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When last we left them, our P.I. hero was pinning a homicidal werewolf to the floor of his office with a knee and a forty-five. He’s just asked the wolf who sent him.
Did I mention that Tom has a partner? He does.
“Your brother’s keeper.”
“Not possible.” Bryan had a hard-wired problem with authority and a deep-rooted aversion to pack politics; his job involved a lot of travel and he never settled down anywhere long enough to need more than temporary permission from the locals.
A whistle sounded through the door before it opened, so I stayed where I was. “Now, there’s something you don’t see every day,” Turner said, shutting the door behind him. He paused. “Oh, wait.”
Turner was often fatal, but no one would call him femme and lipstick wasn’t his style; under the circumstances, I didn’t mind.
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I added a couple of semicolons to I could get in the last lines(s). Which sound a bit random unless you’ve read the first paragraph of the chapter—Tom apparently likes to riff off past dialogue, which works a lot better if it’s read all at once.
Sorry!
Earful of Cider 