Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"Six hundred a month!" he said, his features shocked. "Oh, honey, we have to talk."

Affronted, I backed up farther. He was in his mid-thirties, I guessed from the maturity in his jaw and the barest hint of thickening about his middle that his spandex shirt couldn't hide. His narrow shoulders were hard with muscle that his shirt couldn't hide, either. And his legs were fabulous. Some people shouldn't wear spandex. Despite being older than I liked my men, David wasn't one of them.

"Is that what this is about?" I said, both ticked and relieved. "Is this how you get your clients? Stalking them?" I frowned and turned away. "That's pathetic. Even for a Were."

"Wait up," he said, lurching out onto the path after me in a snapping of twigs. "No. Actually, I'm here about the fish."

I jerked to a stop, my feet again in the sun. My thoughts zinged back to the fish I had stolen from Mr. Ray's office last September. Shit.

"Um," I stammered, my knees suddenly weak from more than the run. "What fish?" Fingers fumbling, I snapped my sunglasses open. Putting them on, I started walking for the exit.

David felt his middle for damage as he followed me, meeting my fast pace with his own. "See," he said almost to himself. "This is exactly why I've been following you. Now I'll never get a straight answer, I'll never settle the claim."

My stomach hurt, and I forced myself into a faster pace. "It was a mistake," I said, my face warming. "I thought it was the Howlers' fish."

David took off his sweatband, slicked his hair back, and replaced it. "Word is that the fish has been destroyed. I find that extremely unlikely. If you could verify that, I can write my report, send a check to the party Mr. Ray stole the fish from, and you'll never see me again."

I gave him a sidelong glance, my relief that he wasn't going to serve me with a writ or something very real. I had surmised that Mr. Ray had stolen it from someone when no one came after me for it. But this was unexpected. "Someone insured their fish?" I scoffed, not believing it, then realized he was serious. "You're kidding."

The man shook his head. "I've been following you trying to decide if you have it or not."

We had reached the entrance and I stopped, not wanting him to follow me to my car. Not that he didn't already know which one it was. "Why not just ask me, Mr. Insurance Agent?"

Looking bothered, he planted his feet widely with an aggressive stance. He was my height exactly—making him somewhat short for a man—but most Weres weren't big people on the outside. "You really expect me to believe you don't know?"

I gave him a blank look. "Know what?"

Running a hand across his thick bristles, he looked at the sky. "Most people will lie like the devil when they get ahold of a wishing fish. If you have it, just tell me. I don't care. All I want is to get this claim off my desk."

My jaw dropped. "A—A wishing…"

He nodded. "A wishing fish, yes." His thick eyebrows rose. "You really didn't know? Do you still have it?"

I sat down on one of the cold benches. "Jenks ate it."

The Were started. "Excuse me?"

I couldn't look up. My thoughts went back to last fall and my gaze drifted past the gate to my shiny red convertible waiting for me in the parking lot. I had wished for a car. Damn, I had wished for a car and gotten it. Jenks ate a wishing fish?

His shadow fell over me and I looked up, squinting at David's silhouette, black against the faultless blue of noon. "My partner and his family ate it."

David stared. "You're joking."

Feeling ill, I dropped my gaze. "We didn't know. He cooked it over an open fire and his family ate it."

His small feet moved in a quick motion. Shifting, he pulled a folded piece of paper and a pen from his backpack. As I sat with my elbows on my knees and stared at nothing, David crouched beside me and scribbled, using the smooth concrete bench as a desk. "If you would sign here, Ms. Morgan," he said as he extended the pen to me.

A deep breath sifted through me. I took the pen, then the paper. His handwriting had a stiff preciseness that told me he was meticulous and well-organized. Ivy would love him. Scanning it, I realized it was a legal document, David's handwritten addition stating that I had witnessed the destruction of the fish, unaware of its abilities. Frowning, I scrawled my name and pushed it back.

His eyes were full of an amused disbelief as he took the pen from me and signed it as well. I bit back a snort when he brought out a notarizing kit from his backpack and made it legal. He didn't ask for my identification, but hell, he'd been following me for three months. "You're a notary, too?" I said, and he nodded, returning everything to his backpack and zipping it up.

"It's a necessity in my line of work." Standing, he smiled. "Thank you, Ms. Morgan."

"No sweat." My thoughts were jumbled. I couldn't decide if I was going to tell Jenks or not. My gaze returned to David as I realized he was holding out his card. I took it, wondering.

"Since I've got you here," he said, moving so I wasn't looking into the sun to see him, "if you're interested in getting a better rate on your insurance—"

I sighed and let the card fall. What a weenie.

He chuckled, gracefully swooping to pick it up. "I get my health and hospitalization insurance for two fifty a month through my union."

Suddenly, I was interested. "Runners are almost uninsurable."

"True." He pulled a black nylon jacket out of his backpack and put it on. "So are field insurance adjusters. But since there are so few of us compared to the pencil pushers that make up the bulk of the company, we get a good rate. Union dues are one fifty a year. It gets you a discount on your insurance needs, car rentals, and all the steak you can eat at the yearly picnic."

That was too good to believe. "Why?" I asked, taking the card back.

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "My partner retired last year. I need someone."

My mouth opened in understanding. He thought I wanted to be an insurance adjuster? Oh, ple-e-e-e-ease. "Sorry. I've already got a job," I said, snickering.

David made an exasperated noise. "No. You misunderstand. I don't want a partner. I've driven off all the interns they've saddled me with, and everyone else knows better than to try. I've got two months to find someone, or they're going to shave my tail. I like my job, and I'm good at it, but I don't want a partner." He hesitated, his sharp gaze scanning the area behind me with professional intentness. "I work alone. You sign the paper, you belong to the union, you get a discount on your insurance, you never see me but for the yearly picnic, where we act chummy and do the three-legged race. I help you; you help me."

I couldn't stop my eyebrows from rising, and I shifted my attention from him to the card in my grip. Four hundred dollars less a month sounded great. And I'd be willing to bet they could beat what I was paying for my car insurance, too. Tempted, I asked, "What kind of hospitalization do you have?"

His thin lips curled up in a smile to show a hint of small teeth. "Silver Cross."

My head bobbed. It was designed for Weres, but it was flexible enough to work. A broken bone is a broken bone. "So," I drawled, leaning back, "what's the catch?"

His grin widened. "Your salary is deferred to me, as I'm the one doing all the work."

Ahhhh, I thought. He would get two salaries. This was a scam if I ever heard one. Smirking, I handed him his card back. "Thanks, but no thanks."

David made a disappointed sound, backing up with his card. "You can't blame me for trying. It was my old partner's suggestion, actually. I should have known you wouldn't go for it." He hesitated. "Your backup really ate that fish?"

I nodded, going depressed thinking about it. 'Least I got a car out of it first.