To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  No, it would be a strategic error to be the first one to break the tense silence that had descended with a thud in the car. He would just go on as planned. As long as the Incubus remained missing, then he had plenty of time to win Darcy Montgomery’s heart. He’d gotten cocky after only half a day, forgetting how prickly yet perfect she was.

  This was a marathon, not a race.

  And to win it he had to play things smart, and being the first to break the pointed, awkward silence would not be smart. If Darcy wanted to be crabby about a simple ten minute delay to her schedule, then let her stew.

  Darcy’s fingers tightened on the wheel. Just look at Lover-boy sitting there all relaxed and happy, probably thinking about what he planned to do to botany babe on the date they had no doubt arranged. After all, he hadn’t left the woman sobbing, but smiling.

  Huh, ditching him the moment she got back to her office probably would be easy. He’d be ultra eager to get ready for his rendezvous with Professor Double-d’s.

  No good, shameless, aggravating… man. He’d find a bodacious babe to date in a blizzard. Yep, time to ditch and run. And then it would just be a question of being oh-so tragically busy that another senior adjudicator would be forced to take Declan on. It would be so easy, it was barely worth bothering to define it as a plan. It was a fait accompli. Done.

  Taking the turn into the Haven Bay Town Square fast, tires screeching, she pulled the car to a halt in front of her building and exited fast. Time to ditch the Man-Candy.

  Declan emerged from the car, the mysterious breeze sweeping back those over long locks and making the edges of his torn t-shirt flutter and flap. Now you see firm enticing abs, now you don’t. Every female in the Town Square sighed at the same time. Darcy almost felt her ears pop at the change in air pressure.

  Crap, she had to get Declan out of sight before he incited a riot.

  Too late. She watched, unimpressed, as Great-Aunt Letty, Great-Great-Aunt Tilda and Cousin Marion descended on Declan like a King-tide, literally swamping him. Kisses were planted. Hair pushed back. His brow checked for fever. His torso and limbs probed for damage. And exclamations of horror were expressed over his torn t-shirt.

  Three sets of accusing eyes swivelled to pin Darcy in place.

  “Don’t look at me. If he wants to play Enforcer then there will be the occasional boo-boo, he’ll survive, it’s only a t-shirt.”

  Darcy watched as Declan’s three handmaidens clucked and tsked, three sets of hands determined to divest him of his torn t-shirt. He stood rather placidly under their ministrations, until finally the t-shirt was off over his head. The three women immediately playing tug of war with it, fighting for the so-called privilege of being the one to mend it.

  Sweet Merciful Lady, give her strength not to pull her knife. Darcy ground her teeth as the sunshine seemed to brighten instantly and hard planes of defined muscle became a touchable breath-taking living sculpture. This was not good, Declan bare chested in public. She noted that the next wave of women were imminently about to descend upon their position. Caught in the Declan riptide of irresistible gorgeousness.

  No time to hesitate. Darcy reached over and grabbed Declan’s hand, even as Letty held up the t-shirt in triumph, crowing loudly, providing a convenient distraction.

  “Come on.” She pulled hard, wrenching Declan away from his admirers. Taking the stairs two at a time, relieved to hear that Declan was close on her heels. Once they were through the door she flipped the lock and glanced back.

  The garment was in at least three pieces now, every woman in the Square intent upon ‘helping’ Declan, and instead, shredding the t-shirt to pieces in the ensuing melee. “I hope that wasn’t a particular favourite?”

  “No. Hardly.”

  Darcy heard only resignation in his tone, not smugness or even amusement. Hmmm, it had been a while since she’d noticed the small foyer of her building - don’t look at the shirtless wonder - the cream marble floor was polished to a high sheen. Of course there were a few blemishes in the marble, unlike the wonder of all Declan’s perfect alabaster skin on display. Not looking. Hmmm, had there always been an elaborate baroque chandelier up there, who knew.

  Ummm, keep not looking, keep busy. Oh, the mail. She strode across to the far wall and pulled open the gold door of the Special Liaison letterbox.

  What in the name of the Lady was she going to do with the shirtless wonder? She couldn’t send him outside, he’d incite a riot. “You’d better use the Transportal.”

  “Why?”

  “To leave.” Darcy chanced a quick glance at him, big mistake, chill heart-rate, it was just a bare male chest, nothing special to see here.

  “Why would I be leaving?”

  “Well, you need a new t-shirt for starters and don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Like getting ready for that date he’d no doubt arranged with botany babe.

  “It’s just gone two o’clock, Darcy. Thankfully, Marion has supplied us with lunch.” He held up a brown paper bag. “And the t-shirt problem is easy to solve.” He strode over to the Enforcer mailbox, the one a few feet from hers. To the left of it were two doors, Declan pulled open the first. “Weapons.” He moved to the second. “Ah, clothes, cool.” He pulled on a dark grey t-shirt over his head. “Elijah keeps emergency weapons and stores all over the Sanctuary, including, luckily for me, spare clothes.”

  Darcy nodded abruptly and headed for her office, down the corridor, the flooring changing from marble to soft golden hardwood. Damn, damn. She’d kind of thought Declan would have leapt at any excuse to depart.

  Yet here he was now, back in her office. Lounging in an unexplainably free of books, files and pamphlets chair.

  “Share?” Declan leaned over to pass Darcy half his sandwich as she seated herself on top of the desk, swinging her boots idly back and forth.

  “Thanks.” She too often missed meals because of her job and her legendary single minded focus. Munching on the chicken, lettuce and avocado salad sandwich she contemplated her current burden. “You know you don’t have to hang around here for the rest of the day. I’m only going to be doing some computer searches.”

  “I don’t mind.” Declan looked like he was settling in for the long-haul. “Besides, Enforcement isn’t all hack and slash, it’s office work too. You should see the action reports we have to fill out, and don’t even get me started on equipment replacement forms. You try attempting to explain to Elijah how Hadleigh destroyed a surface-to-air missile launcher by using it as a club, and see him go nuclear.”

  Darcy idly leaned over, calling up her computer screen. Her back straightening instantly. The red blinking first line catching her attention, she was being called in for a High Council meeting. Had they found about the… or maybe they’d discovered she’d… or perhaps it was the other thing? No, no way, she was too careful.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been called to a High Council meeting.” Darcy finished the last bite of her half of the sandwich and slid off the desk.

  “I’ll come too.”

  Darcy shook her head so fast and hard the ends of her bobbed, black, glossy hair all but smacked her in the eyes. “No. Better you don’t.” She noted the stubborn glint in Declan’s eyes. “You mentioned office work, while I’m gone why don’t you start cleaning up around here. Call it a day when you get tired.”

  Darcy hid a smile, the man wouldn’t last five minutes alone in her office. She wouldn’t even have to ditch Declan tomorrow. No doubt he’d be so shaken he wouldn’t be able to face returning here.

  Declan watched Darcy sashay along the narrow pathway, through the stacks of books and assorted reading material to the door and leave the room. Funny, without her, the office suddenly became a dim, foreboding place. Dark, eerie, unexplainable shadows writhed on the ceiling. Here and there a tall dangerously stacked pile of books and paraphernalia wobbled slightly, as if something passed too close, brushing against it.

  He felt Darcy’s absence piercingly. That
was a given anytime she walked away from him. But he was kind of thrilled too, to find himself alone in her domain. Given unfettered access to her world.

  He jumped slightly as two books abruptly toppled out of one of the floor to ceiling bookcases, luckily landing neatly on top of one of the precariously piled high stacks located on the ground next to it. Shit, it was official, he wasn’t alone in here. He would expect no less, this was Darcy’s office after all.

  Hmmm, tidy her office, it would be a Herculean task. And he’d seen that small smirk flash across Darcy’s gorgeous face as she’d casually thrown down the challenge. She was forgetting one important thing, he had managed to survive six years with Hadleigh as his Mentor.

  Cleaning up after the half Valhalla Warrior, who had a fondness for be-heading, involved a lot of extraneous fluids and stray body part collecting. A little thing like organising Darcy’s office should be a walk in the park.

  Another book stack wobbled off to his left, and he distinctly heard the sound of leathery skin scraping against book spines that time. Okay, maybe not a walk in the park, unless that park was full of shadowy lurking predators with no doubt sharp teeth and sharper claws. In other words, just another typical Monday in the Enforcement world. Time to get to work.

  * * *

  Darcy didn’t bother to stop at the reception desk when she entered the High Council offices. Shelby, who manned the desk, tended towards panic attacks when questioned by Darcy. It just seemed more expedient to give a vague wave and go in search of whoever had called the meeting. Striding down the corridor, her boots sank into the plush carpet. Darcy glanced in each office as she passed by. Empty. One and all. News of her visit sure did travel fast.

  At the first t-junction she looked first left and then right. The offices in the back section belonged to the High Council members. Hmmm, going with her gut she turned left and walked to the far end of the corridor. Knocking on the last door, before entering.

  This office was set up more as a lab, than a corporate space. Refrigerators off to one side, humming away softly, while three long benches in the middle of the room were stacked with various scientific equipment. No desk, no office chairs, only rolling stools. The smell of burning bone, antiseptic and something metallic saturated the air. Ick, she hated the smell of the lab.

  Darcy looked longing out the glass sliding doors that took up the entire rear wall of the room. On the other side of the glass was a porch with comfy chairs and past the porch was a cluster of tall eucalyptus trees, interspersed with bright tall bushy red flowering salvias.

  She’d knocked before entering but the occupant was so focused on her work that Darcy’s presence hadn’t yet registered. “Mum… Sarah.”

  A finger shot up, demanding silence. Darcy waited impatiently, seconds, then minutes passed by, her mother’s gaze trained on the microscope and what ever was happening, or not happening in the petri dish she was studying.

  “Stop fidgeting.”

  Her mother’s gaze was still locked on the microscope, and Darcy was pretty sure she hadn’t moved a muscle. But she knew the drill. “Sorry.”

  A few more minutes.

  “And don’t keep sighing like that, it’s distracting.”

  Darcy knew for a fact that was a lie, how could she be sighing when she was busy grinding her teeth? “Sorry.”

  Another minute passed, just to really bring home the pain and then Sarah Montgomery lifted her gaze, her deep blue eyes locking on to her youngest child. Standing, Sarah yanked off latex gloves, dropping them into a nearby receptacle and then pulled off the paper hair net, revealing her honey-brown shoulder length hair was twisted up in neat bun today.

  Rounding the bench, Sarah issued a small tsking sound, reaching up to tuck a lock of Darcy’s hair behind her ear. One… two, and…

  “You had such pretty hair. Just like my mother.”

  Darcy bit down on her lip, hard. This complaint was over a decade old. And trying to protest, explain, or even point out that her Grandma Camilla coloured her hair so that it was now a striking rich dark brown, and had done so for more than thirty years – more years than Darcy had been alive - would be nothing but white noise to Sarah. She was determined to remember Darcy’s original mouse brown locks as the stuff of fairy-tales.

  “And just look at these boots. Red. With those stockings. Do you really consider this outfit suitable to wear to work?”

  Darcy batted her mother’s hand away as Sarah futilely attempted to tug down her mini-skirt. “Yes. It’s fine. Now, speaking of work, I presume you were the one who sent me a meeting request?”

  “I would have just called. But you never pick up your phone.”

  Fighting or protesting just prolonged the agony. “A-huh. Well, I’m here now. What did you need to speak to me about?”

  Sarah shed her white lab coat, draping it over a nearby convenient hook. Honestly, from a distance, if you squinted, her mother and her sister, Nell, could be twins. Tall, willowy, never out of place honey brown hair, deep blue eyes, flawless complexion and that way of wearing clothes that was both elegant yet effortless. Sarah hammering that fact home today in a dark green sheath dress, paired with stylish black sling-back Gucci high heels.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Sarah headed over to a complicated looking coffee machine that probably required three degrees just to understand how to switch it on. “I have decaffeinated.”

  Coffee? Damn, this was going to be a long talk, whatever it was about. “No, I’m good.” Resigned, Darcy walked over to the nearest stool and plonked her butt down. She was here now, might as well get this over and done with.

  Sarah swore long and loudly that Darcy’s Spider Mage skill-set didn’t come from her side of the family, but seriously, no one was more tenacious, more focused and ruthless than her mother when she wanted to get her way.

  It seemed to take forever for Sarah to pour herself a cup of coffee and take a seat across the bench from Darcy. “First thing, it’s Boyd’s birthday Wednesday, you will be coming to dinner.” It wasn’t a request. Boyd, or the spare, as she called her second eldest brother, was turning twenty-nine. “And you will bring a gift.” Done, she had just the thing. “A suitable gift.” Damn, now she’d have to find time to go shopping, she hated shopping. “And I expect you to be especially nice to Nell.”

  Nell? She had a healthy respect for her older sister and her nerve zapping skills that could shock or paralyse a person. She’d been all kinds of jealous when Nell’s powers had begun to manifest just after her sister had turned fourteen. Pity that Nell ruined all that potential by only using her powers for healing and other beneficial to the community good works. Doctor Do-gooder. Bah.

  “What’s up with Nell?” Was something wrong? “Is it the baby?” Her sister was four months pregnant. Last time they’d caught up, only a few days ago, Nell had been nothing but happy, bordering on the down right radiant.

  “It’s Drum-”

  “Double-wide?” Darcy frowned, Nell’s Maat Warrior meld mate was seven feet tall, with muscles, upon muscles and then just for good measure, load on a few more muscles.

  “Drum is being… delicate.”

  Darcy issued a snort of derision. “Delicate?”

  “Squeamish over the least little thing. He all but passed out at their first ultrasound yesterday. And you can wipe that smile off your face. If anything happens to my future grandchild, then I will be taking strips off your hide, Missy.”

  “Me? How do I enter the equation?”

  “Because I know you. You find a fault or a perceived weakness and you attack it relentlessly.”

  Darcy fought not to roll her eyes, just where did her mother think she’d learnt that skill from? Not her optimistic - never met a frown he didn’t attempt to turn upside down - father.

  Sarah blithely kept talking. “An attack on Drum is an attack on Nell. I do not want her worried, stressed or even vaguely perturbed at the moment. Everywhere I go currently, the shops, the library, the movies, either Lu
cy or Meagan is there flashing around the latest pictures of their grandsons. I’m tired of having a phone shoved in my face and being told to scroll to the left. Not that they aren’t attractive babies but well, you’ve seen them… you have seen them, haven’t you?”

  Crap, and the claws of doom had just slammed shut. “Not… as yet. Work has been just so very busy.”

  “Darcy Allegra Inga Montgomery, those babies are two months old, they are the children of two of your closest friends, who are also your cousins. Not to mention they are the Southern Sanctuary’s newest residents. You took an oath the day you became the Special Liaison, to protect all those who reside within the Sanctuary boundaries and are connected to the magical power grid. It is your responsibility, your duty, to visit those babies and officially bring them under the umbrella of your protection.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll visit the babies.”

  “When?”

  “Soon… really soon.”

  “Good, because if I bump into Meagan one more time and she drops a not so subtle hint that you haven’t been by to visit baby Theo… with a gift, then I will consider it a problem. And you know what that will involve, me turning up at your house, and the two of us sitting down, spending some quality time together… alone, talking at length, until we can resolve the situation. And neither one of us wants that, do we?”

  “No.” Goddess, no.

  “So when can I expect a phone call from you confirming that you visited the babies?”

  Darcy frowned. “Sometime this week.” She noted the corners of her mother’s eyes tighten. “I’m not putting it off, I swear. I just have a lot on my plate. A missing Incubus and I have Declan underfoot, I’m adjudicating his final field Enforcement exam.”