chapter 55

We park at the back of the house next to one of those ridiculous wooden patios that has open beams instead of a damn roof. The kind of dumb rich person purchase that always makes me wonder if they’ve got brains at all. When I’m on a patio, I’d like to have some actual shade and some actual protection from the elements. How the hell are you supposed to drink a beer in the rain if it’s pouring right through the beams?

Frost cuts the engine, then climbs off first and offers me a helping hand.

I ignore it. No use letting the whole touchy-feely thing drag out.

Kian walks up to the back door. It’s a verandah door—no deadbolt, just one of those curly handles that can be ripped right off by a shifter. Which is what he does, breaking the handle away from the doorframe, then shoving it open.

“Guy left for work,” he says gruffly. “Suit and tie, probably heading for a nine-to-five somewhere. We’ll eat, get some rest, then keep moving before he gets home.”

I limp into the living room, glancing aro