"I couldn't live like that," I said.
He smiled at me. "You're polyamorous, which means many loves?"
"I've never actually called myself that."
He gave me a look. "You're living with multiple men, and sleeping with more, and everyone knows about it - that's about as poly as you can get, Anita."
I wanted to argue, but couldn't. I shrugged. "Fine."
"None of your men can be insecure or they couldn't be poly with you." I laughed. "Oh, no, don't believe that there's no insecurity. There is. The hardest part about having this many loves in my life is the emotional upkeep. Trust me, we all have our issues."
He looked at me, studying me for a moment.
"What?"
"I guess I just thought that you had to be completely secure to be in a relationship like that."
"No one is completely secure, Edward."
"Not even your Master of the City?"
"No, not even Jean-Claude," I said.
He looked thoughtful, then stood up and took his shirt off. "Are you getting dressed?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Do I go in the bathroom, or do you?"
He frowned at me. "Why?"
"I'm not comfortable with you dressing in front of me."
He gave a half-laugh. I think I'd surprised him. "You live with shapeshifters, and they go around nude all the time."
"Seeing my friends and lovers nude is fine, but seeing you nude, no."
He studied my face. "It really would bother you."
"Yes."
He frowned again. "Why?"
"If I'm ha**ng s*x with someone it's okay to see them nude, but if sex isn't an option, then no nudity."
He laughed, abrupt and surprised. "You're still a prude, and you always will be."
"It wouldn't bother you to strip in front of me?"
"No, why should it?"
I sighed. "Fine, I'm a prude. I'll go into the bathroom while you dress."
"No, I'll dress in the bathroom." He was still smiling, his face shining with the remains of his laughter, as he gathered up his clothes.
"Glad I could amuse you after less than two hours of sleep," I said, arms crossed under my br**sts in his oversized T-shirt.
"I guess you're right," he said, as he walked past me. "Everyone has their issues."
I had no idea what to say to that, so I didn't try. He went into the bathroom to get dressed, and I realized all my clothes were still in the other room. I hoped forensics would let me back in; otherwise I was going to have to send Edward shopping for clothes for me. Edward had a lot of talents, but I was betting that shopping for women's clothing wasn't one of them.
Chapter Eight
THE GOOD NEWS was that forensics cleared my room enough for me to get dressed and get my weapons. The bad news was that the powers that be gave Karlton's vacated warrant to another new marshal who had about as much experience. Ironically, his last name was even Newman. It was a little too heavy-handed on the whole fate thing for my taste.
Sadly, Raborn was still the go-to man in the field. I didn't have a lot of faith that he'd listen to me, but when it went bad, and it would, I wanted my protest on record. "Nothing personal to Newman, but he's exactly what his name says, Raborn. He's new. What I saw last night would make me afraid to just take fresh meat on the hunt, but to put the fresh meat in charge is dangerous both to him and to the rest of us."
Raborn leaned his shoulder against a tree on the edge of the parking lot. His arms were folded across his chest, which made his shirt bunch and emphasized that he had enough stomach that his arms were sort of resting on it. It wasn't a flattering look, but maybe I was prejudiced.
He looked at Edward, who was at my side, where he'd pretty much plastered himself all day. He'd gone from fellow marshal to bodyguard head space after last night's "incident." The other police seemed to take it for devotion after the sex they assumed we'd had the night before. No one had said anything directly. It was the little eye flicks, the expressions, the soft voices that quieted as we walked up. Fuck them all, or rather, not f**k any of them.
"What do you think, Forrester?" Raborn asked.
"Now, Raborn," Edward said in his good-ol'-boy Ted voice, "you know that no other operation like this would have a rookie in charge. Veteran marshals won't follow him, or trust him. No reflection on Newman, but it's not just us that have a problem with it."
Raborn sighed enough that his stomach rose up and down. He unfolded his arms and spit onto the parking lot, as if it had all left a bad taste in his mouth. "You aren't the first marshals to come to talk to me. Hell, the local PD has asked for a more senior marshal to be in charge of the hunt."
"Then why is Newman still in charge?" I asked.
His eyes narrowed when he looked at me; just because he agreed with me at this point didn't mean he liked me any better. "Tilford is in charge of the other warrant, so he's partnering Newman."
"I know that Tilford requested that the other warrant go to Ted or me," I said.
Raborn nodded. "He did, and it was duly noted."
"Why give the other warrant to a rookie?" Edward asked again. "Especially, why give the senior warrant to a rookie so that he can be in charge of the operation?"
"It's the older warrant, and new regulations say that the oldest warrant of execution on a joined case becomes senior officer."
"It's a bad rule," I said.
Raborn just nodded. "But it's still the rule."
"It's the same killers, they're both the same warrant," Edward said.