Page 13 of Fire Dancer

Okay, I was getting closer. But, jeez. How long was I supposed to keep up this game of charades?

I stirred the air with my hand. “Who, Ingo?”

He glared at the table, then grunted. “A guy tangentially involved in an arson case I investigated a while back.”

I kept stirring, and oops. The candle on the table echoed the motion, swirling into a tiny whirlwind.

I laid my hand flat on the table. A good thing Ingo was too distracted to notice.

“Victor Jananovich,” he finally said. “Ring a bell?”

I let out a dry laugh. Ingo was the one who read FBI reports. I skimmed through back issues ofArizona Highways.

“The rodeo pro?” I said, just to get under his skin.

Ingo bought it for a moment, then made a face when he realized I’d made that up. “Victor Jananovich, thevampire,” he hissed.

I leaned back. Wow. A vampire with a restraining order against a wolf shifter?

“Since when do vampires go to the police to file for restraining orders?”

“They don’t. But Jananovich went to theagencyfor a restraining order.”

My eyes went wide. “Wow. What did you do?”

Ingo gripped his glass so hard, it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

Tempered or laminated?my professional side wondered, and I tapped mine. Tempered.

“He’s the criminal, not me,” Ingo insisted.

“And yet, you’re the one with the restraining order.”

“Yeah, well. The world can be a fucked-up place.”

“I guess so,” I murmured, chewing that over for a while.

Our legs touched, but I didn’t have the brain space to move away.

“Did you have evidence?” I finally asked.

Ingo made a face. “He’s slippery as hell, but everything pointed to Jananovich.”

“Pointed to or actually proved?”

“I was in the process of collecting that proof when I was called off the case.”

“Did you ever consider that you were wrong? That he isn’t a criminal?”

“And risk another innocent person dying?”

Another? I stared. What had gone wrong? And, shoot. Did Ingo blame himself for that particular tragedy — whatever it was?

“Two bacon cheeseburgers.” The waitress plunked a plate in front of each of us while batting giant, furry caterpillars — er, fake eyelashes — at Ingo. “Can I get you anything else? Another drink? Extra ketchup?”

Me, naked?her dancing eyes added.

Ingo stuck up his hands. “We’re fine, thank you.”