Free Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love by Camille Anthony Page B

it --
    though the jury hasn’t returned on that one. I simply said I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
    Kevin Morrison harrumphed. “I don’t have time to play semantics with you, McCallum. Can you take care of this problem for the city of San Francisco, or not?”
    Hunter smiled. The men surrounding the commissioner cringed. “Yeah,” he drawled, slow and mocking, “I can handle your problem Kevin ... for a price.”
    Kevin grimaced. “It always comes down to a price with you, doesn’t it, Hunter?”
    “I’d do it for friendship, Kev, but I know you don’t have any in stock.” Hunter’s comment made the commissioner flinch.
    “What do you want? Exactly how much money will it take for you to handle this situation?”
    “Once they find a bridge, it’s almost impossible to get a troll to leave,” Hunter informed his audience. “They’re tenacious and contentious and don’t take kindly to trespassers over what they consider their property. Course, they can usually be placated with a toll, but the Department of Transportation is already gouging us citizens for more than we can afford.”
    “Can. You. Deal. With. This. Thing?” Kevin snarled through gritted teeth, his jaw bunched in an angry knot.
    “I believe so. My fee for trying is time spent with my charges.”
    Kevin looked at Hunter, his face a big question mark. “I don’t understand.”
    “I’m beginning to see you never did,” Hunter whispered, almost to himself.
    He crooked his finger at Morrison, beckoning him closer, wanting to make sure no one overheard the upcoming conversation. Kevin reluctantly took the steps over to Hunter’s side, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I’m here. What do you want?”

    Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love
    41
    “An hour with my godchildren, Danielle and Kevin, Jr. You can supervise.”
    Kevin Morrison reared back. Forgetting himself, he raised his voice and rasped, “Hell no, you bastard!”
    An ache in the middle of his chest throbbed with a pain hot enough to scar. Hunter didn’t let Kevin see how his words had hurt him. “Okay, catch you later.” He turned and started walking back to his bike.
    “Wait! Where the hell are you going?”
    Hunter swung around. “Home. I left something simmering on the back burner to come out here. If I hurry, I can get back before it dries up.”
    The commissioner sputtered. “You ... you’ll just leave, just walk away like this? What about those people -- the ones that thing has already killed? What about the city?”
    “What about them, Kevin? I’m not even on the clock right now. This isn’t clean-up; this falls under your job description, not mine.”
    “How can you be so cold?” the black man hissed, eyes finally meeting Hunter’s bland gaze.
    A smile stretched his lips but failed to reach his eyes. “I took lessons from a friend.”
    “Suppose I agree to this blackmail ... what then?”
    “Then I’ll expect you to keep your word.” Hunter took his glasses off and slid them into his shirt pocket.
    This far from the others, his eyes would go unnoticed. Kevin was closer, and he had no problem seeing how far Hunter had shifted toward animal. “My god, Hunter, you’re losing control!”
    “This isn’t loss of control, Kevin. This is a warning. Back out of the deal, betray me again, and I’ll call in payment on the debt you owe me from fifteen years ago.”
    Morrison blanched.
    Hunter steeled his heart. He meant every word. He’d kill Kevin if he tried to renege on this bargain. He’d waited a long time to finagle a way to see his godchildren again.
    The commissioner took a deep breath. “All right,” he whispered, “you win.”
    Hunter shook his head and pointed back to the huddle of men standing a short distance away. “Say it ... say it out loud, Kevin, before all these witnesses ... loud enough for them to hear. Invite me to dinner.”
    Kevin’s eyes went wide. Looking like he’d bitten into something rotten, Morrison raised his voice