by E A Price
He could ask Biff’s advice, but the lunkhead probably wouldn’t understand why he wanted to repel a hot female. He could ask some of his fellow bounty hunters for advice. Adam was friendly and had been a soldier or something – but then he might find the idea of Stone being terrorized by a hundred-pound girl hilarious. His eyes slid to Noah, sitting next to him in the driving seat and waiting patiently.
Noah, when Stone first met him, seemed to have a nervy disposition, but that was slowly ebbing away. He wasn’t loud or rough or cocky like the other bounty hunters – and yes he included Zara in that – he was quiet and methodical and fast as a whip. He somehow doubted, however, that the twenty-one-year-old fox had ever had to deal with a female stalking him. Up until that moment, Stone had never had to deal with one. He didn’t recommend anyone getting one.
Noah caught him looking. Undoubtedly, Stone had on his perplexed, sometimes painful to see, thinking face. “Donut?” offered Noah, showing him a box of mini powdered morsels of perfection.
“Nah.” Tempting to others maybe but not to him. No, if it had been a slice of chocolate peanut butter fudge cake, then he’d have almost ripped it out of Noah’s hand. When he did sleep, he dreamed of chocolate peanut butter fudge cake. Or naked Francines covered in chocolate peanut butter fudge cake.
Still, who knew how much experience the young fox had with women – maybe he was a ladies man.
Stone fixed him with a friendly smile. “So Noah, got a girlfriend?”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “No,” he said slowly, clearly wondering where this was going. Stone hadn’t shown the remotest interest in his love life before.
Stone grunted. “What would you do, if a woman was interested in you, but you weren’t interested in her?”
The young fox seemed to think about that. “Ah, I guess I'd tell her I only thought of her a friend, or maybe I thought of her as a little sister.”
“Does that work?”
“Well, women do it me all the time,” he muttered.
Hmmm.
His rhino snapped to attention as they saw something dark streaking out of the building they were watching, followed seconds later by the flash of a white tiger.
“Shit,” hissed Noah as he slammed the car forward, following them.
The vampire ran down an alley, and the tiger bounded after them. Noah slammed the brakes and Stone jumped out of the car, shifting to his rhino before it even stopped moving. He stormed down the alley, to see the vampire cornered and the tiger growling at him.
The vamp snarled, and Stone rampaged right on into him, sending him through a wall. The creature groaned as the rhino roared and stamped his feet on his chest. It was certainly one way to relieve some of his anger.
“Job well done,” he said as they drove back to the police station. Momentarily forgetting his unhappiness.
“Speak for yourself,” grouched the vamp, who know had a hole in his stomach the size of a rhino’s horn. Stone hadn’t exactly been careful when careening through the wall.
“Don’t bleed on my car,” warned Adam.
“Pretty hard not to,” commented Stone.
“You want to put some clothes on?” snapped the vamp. This was directed at Stone and was probably a product of being caught, being mauled and being trapped in a car with a huge, naked Rhino. Adam kept a change of clothes in his car, but Stone had forgotten to bring a spare set – he rarely remembered, but thankfully he was very comfortable with his body. Other people didn’t seem to be quite so comfortable.
Stone shrugged. “Nah, I’m fine.”
“Oh good, I’m glad you are,” muttered the vamp, descending into a sulky silence.
“Hey, you missed your court date – you’ve got to deal with this." He gestured to his acres of naked flesh. "Just be thankful I’m not actually thinking about my new girlfriend right now, or this situation could be a whole lot more awkward.”
Yes, he could be excited and then the situation really would be awkward.
Chapter Seventeen
“Myra, I need a new audition. I need a new part,” said Francine with only a hint of the whine her flamingo was sending her.
“I don’t know what to say, dahlink!” Myra seemed to have modeled her voice, hair and wardrobe on Zsa-Zsa Gabor. Myra actually slapped a police office too once – something to do with him pinching her butt. “I honestly would have thought stabbing a celebrated director in the shoulder would be good for you. I thought it would give you some notoriety, but everyone seems too afraid to let you get near them.”
Francine bit her lip to the point of pain; it was easier than giving into tears. Two more auditions and two more chances to be told everyone thought she was a menace to society. Even her semi-regular role on I Married a Werewolf had been put on hold until she got through her problem – euphemism for court case. Apparently they didn’t have faith in her innocence and were waiting to see if she was going to jail or not.
She was depressed, and no, it had absolutely nothing to do with a certain rhino shifter who hadn’t even bothered to call and apologize. Ha, maybe she’d get an invite to the wedding instead. She’d conveniently forgotten that she hadn’t given him her number or told him where she lived. Her flamingo was hanging her head in sulky sadness.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to put up with reading about Michael St. Fontaine’s perfect life in Alive! Magazine. He was waxing lyrical about how much he loved his wife and kids and how he was trying to put his attack behind him. Thank heavens they didn’t mention her by name. But the nerve of him! Slobbering all over her and then pretending he was a perfect family man. Ooh, it just made her want to… ooh, run out and buy new shoes. Yes, that would make her feel better. She could wear them for Stone. She could model them for him while she basked in his adoring gaze. Oh, the looks he gave her - the heated, lusty looks, sure would make her feel better. But he had a fiancée to give those looks to – that blonde woman was the one bathing in his affection. A dull, heavy weight seemed to settle in her stomach.
“Dahlink! I may have just the thing for you. It’s a TV show watched by millions.”
Ooh, goody – her spirit rose, and even her bird lifted her head in interest.
“It’s in its fourth season…”
Good, that shows it’s well established.
“It’s called Snuggleberries…”
Francine racked her brain. “Wait, isn’t that a kids show?”
“No, dahlink, it’s an incredibly popular kids show.”
“The one where all the actors are in bear costumes?” she asked, slowly.
‘Ah good, you’re familiar with it.” Myra sounded delighted.
“So I’d be completely covered in a bear costume?” Spirit slowly sinking…
“Exactly, you’d play Miss Dimplebottom – a substitute teacher at the baby bears’ school. It’ll be a good credit to your name in case you ever want to do anything with kids again.”
In case she ended up as a clown’s assistant doing birthday parties – because that was kind of where her career was going at that moment in time.
“It will show you have a whimsical side.” Myra was good at putting happy spins on things.
Don’t get her wrong, Francine was up for just about anything. The only thing that really held her back was nudity when it came to auditioning for roles. But, she did hesitate slightly. “Won’t the costumes get hot?”
Myra dismissed this immediately. “Oh no, I wouldn’t think so.”
“But…”
“This would be a good thing for you – people can’t see your face, so they won’t really know it’s you in there. No can object to working with you if they don’t know it’s you.”
“So I can’t get work for an Agatha Christie play, which has murder in it, but I’m fine to work on a kids’ TV show?” The logic was baffling.
“They’ll be glad of a quality actress,” she said, loyally, or perhaps just to end the conversation. “I thought you’d be glad of the work.”
&n
bsp; Francine pushed her qualms aside. Now was not the time to be picky. “You’re right, I’m in.”
“The audition’s on Thursday at nine, don’t be late.”
“Got it.”
“And try to lose a couple of pounds – those suits can be tight. Bye bye, dahlink.”
She hung up before Francine could retort to that. Not that she really would have said anything. She might have tried to say something about water retention, but that was it.
Crap. She was due in court on Thursday morning!
Shoot – well, maybe she could just be a little late for court. She would just turn up as soon as she could. In spite of the seriousness, she was adamant that a little explanation would just get this messy business of attempted murder out of the way – everyone would see it was a misunderstanding. Surely everyone would understand. Right? Her flamingo agreed with her, and Francine relaxed.
She grabbed her workout gear – remembering that she hadn’t even touched it since her night with Stone. She felt a twinge and then pushed it down. Slapping on her most convincing smile she set forth to meet Felicia, who had lamentably found a new gym for them. It just wouldn’t be the same without him, though.
*
Stone frowned and rejected a call from his dad. No offence to his dad, but he wasn’t interested right now. Whatever it was could wait until their usual Sunday meal. The once a month meal was more than enough together time for both of them. They loved each other, they just weren’t the sharing, hugging, ‘let’s live out of each other’s pockets’ type.
They usually sat and watched sports, and ate a meal prepared by Magda, his dad’s neighbor. His dad would get drunk and harangue him into agreeing that mating was a terrible thing, and then he’d go home. It was a tradition.
He was on his way home and was very aware that things had been quiet on the Caitlyn front for the last couple of days. Part of him was pleased and started thinking she had given up. While another part of him worried that it was the calm before the storm.
Plus, he was dealing with a raging rhino who was pissed at not seeing Francine for over a week – yeah, well he could get in line, Stone wasn’t thrilled about that fact either.
Part of him still hoped she’d come by the gym, but every day he was disappointed a little more. He had managed to get a hold of a list of every woman in the city called Francine – thanks to Mia, and it was kind of surprising how many there were.
He’d ruled out the married women – hoping that she wasn’t divorced or something like that – and he had started trying to work methodically down the list until he found the right one.
Stone wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had tried to break into her file in Gabby’s office. He’d had one of his buddies – a fighter – challenge Gabby to a bout of sparring to get her out of there. And Gabby – who couldn’t’ decline a challenge - agreed.
It was no good. Gabby – Hitler in spandex - locked her computer and he was no hacker. He could do regular locks, but he couldn’t find his way around a computer with a freaking map. Plus he now owed his friend because Gabby beat the hell out of him.
Still, he was determined to find his flamingo.
He was going to explain about Caitlyn – who increasingly appeared to be an escaped mental patient, and then… well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do then. Beyond getting Francine back, neither he nor his single-minded rhino had made any plans. He figured he’d wing it.
For now, he had to make sure Cait wasn’t hiding in his closet – as she had been three nights ago.
He entered his apartment cautiously. “Caitlyn… Caitlyn…” He checked every room, his closet, the refrigerator, his empty suitcase, under the bed, behind the curtain and – because she really did give off that vibe – behind the shower curtain. He was free from crazy mountain lions.
Thank every freaking deity out there he was alone. He grabbed his landline, thinking he could try a few more Francines before he went to work out. Checking his messages, however, proved to be toe-curlingly painful.
His first message was from a cake company asking if he preferred lemon or vanilla buttercream. Huh. That made him frown, but he guessed it was a wrong number.
The second was from a hotel, saying that they had an opening a week on Saturday, but they needed a deposit within the next two days. Hmmm. That really made him wonder if someone was giving out his number by accident.
The third was from a wedding chapel asking for Mr. Stone and Ms. Jones to come in for a talk before the ceremony.
What the fuck?! His rhino roared in alarm.
Jones, Jones, Jones – yeah, that was Caitlyn’s last name! Fucking hell, this was getting worse. When had his life turned to crap?
While his beast virtually howled in fury, Stone punched Caitlyn’s number into the phone – because by now he knew it by heart. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he was at his wits end, and he yelled at her down the phone. Or at least he yelled at her answering machine. He told her in no uncertain terms that they were not together, they were not getting married, and there was no chance that they ever would. He didn’t say it quite as nicely as that, and his language got a little blue, but enough was enough.
Pacing around his kitchen, while his rhino figuratively paced as well, Stone rubbed his face. He needed to say it in person, too, he knew that. She didn’t exactly seem like the type to get the message that easily. He needed to look into her eyes and to tell her in no uncertain terms to stop. Period.
But for now he had a furious beast who needed soothing, or at least, needed to either be so exhausted that he couldn’t do anything crazy or so happy that he didn’t want to.
Stone knew just what to do.
Chapter Eighteen
“Can you growl like a bear?”
If flamingos had eyebrows, hers would be raised. “I can try,” said Francine with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She let out a roar that probably wouldn’t even make a mouse pause in its tracks.
“Give it more oomph,” suggested one of the producers.
Now her flamingo was laughing. Francine took a deep breath and roared like her life depended on it.
There were a few beats of total silence and then a sigh. “Better, can you film your scenes today?”
Francine blinked at them in surprise. “What like right now?”
“Yep, we have a bear costume that should fit.”
“Well, I…” She thought about how she was supposed to be in court in, oh, about seven minutes time. But this was a paying role on a popular TV show.
“We’re really stuck,” explained the producer. “The first actress we hired quit and went into rehab, and the second had a hissy fit and locked herself in one of our trailers. We had to tempt her out with chocolate; apparently her diet pills sent her nuts. We need to film the scenes right now if we’re going to stay on schedule.”
She ummed and ahhed and finally gave in to her flamingo who was telling her to go for it. “Sure, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Great, quickly, get along to wardrobe.”
She was sure it would be fine. What was the worst that could happen?
*
Francine finished filming. She actually enjoyed it, and the bear costumes weren’t that bad once you got used to them. Although they were hell on your hair. As she brushed her bob, she noticed she had a few missed calls from her lawyer. Yeah, she really needed to call and explain.
She dialed his number and the moment he answered he cried, “Where the hell were you?!”
“I couldn’t get away…”
“Couldn’t get away!” he repeated in an unbelieving voice. “You’re on trial for attempted murder. Whatever it was couldn’t have been more important than that!”
Well, when he put it like that… “Yeah, but, I’m innocent, right?”
Her lawyer guffawed. “Not turning up for the start of your trial sure doesn’t make you look innocent – the point of the trial is to find out whether you’re guilty.”
Dread clutc
hed at her, and her flamingo flapped in a nervous fashion. “You mean there’s a chance they’ll find my guilty?”
“Well, of course,” he snapped, in no way considerate of her emotional state, she thought.
“But I’m innocent!” Didn’t that count for anything?
He groaned in exasperation. “Yes, but they don’t know that…”
“But… but…” Francine spluttered. “Can’t I just run down there now and tell them?”
“No, now you’re officially in violation of your bail. The cops could bring you in, but most likely that shady looking snake from your bail bond agency will send a bounty hunter after you.”
She had vague recollections of something about a rampaging rhino. Her flamingo – who she completely blamed for missing court – whimpered. “What like, to hunt me down? Like an animal?”
“Well, yes.”
She let out a squawk. “But I’m…”
“I know, I know, you’re innocent,” he said, far too dismissively.
“What can I do?” she whispered as the rest of her life floated before her eyes. It involved orange jumpsuits and peeing in front of other females. It wasn’t pretty.
“You could turn yourself in to the cops, but it’s doubtful they’ll give you bail again. You’ll be in jail until they rearrange your court date, and I doubt they’ll do that in a hurry for a second time.”
That wasn’t altogether appealing. “Can we call that plan B?” Or perhaps F or J.
Her lawyer huffed and puffed for a few moments. “You could always try to get the charges dropped. You wouldn’t have to go to court at all.”
“Really?” she squeaked. That was an option?!
“Yes, if St. Fontaine turned around and told them it was all an accident, then the case would fall apart. The whole attempted murder thing is based on his testimony.”
“Really?”
“Look, I have to go.”
“Okay, th…” The agitated lawyer hung up before she could finish her sentence.
Get the charges dropped? Yes, that was a much more palatable option. Hmmm, perhaps it was time to pay Michael a visit.
