A wave of agonized distress passed over his features. “I don’t know.”

I accepted that as a victory over a flat out No. “Go take care of Ryan,” I said with a smile. “If you’re lucky, I might even start dinner.”

Zack let out a weak laugh. “I’m not sure I’d call that luck.”

“My cooking isn’t that bad.” My mouth twisted. “Or maybe it is. I’ll keep it simple.”

“I’ll be right back to supervise,” he replied with a hint of mock-panic in his voice. Or possibly real panic.

“Maybe you can pick up some culinary secrets,” I said sweetly, then closed the door behind them and headed for the kitchen to forage for something “simple.” In other words, Kara-proof.

Szerain and Zack had given me a lot to think about on top of the Idris issue, Farouche, and Tessa’s manipulation. Oh yeah, and let’s not forgot the evil demonic lords trying to take over the world. On top of all that, I needed to talk to Jill and see if I could convince her to move into what was rapidly becoming a compound. Kara’s Kompound. I muffled a laugh, then mulled over what I’d say to her while I tried to decide between frozen lasagna or waffles with bacon for dinner. Or bacon lasagna. Yum.

Zack returned with a stack of files and his laptop as I closed the oven door on the frozen lasagna. “I have Ryan sleeping. Szerain is in turmoil,” he said. “I’ll do some intense work with him tonight.” He set the laptop on the kitchen table and passed over a file folder. “I made copies of all the Symbol Man case file notes for you, as well as everything we have for Amber’s murder. Figured it couldn’t hurt for you to have it all.”

“You rock,” I said and took the folder. “I’m going to grab a shower while the lasagna cooks. Twice through the obstacle course. I think I stink a little.”

“More than a little. You’re ripe.”

“It’s much more gentlemanly to deny my stench.”

“Then you’d doubt it was me,” he said with a low laugh.

“You got that right.” The familiar banter was a relief and reminded me that, while the problems weren’t gone, they were manageable. “I’ll call Jill first and see if she wants to meet me tomorrow for a lovely early morning walk. Not only will it shock the hell out of her—me, exercise, morning—but I’ll have her as a captive audience to sell her on the benefits of her potential new temporary home.”

He grinned. “She won’t be able to resist it, not with your smooth sell.”

“Riiiiiight.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Seriously though, I’ll do my best. Too much shit going on right now to risk her.”

“Thanks,” he said fervently, and the worry and love for Jill in his eyes was another bit of reassurance for me. “I’ll get to work on the deeper mysteries of my open cases,” he said and headed for the living room.

I put the case files by the stack of Tracy Gordon journals, then made a quick call to Jill to invite her over for a persuasive sales pitch—disguised as a stroll around my property—for the next morning. I also gave her a summary of the harrowing roadblock incident with Farouche. I figured it couldn’t hurt to prime the danger pump.

No new crises emerged during my shower, to my relief and delight. The lasagna smelled great, and I had chocolate fudge ice cream to spare in the fridge. What the hell? A quiet night kicked back at home?

Don’t get cocky, I reminded myself. Best to take it minute by minute and not get my hopes up for the whole night.

I opened my eyes to sun slanting through the blinds. No alarm clock. No phone call. The smell of something baking. I glanced at the clock, pleased to see that I’d slept over eight hours. I could get used to this.

I had about thirty minutes before Jill arrived for our walk and talk. When I wandered out to the kitchen, I found Ryan at the table, already dressed and with his laptop open.

“You made coffee,” I observed. Plenty of time for coffee. Hell, I’d make time for coffee.

He looked up and gave me a smile. “I sure did. It shortens the Grumpy Kara time if it’s ready to go when you wake up.”

“I’m never grumpy,” I protested unconvincingly. “Ever.” I filled my cup and dumped in sugar and cream. “How are you feeling this morning?” I had no idea if Ryan felt any residuals of the convulsions Szerain had yesterday.

“I’m feeling fine,” he said giving me a wary look. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”

I smiled sweetly. “No! Not at all. Can’t a girl ask about your well-being?”

“You? Nope,” he said with a grin, then gestured toward the oven. “I made some bacon-topped maple roll things. They’re done, but I’m sure you’re not hungry. Zack and I will manage to keep them from going to waste.”

“Nice try.” I pulled the oven door open, and the sight and smell of the rolls set my mouth watering. I grabbed a potholder and moved the baking sheet to the stovetop, transferred one of the delectables to a plate, then took a bite. “Holy shit. You’ve been keeping these secret all this time? I’ll have to run the obstacle course three times, but it’s worth it.”

“My mom’s recipe,” he said. “I found it tucked away in a photo album. I don’t remember her making them, but they sure are good.”

I stopped chewing as my heart clenched with a fierce ache. Of course he didn’t remember his mom making them. He wasn’t really Ryan Kristoff. How did all of that work? I wondered as I resumed chewing. As far as I’d been able to determine, Szerain took over the real Ryan’s life a decade and a half ago, and the Ryan I knew was actually Szerain with an arcanely altered face. Before then, Ryan Kristoff had a full life that included family and college and work. How had Szerain replaced him without raising suspicions? And what happened to the real Ryan?

I finished my bite. “These are damn good,” I said. “Any other secret recipes hiding out?”

“A few. I’ll let you taste test if you’re a good girl.”

My witty retort went unsaid as the gate control panel buzzed. I glanced over at the screen to see Jill’s car pulling through the gate. “Crap! I’m not even dressed.” I hurried to down the rest of the coffee.

Ryan grinned. “I’m so damn interesting you can’t even think straight.”

I set the cup in the sink and thwacked him on the shoulder as I passed by on the way to my bedroom. “Yeah, that’s it. Had me all aflutter and hanging on every word. Since you’re so interesting, you can entertain Jill until I get ready.”

Ryan answered with a laugh.

After taking a few minutes to throw on clothes and shoes and take care of some other necessary business, I returned to the kitchen. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, yourself. I brought some fresh fruit cups from the market,” Jill announced with a smile. “But I’ve ruined all of that and indulged in one of Ryan’s evil rolls.”

I laughed. “Yeah. You’re weak like that. Me? I resisted.”

She leveled a mom-worthy glare at me. “Kara Gillian. Number one, I know you better than that. Number two, you have maple drizzle on your chin.”

Damn. I hurriedly swiped at the evidence.

Ryan tucked his laptop into its case and pulled on his suit jacket. “I know this is going to be a blow to you both, but I can’t stay. Court.”

“Aw, man!” I said with a mock-pout. “And we were going to talk about female bodily fluids!”

Jill grinned evilly. “I’ve been learning all about post-pregnancy discharge.”

Ryan made an agonized face. “I did not hear that. Did not.” With that he gave us a wave and left.

I laughed. “Makes them squirm every time. You ready to go? The boys have been doing their best to turn my property into a theme park.”

“I know. You can’t even imagine the things I talked them out of.”

I gave her a wary look as I opened the back door. “Like what?”

“For starters, a pool table in the living room. Can you believe it? In the living room.”