More than a Panther (Shifty Book 2)

by Sara Summers

  “Steven, you’re losing control. If you can’t control yourself, your panther will take over, and you know what that means. You’ll never see your mate or your baby again.” I warned.

  Steven breathed hard, his shoulders shaking violently. He was trying to calm his breathing, trying to regain the control he’d lost. I knew immediately that even if he did manage to calm himself down, I would do whatever I possibly could to protect that baby from him.

  I was his sister, and he tried to kill me. I didn’t even want to imagine what he would do to a two-year-old girl who just wanted to run around and play. I would raise the baby like she was mine, and I would keep her safe from her insane father.

  She wouldn’t be forced into the life I had.

  “You will pay.” His voice was deadly, but his chest was still heaving.

  I turned to look out the window at the dark forest around us. Though it was dark at the time I knew the sun would be coming up in an hour or two. Despite the emotional hurricane that Steven was, the world outside was at peace.

  The trees swayed in the wind, sighing as we passed. They called me to come run, to switch forms and run like the animal I was. They persuaded me to go after that little girl, to find her and love her the way Steven was incapable of doing.

  I shook my head at the trees. I would rescue his daughter; that wasn’t a question. But there was more to Steven than I had thought, and ultimately, I was the only one who could make sure he didn’t kill anyone else.

  Whatever he had planned, I knew I had to stick it out. Not just for my friends and Jordie, but for the niece I hadn’t yet met. Whatever happened, she needed me.

  Chapter 15

  After breakfast, Steven drove for a few minutes and then parked in front of a police station.

  I slid out of the car and he came around to grab my arm. There was a manila folder in his hand, which seemed ominous.

  “Come on.” He growled, yanking me through the front door.

  There were two people at the front desk and a few others sitting in chairs around the room. When we walked in, they all stopped what they were doing to stare at us.

  I didn’t have to wonder why. Steven was covered in tattoos, and the ones on his right arm shimmered (though just a little) the way only coties could. My arm was covered in silvery-black markings as well, and it wasn’t a color any human could duplicate in a tattoo.

  Panther shifters weren’t nearly as common as some of the other types of shifters, so most of them probably didn’t know what we were or why we there.

  Also, shifters don’t bring the cops into their business.

  Like, ever.

  So I’m sure seeing us was a little nerve-wracking for all of them. Packs take care of their own issues, at least, with most other shifters. They have an Alpha to keep things going smoothly, and they wouldn’t ask the police to help in their pack just like the cops wouldn’t ask the Alpha for help in their crime fighting.

  But since Panthers don’t live in packs, there’s no one to keep the balance.

  Anyway, that’s beside the point. Everyone was staring at us, wondering what the heck two shifters were doing in a police station.

  “I’m here to make a trade.” Steven glared at the front desk people. “This girl has killed twenty people, and I’ll trade her for another woman.

  “The government doesn’t work that way.” The woman at the front desk frowned. I saw her reach her hand forward, and I figured she was pushing some sort of a panic button.

  “I don’t care. I’ll kill all of you if you don’t do it.” Steven snarled.

  “Sir, please calm down.” One of the woman raised her hands. “We don’t mean to hurt you, but we do have to follow the laws.”

  “Look up the woman I want.” He pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and pointed it right at the desk lady. “Her name is _____”

  Okay, I know you’re wondering what her name is. But this woman committed several seriously heinous crimes and murders. I refuse to honor her name by saying it or writing it or remembering it, because she was the worst person I knew.

  And, if I write her name, her daughter (my niece) would have to suffer by being known as related to her. People would hate and judge her even though she’s a little girl, so I’m solving the problem by basically erasing her name from history.

  “Umm…” the desk lady hesitated.

  “TELL ME!” Steven roared, pointing his gun at her.

  “She died a few months ago. She tried to escape a heavily-guarded prison, and they had to shoot her to stop her.” The woman explained.

  “NO!” Steven screamed.

  Everything happened in what felt like slow motion.

  His panther took control of his body, killing the human side of him. He was rabid, and there was no going back from that.

  I saw his finger shake as he was about to fire the gun, and I smacked it out of his arms before shifting right there. It was dangerous to shift in close-quarters to anyone or anything, but that didn’t even cross my mind. If I was going to stop my brother I couldn’t do it as a human.

  So I shifted.

  I snarled at him in my panther form. Since his panther had control, I knew he would only hear my words if I spoke into his mind.

  “It’s not worth dying, Steven. Let everyone go. Run into the forest and hide away. Live as a panther, you don’t want to die.”

  “Yes I do.” Steven snarled at me, lunging for the gun.

  As his fingers wrapped around the weapon, a big group of cops burst through the door. They aimed their guns at him, and he pulled his own off the ground and pointed it at the guy in the middle.

  Before he could shoot, there were six bullets in his back.

  He didn’t get up.

  Then they trained their guns on me, and I cursed.

  “Shift immediately or we’ll shoot.”

  I would’ve growled if I didn’t think they’d shoot me for it.

  I shook my head but shifted back into human form, knowing that the humans would flip when they saw my naked white butt (and other parts) standing in the middle of their lobby.

  As expected, they flipped.

  “Somebody grab a towel!” One of the cops shouted. They all turned so they couldn’t see anything, and the woman at the desk handed me a blanket.

  “Sorry.” She mouthed the word, and I wrapped it around me. “All clear.” She announced, and everyone turned back around to look at me.

  “Why did your partner go crazy?” the cops demanded.

  “He’s not my partner, he kidnapped me. And he didn’t go crazy, he went rabid. The animal part of him overtook the human part.”

  “How do you know him?”

  I hesitated. While I didn’t want to be the betrayer he’d accused me of being, I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail. When I thought about it though, I realized I could end up in jail whether I told them who I was or not.

  “He was my brother. I left the family business, and he’s been trying to kill me for the last two years.” I tightened the blanket around my chest.

  “What business?” a cop asked.

  “Does it have to do with the woman he wanted to find?” the desk lady wondered.

  “She was his mate.” I nodded, then sighed. “My family is part of the mafia.”

  The cops retrained their guns at my heart.

  “What’s in the folder?” one of the men asked the woman at the front desk.

  “It looks like evidence for a bunch of murders.” She admitted. “He said he wanted to trade this murderer for another woman, the one who was his mate, but she died. When he heard that, he went cr… rabid.” The woman frowned.

  “I’m not a murderer.” I urged them to listen. The cops rushed over to me when they heard the word ‘evidence’ used with the word ‘murders’, and two of them grabbed my arms. “My name is Savanna Ebbitt. Please, just look up my blog. It’s called Travel Savvy.” I had to yell the last bit as they dragged me toward a holding/questioning r
oom.

  They pushed me inside, not bothering to hear anything I had to say. For the first time in my life, I prayed that shifters had the same rights as humans did.

  I breathed out a lungful of air, sitting down on the hard metal chair and adjusting the blanket to cover more of me. It would’ve been nice to have even just a t-shirt or something; holding a blanket in place sucked.

  As I sat there, I finally relaxed. Not only had I just witnessed the death of my brother who had been out to kill, but I was sitting mostly-naked in a police questioning-room.

  Steven put together a folder full a bunch of fake evidence, so I had been accused of murdering a whole list of people. I knew Steven’s evidence would check out (considering he most likely killed them all himself), so they wouldn’t just brush off the accusations against me.

  Besides all that, there was a little girl somewhere in the world who was all alone. She was probably with a bunch of humans. Humans who didn’t understand who she was or why she was different than the other little kids.

  They would touch her cotie, making her uncomfortable, and try to convince her to suppress the animal side of her. They’d want her to be normal.

  I needed to rescue her.

  But I had no idea how to raise a child, let alone be the type of mother a little girl deserved. I was in over my head, but as far as I could tell, I wouldn’t be getting out any time in the near future.

  Chapter 16

  It was exactly fifty-six minutes before anyone came in to talk to me. I would know, because I had nothing to do but stare at the clock on the wall until they did.

  When the door finally opened, a man and woman dressed in official-looking clothes sat down at the table in front of me.

  “Hello, Miss Ebbitt. We’re special agents.”

  “Technically I’m a Mrs. now, since I found my mate and the markings on my arm changed…”

  Apparently I’d lost my mafia-edge. I was being myself in the face of danger? That was not good considering the situation.

  “And what’s your new last name?” The man didn’t seem to believe me.

  “I actually don’t know. But you will, when he shows up. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him yet.” I frowned, worried for a second that maybe Jordie wasn’t coming after me.

  I brushed the worry away; he had always followed me before. There was no reason he would do something different this time.

  “Anyway, Mrs. Ebbitt.” The woman corrected herself. “Look, we don’t know what to do about your case.” The woman leaned forward. “We have an envelope full of evidence that clearly says you committed twenty murders over the last nine months. However, we also have your website which is full of proof that you had no way to commit those murders. We don’t know what to think.” She folded her arms.

  “Can I just tell you the truth?” I adjusted the blanket.

  “Of course.” The agents nodded.

  “I didn’t kill anyone. My brother, the guy that you just shot, he’s the murderer. I have proof of that, and if you let me get on my computer, I’ll send it to you. I grew up in the mafia, but I left almost two years ago. Why would I kill anyone? I’ve been traveling, and I just barely got away from that life.”

  “Believe me, it has occurred to us that the evidence has been faked. But we need proof that you could not have committed the crimes, something more concrete than a travel blog.”

  “Pictures have timestamps. Will that work? I have a load of pictures.”

  “No.” the man shook his head. “Timestamps can be altered.”

  “I have plane tickets and receipts from all over the world. Will those work?”

  “Receipts, no, but if your tickets match the records, we may be getting somewhere.” He agreed.

  “Oh, eff.” I bit my lip. “What if my tickets are all under different names? I may have a few fake passports and IDs…”

  “This is not looking good for you.” The woman warned.

  “Just get me my computer. I swear, all the evidence and proof you need to solve at least 40 cases is on my computer. Get it to me, and I’ll trade you the information for my freedom.”

  The agents studied me for a second, and I stood my ground.

  “Fine. When your mate shows up, we’ll have him get your computer.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded.

  They left the room without saying another word.

  Two hours later, someone came in, handed me a folded piece of paper and a pen, and left without saying a word.

  The mafia part of me would’ve chastised myself for it, but I opened the paper without a second thought as to what might be inside.

  Luckily, it wasn’t a bomb.

  It was a love letter, or at least, close enough to one for me to think of it that way.

  Savanna,

  I’m supposed to be writing this letter to ask where your laptop is, but I already know that it’s in your backpack. So when you reply, start by writing that it’s in your backpack.

  I have no way to explain to you the stress I felt as I tried to follow you once again. Not knowing if Steven was going to kill you or hurt you or… Well, I was terrified. I’m glad you ended up in an almost-prison cell rather than dead at the bottom of a cliff. And honestly, I’m glad Steven won’t be able to threaten you anymore.

  We’ll get you out of there as fast as we can. Leah’s a flaming ball of fury right now, and no one wants to mess with her.

  Everyone in the station believes you’re innocent, and they’re all trying to prove it.

  I love you, and I’m sorry you have to go through this. Can’t wait until I get to see you again.

  Love,

  Jordie

  My heart warmed after reading the letter. I wanted to apologize, to make sure he knew that I hadn’t wanted to hurt him when I ran off. To tell him that this time, I was the one who had to protect him. Instead, I flipped the paper over and wrote this:

  Jordie,

  Steven and his wife had a baby about 1 year & 9 months ago. She’s in an orphanage or foster home right now, please find her. We can’t leave her to be raised by humans who don’t understand her.

  My laptop is in my backpack, should be in Leah’s house unless you brought it with you.

  I love you too.

  -Sav

  The guy came in to take the paper and pen a few minutes later. After he left, I dropped my head to the table and waited for the next person to come in.

  Fifteen hours later, the door finally opened.

  My right cheek was flat from resting against the metal table for so long, and my eyes were heavy.

  “We can’t find the file you’re talking about.” The man folded his arms, standing just in the doorway.

  “I grew up in the mafia.” I reminded the male agent. “I’m pretty good at hiding things.”

  He set the laptop down in front of me, and it was already open and on.

  I went to documents and pulled up the one labeled,

  “More than a Panther”

  Pushing a few buttons and changing a few settings, I got the original document to pop up on the screen.

  “There. If you’re going to leave me in here much longer, I’m going to need a bed.” I told him.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” The man seemed reluctant, but he agreed.

  I didn’t see anyone for another six hours.

  That’s when they carried in an uncomfortable-looking cot.

  Chapter 17

  The next day, I only saw one person.

  One.

  The whole day.

  To say I was frustrated would have been an understatement. The one person I saw all day was some random guy who brought me microwave meals three different times.

  Over the next seven days, the microwave guy (as I’d started calling him in my head) was the only person I got to see.

  I didn’t see Jordie, or Leah and Ty, or even any cops. To say I was going stir-crazy would be an understatement.

  On day three, I finally convinced microwave guy
to bring me a few books. On day five, I convinced him to bring me a notebook to doodle on.

  When day eight came around, I was determined to get my laptop from him.

  “Look, dude. I’ve been here over a week, and I’m going to lose my mind. You say I can’t shift, so I don’t shift. You say I can’t go outside, so I stay in here. I’ve done everything you want me to, and if I’m a prisoner, send me to jail. If not, bring me my computer so I can work and write and at least entertain myself somehow.” I protested.

  “I don’t make the rules.” The guy complained. “I already convinced them to get you these things.” He gestured to the books and notebook.

  “Well tell them that if I don’t get my laptop I’m going to shift, and I’m not going back to my human form until they bring it to me.”

  “Geez, you’re demanding.” He complained.

  “I gave them a 200 page document full of evidence that incriminates my family. I’m allowed to be demanding.” I glared at the man. I’d had it with the cops and being imprisoned in one of their questioning rooms. “Is this even legal? Keeping me in here for so long?”

  “I’ll make sure you get your computer.” The man hurried out of the room.

  I sighed and lowered my head to the pillow on my uncomfortable cot.

  An hour and a half later, he brought me my computer. I wanted to kiss it, I was so excited to see it again.

  “Here’s the Wi-Fi password.” The guy handed me a piece of paper, and I opened my laptop.

  My inbox was full of emails from readers with questions about shifters, my traveling, and why I hadn’t written in so long.

  I spent the next four hours answering emails, which got me about a quarter of the way through all of them. Then I wrote a blog post titled:

  How to Survive Jail

  And started a draft of the next one, which would be called:

  Lessons from an Inmate

  I was pulling up Pinterest when another email came through. Rather than saving it for later, I sighed and went to my inbox. There, I found a message from the one person I’d been missing the most.