Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks Page B

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    Lily had a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one hand, a pen in the other, a yellow pad on the arm of the chair, and a nineteen-pound gray tabby with one and a half ears curled up on her feet.
    Much as she appreciated her laptop, it didn’t help her think the way a yellow pad did. She’d turned the pad sideways so she could make columns. The names of the lupi who’d been at the club last night topped four of them; the others were Carlos, Rachel, Azá, and Lupi.
    She couldn’t assume the killer was a lupus who’d been at Club Hell that night, but the club was tied in somehow. Someone had killed Fuentes less than a block away. That couldn’t be coincidence. Two of the lupi who’d been there last night were solidly alibied; no known motive for the others, except Turner.
    Her pencil tapped the second name. Cullen Seabourne. He stood out in one way: he wasn’t Nokolai. The other three were. When she’d asked the name of his clan, he’d smiled sweetly and told her he didn’t have one.
    Back when registration was being enforced, every lupus who’d been caught had claimed to be clanless to keep the authorities from using them to flush out others. But there was no reason for a lupus to insist on that fiction anymore.
    What did it mean to a lupus to be clanless? Why would it happen? Was he outlawed, or had he never been brought into a clan for some reason? She’d tried calling him around supper, but no one answered. Not even an answering machine or voice mail. She’d left a message with the surly gnome who owned the club, since presumably Seabourne would show up for work tonight.
    She jotted “Outlaw?” under Seabourne’s name and moved on to the next column: the Azá.
    Her pencil began tapping again, this time with irritation. Mech had left a message on her voice mail. He’d interviewed a couple of elders at the Church of the Faithful . . . which would have been okay if he’d checked with her first. She was lead. He wasn’t supposed to hare off on his own.
    Not that he’d done a bad job. Mech was methodical, and he’d covered the obvious questions about Fuentes. But the message he’d left raised other questions for her. Tomorrow, she told herself, she’d read his report, then check out the church. And have a little talk with Mech.
    Her pencil moved on, stopping at Lupi . Under it she’d written, “Promiscuous. Species Bill/prejudice. Pack (Clan): the priority, messy internal politics. Hierarchical. Jealousy?”
    Rachel said that lupi weren’t jealous. But Grandmother said the apparent lack of jealousy was nurture, not nature, in action. They were taught not to be sexually possessive, just as children are taught to share their toys.
    But childhood greed often lives on into adulthood. Lily had arrested plenty of people who wanted what they wanted, when they wanted it, and didn’t see anything wrong with taking it—as long as they weren’t caught. “Play nice” training didn’t guarantee results.
    Had Turner burned with a jealousy all the more powerful for being prohibited, hidden?
    Her foot was falling asleep and her hip was throbbing. Lily frowned at the cat. “I am going to have to move soon.”
    Dirty Harry’s eyelids lifted just enough for him to glare at her out of baleful yellow slits. He punctuated his nonverbal comment with a flex of one paw, digging the claws into the cloth of her gi.
    “Quit that,” she told him. “I’m in no mood for a demanding male.” In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was getting her period. She felt restless and grouchy, and she’d apparently moved into klutz territory.
    She’d landed badly tonight. A simple shoulder throw, and she’d gone down hard, like a beginner afraid of the mat. Hugely embarrassing. John had looked at her so reproachfully. But then, her sensai had never really forgiven her for not pursuing the art more diligently. He’d wanted her to compete, but judo had never been about trophies for her. At first it had