White Tiger

“Who’s this we who will go to the fight club?” Ben asked him. “You, my friend Kendrick, are distinctive. You might have been able to skulk in the corner at bars for a while, but among all those Shifters, someone’s going to spot you. You’ve also become known as Dylan’s man.” He looked thoughtful. “So have I, for that matter.”

“My trackers,” Kendrick said. “They won’t know who is loyal to whom anymore—Seamus has taken a fake Collar and is living with a former Shifter groupie. Dimitri and Jaycee have always been a little bit wild. Others might buy that the two of them have turned on me.”

“Or you could send me,” Addison said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Both Kendrick and Ben glared at Addie and said, “No!” at the same time. Tiger was silent, his yellow gaze on her.

Addie raised her hands, her heart beating faster under their stares. “I’m not volunteering because I’m stupidly brave or anything. I’m saying I should go because none of Kendrick’s Shifters have ever seen me before. At most, the ones who survived the diner caught sight of me diving for the floor in a waitress uniform. I can watch who you tell me to watch and report.” Addie lowered her hands, meeting their eyes, though it wasn’t easy. The thought of coming across one of the Shifters who’d shot up the diner was not pleasant, but the truth was, she was an unknown entity in this situation.

Kendrick rose, fists balled. “If they catch you, they will kill you, Addison. No.”

Addie looked up at him, holding her ground. “You can make sure some of the Shifters you trust are also there, just not obviously with me. You keep talking about this Dylan. Apparently he’s pretty mean stuff? You could ask him to keep the bad Shifters away from me.”

Kendrick still scowled, although Ben looked as though he was starting to see her point. “You’d have to get close enough to hear what they say,” Ben said. “And remember it. I might be able to fix you up with a listening device, but that’s dangerous. If you’re caught with a bug, even the law-abiding Shifters might try to take you out—they’d think you were spying for the humans.”

Addie flushed, but sent Ben and Kendrick a triumphant grin. “Well, you’re in luck. I have a terrific memory.”

Both men looked dubious, and Tiger fixed his full attention on her, frowning.

“Go on,” Addie said. “Ask me what meals I served the last day at the diner.”

Kendrick said nothing, but Ben put his elbows on the table and said, “Tell me, what meals did you serve the last day at the diner?”

“I went in just before lunch,” Addie answered, the images coming to her. “Right side, booth one—woman with bouffant hairdo had a Monte Cristo with a salad instead of fries; her friend with short blond hair had the soup of the day, which was chicken with rice. Left a tip of five dollars. Booth two, burger and fries, no lettuce, onion or pickle—he was one of the sheriffs’ deputies—not one who arrested me. Booth three . . .” She went on, describing meals and what they’d tipped, while Ben listened with interest, and Kendrick retained his frown.

“Last customer had a grilled cheese with tomato,” Addie concluded. “The cook was pissed off because he’d wanted to shut the grill down early, which he did right after he made the sandwich, and disappeared home. Then Kendrick and the cubs came in. Kendrick wanted apple pie with streusel and the cubs went for banana cream. But that wasn’t hard to remember—they asked for the same thing every night.”

“And it was good!” Brett said loudly.

“Impressive.” Ben lifted his coffee and took a noisy sip. “Can you do that with anything?”