Levi credited his wolf senses for a good part of his success. He looked at things differently than ordinary humans did, and the parts of an artwork that appeared most strikingly unique to him were rarely the same things that humans concentrated on. Forgers always made the wrong things look good, and with a substantial education to both back up and better inform those observations, he'd built a thriving business.
But it was a business that few who knew his true nature had heard about. To most nonhumans, he was Levi Harris, tracker, muscle, and general problem solver. And as long as there were those out there in that world who would like to use his werewolf relations to manipulate him, that was all they needed to know. If he'd let his worlds mix, he would have been dragged into smuggling by some bloodsucker with grandiose plans, lending his good name to a disreputable enterprise until it was discovered and he was ruined.
The vampire would, of course, get off scot-free. They always did.
Until now.
"Have you opened it yet?" Beane asked.
"Not yet." Levi held the phone against his cheek and turned the knife in his hands, his sharp vision able to pick out slight inconsistencies and imperfections on the surface even in the shadows. "I've been kind of busy."
"When you say 'kind of busy,' it usually involves people with guns," Beane said, his voice dripping with disapproval.
"Not this time. I swear." There it was-in the most obvious place. Levi snorted. He should have guessed. He held onto the grip and twisted the pommel carefully. It gave instantly, unscrewing from the knife. "The guards were werewolves. It's hard to hold a gun in your paws."
"One of these days, I'm going to get a call, and it'll be from your sister, telling me that you pushed your luck too far and now you're a wolfskin throw."
"Nah. I'd have to be turned into a lampshade. We always turn back human when we die." The pommel came loose. Levi shook the hollow sphere over his hand. Nothing. He peered into the body of the grip. There was something white stuffed inside. Cotton wadding. He tried to shake it out, but nothing happened, and his fingers were too big to fit inside. He could use his own pocket knife, but he didn't want to risk damaging whatever was inside it.
He made an impatient noise. Just his luck.
"What's wrong now?" Beane asked.
"Temporary setback. I'll call you right back," Levi said, then flipped the burner closed and shoved it into his pocket.
He walked over to stand in front of the girl. She peered up at him, then at the knife in his hands. Damn, but she was tempting, all curves and pretty gray eyes. He should probably discourage her, since he knew very well how shifter pheromones could hit full humans.