The Guardian by Connie Hall

body until he was sated. Then maybe he could keep a clear head.
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    Fala sat in a Starbucks, draining coffee, while she searched the internet with her iPhone. Fifteen minutes ago she had entered the Interpol database, giving Winter a benefit of the doubt, which he didn’t deserve. If BOSP was a legit branch of the State Department, surely something would turn up on Interpol. But it hadn’t. Was she hoping to find evidence that BOSP existed? Enough time wasted.
    She reached to sign off, when a site popped up. A State Department monthly expense report mentioning BOSP agents. Fala surfed more, getting deeper and deeper into the yearly expenditure reports. She kept digging until she felt cross-eyed and couldn’t read another figure. Finally, she hit pay dirt. Follow the money. It usually unveiled the seedier hidden side of any corporation—including Uncle Sam’s.
    She made a face at the BOSP listings.
    Sure enough, hidden in the accounting facts and figures was a listing of expenditure reports for over two hundred bureaus within the State Department. They were scattered all over the U.S. and the world. Addresses were listed. Well, well, he was at least telling the truth about working for the feds. She copied down the Washington, D.C., address on a scrap of paper.
    Next, she Googled Senator Kent. Harvard Republican.Figured. Graduated top of his law class. A judge before he reached age thirty-five. Ran for office just last year. He seemed legit. But was he Winter’s pawn? Maybe even connected to Katrina Sanecki’s murder and Tumseneha somehow? After all, she was the senator’s aide. Fala clicked on the icon to bring up Kent’s press photo. She grabbed the picture from Sanecki’s apartment and held it up to the cell phone screen.
    A match. The man with Sanecki in the photo was Kent. So Kent had been dating his aide. Fala recalled feeling Tumseneha’s essence all over the bedroom. Was it Kent’s body Tumseneha inhabited? Kent had dated Sanecki. Fala held the evidence of it in her hand. Tumseneha could easily have entered Kent’s body, forced the werewolf spirit to join him, then enjoyed the pleasure of luring Katrina to her death. Hadn’t Winter said he was there protecting Kent’s interests? The pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit. But it was only a theory that hinged on Kent still dating Katrina. And she’d find that out from Winter, because she was certain he could confirm it or not.
    She was also curious to see if Winter actually worked for BOSP. If so, how did he fit into the whole murder puzzle? He’d said he was only trying to protect her and Kent’s interests, yet the two seemed at opposite ends on the truth spectrum. And what about that look he’d shared with Tumseneha in the alley? And what kind of magic blocked his aura? She meant to find out. She closed her iPhone, stuck it in her pocket, and headed for the door clutching the scrap of paper with the BOSP address written on it.
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    Stephen sat in his office, listening to Billie’s “Strange Fruit,” watching Fala in his mind’s eye exit Starbucks. She jammed her hands in her pocket and squeezed her arms against the cold as she headed down the sidewalk to her car. Her expressive mouth was set in a determined line that he knew well. The auburn highlights in her raven hair caught the sun and glistened, and for a moment the gleam was so radiant her aura peeked through, and it actually hurt him to look at her.
    He shifted his gaze downward, to the sensual sway of her hips, her shapely legs working beneath her jeans. Her long legs could wrap around him several times.
    His breath grew ragged, even as he felt himself harden. He shifted in his desk chair and scowled. Why couldn’t he control this insatiable lust? She was a means to an end. That was it. He didn’t like feeling this unchecked. He’d spent his whole life reining in his emotions—well, almost, until hell came