The car slowed, then finally stopped altogether. “Here we are. Howler’s.”

“Oh.” She sat up and looked toward the bar and grill. The lights were on. That was a good sign. She slid out of the car, her feet sinking calf-deep into the snow.

She trudged around to the back where the driver had gotten her bag out. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Hope you get home soon.”

“Me too. I’ll make sure to give you five stars.”

“Much appreciated.” He got back in and pulled away, leaving her in the midst of the snowpocalypse.

There was no way her rolling bag was going to make it through the drifts ahead of her, so she hoisted the whole thing on top of her head and waded toward the door.

She was almost there when it swung wide and a familiar face appeared.

Bridget.

The werewolf shook her head. “What are you doing out in this mess? Where’s Van?”

Monalisa made it inside and put the suitcase down. She stomped the snow off her boots. “It’s a long story.”

“How about we start with a hot drink?”

“That would be great. I wasn’t sure you’d be open. The airport’s closed.”

“Why didn’t you go back to Van’s?”

Monalisa sighed. “That’s part of the long story.”

“C’mon,” Bridget said with a wave. “Let’s get you that hot drink, and you can start from the beginning. Leave your suitcase behind the hostess stand. It’ll be all right there. I don’t think anyone else will be coming in.”

“Thanks.” She tucked it behind the counter that held menus and a seating chart, then followed Bridget. The place was almost empty. Because most people weren’t morons. Like her. She took the first empty chair at the bar and settled in.

Bridget was already behind the bar. “What’ll it be? Irish coffee?”

Monalisa made a face without meaning to. “No, thanks. That reminds me of someone I’d rather not be reminded of.”

“How about an adult hot chocolate?”

Monalisa nodded. “Perfect.”

She’d never been much of a drinker. The two beers she’d had at Van’s had been unusual. But now, getting a little sloshed seemed like the best decision she could make. Maybe she’d pass out and wake up to find this had all been a dream.

A really, really bad dream.

Van stood fixed before the fireplace. The slowly dying embers burned red-hot under their coating of ash. Time ticked by. Their glow faded as he stood there. His gaze wavered as his mind grappled with what had just happened.

What had he done?

Essentially, he knew the answer to that question. He’d thrown Lisa out. Just like that, without asking any questions. Without letting her give her side of the story.

But then, she hadn’t fought back. Hadn’t tried to explain. It was like she’d known this was coming. Had been anticipating it.

How? Why?

He swallowed against the knot in his throat, but it stuck. His actions were unacceptable. He had to go talk to her. Had to get answers. But still he stood there, staring into the fire, mesmerized by the dying flames, unable to move for reasons beyond his leg.

He couldn’t shake the sickening feeling of betrayal. Couldn’t rid himself of the rest of the questions swirling around in his head. Why had she distracted him at the fight? She’d said she had no choice. But that didn’t make sense to him. Why hadn’t she had a choice? Had she been forced to do it? If so, by who? Or had she done it for some personal benefit? Could she have bet on the fight?

That must be it. She’d bet on the fight. Bet against him.

But then she would have had a choice. And why the hell had she come out here to his house? Did she really work for the League? That would be easy enough to find out with a phone call in the morning.

He blew out a long breath. The hard way was to talk to her. It was also the right thing to do. He tried to make his feet move. To go talk to the woman who had ruined his life. To find out why.

As angry as he was, how desperate had she been to come here? And why? What was her ultimate goal? His hoard? He had to understand why she’d done what she’d done. At least then he might have some closure.

He rolled his shoulders, at last breaking free of the fire’s mesmerizing effects. Grom lay a few feet away, watching Van with a curious expression. Grom knew something was wrong. Van nodded. “Da, there is trouble.”

How had he fallen for a woman who been hiding so much from him?

He’d thought she’d been keeping something from him. Now he knew just how right he’d been. He’d just never expected it was something this awful.

He limped to the door and wrenched it open. “Lisa, come inside. We need to talk.”

There was no answer. He stuck his head out and looked around. There was no sign of her on the porch. “Lisa?”

No answer. The car must have come for her already. But there were no tracks in the driveway.

Had she left another way? What would that way be? Could she have used her supernatural powers to disappear? What kind of supernatural did she say she was? A Will-o’-the-Wisp? He knew nothing about that sort of creature. What kind of powers did they have that would allow them to disappear into a snowstorm?

That just showed how little he knew about her. Her name might not even be Lisa. She had said she was from Vegas. Which was the right thing to say if he was supposed to believe she worked for the TFL. And she said she was Irish. She looked it. But what did that matter in the scheme of things? He would call the League tomorrow morning and ask some questions about her. At least get that much truth. But that would be hours from now.