Flamingo Fugitive (Supernatural Bounty Hunters 5)

by E A Price

  “Stone! There you are, I was worried.” Caitlyn approached him, and Cady stiffened slightly.

  “You were?” asked Stone in complete bewilderment. Had Caitlyn left something at his apartment? He would have brought it to her – all she had to do was ask.

  Caitlyn’s smile tightened as she took a long scathing look at Cady. His rhino rumbled to attention as the mood turned from lusty to downright hostile in the flick of a damn mountain lion’s tail.

  “Who’s this?” said Caitlyn, crisply.

  “Ah…” started Stone, trying to keep up. His rhino may have been ready to tear into the middle of a catfight – or a cat and dog fight as this would be the case – but Stone was still jogging to keep up with the situation.

  “I’m Cady,” hissed the she-wolf. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Caitlyn,” replied the lioness, sweetly.

  The two females looked at him expectantly. One was furious and ready to storm away. The other was smiling, benignly as if she knew he was about to tell the other to push off. He’d have preferred the expressions to switch between the two women.

  “Ah… Caitlyn, what…”

  “Will she be joining us?” murmured Caitlyn, with more than a sultry hint of suggestion.

  “No she fucking won’t!” snarled Cady. With that she slapped Stone around the face, and he didn’t even try to stop her. He could see how it looked; he didn’t blame her.

  Cady sneered at the innocent looking lioness and stomped away muttering something about perverts. Stone felt his muscles rippling as fury howled through his rhino. He wasn’t terrifically angry about not getting laid that night – there’d be other nights, there’d be other women. But it was the triumphant and amused look on Caitlyn’s face that enraged him. It was the fact that she was here – at his apartment; the fact that she felt the need to insult the she-wolf and not to mention getting him slapped in the face. She-wolves could pack a damn good slap into their palms!

  He stepped away from her, less he do something unforgivable and shift into a rampaging rhino. He wasn’t prone to lose his temper. He was an alpha male, but he wasn’t violent on a whim. When you happened to be stronger than just about everyone around you, you had to be in control. But this woman made him want to lose it.

  Stone breathed in and out, grunting and flaring his nostrils slightly. When he could face it, he looked at Caitlyn, who had a simpering, eyelash fluttering expression on her face.

  “Caitlyn,” he growled.

  To his shock, Caitlyn slapped him as well. He was so surprised that he didn’t even see it coming. It was so unexpected. He was faster than Caitlyn, but slapping him was so… crazy.

  “I’m very disappointed in you!” she wailed and then ran away, sobbing.

  Stone and his rhino gaped at her open mouthed and continued to stare at the empty corridor in confusion until Mrs. Lewinsky nudged him aside with her walker. She was an insomniac sloth shifter and walked all over the building at night.

  “Evening Mr. Stone,” she said in a croaky yet cheerful voice.

  “Uhhh…”

  “Saw your two ladies running out of here,” she chuckled.

  “Yeah…” He was aware that he must have looked and sounded like a slack-jawed idiot.

  “I’d watch out for that lioness if I were you,” she called out over her shoulder as she shuffled away. “Cut her in half, and you’d find the words crazy beans through and through.” She cackled as she left him standing in the hallway.

  Yeah, he was also starting to come to that conclusion. He rubbed his twice-slapped cheek and vaguely thought about the fact that he ought to start worrying. But then his pockets crinkled, and he remembered that he had over two hundred dollars in singles in there. The night hadn’t exactly ended on the high he was hoping for, but he’d caught his skip and made a nice little wad of money. It was nice to know that if he ever was hard up for cash that he could turn to stripping or even exotic dancing. He’d worry about Caitlyn tomorrow.

  *

  The lion shifter tried to smile kindly, but Francine just gave him a helpless look in return. Her flamingo huffed sadly and considered whether she would get the lead in the prison production of Oklahoma.

  Detective Wyatt Leeman was trying to be benevolent. He had the least dangerous perp in front of him he had ever met since he was forced to arrest the seventy-three-year-old panda shifter for bank robbery. That was all a misunderstanding – she just had a candy bar in her pocket and didn’t speak much English.

  Francine Sweeting had been arrested for destruction of property and attempted murder. But none of this seemed to have sunk in yet. The moment the cops found her frowning, at the destruction she had wrought on the Porsche, she admitted it was her. She admitted to stabbing Michael St. Fontaine and breaking the window of the Porsche. The fact that she did those things surprised her more than it did them.

  Wyatt cleared his throat and closed her file. “You’ll go before a judge in the morning, and you can enter your plea.”

  Francine nodded. “I think I’m going to say not guilty.”

  He raised an eyebrow as his inner lion huffed. “You already confessed.”

  She shrugged. “Oh yes, I did those things but I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”

  “Well, maybe you should discuss it with your lawyer. When is he arriving?”

  “Well, we talked on the phone, and he said he’d arrive early in the morning.”

  Wyatt tried not to look too pained. “This is really a serious matter, you really should…”

  Francine waved a hand. “It’s no big deal. Once everyone hears my side of the story, I’ll be let off. I’ve been an extra on Playa Lunar at Law a few times. I’m pretty au fait with this kind of thing. Technically, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  She was a juror a couple of times and actually played a defendant in one episode – only for a few moments, and she didn’t have any lines. She spent hours in make up getting temporary tattoos applied to her skin. She was on screen for twelve seconds, and it took her twelve days to wash off the fake tats.

  Her lawyer was a friend of her best friend, Felicia’s husband’s brother. He was a flamingo, too. You actually saw quite a few flamingo lawyers – they liked showing off in court. The difference to her chosen profession was that the pay was a lot better. However, one of his disgruntled clients did try to shoot him once.

  He was doing this as a favor, so Francine was just grateful for any time he could give her. Besides, she was sure that everyone was just making a mountain out of a potato chip. This whole thing was nothing. It was all going to be fine. Yes, she’d just made her flamingo believe that, too.

  “So can you give me a ride home?” She smiled at the detective, hopefully.

  He blinked at her in surprise. “Ah, no, you have to stay here.”

  Francine frowned. “But I don’t have a change of clothes.” She waved her hand up and down her body for emphasis. “And he did get blood on me.”

  “You can’t leave,” he told her, patiently.

  She thought about it for a few moments. “But, how about if an officer just takes me home to get a change of clothes?”

  He shook his head. “You really can’t leave.”

  Hmmm, they were entering water not quite covered by her extra roles in TV shows. Now would probably be a good time to have her lawyer present to advise her if what the cop was saying was actually true. “Well, who says so? Let me just have a word with them.” She’d speak to his boss if necessary and get this all straightened out. She wasn’t a natural born flirt, but she was good at pretending.

  “Look, your lawyer can bring in anything you need before you see the judge.”

  Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all – her body took maintenance. “If I’m going to see a judge I do need to look my best – I need time to prepare.” She didn’t have her special pillow with the lavender oil, and she didn’t have her avocado and almond facemask - that she sometimes ate if she became really hungry and ran out of food. And s
ometimes when she didn’t. It was delicious and excellent for the skin.

  “I’m sure you’ll look fine,” he mumbled. The huge lion shifter blushed slightly, and goddess help, her she basked in that blush. It was really a pick me up after a crappy night.

  “Fine, is one thing,” she said, gently. “But I need to dazzle him.”

  “It’s the law that you stay here.”

  “Well, what if I spoke to your supervisor?” She didn’t want to get him in trouble, but surely there was a way around this.

  His forehead wrinkled, probably through the confusion that she didn’t seem able to grasp this concept. “My captain would tell you the same thing.”

  Francine threw up her hands theatrically. “Even if I told him what happened? This whole thing wasn’t my fault. I mean, frankly, that guy was going to… to…”

  For someone who just a few hours ago was waxing lyrical about ‘love juice’, she had a lot of trouble saying the word. Just thinking about it brought back those few seconds where she really worried he was going to force himself on her. She felt tears prickle her eyes, and her flamingo tried to soothe her. She felt exhausted. It had been a long night, and she just wanted to crawl into bed. And top it off her mascara wasn’t even waterproof!

  The detective passed her a handkerchief, and Francine giggled through her tears. “Monogrammed handkerchiefs? Really?”

  He shrugged, nonchalantly, but the blazing hue of his blush deepened. “Would you like me to fetch a female officer?”

  Francine immediately thought of the mountainous she-bear. “No, I’m fine, just… overtired.” She carefully dabbed at her eyes, determined that they wouldn’t puff up before her appearance tomorrow.

  “I’ll get someone to show you to a holding cell – it’s late, so you might as well stay here tonight. I’ll make sure you don’t have to share with anyone, and I’ll get you some, ah, things. Any… female things you may need.”

  He was way too embarrassed by this she reflected, stifling another laugh. Apparently he could look at dead bodies and catch murderers, but the idea of tampons and pantyhose turned him into a teenager. She considered that he was kind of cute, in a blonde, ruddy pink-faced kind of way.

  “Thank you, that’s very nice,” she said putting him out of his misery

  “It’s my pleasure. Make me a list, I’ll be back in a few moments.” He paused at the door. Because he was already embarrassed and decided it couldn’t get any worse he added, “You know, I saw you in the stage production of Robin Hood last year.”

  Francine smiled automatically. It was a reflex rather than an actual smile borne of pleasure. The production had been a feminist reimagining where all the male roles were assayed by female actors and vice versa. The reviews had been scathing.

  He smiled, bashfully. “You made an excellent Alana a Dale.” She was originally up for the role of Wilhelmina Scarlet, but when the director realized she could sing, she switched roles.

  “You’re very kind. It was an experimental production…” She felt the need to explain, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “You have a wonderful singing voice.” He seemed to find his blush again and excused himself.

  Francine blew her nose noisily. Huh. A little bit of sunshine on a dark night.

  Chapter Ten

  Stone went through his normal routine. Run, juice, workout and shower. He was done with the shower and on his way out the door when he noticed the text from Caitlyn. His rhino groused uneasily. Like ripping a band-aid off, Stone quickly read the text. Best to get worrying things over and done with quickly.

  I’m sorry about last night. Let’s not fight.

  His rhino paced. Stone’s stomach ached. It never ached. He was too healthy and ate too well for it ever to feel bad. But it was like the sinking feeling you have when you know something bad is coming. You can see the signs. You know everything is going bad, but you just don’t know what to do about it. It was the slowly sinking feeling.

  No, he did know what to do.

  Caitlyn had it in her head that there was something more to their relationship. He knew what to do. He fired off a text to her that said, ‘don’t worry, we can still be friends, see you around’. There, that should do it - firm but friendly.

  His beast snorted, clearly thinking that his friendly approach wasn’t going to help anything. But Stone didn’t want to be cruel. Texting ‘back off you crazy bitch’ would probably make her worse and then he’d be the bad guy. There were no bad guys in this; there was just a misunderstanding. Brushing off what happened last night and firmly putting her in the friend category sent the right message.

  The rhino shook his head. The animal believed that the only right message in this situation was ‘fuck off’ but he wasn’t going to argue when it came to dealing with people.

  Stone whistled as he walked out the door, reassured that the situation was under control.

  *

  Francine tried not to shudder. The cold, lean man in front of her was a snake shifter. She didn’t have anything against them, exactly. It’s just that snake shifters tended to be brutal. Not wonder the most hated judge on American Supernatural Idol was a snake shifter. The guy was vicious – he made bear shifters cry.

  She’d had her day in court, or at least her morning. Her lawyer pleaded not guilty for her and some prosecuting bitch – another freaking hyena – had laid it on thick about Francine being a flight risk. She all but said it was because she was a flighty flamingo. Her bird bristled with indignation.

  Bail had been set exorbitantly high, and the detective – her fan – had a friend who was a bail bondsman. He had set up a quick meeting in the hope that she could be free before they actually took her to jail.

  She assessed the man in front of her. The well-cut suit, neat hair and cold eyes screamed that he was a typical snake shifter - at least, at first glance. On second glance, this snake shifter didn’t seem all that fierce. On closer look, he seemed a little rumpled. His face was unshaven, and his eyes didn’t so much have bags as luggage. He sat in the seat opposite with the weariness of someone who hadn’t slept in a very long time.

  “Right, I’m Marcus Blau. I’m your bail bond agent. I need ten percent of your bail in order to get you out. Then you turn up for your court date, and we’re all square. Got it?” He said all this in a long stream and all in a tired, monotonous voice. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and Francine wondered if he was trying to sleep.

  “Ummm, I don’t have that much money.” Even if she sold everything she owned – including her body – she would never have that much money.

  Marcus sighed the sigh of a man who knew this was going to happen, but really hoped it wouldn’t. He opened his eyes again. “Do you have a car? Or some expensive jewelry?”

  “I’m between vehicles and all my jewelry is fake.” She had lots of pairs of shoes, but they did decrease in value the moment you stepped out the store in them.

  “Your bail was pretty steep…”

  “Please don’t leave me in jail,” begged Francine. She prided herself that she could act happily in any situation – meeting an ex’s new girlfriend, holding her younger sister’s children. But she didn’t think she could manage to pretend to be happy for a protracted amount of time in jail.

  He sighed again. “I’m sorry…” He paused as his phone rang. His eyebrow only twitched slightly at the ring tone – ‘Baby Love’. “Do you mind?”

  Francine shook her head.

  He stood up and walked a couple of steps away. “Hey, beautiful… uh huh… I’m sorry… yep will do… yep… newborn… I know the size, beautiful… I’ll pick up some cream, too… I’ll be home soon… soon… no, soon… I promise… no, I promise… soon… alright, I love you… no, I do… of course, I do… you’ll always be the sexiest woman in the world to me… no, I mean it… I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

  He ended the call and sat down again.

  “How old?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. />
  “New baby, right?”

  Marcus was too tired to affect his usual chilly standoffishness. “Twins and they’re two weeks old, and neither of them seems to have slept a wink since they were born.”

  She smiled kindly. “And your mate’s exhausted and firmly under the impression that she’s no longer attractive.”

  He looked at her warily. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  Francine scooted forward, almost in a conspiratorial fashion. “My friend went through the same thing when her triplets were born. You need a Yetta.”

  “Yetta?”

  “The uber-nanny of nannies.”

  Marcus drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t think Ling will go for a nanny. I don’t think she’ll like the idea of anyone raising our kids but us.”

  “Not a full-time nanny. Yetta’s agency is just for the first couple of months to give the parents a little help when they need it. They don’t interfere; they’re just handily in the background for whenever you may need them. They’re there to allow the new mommy to get some sleep; they help when they do things like go shopping – have you ever tried food shopping with a baby, never mind two. Think Mary Poppins with less singing. Yetta trains the best nannies in the city, and her wait list is a mile long. Women who are just trying to get pregnant put their names on it.”

  “So how the fuck does that help me?” he hissed before softening. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

  “My friend is Yetta’s best friend’s niece; she could probably get you a nanny by the end of the day. Course, I’d have to be inclined to do so…”

  Marcus’ eyebrow ticked. “I’m not sure.”

  “When was the last time that you and your mate just slept together?”

  “What?” he snapped, eyes flashing black. His sex life was definitely off limits.

  Francine held out her hands in a placating manner, and her flamingo chirruped, soothingly. “I don’t mean that,” she said, softly. “I mean, when was the last time you just relaxed and held her.” She held her breath on that one. In her experience, snakes weren’t overly affectionate, even to their mates. But the phone conversation he had with his mate bordered on downright gushy – at least by snake standards. If she had to guess, she’d say his mate wasn’t a snake. Either that or he had cat hair on his jacket. She bet his mate was some kind of small, hairy mammal.