Page 142 of Shifter Situations

“Franklin said he moved everything. Whatever was in your room here is now in your room at the estate. Same for everyone else.”

I called Franklin.

“We’re having a big pest problem at the guys’ apartment. We’re going to need the exterminator to take a look, and we may need a contractor to fix some chewed-up spots. We should probably check with the neighbors too.”

“I’ll set the appointment.”

“Cash in hand. Spare no expense.”

“We’ll see him after his trip.”

“Thank you.”

“No trail, check everything…” Briggs studied the ceiling as he deciphered the rest of the code. “He’ll let us know when the deed is done?”

I nodded, I mentally explained. “Until we know more, I don’t think drawing attention to ourselves or the damage here is a smart move.”

“Then why do you look like you’re up to something?”

“I want to check Annette’s apartment while we’re here.”

“I’m sure the guys will too.”

“We need to be careful now that we know she’s not human.”

I stopped before completing my thought. “I wonder why everyone in this building appears to be human? I mean, I saw the receptionist for what she was, but why didn’t you guys notice?”

“I don’t know, Barbie. That lady has been working here for the last year, at least. I’ve never sensed anything supernatural about her.”

I couldn’t think of a way to reply to his statement, so I just didn’t. There was always something more going on, and this was no exception.

I was on the fence, warring with myself over whether it should matter or not. Who really cared if you could sense magic in the building?

I did... godsdamnit.

But it wasn’t important.

I needed to stay focused on the immediate issues.

And that included finding out more information on the neighbor.

The fae-mage.

Fucking Annette.

I sought out my guys, still speaking mentally as I mused over listening devices.

The chances of bugs being left in a destroyed apartment were fifty-fifty in my experience. Not that I had a ton…

I wasn’t sure if there was a proper number of break-ins one needed as the control subject for—Uhm. Back-up. That didn’t sound right.

I wasn’t sure of how many break-ins one would have to be a part of to accurately predict the probability of—Mmm. That wasn’t right either.

The statistical facts, maybe?

I tilted my head as I tried to figure out the right way to phrase what I was trying to say.

York squinted his eyes at me. “What are you thinking about?”