadn’t really had before. But…

Wolfe sighed. “But, that makes five—more than enough for us to handle everything I’d warrant. Let’s pay for these so we can go take care of business.”

“Warrant?” She asked. “Pretty decent language for a high-school dropout.”

“What are you, some amateur Sherlock Holmes?” Wolfe bit down his irritation and sighed. “My dad was an attorney, an extremely successful mob lawyer. I’ve got a lot of his language in my vocabulary, stuff I learned when I was at home, before… everything.”

Shel started to open her mouth, but Wolfe held his hand up. “Uh-uh. No more tricking me into talking about this. Let’s go pay.”

They followed the isles back to an escalator and took it down, a lot of the people staring at Wolfe, whose exposed and scared arms and muscles made him not quite fit the local scene. He sneered back at a few as they descended. Stuck up pricks. Like to call the police on me for being surly.

Wolfe’s eyes widened. The Police!

“Hey, Shel?” Wolfe asked.

“Yeah?”

They reached the bottom and Wolfe stepped off, almost plowing over a well-dressed byu heavy-set woman in a suit who dodged to the side as Wolfe continued excitedly. “How did your conversation with Detective Amber go? I know it’s not likely at all, but any chance you think she’d do a license check for you?”

“A license check?” Shel asked, obviously confused.

Wolfe walked up to the counter and tossed the clothes Shel had picked on it. “Like at a motel… I mean, M.I.L.F.C.K.R. has to be a noticeable nameplate… maybe caught on camera or something?”

“I don’t think police can get that information easily, and I’m almost positive they won’t give it out…” Shel trailed off. “Wait, don’t you have people?”

Wolfe frowned as the lady began scanning clothes. “What? I don’t have ‘people,’” he said, holding up air quotes.

“But… you could some people to look around, at the motels in the parts of town the families are in, see what they can find, right?”

Wolfe grimaced at the price, nearly five hundred, that came up on the counter, but forked the cash over, thinking about what she said.

Then he got his phone out and started slowly adding people to a huge group text—all the enforcers he knew in the family, both senior and a few others. Then he typed out a simple message: Keep an I out 4 car w/ M.I.L.F.C.K.R. license, at motels, tell me ASAP if U C it.

Shel giggled again. “Do people still text like that?”

Wolfe glared at her. “Obviously, girl. Now zip it.”

The lady bagged everything and gave Wolfe his change, and Wolfe started to walk out of the store. Almost immediately, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and Shel stared over his arm at it.

He had a message from Derrick, the new guy that had impressed him back at the Morning After inn. “We saw the car outside the Lucky Fifty-Two last night, I remember joking about it. Might still be there. Also, do people really still type like that?”

Shel giggled again, and Wolfe gave her the eye. She only giggled harder.

Wolfe looked at his watch. Between getting ready, getting food, and getting clothing, they had killed over three hours since they’d gotten up, and it was nearing five in the evening. Still early… Wolfe hoped early enough. Any later, and people might start showing up to the unofficial gambling den.

“Let’s go see about killing a man,” Wolfe said.

Shel’s mirth to died like a lemming going over a cliff.