I choked on a scream and scrabbled deeper into the corner. I was panting through the worst of the pounding heart and screaming adrenaline dump when I understood what had woken me. The doorbell. Woolly flipped on every light in my room and cranked them up to blinding levels to urge me to my feet.

I pulled on a bra and cutoff shorts before padding downstairs and pressing my eye to the peephole.

A short man decked out in a navy three-piece suit stood on my welcome mat. Green eyes flicked up to the fisheye lens, and he winked at me, aware he was being watched. His tan skin made the white sleeve of his shirt pop when he reached up to adjust the mop of black curls sliding across his forehead.

Woolly unlocked the door, and I pulled it open, careful to keep on my side of the threshold. “Can I help you?”

“Dame Woolworth?”

The impulse to glance behind me to see if Maud stood there twitched in my neck. “Grier Woolworth, yes.”

Though, now that he’d mentioned it, I suppose with Maud gone, I was the current title holder.

“I’m Omar Hacohen.” He extended his arm. “I work for the office of the Grande Dame.”

“You don’t say.” I made no move to accept his hand. “What can I do for you?”

“For me? Not much.” The leather portfolio he slapped against his thigh bore the insignia of my financial institution. “This visit is all about what I can do for you.”

“Uh-huh.” I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not trying to sell me a used car, are you?”

“Ouch.” He gave an exaggerated wince. “Do I really cast off the snake oil salesman vibe?”

Yes. “A little.”

“We got work to do, girly. You want to do it out here or in there?”

I wasn’t in the mood to invite a stranger working for my aunt into my home, so I joined him on the porch and shut the door to give me something to lean against. “Out here is fine.”

“Access to your funds were granted earlier today.” A heavy packet with my name emblazoned on it was the first thing I saw when he flipped open the folio. “You have a new debit card in there along with all your new account information.”

The urge to rip into the packet and hold that rectangular piece of heaven in my hands twitched in my fingers. The promise of financial solvency had me salivating harder than the time I spied on Boaz skinny dipping with his friends.

This was more than the ability to keep the lights on and the fridge stocked. With access to my inheritance, I could afford a specialist to repair Woolly’s foundation. More than that, I could erase all the years of neglect from her creaking floorboards to her leaking windows to her peeling paint. I could give the old girl a facelift that would make her the envy of the town.

“Before we get to all that,” Mr. Hacohen said, pulling a pen from the pocket of his single-breasted jacket, “I got some forms for you to sign.”

Forcing myself to block out the stack of papers that would turn my world upside down for the third time—or was it the fourth? I was starting to lose count—I tried for nonchalance so he wouldn’t see I was ready to tear the activation strip off my new debit card with my teeth.

Reinstating me took the better part of two hours. Just a few dozen initials, thirty or so signatures, and I was once again a woman of means who could afford all the Honeycrisp apples she could eat. Heck, I could invest in entire apple orchards to ensure an unlimited supply.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Mr. Hacohen said, slapping his folio closed. “One of my cards is in your packet. You need anything, call me. I’ll be handling your case.”

“Does that make you a lawyer?” He hadn’t told me exactly what he did for my aunt, after all.

“Girly, it makes me a hell of a lot of things.” He ruffled his springy hair. “I need to get back to the Lyceum to file these. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Night,” I called to him, cradling the packet against my chest. “Thank you.”

Mr. Hacohen lifted a hand as he slid behind the wheel of his car. I waved and went back in the house.

Though I had a shiny debit card burning a hole in my pocket, I wasn’t about to play hooky. Better than most, I knew fortunes could change hands on a dime. I owed Cricket for hiring me on the spot, no questions asked, after I vanished on her last time. I would have been begging scraps from Amelie’s table if not for Cricket’s willingness to extend me a second chance.

Oh, no.

And the award for worst friend in the world goes to…Grier Woolworth!

Between the news of my reinstatement and the confrontation with Volkov, I had forgotten Amelie. My best friend, and I hadn’t spared her a second thought as I climbed into bed and left her to wait up on me.

Surely Boaz must have… But it wasn’t his job to clean up after me.

I retrieved my cellphone and dialed her up before I lost my courage.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” she answered on the second ring. “I’m late for work.”

“I’m sorry I stood you up last night.” I dumped the thick packet on the bar. “I should have called.”

“Yes, you should have.” Hurt throbbed in each syllable. “Boaz told me some of what happened. He said congratulations are in order.”

The urge to ask what, exactly, he’d told her made me trip over a rug. Boaz was a lot of things. Mostly, he was a pain in my butt. But he was trustworthy and loyal, and he wouldn’t betray me even to his sister. Not without a good reason.

“Can we talk about it tonight after our shift?” I wheedled. “There’s a cupcake with your name on it at Mallow. My treat. I’ll even spring for some of that hot chocolate you love.”

“Mallow? Come on. That’s not fair. I’m trying to be mad here.” She huffed into the receiver. “How can I hold on to my righteous anger when you’re offering me sugar?”

“Is that a yes?” It was so a yes.

“I want you to know I’m only agreeing to this because those marshmallows are hand cut, and the chocolate is seventy-five percent cacao.”

“I can respect that.” Anything to get my foot back in the door. “See you in a few.” I pulled up my hair as I headed for the front door and slung my purse over my shoulder. My very light purse. Fiddlesticks. Volkov still had my wallet tucked in the silver purse from the inauguration. Guess I was obeying the speed limit tonight. “I’m off to work,” I informed Woolly. “Call me if you need me.”

A warm swirl of air tickled my bare feet as the floor register hummed with contentment.

Despite her cheerfulness, I expected a fight when I reached for the doorknob. A thread of suspicion unspooled within me when her usual resistance never manifested. I didn’t doubt she was happy to see my social circle had expanded beyond Amelie over the last several days, but I hadn’t expected her to want me to go.

Maybe this more self-assured Woolly was the result of Boaz dropping in so often he might as well start paying rent. Or Amelie traipsing around at all hours. Or Keet tweeting his head off in front of the picture window. Or the influx of new visitors. It was hard to tell what had been the tipping point, but her rooms were full of laughter and conversation. She had a family again. That’s all she’d ever wanted. I was happy one of our wishes were so easily fulfilled.

I was still thinking on Amelie when I reached the garage and bumped into Boaz and the gleaming monster that must be his new ride. I loosed a slow whistle and circled the bike, admiring her curves. Much like Jolene, she was crimson and chrome with a dash of black for contrast. The two bikes could have been siblings.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I breathed.

“Hi yourself.”

“The bike,” I clarified, not that it did much to wipe the smug grin off his face. “How’s your leg?”

“Still attached.” He caved under the intensity of my glare and gave me a report. “I’ve got some bruising and soreness, but it’ll heal. Happy? It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Call me cynical, but I doubted he had gotten off that easy. The lines bracketing his mouth told me he was in pain but doing his best to mask the ache of impact on his left leg. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t sound so suspicious.” He had the nerve to act hurt. “I came to offer you a ride to work.”

“Thanks to you, I have a ride.” I pushed the button on my fob to raise the garage door. “Besides, I have a date with your sister after work. No boys allowed.”

“Here’s the thing.” He rubbed the base of his neck. “I stayed up last night thinking about…everything.” He cut his eyes toward the shadows like he expected one to break off from the cluster and start gunning for me. “You’re pinging on the vamps’ radar. They might not know exactly what you can do, but I’m betting there’s a reason Volkov popped up when he did, and I’m guessing that means the Grande Dame isn’t the only one with contacts inside the prison.”

“That makes sense.” I leaned against the side of the building. “The guards are necromancers, but the inmates are all kinds.”

“You get what that means, right?” Boaz waited for me to piece it together. “You can’t go out alone. Not until the dust settles, and we know what we’re up against.”

Leave it to Boaz to lump us together. I might as well be an honorary Pritchard considering how he treated me as if I were one of their own. The feeling of belonging, well, it didn’t suck.

“You can’t babysit me. That’s not fair to you.” I fingered the fresh plastic in my pocket, newly activated, and considered him. “I could hire you. Plenty of military and law enforcement guys do security.”

He snorted like I’d told the most hilarious joke ever. “Get on the bike.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” I followed up that zinger by planting my feet and refusing to budge. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“Crush my dreams, why don’t you.”

“Can you be serious for five minutes?”

“I want to take care of you.” His eyes narrowed to irritated slits. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” I wilted at his exasperation, hating how he viewed my craving for independence as rejection. Boaz smothered me because he loved me, I knew that, but I was tired of accepting his handouts without ever giving anything back. Even tonight, when I ought to hop on and avoid risking a ticket, I couldn’t unstick my feet without saying my piece. “I just want to take care of myself for a change.”

“We can get you there,” he said after a minute. “But you have to crawl before you can walk, and, Squirt, you’re still on your back with your legs kicking in the air like a flipped baby turtle.”

Amelie was right. He really did have a weird fixation about getting me on my back.

“Gee, thanks.” I glowered at him. “I’m humbled by your faith in me.”

“You want your independence? Fine.” He grinned, a slow and feral thing. “Earn it. Work with me on self-defense. I’ll have time to teach you the basics before I leave, and I’ll hook you up with a former army friend. Taslima.” He sighed at my finger quotes around the word friend. “I didn’t have sex with her. She shot me down. So you already have that in common. Taz can keep the classes going.”

Working all night and then coming home to a butt-whooping from Boaz before dawn? I could think of a million things I’d rather do, but not a single one I ought to choose over what he was offering. I had too much riding on my ability to fend for myself to turn up my nose at his offer.

“Well?” he taunted, and stuck out his hand. “What do you say?”

For better or for worse, I shook his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”