Jaz was currently incarcerated in a maximum-security Cortez Cabal prison, his execution stayed only while they studied his rare supernatural powers.

Hope knew Karl's main concern was for her safety. Like any good villain, Jaz had vowed to come for her when he escaped, convinced that she was still the girl for him.

And as hard as Karl worked to control his wolf side, there were two instincts that were as strong in him as in any werewolf Hope knew. One was the instinct to protect. As the only person Karl cared about enough to protect, she bore the full brunt of that.

The second was the territorial instinct. The feminist in Hope might be horrified at the thought, but she knew she was Karl's territory. To the wolf, she was his as much as he was hers, to be protected and defended against all comers.

Karl tried to be smooth about it, made jokes about his jealous streak, but when a man looked Hope's way, she saw his hackles rise. The first time he'd seen Jaz, she'd been drunk, straddling his lap and making out with him, as close to having sex as you could get with your clothes on.

Karl couldn't forget that.

It didn't matter that she'd come back to Karl, that she'd chosen him before she'd found out Jaz was a killer. It didn't matter that since his return, she hadn't looked at another man. The human in Karl knew he had no cause for jealousy, but the wolf couldn't forget that somewhere, out there, he had a rival plotting to take his mate.

"I'm sorry," Karl said finally.

They were at a stoplight. She looked over, meeting his eyes, searching for chaos vibes before tearing her gaze away.

As tempting as it was, she shouldn't use her powers to read him and gauge his sincerity. Trust him or don't. No shortcuts allowed.

"I do check with Lucas periodically," he said. "His father is supposed to provide me with updates, but I don't trust Benicio to be prompt or truthful if it's not in the Cabal's best interests."

"Did you think I'd disagree?"

"I didn't think you needed the constant reminders that Jasper is still out there."

The light changed and he drove another half-block before adding, "And I don't want you to think I'm obsessing about him."

"Are you?"

"I think about him as little as possible, but I'll rest easier when the writ of execution is carried out."

"Agreed. Make a left at the next street." When he did, she went on. "What's the other thing you're keeping from me?

"

Again his gaze shunted her way, trying to figure out which infraction was now the topic of discussion.

Hope sighed. "Are there really so many? Honesty, Karl. It's a good thing."

A twist of a smile. "Perhaps. But in my case, complete and full disclosure of everything I've done in the past would not be a good thing. If you're referring to recent events I haven't disclosed, though, there's only one, and it isn't a secret, just a subject I wasn't ready to bring up."

"Until you take care of him?"

He shot her a reproachful look. "Do you think I wouldn't warn you of a potential threat?"

"Another werewolf in L.A. isn't a threat to me – "

"Yes, it is." His tone was firm, almost sharp. "I know you think otherwise, but I'd appreciate it if you humored me on this." Another turn and he concentrated on it more than necessary, struggling to find a lighter tone. "What gave me away? A stray thought last night when I came back?"

"I don't need my powers to read you, Karl. I'll admit, I didn't notice anything wrong last night. I was too busy going along with the drugstore excuse for Robyn – which, by the way, was clever. Sorry I didn't get it right away."

"She didn't notice."

"So you smelled another werewolf last night, then went out this morning scouting. That's when I caught on, from your expression when you came back. Is he near?"

Karl shook his head. "If he was, I'd have moved us. I caught his scent last night, but it was in the air and I couldn't find it on the ground to track. I didn't have any better luck this morning. I suspect I miscalculated the wind and he was farther away than I thought."

"Do you want to go after him now?"

"No. We have work to do. I'll look for him tonight."

ADELE

Never trust a boy to do a woman's job, Adele thought as she marched toward Robyn Peltier's apartment door.

Colm was sweet and useful, but he could be as thick as a board. Not stupid, just inexperienced. When his plan to steal a personal item failed, he was stumped. His only backup plan was to try again tonight. She couldn't wait that long.

When she told him what she planned to do, he'd freaked out. It was crazy, dangerous. Colm didn't understand that to get what you wanted in life, you had to make bold moves.

It wasn't his fault. They'd been raised to hide, not make waves. They were one of the most powerful supernatural races and what did they use those powers for? Pandering to the cult of celebrity. It was humiliating.

She still smarted from last night's meeting with the phuri. Portia Kane had been Adele's first assignment, and she'd done a damned good job, earning her keep and contributing extra to the kumpania coffers. Remarkable for what should have been a training exercise. Even Neala had been grudgingly impressed.

So how did they reward her? By giving her a true celebrity as her next target?

"You've done such a fine job with Portia, Adele, that we'd like you to continue that with Jasmine Wills."

Jasmine Wills? She could have spit in Neala's face. Was she going to spend her life chasing spoiled, empty-headed twits?

If it hadn't been for that photo, she'd be free of the group by now. It didn't matter. She still planned to be free, hopefully before she had to produce results on this new assignment. The others might have better jobs, but they had no hope of freedom. They were too indoctrinated in the kumpania's culture of fear to ever leave the kumpania – they'd certainly never have the nerve or the brains to think of actually going to a Cabal and getting a job on their own terms.

For most in the kumpania, that indoctrination began almost from birth. As toddlers, kumpania clairvoyants underwent "the lessons," which instilled a terror of the Cabals so deeply embedded that they'd need only to glimpse a face on the street to start sweating. Instinct would take over and they'd flee or fight, doing whatever it took to escape.