Calum growled. "Victoria, that—"
"Shut up, this is girl talk," Victoria snapped. She bent closer to Jamie and whispered, "Those guys were scary and big, and they had you trapped. I know the feeling."
Calum frowned at Alec, but his brother motioned for him to wait.
"Thing is," Victoria continued, "you can let your fear keep you from doing anything else in your life—yeah, I‘ve seen that happen—or you can have the guts to move on. Isn‘t easy. Nope, it‘s hard as hell. But you know, if you shove the fear over to one side, you‘ll be able to see that fucking door."
She made a face. "An‘ looks like we have some studying to do on being furry things. God knows, I‘d rather there were two of us doing it, so get your ass in gear and shift."
Before Calum could yell at her for the language, he felt the sparkle of magic under his fingers, and his little girl suddenly appeared. "Oh, thank Herne," he choked, his gaze blurred with tears. He managed to remain still long enough for Alec to wrap a blanket around her before he yanked her into his arms.
"Daddy, I was really scared," she whispered into his neck.
"Me, too."
Chapter Nineteen
Calum never stopped giving orders, all the way down the damned mountain, and Vic decided he was far past captain‘s rank. Colonel Calum. Yeah. Really, the man had a knack.
It was slow going, walking down in the heavy snow. Still, she hadn‘t been about to trawsfur into kitty form, not after seeing Calum‘s face when Jamie didn‘t shift right away. The men hadn‘t mentioned there might be a little problem—like getting stuck forever with whiskers and a tail.
They finally arrived at the Wild Hunt, and Calum carried his daughter up the back steps. He started toward his side of the house, but Alec cleared his throat and jerked his head at his own door. Calum paused, then complied.
Serving as rear-guard, Vic nudged Alec and raised her eyebrows.
"I haven‘t seen it, but according to Bonnie, a fair amount of blood got spilled," he said quietly. "Thorson was babysitting Jamie here."
Oh God, not Joe. Even as Vic‘s breath hitched, her fingers curved as if remembering the feeling of flesh tearing beneath her claws. Damn them. "Is he all right?"
"Don‘t know yet." Alec kissed her cheek and nudged her through the door.
"Let‘s get you some hot tea, more blankets," Calum said to Jamie, heading for a couch.
Vic frowned at the blood smeared on the kid‘s face and clotted in her hair. "No, Calum."
"What?" He stopped in the center of the room.
"A hot soapy shower first. Then tea and blankets." Already knowing the answer, Vic said,
"Right, kid?"
Jamie looked at her blood-streaked hands, and a tremor shook her body. "I want to wash,"
she said, her voice weak, but determined.
"Ah." Calum‘s gaze followed his daughter‘s and his pupils darkened, although he remained as calm as usual. "Shower it is."
Not being slow on the uptake, Alec was already in the bathroom, adjusting the water temperature. "Maybe a bath—"
Vic shook her head. Blood looked really ugly in bathwater; didn‘t these guys know anything? "Who stays with you, Jamie? Calum or me?"
As Calum set Jamie on her feet, she reached for Vic. Her little hands felt like ice cubes.
"You, Vicki. Please?"
"No problem. Pop on in." Vic jerked her head for the men to depart.
As they left, Jamie got in the shower. A squeak, "Jeez, it‘s hot!" And then the sounds of washing.
Vic moved to where she could see the smoked glass of the door. The kid remained upright, not going face first in a faint. Good enough.
After a minute, she stepped out of the bathroom, knowing Calum would be right there. The man gave new meaning to overprotective parent, but just watching him baby his daughter made Vic feel all squishy inside. Go figure.
"What happened? Is she—"
Vic rolled her eyes. "She‘s fine. She might be better if she had some clothes to wear?"
Beside Calum, Alec gave a snort of laughter and nudged his brother. "Thinking real clear, aren‘t we, brawd? I‘ll run over to your place. Jeans or robe?"
"Robe," Calum said at the same time Vic said, "Jeans."
She continued, ignoring Calum‘s frown, "Treat her like a victim, and that‘s how she‘ll see herself. She‘s not sick, and she did damned well against two big men. She‘s a fighter, Calum."
Calum nodded reluctantly.
"Jeans, it is," Alec said.
Vic checked on Jamie. "‗Bout done?"
"Almost. I need to rinse the shampoo out."
Alec had handed in clothes by the time Jamie emerged, all pink from the heat. As Vic helped her dress, she checked over the damage. Bruises on elbows and knees, and a nasty one on her face that roused Vic‘s anger again. A few long scratches and scrapes from banging into branches.
Her feet were abraded, but no frostbite. Shifters were hardy critters.
"You look good, kid." She got a smile that made her eyes burn. Dammit. After a breath, she followed Jamie out of the bathroom.
Alec stopped her and pushed another set of clothing into her arms. "These looked about your size. Have a nice shower, cariad."
The rush of gratitude was amazing. Jamie wasn‘t the only one covered in blood. And Vic‘s hands had begun to shake. "Thank you. Really."
He kissed her lightly, and the warmth in his eyes turned her all squishy for the second time.
Oh, she was definitely losing it. "We‘ll talk after you‘re clean and warm," he said. "Calum is making tea."
She knew she was in pitiful condition when tea sounded better than coffee.
After turning the shower back on, she tossed the blanket to the floor and stepped into the steamy blue-tiled enclosure. She ducked her head under the hot pelting water.
Shampoo and soap stood on a tiled-in corner shelf, and she vigorously scrubbed the dirt and sweat and blood from her hair and body. But as the pink-tinted water swirled down the drain, her stomach clenched. By the time she finished, her hands were shaking so hard she couldn‘t close the flip top on the shampoo bottle. Adrenaline overload and aftermath—her mind said even as her legs gave out. Kneeling on the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around herself, she shook uncontrollably. And cried.
She‘d killed a man. Cut his life short in a horrible way. God, she could still hear the ghastly choking sound he‘d made as he died. Because of her, he‘d never grow old, never have a chance to mend his ways, never return to the people who loved him—maybe a mother, children, wife, friends. Whether he deserved it or not, his voice would no longer be heard anywhere again, and she had done that.
No matter how many times she killed, it never grew easier.
The water had cooled by the time Vic stopped crying, but at least her shaking had slowed.
Only a fine tremor remained as she toweled herself off. She wiped the condensation off the mirror. Major mistake. She looked like hell. The days of camping in the snow had taken a toll—
cold-chapped skin, gaunt cheeks, circles under her eyes. Add tangled wet hair and reddened eyes.
"Aren‘t you just a vision of loveliness, Sergeant?" she whispered.
Life truly sucked.
Leaving the steam-filled bathroom, she followed the sound of voices and stepped into the living room. The room was all dark walnut and golden-toned fabrics. The fire in the glass-fronted wood stove gave cheer and warmth despite the wind howling outside. Half-asleep, Jamie snuggled into Calum‘s side on one of the matching cushy-looking couches; Alec sat on the other.
The men had damp hair and smelled of soap.
Although Vic hadn‘t made any noise, Alec looked up and patted the couch beside him.
With a sigh, she dropped down beside him.
Cupping her cheek in his hand, he ran a thumb under one reddened eye. "You all right?"
She shrugged and murmured an honest answer, knowing he‘d think she was kidding, "After I kill someone, I like
to sit in the shower and cry."
"Of course. It‘s good to have traditions." He tucked her into his side as easily as if she were Jamie. The way he dwarfed her and the feel of his hard muscles against her were disconcertingly comforting. He handed her the cup of tea steaming beside him. "Drink. I dumped a ton of sugar into it."
She took a sip and choked; he‘d also added an ample amount of brandy. It burned all the way down, and she wheezed a little before she managed to speak. "Thanks. I think."
His eyes glinted with amusement. "My pleasure."
Before she could drink any more, she had to find out… "How‘s Joe?"
Calum‘s face tightened. "He ripped open his stitches and has a concussion as well. He‘ll spend the night in hospital while they sew him up. Again."
Vic shook her head. "How did they know Jamie was a shifter?"
"They didn‘t. Just that Alec and I are." Calum‘s voice was mild. She‘d have thought him indifferent if not for the blazing fury in his eyes. "Old Irma Neilson has lived here all her life and is one of the few humans who know about us. Someone tortured her for information about shifters—and our relatives."
Vic shuddered, thinking of the sadism Swane had shown. God, that poor woman. "Is she alive?"
"Oh yes, but she‘ll stay in the hospital for a couple days." Alec‘s mouth curled up. "I talked with her a few minutes ago, and her major concern was that fat poodle of hers. Good thing the dog survived."
Calum rested his cheek on Jamie‘s head. "They went after Jamie to use against me, but didn‘t realize Joe was with her. Then this little cat gave them more than they‘d planned for."
"I didn‘t recognize the men. That means Swane and the suit are still out there," Vic said.
"We‘re searching records. We need to take out the person who is doing the hiring." Calum looked so tired that Vic saw what he‘d look like as an old man—one of those coastal trees, the trunk gnarled and gray, still standing defiantly against the wind.
And God, she wanted to be standing beside him then. She concentrated on sipping her tea, pushing away the hopeless wishes.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs outside, and she set the cup down so quickly the liquid sloshed over the sides.
Alec pulled her back against him and murmured into her hair, "Relax. That‘s just Devin and Jody. They were cleaning up Calum‘s place."
At the rap on the door, Alec raised his voice slightly, "Come on in—it‘s not locked."
The man poked his head in, nodded to Alec, then looked at Calum. "All done. We removed the throw carpet, used special stuff on the...stains. Jody suggested we put down one of Rebecca‘s hand-crocheted rugs so it wouldn‘t look so bare."
The woman shoved the guy aside long enough to add, "The rug looks really good, Calum.
Better than what you had, actually. You should buy it from her."
"I will do that. And thank you both. I owe you."
Vic would have done a lot to have earned that fleeting smile of Calum‘s. Apparently the two felt the same for they beamed back at him. Jody said, "We‘ll bill you for the cleaning, but no further debt is owed, Calum. The attack was targeted upon us all, even if it happened in your home."
Devin gave a loose salute to Calum, and they retreated, pulling the door shut behind them.
"It‘s going to smell like cleansers over there, brawd. I think you and Jamie should bed down here in the living room." Alec tightened his arm around Vic and gave her his crooked smile.
"You know, I might have nightmares, so you‘d better stay with me, Vixen. Just in case."
*
She‘d let him tuck her into his bed as passively as if she‘d been Jamie, and it tore at Alec‘s heart how exhausted she looked. She fell asleep instantly, but he was wide awake, the anger slow to die within him.
Pulling a chair close to the bed, he studied her face in the flickering firelight. He‘d felt her increased slenderness when she leaned against him on the couch, and now, he noticed the hollows below her cheekbones. She‘d lost weight, and the dark circles under her eyes said she hadn‘t been sleeping.
His jaw set. She wasn‘t the only one. In the evenings, he‘d missed the pleasure of hearing about her day and sharing some of his. Most people, human or shifter, saw only the burden and pain of being a cop. But somehow, this little female understood the satisfaction—the fulfillment—that came from protecting others. She might be female, but she had a cahir‘s heart.
He‘d known he wanted her as a mate—he hadn‘t realized how much joy she‘d brought into his life.
When she‘d said she‘d left the trail to avoid seeing him or Calum, she might as well have cut his heart out. He leaned his elbows on his knees, trying to solve the puzzle. He was experienced enough to know she cared for him, even without seeing how she watched him with that soft expression and how she stood within his personal space, letting him into hers.
Why the worries about going feral? He studied her even breathing, the complete relaxation that spoke of trust. Did his Vixen really think she had no connections to anyone, loved no one? If anything, she cared too much. She was like an overcooked marshmallow, crusty on the outside, all sweet and soft inside.
But she tried to hide how much she cared; didn‘t even believe she did. Something had made her think she was safer alone. So she didn‘t share her past or her emotions. He smiled, remembering how she‘d wanted to keep their lovemaking shallow as well. How she‘d failed.
It was time the little ex-human let the rest of her barriers down. Obviously it was up to him and Calum to teach her.
Reaching out, he drew a finger across her stubborn jaw, determination settling inside him.
The gods had provided him and Calum another chance to win her—and they weren‘t going to fail this time.
*
Vic heard the crackle of rifle fire, and a bullet hit the man beside her with a gut-wrenching splat. He grunted, falling back, his blood spurting across the rubble. Dead. Her face was sticky with sweat and blood, her mouth dry from the sand. The sun beat down in the cloudless sky, the heat like a weapon. She veered to avoid a pile of trash in the road; IEDs were everywhere. A bomb exploded behind her, another in front of her, and she turned, confused. Where am I? She looked down, expecting her ragged Baghdad clothing—but Jesus fuck, she was naked! And standing in the street.
A snarl cut through the gunfire, and a panther sprang out from between the buildings. An M-16 chattered, and the small lion slammed into the pavement, blood making a red river down the golden fur.
"Jamie!" She tried to run, but her legs wouldn‘t move. She jerked up. Sitting? She stared into the darkness, her hands clutching at blankets. A bed. Where am I?
"Hey, hey, hey." A man in the bed beside her.
Jesus, no. She struck out.
He caught her fist in a big hand. "A nightmare, baby. You‘re having a nightmare." His voice was low and smooth. Oddly comforting. "Shhh, Vixen, you‘re safe."
"Alec?"
"None other." Sitting beside her, he finger-combed her hair from her damp face. "C‘mere, cariad . I‘ll hold you till the boogie-men go away." He lay back, pulling her down.
"Oh, God, that felt too real." Her heart still pounded, but her muscles slowly relaxed as he stroked her back. With a sigh, she laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder.
"There we go," he murmured, his voice resonant under her ear. "You want to talk it over or let it fade?"
"It‘ll fade," she whispered. Her lips curved slightly as she recalled one part. "You know, I‘ve heard about it, but I‘ve never been naked in a dream before."
"Ah." He grinned. "I didn‘t realize humans had that one. It‘s a common shifter nightmare."
"Yeah?" With a start, she remembered how on the mountain, she‘d shifted from cat to human and found herself bare-assed. "Oh. I bet." She snuggled closer, laid one knee over his thigh, his warmth wonderful against her chilled skin. Skin? "You stripped me! No wonder I thought I was naked."
His laugh rumbled through his chest
. "You didn‘t even wake up."
"But—"
"I stripped me too," he pointed out virtuously. As if that would make a difference. His voice lowered, took on heat. "And, as it happens, I like you without clothes on." His hand stroked her shoulder, down to her waist, and warmth followed in its wake.
Well. Her heart rate had slowed, but now sped up for a much better reason than fear. What nicer way to celebrate life than—
"Is everything all right?" Calum walked into the room, his gait as silent as always. He studied her for a moment, and then glanced at Alec.
"Nightmare," Alec said. "Jamie?"
"Brownies are on watch."
"Good deal." Alec slid backward, pulling Vic with him until she‘d replaced him in the center of the bed. "You know, we were just discussing the fact that we‘re both naked. You‘re overdressed, brawd."
What? Vic stared at Alec. "But —"
"I am indeed." Calum‘s rare smile flashed, and then he shed his clothes. Tanned skin. Sleek, hard muscles. He lifted the covers and slid into bed on her other side, sandwiching her between him and Alec. She started to sit up.
Alec held her down. "Vixen," he said quietly. "You‘ve made love with both of us separately."
Shame silenced her for a moment. "I-I‘m sorry. I shouldn‘t —"
Calum snorted. He gripped her shoulder and rolled her onto her back between the two men.
Each was propped up on an elbow, looming over her helpless position. Dammit. Calum‘s hand held her down, and she shoved at it.
His eyes narrowed; his voice deepened. "Do not move."
Her fingers released involuntarily at the short command—and even more appalling, her insides seemed to turn to liquid.
He smiled faintly. "Very nice, cariad." He gave Alec a disparaging glance. "Clumsy bugger.
You made her feel guilty."
"Hell." Alec took her hand and kissed her fingers. "I didn‘t mean to do that, Vixen. We wanted you to enjoy us separately—now we‘d like to enjoy you together."
Her heart stopped. Sure, she‘d gotten a clue when Calum dropped his clothing, but to say it aloud— "Are you serious?"
Hour of the Lion Page 24
