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Virginia. Two homes would be too much, and he couldn’t afford it on his salary. Not unless he quit and went into the private sector, and he didn’t want to do that yet. He wanted to make it to retirement age. Fuck, I’m truly fucked . His mind wandered. He was avoiding the real issue: making sure the werewolves behaved themselves toward Nadia. It wasn’t too hard so long as insults weren’t traded and the women were on their best behavior, especially with all the young available unmated male werewolves about. Hormones. Not to mention his own frustration. Urban ran a hand over his face. Yup, I’m fucked.
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    Several tiring hours later, Nadia arrived in Draven’s Crossing worn out and ready to hit the hay. She headed straight for her condo to take a shower and wash the grime of travel off her weary body, put on her PJs, and crawl into her queen-sized Sleep Number bed. A night of deep sleep would do wonders. With her guard down and her body bone weary, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into Urban’s arms and fall asleep feeling safe and wanted. She couldn’t do that, especially when she didn’t know where he was. Nor did she want to depend on him for that sensation of security. It unnerved her that thoughts like that kept popping up with more frequency over the past few weeks. Yet she couldn’t stop those notions if she tried. No matter how hard she pushed them away, they kept coming back. Rather than fight it, she accepted it, but didn’t act on the urge to call, e-mail, or text him. Have to focus , she ordered herself as she checked the windows on the first floor.
    She made her way through the loft area as she went over the facts that Zerik had given her. It wasn’t much to go on, but she’d worked on less. Someone had been coming into Draven’s Crossing on the weekends, selling Katnip . Victims ended up in the hospital on Monday morning in batches of two or three at the max. The DCPD had been notified, but so far they hadn’t acted or investigated as far as Zerik knew; just one more reason to send someone to take care of it in-house rather than distract Torger with a nonpolitical problem or emergency. Besides, the DCPD could control how to handle the perps , whoever they were. Zerik suspected there were at least two people involved in the operation. One person acting alone didn’t sound right. Zerik didn’t know how the drug was administered, and the families of the victims all said the same thing: “They weren’t drug takers, unless it was prescribed by a doctor or it was aspirin.”
    The police wouldn’t have believed the victims, but only about five percent of the feline-shifter population in the USA had some sort of substance abuse problem. The drugs of choice mostly dealt with antidepressants, with only one percent going for the hard stuff such as morphine, heroin, or opium. Zerik had been slowly dealing with the drug problem by attacking it directly: cleaning out neighborhoods, moving jobs into the area, paying for health care until the families and victims could pay for it themselves, and making sure that local politicians actually tried to make inroads with the feline communities. In Nadia’s opinion it wasn’t enough, but it worked. For now.
    There was no feline community liaison in Draven’s Crossing, and they hadn’t asked for one. If she stayed, she’d consider making an appointment with Draven to apply for or create the position herself. It would be a headache, but traveling around the world had begun to get old. She wanted stability, to create a home. Nadia had a condo and knew the area well, but not the people. She had no clue who her neighbors were except for their names, relationship status, and whether they had security systems in their houses. There was a security booth to get past and a guard that would patrol the streets to make sure no trouble was on the prowl. It made her feel better, but not completely at ease. This whole area was a part of feline