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a hit man and just tell him not to kill Nathanial. What will he care, if he gets paid to deliver a live person versus a dead one?”
    Spade muttered something under his breath that was too fast for her to catch.
    “What?” she asked, with an edge.
    He stared at her long enough that she almost snapped at him to keep his eyes on the road.
    “No vampire will steal another vampire’s property for a human, no matter how much quid you offer. That risks war, whereas killing some bloke with no evidence as to who did it is much simpler. You might be able to get a vampire to blow Nathanial’s head off for a fee, but you won’t get one to kidnap him.”
    Denise felt like pounding on the dashboard in frustration. There had to be someone who could help her. Who else did she know that was dead?
    “I’ll ask Rodney,” she said with a burst of inspiration. “He’s not a vampire, he’s a ghoul. Rodney knows me, so maybe he’d be willing to find Nathanial without anyone knowing who did it or getting messed up in vampire politics.”
    A muscle ticked in Spade’s jaw. “Rodney’s dead.”
    Denise didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her mind was too busy rejecting the idea that the sweet, funny ghoul she’d known was dead. Decapitation is the only way to kill a ghoul , she’d flung at Raum earlier. That knowledge made her sick now. Why, why, why would anyone murder Rodney?
    “He was a good man. It’s not right,” was what she said after the silence stretched.
    Spade grunted. “Indeed.”
    Denise wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and not have to think about death for a week. Or a day, or even an hour. But unless she found Nathanial, her family’s deaths loomed on the horizon.
    She’d have to involve Cat. Bones was a Master vampire and a former hit man, so he had the expertise of finding people combined with the clout in the vampire community. It was the only logical choice—except that Bones would feel honor-bound to save her, if things got too hairy and dangerous. I already got my husband killed , Denise thought dully. How can I live with myself if I get my best friend’s husband killed, too?
    “We should be in Springfield in a few hours,” Spade said. “Once there, we’ll stop at a hotel and—”
    Denise sat straight up. “You.”
    His brows rose. “Beg your pardon?”
    “ You ,” she repeated. “You’re a Master vampire. You’ve tracked down people in the past, Cat told me, and you don’t care about me, so if things get too dangerous, you’ll bail without getting yourself killed. You’re the perfect person to help me find Nathanial.”
    Spade didn’t bother giving her one of those you’re-crazy looks; he swerved off the road and came to a stop on the shoulder before she even had time to worry about oncoming traffic.
    “I can’t drop all my responsibilities just to chase down a demon-dodging human who should never have trifled with the dark arts in the first place,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sorry, Denise.”
    Desperation made her rash. “You’re sorry? I doubt that. Yes, I know I’m asking for a huge favor, but I don’t expect you to do it for me. I was hoping you’d do it for your friend, because you know I’ll only have one place to go if you don’t help me. But hey, maybe you can tell Cat, ‘I’m sorry’ if Bones gets killed doing what you didn’t have time to. After all, it’s so much easier to say you care than to prove it.”
    He was next to her in a blink, his face so close, she couldn’t focus on one distinct feature. But there was no need to see his expression. The growl in his voice told her how furious he was.
    “No one knows you called me. No one knows where you are. I could have your body buried before sunset, then I wouldn’t need to fret about Crispin risking himself for you. So you might not want to dare me again to prove that I care for my friend.”
    Spade’s eyes weren’t their normal cognac color. They were glowing green, blazing with