The Turning of the Tables

I try to be an easygoing kind of guy, but sometimes things happen that really throw you for a loop. It turns out that meeting a certain badger shifter is one of those things.

I'd agreed to pick him up at the airport to help out a friend, and I had no idea what I'd gotten myself into. I figured I'd pick him up, drop him off at his hotel, and that would be that. Instead, I can't stop thinking about him—and it doesn't help that he keeps texting me, asking for my help.

The other problem is . . . he lives a thousand miles away and is only going to be here for a few weeks. Except that it hasn't taken long for me to fall hard for those hazel eyes and white-streaked hair. To say nothing of the callouses on those strong hands.

I should be paying attention to work—to the killer using the Arcanavirus as a murder weapon—but I keep getting distracted by thoughts of Elliot Crane. Hopefully that doesn't come back to bite me in the butt.

Who am I kidding? Everything comes back to bite me in the butt. And not in a fun kind of way, either.

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Lydbog: 25. august 2026