The law office of Quentin Cox, Attorney at Law, operated out of a shady strip mall located just outside of the Fall Haven city line. When Mary and Quentin first met, he'd sold her a whole song and dance about how he wanted to keep costs down in order to remain affordable for his impoverished clients—parents who wished to adopt, battered women who wanted to obtain restraining orders against abusive spouses, and the like. Fool that she was, she'd bought it hook, line, and sinker. Hindsight being 20/20, she understood now how the strip club to the left and the liquor store to the right served the specific needs of Quentin's drug-popping, booze-swilling, divorce-seeking clientele.

As Mary pushed open the plate-glass door, moist air blasted her in the face. The busted air-cooling system circulated a boggy brew, which made everything smell like a dank Florida swamp. Midday, the front lobby was empty aside from a twenty-something woman behind the reception counter and a large man in a neck brace. Mary made a beeline for the front desk, trying to ignore the weight of Mr. Neck Injury's gaze. Gooseflesh crawled across the back of her neck and chills ran down her spine. The guy gave her a serious case of the creeps.

"Tell Quentin his ex-wife is here," Mary announced point blank to the receptionist, a strawberry blonde with boobs probably bigger than her IQ. The woman was a cookie-cutter stencil for the dozen or so women Quentin had cheated with during their marriage.

The receptionist gazed at Mary in doe-eyed surprise. She squeaked, "I'm sorry, but—"

"No buts." Mary narrowed her eyes, daring the bottle-blonde to give her lip. She clenched her hands to fists, winding up for a fight.

"I'll let Mr. Cox know you're here." The receptionist fumbled for the phone.

"Never mind, I'll tell him myself." Mary pivoted and marched for the inner door to her ex-husband's office. Screw this! She refused to wait on Quentin's leisure. He'd barged into her life uninvited; turnabout was fair play.

"But!" The chirpy receptionist surged out of her chair and followed on high heels better suited to a stage than a law firm. Well, at least if Quentin fired the dumb twit for incompetence, she'd be sure to find work next door.

Quentin's office counted as the last place Mary wanted to be, and Quentin the last person she wanted to see. After his stunt of showing up uninvited on her farm that morning, he hadn't left her any choice. Demetri had driven Mary into town and dropped her at her car. She made excuses about needing to run a couple errands and sent her new employee back to the farm. Technically, she hadn't lied but guilt still weighed on her conscience. She disliked deceiving Demetri but she had a feeling that he wouldn't have allowed her to visit Quentin alone.

The entry banged open and Mary barged through. As she entered, Quentin looked up from the paperwork spread across his desktop. His face showed no sign of the damage Demetri had inflicted. Coyote-shifters healed fast, and they were far stronger than normal people, too. Mentally, Mary thanked her lucky stars that Quentin's basic character rendered him too much of a gutless chicken to engage in a fair fight. Otherwise, he might have seriously hurt Demetri or even killed him.

"We need to have a talk." Mary slammed the door shut in the bimbo's slack-jawed face. Maybe her treatment of the young woman was wrong and unfair, but she was just too angry to care.

"Mary, what an unexpected pleasure! Please come in." The shifty bastard pantomimed surprise, but Mary didn't buy it for a hot second. No doubt, her ex had anticipated her arrival, orchestrated it even. Quentin was a master of emotional manipulation. He indicated a stainless steel and pleather visitor's chair. "Please, have a seat."

"I'll stand." She crossed her arms over her chest. She refused to get comfortable or play nice.

"Whatever you prefer." He closed the open file and steepled his fingers over it. "You seem distraught, baby. Tell me, what can I do to help?"

"You can cut the shit. I'm only here to find out why you came by the farm."

His narrow face grew sly. He made her wait, and then opened the top desk drawer and extracted a letter that had already been opened. "I stopped by to bring you this."

"What is it?" She snatched it from his hand and glanced down. Her heart sank because she recognized the familiar blue envelope used by the county tax assessor.

"It's overdue, so you probably want to take care of that right away," Quentin advised her in a smug voice while she opened the bill.

Mary clutched the paperwork. Her hands shook, making it difficult to read the documents. The statement showed last year's full annual tax amount as months past due, plus this year's duties, and a ten percent penalty fee. The total made her dizzy. An official letter advised her in legal-sounding language that she must pay in full or a lien would be levied against her land.

"We paid this. There must be a mistake." Mary swallowed convulsively. Of course, she already knew what'd happened. During their marriage, Quentin had handled all the finances. He'd told her he'd paid, and fool that she was, she'd believed him. Their bills came addressed to his office, which she'd been meaning to change. Part of this was her fault for not having made it a priority.

"I guess the check must've gotten lost in the mail." Quentin lied through a wide, toothy smile.

"This is postmarked over a month ago. You hid it until our divorce finalized so you couldn't be held responsible for it!" Mary strove to keep her cool, but it was a losing battle.

"Now why would I do that?" Quentin asked, spreading his hands. "I signed a quit claim deed to the property, which in addition to making you the sole owner, absolved me of any financial interest or obligations—future or past. If you like, I can pull the paperwork and we can review it together."

"No," Mary grated. A part of her wondered how the county tax assessor would feel about Quentin's fraud and meddling with their official correspondence. It did her no good to even make an complaint, though. She'd have to prove it—and it was her word against his. By the time the process was completed, her farm would be on the auction block with the proceeds going to settle her debts. As much as she longed to see her ex-husband get what was coming to him, Mary didn't have the resources to spare.

"I understand you're upset. That's a lot of money. If you're strapped, I could always advance you a loan—"

"No."

"I have the money."

"Fuck no, and fuck you." Mary fumed, wrestling with her anger. Oh, she believed him when he said he had the money. The bastard had probably pocketed their tax payments and stashed it. Certainly, he hadn't declared those sorts of assets on the divorce settlement.

"Whoa, such language!" He rounded his eyes in mock shock. "Your mother would wash that pretty mouth out with a bar of soap if she'd ever heard you speaking like that."

"Don't you dare bring my mother into this!" Mary hated that her voice shot higher while Quentin maintained his self-satisfied, unflappable demeanor.

"I suppose your ugly vocabulary suits you now that you're acting like a slut," Quentin drawled. His smirk was a scythe—thin and sharp and cutting.

Mary's blood ran cold and her mind reeled. Did Quentin know about her and Demetri? How could he have found out? The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she determinedly stayed quiet. Anything she said would've played right into his hands.

Apparently, her silence didn't sit well with Quentin. He narrowed his eyes and took another potshot. "I know about last night. You picked up your new farm hand at the bar and took him home."

"Are you spying on me now?" Mary didn't bother denying the accusation. With their acute senses, coyotes could smell lies, the same as fear.

"I suppose it made sense to take your new fuck toy for a test drive," Quentin continued, talking over her. "It's always good to make sure a stud can perform before you shell out good money."

Mary clenched her jaws so hard her teeth ached. She forced her mouth into a nasty smile. "You know what, Quentin? Demetri is a massive stud. After last night, I finally understand what other women mean when they rave on about multiple orgasms where, with you, I never even hit a single climax—"

"Whore." Quentin lost his damn smirk at last. His face went slack, and he dropped his voice to a wicked hiss.

"Say whatever you like. You don't own me. I'm free to sleep with whoever I like. It's none of your damn business."

"Oh, but it is my damn business. You're my mate and you're cheating on me."

Despite her resolve not to sink to his level, the taunt scored a direct hit. Fidelity happened to be her hot button. Mary gusted in disbelief. "Cheating! Wow, that's rich, especially coming from you. While we were married, you did nothing but sneak around behind my back."

Quentin huffed. "It's different for men than it is for women. Besides, you're only human."

"Only human." Mary gnashed her teeth, and her blood boiled as his blatant hypocrisy. Oh, she'd suspected him of being that awful, but it was the first time he'd dropped the mask and shown his true colors.

"I'm getting tired of this game, Mary." Quentin flattened his palms against the desktop and rose, leaning forward.

"What game?" She knit her brow, thrown off track by his latest crazy-talk.

"At first it was amusing but that was before you banged sheep-boy."

"Sheep-boy?" Mary felt like a parrot, but she couldn't help it. Quentin's babbling threw her for a complete loop.

"I can't believe you've sunk to sleeping with a fucking sheep-shifter!" Quentin sneered, oozing disdain, and ranted. "In case they didn't tell you in school, sheep are prey animals, Mary. Coyotes are predators! The inevitable outcome to this should be obvious but I'll spell it out for you—"

"You've lost it! That scrambled mess you call brains is bleeding out your ears." Mary stared at her ex in round-eyed shock. He appeared to have taken complete leave of his senses if he truly believed Demetri to be a sheep-shifter. For the first time, she wondered if it was safe to be alone with Quentin in a room with a closed door.

"I'm going to rip open his fucking guts and eat his heart!" Quentin shouted, and Mary took a hasty step backward. Question answered—her ex-husband was off his rocker.

"You're insane. Demetri's not a shifter." Mary retreated toward the door, but Quentin rounded his desk with preternatural swiftness. He got between her and the exit, cutting off her escape route.

"Don't play dumb with me. You can't possibly be that stupid." Quentin scrutinized her face for a long moment, and his expression grew thoughtful. "Or can you? Could it be you've been duped? Do you think that randy old goat bedded you just so he could gain access to your flock?"

Mary drew a sharp breath in offense, and Quentin's gloating smile widened upon scoring a direct hit. Her steadfast belief that he was lying wavered. Doubt assailed her. Was Demetri also a shifter? If true, it doubly supported her theory about why Quentin had allowed Demetri to intimidate him.

"You know what, Quentin? Considering that it's you who is slandering Demetri, I think that should indicate sound proof of good character."

"You're stupid, Mary."

"And you're in my way. Now move." Mary hardened her will and got in his face. She clung to an iron resolve not to ever bow before him again. "No matter how much you huff and you puff, you can't hurt me without hurting yourself."

Quentin claimed a mate bond united them. Although Mary had never consented to or perceived any such spiritual connection, Quentin seemed to believe it was real. And, as she'd preciously noted, her ex was a craven coward.

A tic worked at the corner of his mouth, and indecision warred on his face. She had him. Mary's confidence grew in leaps and bounds when Quentin edged out of her path. He retaliated with a taunt of his own. "You can leave—for now. Before I'm through with you, you'll be on your hands and knees, begging me to take you back."

"Never!" Mary spat and started for the door.

"You will if you don't want the rest of your precious flock to wind up like Elle!" Quentin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Mary gasped and staggered. She and Quentin stared at each other, and from her ex's open-mouthed look of surprise, he hadn't meant to make the admission. Frankly, she hadn't either, expecting him to lie to the bitter end. In fact, his confession surprised her more than receiving confirmation that he'd been the one to murder her prized ewe.

"You're a monster. Come near my herd again and you're dead!" Murderous rage ruled Mary. She stormed out of the office, stomped past the strawberry blonde and the guy in the neck brace, and into the parking lot.

Mary sat in her car, still shaking, and waited for her anger to cool down before she tried to drive. Eventually she rediscovered the crumbled papers clutched in her hand—the overdue tax bills. Urgency snapped her straight into action mode. Emotion drained away, and plans formulated. The tax office wouldn't be open on the weekend, but first thing Monday morning, she needed to call and find out exactly how long she had until the final deadline. Maybe they'd let her set up a payment plan. Also, she and Demetri were going to sit down and have a nice long heart-to-heart. Regardless of whether Demetri had a secret, he must be warned against murderous coyotes.