Let’s investigate. Simple. Direct. Easy.

Except I’d forgotten about the wet blanket known as Hudson Rojas.

“No,” he said, his arms crossed. The fabric of his long-sleeved, eggplant-colored Henley bunched across his biceps. He was tall—way taller than my five-seven frame—and broad, muscular, barrel-chested. His dark brown hair was more silver than not these days, and long enough for gentle waves to tease his collar. His everyday appearance was intimidating, but when he let his vamp out and flashed his fangs, he could be downright scary.

Not to me, though. Never to me. Just looking at him made my blood sing.

Usually. Right now, though, it was starting to boil.

“What do you mean, no?” I demanded. I cast a glance at Lexi and Iskander for support, but their attention was conveniently occupied by other important things in the office. Like the coffeemaker. And a wall. “Look at the big picture. Those imps got through somehow.”

“Wes has a point,” Lexi interjected. At Hudson’s glare, she shrugged. “Just saying. We should find out how they ended up here.”

“We’re not the paranormal police,” Hudson countered. “And do you think the cops or health inspectors or whatever are going to let some random investigators wander through the scene?”

“You’re not a random investigator,” I said. “You used to be one of them.”

“Not the point.”

“Okay, so…we could sell our services to Bhavana. I’m sure she’d like to know—”

“What? How the nonexistent rats entered her café?” Hudson scoffed.

I squinted at him. “You don’t want to investigate because it’s a paranormal thing.”

Iskander let out a soft groan. “Oh, here we go.”

“No, that’s not why, and you damn well know it,” Hudson growled. “We’re investigators, not exterminators. How the hell are you going to sell our services to Bhavana?”

“I could—could—” I waved a hand in the air. “I’d make something up!”

“Good business practice. Start out by lying to your client. Excellent.”

My magic, reacting to my temper, pounded in my head to the time of my increased heartbeat and I let out a frustrated noise. “You always have an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?”

“Not taking on the cases that seem a little weird.”

“The cases that ‘seem a little weird—’” he made air quotes “—are weird because they’re not legit cases.”

“You don’t know that.”

“C’mon. Give me some credit for knowing people and knowing when their stories are bullshit. I was a cop for nearly forty years.”