Claws Bared, Page 2

  Now I had Bran. He’d muscled his way into my world and didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.

  It was strange to not be alone. And frightening.

  I grabbed another ginger snap before I wiped the mug dry and filled it with hot tea and a dash of milk.

  Jazz let out another merp as I carried the warm white ceramic mug to my desk and settled into the wooden chair.

  The doorbell rang.

  I headed for the front door, sure I’d find another messenger there with a brand new Canadian passport. My right hand dug into the front pocket of my jeans and toyed with a two-dollar coin for a tip.

  I swung the door open and held out the coin, the gold and silver disk shining in the morning light.

  “Ooh.” Brandon Hanover reached out and plucked the coin from my fingers. “I don’t usually charge by the minute but in your case I could make an exception.” He held up a thick padded envelope. “And I intercepted this in the front yard.”

  I scowled, letting him walk past me into the house. “I thought I had to sign for that. It’s a damned passport. They’re not supposed to give those away to anyone in the area.”

  “I have my ways. She was in a hurry.” He dropped his satchel and leather duster on the couch. Jazz took no time jumping up and curling into a white ball on the soft black jacket. “So what do you need a passport for?”

  “Jess wants me to go down to Pennsylvania and help out a police chief with a murder investigation.” I pointed at the envelope on my desk. “Plane tickets, and you’ve got my freshly printed passport.”

  He tilted his head and shot a grin at me, the red hair and obvious Irish heritage threatening to take me down without so much as a move on his part. “Now you’re their lapdog?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck snapped to attention. “Not.”

  Brandon smiled and moved toward me. “And not even a kiss for me being away on assignment for so long?” His white dress shirt had mustard stains dotting down the front like an avant-garde tie.

  “You were gone for two weeks,” I grumbled.

  “A lifetime for some people.” His hand cupped my chin, pulling me up to look at him. “I missed you.”

  A flash of panic ran through me when I realized how much I’d missed him. Two weeks of moping around the suddenly too-large house. I’d refused to wash the sheets, not wanting to wipe his scent away.

  I had it bad.

  I turned my face away, hoping he hadn’t seen the shock on my face. “Still not forgiven for the lapdog crack.”

  “Ah, well. Your loss.” He released me and then looked down at Jazz. “Let me try my charm out on you. You been behaving yourself?”

  I let out a snort. “She threw up twice on the kitchen floor. Hairballs the size of a streetcar.”

  Bran bent down and stroked her thick, bushy fur, encouraging the old girl to roll onto her back and demand a tummy rub. She let out a trill and curved into a half circle.

  “I see I’ll have to work a bit harder for your mistress’s affections.” He dug into his satchel. “How about some authentic, fresh-off-the-plane Montreal smoked meat?”

  The man knew my weaknesses.

  My nose twitched, seeking out the rich smoked spices.

  I swallowed when he flipped open the bag and pulled out a small insulated pouch. Sure, I could buy some from my local grocery store, but nothing like the real thing, fresh and ready to be slapped on rye with a splash of mustard.

  “Straight from the deli on Saint-Laurent Boulevard.” He held the foil package over his head, a devilish smile spreading on his face. “Forgiven?”

  “Maybe.” My mouth started watering, betraying me. “Gimme.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Forgiven?”

  I crossed my arms and pouted.

  “Don’t do that.” He laughed and handed it to me. “Surprised you didn’t smell me a mile away with this, wrapped up or not.”

  I pulled the pouch open and inhaled deeply. “I was busy being Jess’s lapdog.”

  Bran wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure I’m happy with you taking work from them.”

  Anger spiked in my gut, spilling over into my words. “I’m not sure I’m happy with the way you just said that.”

  I didn’t bare my teeth. I didn’t have to.

  His eyes went wide. Bran took a step back and lifted his hands in surrender. He looked over at my mug. “Tea still hot?”

  “Help yourself.” I followed him into the kitchen and put the smoked meat into the near-empty refrigerator. The flash of annoyance vanished, replaced by embarrassment.

  This wasn’t me. I didn’t snap like this before.

  I drew a deep breath, trying to center myself.

  I didn’t know who I was anymore.

  It took only a few minutes for him to make up his own cup, adding a squeeze of honey from the bottle on the counter and passing on the milk.

  I leaned back on the counter and watched him, letting my temper settle.

  The white dress shirt worked to escape his jeans on one side, tempting me to grab the loose fabric and do something with it.

  I licked my lips. It’d been a long two weeks.

  “Quiet workday?” Bran studied me over the top of his mug. His brown eyes caught mine. It wasn’t a retreat; it was a move-and-regroup before the next attack.

  “Quiet enough that I have to take Jess’s assignment.” I glanced at the dishes in the sink, suddenly feeling guilty they were there. “Bills are piling up and I need to work.”

  “I can spot you if you’d like.” He added more milk to the half-empty mug. “If you really don’t want to take the job I’ll carry you until something comes up.”

  I shook my head. “A man’s dead and if I don’t check it out nothing’s probably going to be done about it. I can’t let that happen.” I rubbed the back of my neck, pushing down the thin hairs. “I don’t need your money.”

  It came out sharper than I’d intended, slicing the air between us.

  “I wasn’t offering to support you for the rest of your life.” He stared at the floor. “This isn’t exactly what I’d planned after being away for two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m just, I’m still getting used to us being...us.”

  He took a sip of hot tea and placed the mug on the counter. “Us?”

  “This. You, me, together.” I flapped my hands in the air. “I’m just not used to having someone in my life.”

  He crossed his arms, a confused look on his face. “Don’t you want me here?”

  “Yes, God yes,” I said. “I just don’t... I just don’t play well with others.” I sighed. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yes and no.” A mischievous look came into his eyes. “But now that you’ve mentioned playing, why don’t we discuss this in a more appropriate location?”

  Without warning he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up over his shoulder, his hands tight on the backs of my legs. “Let’s see if I can apologize better in bed.”

  “I have work to do,” I weakly protested. “I’ve got a flight to pack for. It leaves in three hours.”

  “Then I’ll be fast.” The muffled reply against my thigh was accentuated by a slap. “Now let me grovel like a good little boy on my hands and knees.”

  Chapter Two

  An hour later Jazz padded her way across the bed, making sure to step on every soft spot and joint on both of us before settling up by my head in a purring ball of fur.

  “Ugh.” Bran rolled over to face the ceiling. “That’s getting old.”

  I patted the elderly cat and sat up. “She’s an old gal. She gets to do what she wants.”

  “Okay, but the first time she stomps on my ‘special bits,’ I reserve the right to scream like a girl and ban her from the bed.”

  I rolled my eyes as I swung my feet off the bed, leaving the sheet behind. “She’s not likely to hit such a small target.”

  Bran mimicked an arrow thudding into his chest.

  “Dr
ama queen.” I jerked a thumb toward the bathroom. “Sit here and pout or help me pack.” I waited a minute for dramatic effect. “After I shower.”

  He sprung to his feet, tossing the sheets everywhere. Jazz let out an annoyed trill when the mattress rocked under her.

  I couldn’t help admiring his sleek form as he grinned at me, his hands on his hips without an ounce of awkwardness at his nudity. His red hair stood up in peaks, giving him a punk look.

  “I assume I’m forgiven.”

  “For now.” I headed for the shower. “I still have to figure out what I’m going down to Pennsylvania for.”

  “For?”

  “Nothing is ever what it seems where the Felis are involved. Wheels within wheels.”

  “You think the cops are bad?” Brandon strode into the shower stall and reached for the hot water tap. He twisted it hard, sending steamy tentacles all around the small bathroom.

  “Maybe not bad, but definitely plagued by divided loyalties. If he’s the chief for the town and a Board member, that’s got to be a handful and a half when it comes to keeping peace on both sides of the line.” I sighed, exhausted at the mere thought of traveling. “I’ll need you to take care of Jazz.” I stepped under the hot spray and reached for the bar of soap. “I don’t mind leaving barrels of food out for her but I’d like someone to check in with her and make sure she hasn’t run out of water or knocked something over and caused a mess.”

  The hand brushing against the small of my back stilled. “Do you want me to come along?”

  I turned, suddenly feeling very much crowded in the stall. “I thought you had a story to write?”

  Bran shrugged and plucked the soap from my hand. He rubbed the sliver between his palms, generating a handful of foam. “I can write anywhere. There’s this thing called a laptop and wireless internet.”

  I chewed on my lip, studying the water dribbling down the drain between our feet.

  “But you don’t want me down there with you, right?”

  I turned back around and lifted my face to the strong streaming water. “It’s nothing personal. I mean, I missed you too. I don’t want to go away right after you get back.”

  His soapy hands moved over my back, the strong fingers tracing my scars. “But it’s Felis business and you don’t want to show up in strange territory with a strange human.”

  I flinched, but not from his touch. “You’re catching on to this political stuff a lot faster than I thought you would.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Bran spun me around, hands gripping my waist. “But I’ll respect it. How about a compromise? I’ll stay home for a day or two finishing up the story and taking care of Jazz, and then I’ll come down.” His dark brown eyes locked with mine. “I’ll relocate her to my condo. She’ll be safe at my place.”

  A few months ago I’d had a home invasion connected to the case that brought us together. Jazz hadn’t been hurt but I still hated leaving her alone even for overnights at Bran’s.

  I let out a contented sigh. “Don’t you have another assignment yet?”

  “Not until I turn this one in. And I can afford to take a break. Maybe there’s a freelance story waiting in Pinata.”

  “Penscotta.”

  “Whatever.” His head dipped down, teeth nipping at my neck. “Okay?”

  “Ah.” I realized I’d lost the argument before we’d even stepped into the shower. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now let me show you how to survive a TSA security scan.”

  * * *

  Five hours later I stood in a Pittsburgh airport and wondered exactly what god I’d tweaked to inflict so much excitement into my otherwise boring life in such a short time.

  People surged by me as I stood there with my duffle bag at my feet. One man raced by, sweating exclamation marks of fear. Two women sauntered down the hall, their perfumes battling for dominance. A mother with a baby in a stroller stalled by the washroom, the baby in dire need of a diaper change and whining in a high-pitched tone.

  I spotted Carson before he spotted me, his uniform sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of all the travelers.

  His nose twitched as he approached. I knew what he saw. A blonde woman just barely over five feet high with indistinct, generic features—not homely but not drop-dead gorgeous either. Cold steel for eyes and copping a definite attitude. I crossed my arms and waited for him to approach me.

  The long leather coat, a recent present from Bran, helped my image. First impressions were important but doubly so for Felis. The animal was never far from the surface.

  The stout man walked up to me. “Miss Desjardin?”

  I nodded.

  Carson stretched out his hand. “Dax Carson. Pleased to meet you.” His eyes were a shade of darker blue, verging on navy. The uniform jacket was tight over his belly but well worn on the elbows.

  He squeezed my fingers in a classic show of Felis strength.

  I held my own, gritting my teeth as I worked through the pain.

  He released my hand. “Jess said nothing but good things ’bout you. Hope you can help us.”

  I hoped the first was the truth. I wasn’t sure about the second.

  “My car’s over here.” He picked up my duffle and hoisted it onto his shoulder, the fluorescent lights bouncing off his bald pate. “You travel light.”

  “You’ve got stores down here, don’t you?” I grinned. “I don’t mind contributing to your local economy.”

  Carson laughed a deep, rolling belly laugh. “And we appreciate your money. It’ll be about an hour’s drive down to the hotel, so I can brief you on the way.”

  We hit the highway, and the trappings of civilization fell away within a few minutes. Nothing but a cement road and trees, trees, trees.

  It was glorious. I took deep breaths, inhaling a thousand scents and smells, the local flora and fauna smashing into my senses.

  I’d forgotten how much fun the wilderness was. A good run through the forest at dawn, maybe stop and grab a rabbit for brekka.

  My back ached, forcing me to squirm in the uncomfortable generic cop car passenger seat and reminding me why I didn’t do morning hunts anymore.

  “I’ve got you a room at the Super 6 Hotel. It’s comfortable and got good room service, not too far out of town. Hope you don’t mind small rooms.” He scratched his chin as he swerved from lane to lane. The siren and lights weren’t on but traffic parted around us out of fear. “The body’s still in the morgue. Family’s in Ohio and still making funeral plans, so we have a bit of a window before we have to ship it out.”

  “Jess wasn’t too forthcoming with all the details. Let’s take it from the top.” I winced as a pickup truck jumped from lane to lane in front of us, an NRA bumper sticker about to fly off the tailgate and slap us in the face.

  Without taking his eyes off the road Carson reached down and pulled out a file folder from a thick stash rammed beside his seat. He handed it to me.

  I flipped it open to see a color photograph of a dead man. The deep gouges across his neck went almost to the spine, giving him a second mouth.

  What was left of his bare chest gaped open, giving me an almost clinical view of his internal organs. The claws had ripped across his ribcage, the scratched bones clear evidence of the vicious attack. The photographs continued a gory expedition through the insides of a human body.

  “Dead man’s name is Michael Hansa. Died of blood loss, shock, fill in the blank for your horrific death of choice. We’re reporting it as a bear attack.”

  “Wait. Bear?” The word stuck in my throat. I lifted a hand and flexed my fingers. “As in, a bear?”

  “Yep.” The patrol car slid between a pair of tractor trailers with ease. “Fortunately for us we’ve had bears in the area before, even had one or two relocated when they got into peoples’ garbage and caused a fuss.” He shrugged. “Claw marks are claw marks are claw marks.”

  “Yes, yes they are.” I shook off bad memories. “Why couldn’t you scent the bod
y? You should have been able to identify the Felis who did this within a few seconds.”

  Carson chuckled. “Michael Hansa worked at a nightclub as a stripper.”

  “Oh.” I felt my cheeks go hot.

  “Club’s pretty popular with the Pride’s women.”

  I saw where this was leading. “So he’s got all sorts of Felis trace over him.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Carson chortled as we pulled off the highway onto a side road. “At least a dozen. I’ve made up a list.” He poked a finger toward the official file. “It’s at the back, clipped to the folder.”

  Which made it easy to remove, the unspoken words went, when it moved into the official filing cabinet.

  I couldn’t blame the chief—it’d be hard to explain to any non-Felis law enforcement how a list of women ended up on the suspect roll call because of their scent on a dead man.

  The car slowed down enough to let me crack the window without my hair flying all over the place. The vibrant spring colors and smells offset the migraine starting behind my left eye.

  A murdered stripper who was popular with the ladies. Ladies being Felis women who wouldn’t be happy about being questioned about visits to the club. Felis women being the nastiest, back-biting-est species on the planet when it came to claiming and keeping their territory and their secrets.

  There was a reason why it was called cat fighting.

  “Oh, and I have to add that my wife’s among the female suspects.”

  I considered throwing the door open and jumping.

  It’d be a fast death if I was lucky.

  “Your wife?”

  Carson shrugged. “She likes to go out with the girls to the club. We’ve got an arrangement—she gets to go to her club and I get to go to mine.” His teeth were blindingly white and perfect as he smiled. “It works for us.”

  We pulled onto an even smaller road and cruised by a sign proudly proclaiming Penscotta, The Town with Heart.

  “Where would you like to go first?” Carson slowed down and nodded to a pair of boys on bikes. “Morgue, crime scene, Hansa’s apartment?”

  I looked at the sky. Still enough blue to call it daytime. “Let’s hit the crime scene first.”