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He reached out to touch me, then let his hand fall back, as if something in my face hadn’t been friendly. “I’ll do my best tonight, Anita, that I can promise.”

I sighed. “I believe you.”

“But,” he said.

I had to smile. “Your intentions are good, my intentions are good, Jean-Claude’s intentions are probably good.” I shrugged. “You know what they say about good intentions.”

“My best is all I can offer,” he said.

“And it’s all I can ask, but let’s say I’m not exactly sure how to handle this. I’d barely gotten to where I could deal with Richard and Jean-Claude at the same time, and now here you are. I just don’t know.”

“I can go back to your house,” he said.

“No, Jean-Claude asked to meet you.”

Micah looked at me. “And that makes you nervous.”

I half-laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“If Jean-Claude were having sex with someone else, I wouldn’t want to meet them.”

Micah shrugged. “Do you think he means me harm?”

“No,” I said, “no, nothing like that.” I tried to put it into words and couldn’t. Maybe it was just my lack of sophistication. How do you introduce boyfriend C to boyfriend A, after boyfriend A has been such a good sport, of late, about boyfriend B, who is no longer in the picture? Or maybe it was the way Jean-Claude had asked for him. “Bring your Nimir-Raj, ma petite, I would like to meet him.”

“Why?” I’d asked.

“Am I not entitled to meet the other man in your bed?”

It had made me blush. But here Micah was, and here we were outside the Circus. Jean-Claude was inside, waiting. I was actually more scared about introducing the two of them than I was worried about Damian. If Jean-Claude didn’t try and kill Micah, then I’d worry about Damian. I was ninety-nine percent sure that Jean-Claude wouldn’t start a fight. It was the last one percent that clenched my gut into a tight knot as we moved out into the darkness.

The two new bodyguards came up to flank me as I walked towards the back door. They were both over six feet, male, and radiated bodyguard badass. Other than that they were almost opposites. Cris (no h, it’s short for Cristiano) was mid-twenty-something, skin tanned a soft gold, eyes a pale shade of gray blue. His hair was that shade of pale brown that some people call blond. Bobby Lee was over forty, very short hair, gone white gray, eyebrows still black above startling blue eyes, like bits of water-blue sapphires. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard that were also black, with the first streaks of white and gray running through them.

Cris had no accent whatsoever, but Bobby Lee’s voice was thick as hominy, and twice as Southern.

Nathaniel tried to stand next to me, and Cris moved to keep him away. “He’s with me,” I said.

“We were ordered to keep you safe. I don’t know him.”

“Look, both of you, we don’t have time for major introductions here. He’s one of my wereleopards, so are the two blonds. Micah’s the one with the ponytail, the two men with him his leopards.”

“Who’s the redhead?” Bobby Lee asked.

“Gil, he’s a werefox, and he’s under my protection, too.”

“They’re like walking cannon fodder,” Cris said.

I frowned up at him. “Most of this cannon fodder are friends, or more, to me. If the shit hits the fan and you save me at the expense of their lives, you will follow them.”

“Our orders are to keep you safe, ma’am, no one else,” Bobby Lee said.

I shook my head and drew Nathaniel into the crook of my arm. “What would Rafael do if you protected him but got his people slaughtered?”

They glanced at each other. Bobby Lee finally spoke. “It would depend on the situation.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’m armed, and can take care of myself most of the time. I need backup, not interference.”

“We weren’t told to be backup,” Bobby Lee said.

“I know, but tonight there may be a certain amount of grandstanding. Jean-Claude won’t let me get hurt, but he might play with some of the others, even me. Don’t overreact, okay.”

“You’re making it so we can’t do our job,” Cris said.

I shrugged, hugging