CHAPTER NINE
Four years ago …
“Noah?” said Simon, crouching down low to my face, his voice so low that it was practically a whisper. “Do you mind if I tell you something?”
Lying flat on my stomach under the bushes, I looked at Simon. He had made himself as flat as he could be, but his purple eyes still stood out in the pitch blackness of the night. “Can it wait until later? We’re in the middle of a job.”
“I know that,” said Simon. “But that’s part of what I wanted to tell you.”
With a sigh, I said, “What is it?”
“Next time you tell me you want to be a detective, I’ll rip your eyeballs out with my claws,” said Simon. The claws on his front paws flipped out. “And make sure you feel it, too, so you associate such a dumb idea with—”
I slapped a hand over Simon’s mouth and hissed, “Shhh.
