Lover Beware
repeat.
    Lily scowled. It was a good thing she hadn't gone to bed with Rule. If she had, the hotheads slamming her and the department would have live ammo. Right now they were firing blanks.
    She grabbed her keys and tried to be relieved about that, but the phone rang before she reached the door. She almost didn't pick it up, thinking it might be a reporter. But the caller ID told her it was her downstairs neighbor. Mrs. Hodgkin took Worf out most days around lunch so he could relieve his bladder, and sometimes at supper, too, if Lily was working late.
    Mrs. Hodgkin claimed that her arthritis was acting up and she wouldn't be able to manage the stairs anymore to take Worf out.
    Since the older woman tied herself into yoga pretzels regularly, Lily doubted that inflamed joints were the problem. No doubt Mrs. Hodgkin read the paper, too.
    Why were people so quick to judge? They knew nothing about Rule except that he was a lupus. And they believed the myths—that lupi were indiscriminate killers. Or crazy. Or both.
    The myths were based on fact, she reminded herself as she slammed out of her apartment. Some lupi did kill. Not as often as the more sensational press liked to claim, but the rampage the paper had dragged up had happened. For reasons ho one had ever known, a lupus inConnecticuthad gone berserk. Sixteen people dead, thirteen injured. And Rule himself had said that adolescent lupi couldn't control the beast.
    Lily scowled and clicked the "unlock" a dozen feet from her Nissan.
    "Ms. Yu?"
    Lily turned. A pretty young teenager with a spiky haircut was running across the parking lot toward her. Lily identified her automatically: Cili Yosamoff,apartment614A. Two younger sisters, and a father who worked nights. She had a fondness for black—clothes, lipstick, and eye makeup.
    Cili stopped in front of her, breathless and smiling. "I wondered—would you mind—I mean—oh, here!" She thrust out a pen and pad of paper. "Could I have your autograph?"
    Lily blinked. "My what?"
    "And maybe you could ask the prince for his, too? I mean, he's so rad, isn't he? I was just maxed out when I read that you're, like, dating him!"
    "Oh. Sure." Why not? Lily thought, taking the pen and scrawling her name across the paper. Maybe the girl would decide that cops were cool, too, if one of them could date a rad guy like Rule. "I'll ask the prince to sign something for you next time I see him," she said, handing back the pad.
    "Jenny is just going to die when I show her the prince's autograph." Her friend's imminent demise gave her great satisfaction. "Is it true that lupi, like, don't do drugs or alcohol or anything?"
    Lily had no idea. "Absolutely," she assured the girl gravely. "They have too much respect for their bodies, in whatever form." Her name might be dirt with some people—like her mother, her downstairs neighbor, any number of reporters and fellow citizens. But it looked like she could count on support from the fifteen-and-under set. "Would you be interested in earning a little running-around money?"
    "Well... yeah. Probably." Heavily mascaraed eyes blinked at her dubiously. "I guess it would depend on, you know, what you want me to do."
    "I need someone to walk my dog."
     
    AT HEADQUARTERS LILY noticed a distinct chill in the air. A sergeant who usually greeted her looked away. A patrol cop made a crack to his partner about people who would do anything for their five minutes of fame. And it was quiet— much too quiet—when she walked into the Homicide bullpen. Only three officers were there, and all were terribly busy. Too busy to look up, much less greet her.
    UntilBrunswickstarted howling.
    She could have kissed him. It was so obnoxiously normal. The other man laughed and the female detective told him to put a sock in it.
    "You really need to do something about that sore throat," Lily said as she sat at her desk, fighting back a grin. "You're sounding hoarse."
    "I want details," he said, spinning his chair to grin at her.

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