“Are you going to stop me if I try to leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Harland kept his face blank. It wasn’t a lie. He’d already done things to keep him here, but would he physically restrain him? He hadn’t made up his mind yet.

Jameson took another step away, moving toward the counter. Harland scanned the surface. There were no weapons. He’d had a knife when he’d entered the kitchen, but Harland didn’t fear it. He could move fast enough to avoid a knife.

“I’m free to leave when I want, and I want to leave.”

Harland tried to remember exactly what Frank had said. Keep him alive. “I’m to keep you alive until things have settled, and I can’t go outside right now, which means we’re not leaving.”

Jameson groaned. “I didn’t come here to get a babysitter. I came to rest. Had I known you were here, I wouldn’t have.”

Babysitter. How dare he? “Listen here, punk --”

“Punk? Punk!” Jameson kicked the table, not hard enough for it to topple over, but enough for everything on top of it to slide toward the edge. Harland rushed forward, and as he did, Jameson unhooked the latch on the window and pushed it open.

Harland froze. He’d opened the window. Sunshine.

Jameson grinned. “I’ll leave now, okay?”

“No. And it’s not okay.”

“Maybe not, but you stay there, I’ll hop out --” He jumped, so he sat on the counter bathing in sunshine. “-- and I’ll close the window after, so you’re safe. You can latch it afterward, right?”

He could. As long as the sunshine was cut off by something he was fine. “Yes.”

“Good. Nice meeting you, Harland. Tell Frank thanks for the bed.” He turned around on the counter and pushed his feet out the open window before jumping out. Then he closed the window and waved.

Harland sighed and grabbed his phone.

One signal rang through. “Frank.”

“How’s it going?”

Silence followed. “What happened?”

Harland grimaced. “He jumped out the window, but I’ve taken the spark plugs from his car, so he won’t get far.”

Frank cursed. “I didn’t mean to keep him by force.”

Oh ... “Why didn’t you say so then?”

“I haven’t found anything. Nothing specific. There was a guy stabbed by the river, but I don’t think it has anything to do with Jameson. One man was admitted to the hospital, beaten badly in a motel, and is in a coma. A woman was raped in an ally -- not connected to Jameson unless he tried to prevent it and got in a fight with the perpetrator. From the supernatural channels, I have two missing vampires, which is bad since it makes five missing vampires in only seven days.”

Harland cursed.

“And we have a bear shifter gutted outside The Night Owl, but it looks to be made by claws, so most likely another shifter.”

The Night Owl was a nightclub for supernaturals. Humans could get in if they had a written invitation, which Frank had. They’d met there several times to talk business. It was open around the clock and served both food and drinks.

“His knuckles are bruised.”

Frank hummed. “He’s not a violent person, though I don’t know what he’ll do when cornered.”

“Jump out the window.”

“Yes, he’s more likely to run than to fight, but given his past, I imagine he’ll fight before he allows anyone to take him anywhere.”

“What happened?” Harland shouldn’t care, but he was curious. How did someone end up missing fingers? He could think of a few ways, but he wasn’t sure any of his made-up scenarios fit Jameson. He didn’t know him, though.

He’d stayed away from his blood instead of trying to get to it. He hadn’t believed him when he’d said he needed a Band-Aid. And he made sure to keep distance between them at all times, preferably having the table between them.

“You fucker!” Jameson stomped into the kitchen. “You fiddled with my car.”

Frank chuckled on the other end. “I’ll let you get back to that, Harland. On second thought, don’t allow him to leave. At least not until we know what’s going on.”