Lucien called the police while Ryenne caught her breath. She’d fought bears before, but never one this large.

While cops swarmed the plaza, a police lieutenant joined Ryenne and Lucien at the café on the Place du Trocadéro. His thick, steel gray hair matched his steely glare.

Before the man could say anything Ryenne wouldn’t understand, Lucien introduced her.

Shaking her hand, the older man turned to Lucien. “Malraux. I should have known you were involved in this mess.”

“Côtard, it’s nice to see you. You haven’t come for supper since my return from Kenya.”

“I’ve been busy. Rogue activity has increased in the past few months. But please tell your mother I miss her tarte aux tomates, especially now the weather has warmed up.”

Lucien filled in Côtard on the events of the afternoon.

“This is the third such robbery attempt in Paris in the past couple of months,” Côtard said. “Too bad you weren’t at the previous ones. People got hurt at the others.”

Lucien and Ryenne shared a glance. Ryenne hadn’t been here long, was on vacation, and didn’t speak French so she hadn’t kept up with local news. But Lucien and his family hadn’t known about the robberies, either. “Have you kept this news from the public?” Lucien asked.

Côtard nodded. “Trying to avoid a panic.”

While they talked, Ryenne wandered closer to the captured rogues, who were now sitting up with their hands handcuffed behind their backs, guarded by several police officers. The bear had shifted back into his human form. He was a tall, wide Frenchman with darkly handsome good looks. The cops had let him wrap a blanket around his waist, but the skin of his lower legs was visible, as was a now-familiar tattoo of a white tooth dripping bright red blood.

He was a Fang.

She checked the ankle of the smaller rogue. A small amount of a tattoo peeked above his sock, just enough white and red to convince her he was also a Fang.

Ryenne caught Lucien’s gaze and gestured with her head toward the bear shifter’s ankle. Lucien’s eyes went wide. He turned back to Côtard. “Let us know if you’d like our help. We’ve had some experience with the Fangs.”

Côtard had begun turning away but stopped at Lucien’s words. “It was a simpler world when your father and I worked together. Shifters kept a low profile. Rogues were individuals who couldn’t control their urges. Today?” He gave a big shrug. “Well, if your father were still alive, he’d be glad you and your sisters had joined the business.”

Ryenne smiled at the kindness in the older man’s voice, despite his unsmiling demeanor and gruff exterior. There were several pictures of Lucien’s father at the Malraux family home. He had been an older, stouter, more grizzled version of Lucien. Everyone she’d met in Paris so far spoke well of Michel Malraux.

Lucien shook Côtard’s hand. “I’ll give Maman your regards. Hope to see you soon at the house.”

Côtard took Ryenne’s hand, gave a curt nod, and strode toward a group of police officers standing next to the café. From where Ryenne stood, they had the Eiffel Tower rising above the wings of the Naval Museum and the Chaillot Theater as a backdrop.

Lucien squeezed her hand, pulling her attention away from the surreal view.

Too bad the Fangs were trying to ruin her first visit to Paris.

***

Lucien’s family lived in a three-story house on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne, on the west side of Paris, north of the Seine, about a thirty-minute walk from the café at the Place du Trocadéro where Ryenne and Lucien had stopped the robbery of dozens of people by rogue shifters.

His mother, Françoise, met them at the door. “Thank goodness you’re both okay. I’ve had several phone calls about your involvement in a robbery, but no one could tell me if you were hurt.”

“We’re fine, Maman, but I can’t say the same for two of the three rogues.” He kissed his mother’s cheeks. “Ryenne took care of two of them by herself and helped me with the third.”

Françoise looked at Ryenne with surprise. She’d been polite and even friendly since Ryenne’s arrival a few days earlier, but now seemed to see Ryenne with fresh eyes. “I guess I didn’t believe someone who looks like you could really be a shifter hunter. Thank you.”

Ryenne hadn’t expected Lucien’s mother to automatically embrace her, but she’d thought a woman in the shifter hunting business would be more understanding. Not knowing what else to say, she murmured, “We come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Of course we do. Come in, have something to drink. You must be exhausted.” Françoise closed the office door as they passed and led them to the kitchen at the back of the house. The office had a commanding view of the Bois de Boulogne across the street, but the kitchen looked out onto a courtyard that someone had filled with greenery and colorful flowers.

Lucien noticed Ryenne’s attention out the window. “Gardening is Dany’s passion.”

Ryenne nodded. Dany, Lucien’s younger sister who still lived here in the family home, also worked for the family business. Unlike their mother, Dany had accepted Ryenne immediately. “Where is she?”

In the process of filling two glasses with sparkling water, Françoise looked up from the counter. “She is out with Guy. We had a call while you were gone about security for a concert at the Zénith, so they are talking to the promoter and walking the space.”

“The Zénith? It’s huge. We don’t usually provide security for such events,” Lucien said, taking the glasses from his mother and bringing them to the table. He plopped down in a chair next to Ryenne.

Françoise grabbed two tall cans from the counter next to the stove and brought them to the table. “It’s a consultation. We wouldn’t provide the security for the actual concert, but we would help train their people. There’s the potential for a big order of weapons for Mathieu, as well.” She showed Ryenne the names on the cans. “Would you like mint or strawberry syrup in your water?”

“Nothing, thanks. Who’s Mathieu?”

“My uncle,” Lucien said. “You’ll meet him on Thursday. Right, Maman?”

“Oui. He’s coming to dinner.”

Ryenne smiled; he was the uncle who had made Lucien’s dagger. “Can I tour his workshop while I’m here?”

Françoise gave her another funny look. “Of course. I didn’t know you were interested in weapons.”

Lucien sighed dramatically. “I told you she was.” He poured bright green syrup into his water and stirred it with a spoon. “Yes, I’m sure he’d be happy to show off his talents. Especially to a beautiful woman.” He leaned over and kissed Ryenne’s cheek.

Ryenne hid her embarrassment by sipping her water. She hadn’t yet figured out how to win over Lucien’s mother, but she didn’t think it would be through overt displays of affection.

A telephone buzzed from somewhere in the house. Françoise sprinted down the hall toward the office.

“Wow, she’s fast,” Ryenne noted.

Lucien waggled his head from side to side. “Well, she is a wolf shifter.”

As if she could forget. She was staying in the heart of a wolf pack, something she would never have imagined possible or desirable before falling for Lucien.

“She doesn’t work on jobs so she gets her exercise here at home,” he explained. “And running in the Bois de Boulogne, of course.”

Françoise returned, hardly even breathing heavily after running in both directions. “It’s for you, Lucien. Someone who was at the café this afternoon.”

Curious, Ryenne followed Lucien to the office but could only hear his side of the conversation and only understood a few words in French. She waited for Lucien’s translation.

When Lucien hung up, his eyebrows drew together. “That was strange. It was a lawyer who appreciated his life being saved by us today. He claims Côtard gave him our number, but Côtard wouldn’t give out our number to just anyone.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I hope you brought a dress. We’ve been invited somewhere fancy for dinner tomorrow night.”

She cocked an eyebrow. No one, not even a rich and grateful French lawyer, could tell Ryenne what to wear. But she had brought a dress, just in case she felt like wearing one. And dinner out in Paris with Lucien was reason enough.