Beneath the Skin: de La Vega Cats, Book 3

by Lauren Dane

  But when that assessing gaze caught on hers, it was like everything held its breath for a moment. She had to gulp at the immensity of the way he looked at her. It was more than the usual shifter gaze. This male was big and dangerous, but hot damn was he delicious.

  That gaze moved from her face down to the place where her leg had been doctored up. He frowned, moving to her. “Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  She shrugged, fighting shyness she didn’t know the origin of. “I’m fine. I’ll be healed tomorrow. Missed the bone and all major arteries.”

  “It’s not acceptable.”

  It was a laugh that surprised her then. She couldn’t help it. He was offended by how she healed?

  “Well, that’s tough. It’s how I heal.”

  That gaze again, those deep brown eyes boring a hole right through her defenses. “The getting-shot part. Not the healing part. Silver is hard on even the fittest shifters.”

  “Oh.” She wiped sweaty palms down the front of her jeans, wincing when she got near the wound. “They didn’t use it. It was 9mm ammo. No silver.”

  He cocked his head. “I wonder why that would be?”

  Dario shifted. “What’s their game?”

  “A good question for our prisoner. Where is he?”

  “Here.” She indicated the closet. “He’s in there.”

  “Can you lock up? I don’t want anyone wandering in. I need to…question him.” He did stalk this time, right up to the closet.

  She threw the locks on the one door she’d left open. She’d closed up shop a few minutes before, not wanting to have to explain why they had someone tied up and held in a broom closet.

  She was steady. Alert. Holding herself together well. He couldn’t imagine too many other shifters who’d be doing so well after being shot.

  Admirable.

  And even so, Gibson seethed with rage. It wasn’t something he did very often. But the very idea that this female had been injured by anyone, much less this trash of Bertram’s, was offensive beyond the pale. Shifters didn’t go to war with other shifters. Not now when they faced such big outside threats. They should be standing together, not shooting women. Not harming this woman.

  Her brother, that much was easy to deduce given the strong resemblance, nodded his way. “I’m Drew.”

  He didn’t hold a hand out though. He showed his neck and averted his gaze, accepting Gibson’s dominance. So very unlike his sister in that way it nearly made Gibson smile.

  Instead he nodded.

  Dario grinned and tipped his chin. “Hey, Drew.” Dario looked back to Gibson. “He’s dating my sister.”

  He thought he recognized the face from a few jamboree events of late.

  “Let’s get this trash taken out.”

  Drew opened the door, and the male jaguar was still tied up but was conscious and pulling at his bonds. Gibson reached in, grabbed the rope and hauled him out, tossing him on the floor nearby. “Who are you and why are you here?”

  The jaguar just looked up at him.

  Gibson sighed and leaned back against the counter. “I have no plans to scare you with threats. I will shoot you if you don’t answer my questions. That’s not a warning, and it’ll be the only time you hear it before I unload a few bullets into you.”

  Fear bled into the guy’s eyes. Good. Fear was useful.

  “You shot one of my cats. You also shot me. What’s the purpose here?”

  “My name is Hal Pepper. I’m acting on my own.”

  Gibson pulled his weapon and clicked the safety off.

  “If you shoot a hole into those floors, my dad is going to kill me.” Mia spoke from beside him. “Can’t you just kick him or something? Blood is easier to clean up.”

  He allowed himself a smile.

  “Kicking doesn’t seem to get the message across. Shooting is far more effective.”

  She nodded. “This is true. Just aim for a place on him that the bullet won’t pass through. I told you, the floors. They’re original, did you know that? Well, if you spend five minutes with my dad, you will. For months and months he was obsessed. He redid them all when they first bought the shop years ago. He’s not entirely rational when it comes to his floors.”

  The guy on the ground whimpered and she rolled her eyes. The smile wanted to get bigger but he wrestled it back.

  For Hal, Mia only had derision. “What are you crying about? You shot me remember? I’m not crying. If you walk into someone’s place of business and go shooting, you can’t be upset when you get caught and hogtied, later to be interrogated by the Bringer. Jeez.”

  Dario’s lips trembled but he held it together. Gibson didn’t meet his eyes or he’d have laughed.

  “You shot a cat in my territory. Why?”

  “She annoyed someone.”

  Mia barked a laugh. “I annoy lots of people. Very few of them end up shooting me. I don’t even know you! I’d remember if I annoyed you enough to get shot.”

  “So much for I’m acting on my own.” Gibson leaned down, rapped the guy with the butt of his gun to knock him out. “Take this filth back to a holding cell. We’re going to leave him alone for a few hours. No one is to speak to him.” He gave Dario some more instructions, trusting him to get the ball rolling.

  Dario hauled the cat up over his shoulder and left.

  “I’d like to speak to you about this. Do you have the time?”

  She looked him over carefully. “All right. You can give me a ride home.”

  Given the way she looked like she needed to eat and nap, he’d add some dinner in to the mix too. “Drew, thank you for your service. The jamboree will see to it that you’re reimbursed for any time you had to close today and any damage caused by the bullet.” He shot a look to Mia. “And any medical bills you might incur.”

  Drew laughed. “It took being in a coma for her to seek medical assistance. Getting shot isn’t going to do it.”

  Then he yelped when Mia punched his arm. “Hey, Chatty Cathy, don’t you have plans?”

  Drew rolled his eyes at his sister and left the room.

  “You’re sort of scary.”

  “Says the male who just threatened to shoot someone.”

  “You’re not afraid of me.”

  “I’d shoot you back.” She raised one shoulder and his cock twitched happily. Stupid penis. She was not appropriate for him.

  “You need to eat as well. Consider it part of the fee I owe you. I have a place I think you might like if you’re a meat eater.”

  “That’ll do.”

  He allowed her to open and then lock the door after them and ushered her to the car. Dario had taken his back to the building where they’d house the prisoner.

  She took in the SUV. “Nice. This could be in a movie about guys in dark sunglasses charged with protecting the president or something.”

  He opened the door for her and would have helped her up but she had an expression that told him he’d be in danger if he did.

  “I don’t need dark sunglasses with the windows so tinted. But I do protect the equivalent of the president.”

  She shrugged and he caught sight of that leg again. “At least let me see the wound.”

  “I’d have to take my pants off for that and you haven’t even bought me dinner yet. In fact, stop by my apartment so I can change. I can’t very well go into a public place with bloody pants.”

  If she’d been intimidated by issuing an order to the Bringer of her jamboree, she didn’t show it. And God help him, he found it attractive.

  He found a place to park near her building. “I can carry you. It’s not a big deal. If your leg hurts too much, that is.”

  She opened her door and slid to the ground, and he sighed, getting out to join her.

  “It hurt for the first half an hour. Now it’s just a dull throb.” She unlocked the outer door and they went inside.

  Once in her apartment, he noticed several things. It smelled like a male lived there, which made him frown. He
had the idea it was a relative, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

  She shuffled into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. Her leg did hurt, though she wasn’t going to say so. He’d been shot three times and was up within twenty minutes. She could deal with a thigh wound, for goodness’ sake.

  Only it was hard to peel the pants off, and she had to get into the shower to do it. And then of course she fell with a yelp and cracked her elbow on the tile.

  Which would have been embarrassing enough. Until he burst through the door, a snarl on his lips, his teeth bared. And she, laying naked from the waist up, her pants now wet and tangled around her calves.

  “Get out! Jeez!”

  “Are you all right? Did you fall?” He ignored her orders to leave and helped her to her feet. Then he knelt to get a better look at the wound, which wasn’t bleeding at all by that point. But his breath on her skin and her state of near nakedness made her want to giggle. Or hit him. But she resisted both.

  “It’s looking like you’re healing well. Have you changed?” He stood and looked at her breasts. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Shifters were pretty nonchalant with the naked thing. But this wasn’t a casual perusal. This was a boy-type person looking at her boobs.

  “I was trying to, but then the pants got stuck to my skin because of the blood and you didn’t mean my clothes.”

  “I don’t think you should go out. I know of several restaurants nearby who’ll deliver.”

  Then he started getting naked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You need to change and then you need to clean up. Once that’s done, we’ll get you some protein and rest with your leg up so you can heal better. And during that you can tell me the story of what happened today in your shop.”

  She’d planned to argue, but he grabbed her throat. Not to hurt, but to collar and get her attention. And boy did he get it. But not as a cat. Her nipples hardened, and the rest of her was equally pleased by the action.

  Too late to blush.

  A smile curved one edge of that mouth up, and she shivered and licked her lips.

  He growled, but it wasn’t a scary one.

  He was…well, he was a whole lot of male and holy shit did she like it.

  “You need to change. Let your cat heal you.” He got very, very close, his teeth grazing over her shoulder, sending a shiver of delight through her body.

  At least as a cat she could stop blushing. She let the change come over her. The world of her cat reigned now. Scents, especially his, tickled her senses as the wound on her back leg tingled. She stretched, rumbling her enjoyment when the man slid a big, strong hand over her head and down her throat. He spoke in human words and she ignored all but his tone. Her cat liked his tone.

  He knelt and looked into her face. The words he spoke brought the woman to the surface, brought her back, the pain of such a quick change pricked her skin.

  “There you are.” He helped her up. “Better?”

  “You’re almost naked.” She was queen of random today, apparently.

  “I was planning on changing with you. You seem to have issues with authority, and I knew my cat could bring yours. But you surprised me by obeying.”

  “How about you leave now so I can finish this shower? There are takeout menus in the drawer under the phone.” She nearly managed sarcastic. But they both knew her heart raced.

  He took one last, lingering look and sauntered out, his clothes in his hands. “Try not to fall again. You have enough injuries for one day.”

  He went back out to her living room, sucking in some air that wasn’t choking with her scent. That sweet, tangy scent the man and the cat seemed to want to roll around in.

  Zipping his jeans up over his cock was painful, which helped him get his control back after he’d lost it and tasted the skin of her shoulder. Stupid. Because now she was inside him and he wanted more.

  He shouldn’t have touched her, even to get her attention, by taking her throat. He’d started to do it to get her cat to take over. But once he’d touched her, once his shirt was off and his jeans were halfway down and he got close… Well, once that happened he was in a whole world of hurt.

  Of course, her response only made it harder to resist taking their contact to another level. Her pulse had sped, her pupils had swallowed all the color of her irises and her breath had stuttered. She dug it as much as he did.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face to get it together again.

  Digging through the drawer she’d indicated led him to a really good Puerto Rican place he quite liked. He ordered enough for six or so people and waited for her to come back out while he gave up on not thinking about her body.

  She was small, probably barely five and a half feet tall. Her hair was a little darker than honey. Hazel eyes. They’d been more brown the night he’d met her, but today they had some more green. A sweet nose and freckles. He was a sucker for freckles.

  She was lean and toned, with tits barely more than a handful, but perky. Goddamn he loved perky breasts. Mainly because women liked to go braless when they had boobs like that.

  He also took in the evidence of the coma her brother had alluded to back at the store. She’d mentioned an attack back that first night. Something terrible had happened to her and he wanted to know more.

  She was a beautiful, scary, sexy woman and he liked that a whole hell of a lot.

  He might as well call in while he waited. Maybe talking to Max would help him think about something other than the way she’d licked her lips, or the way her skin felt against his lips, against his teeth.

  Christ. That sure wasn’t helping at all.

  He dialed his brother.

  “What’s the story?” Max answered, without any preliminaries.

  “I’ve sent the cat to the holding cells. Gonna sweat him a while. Says his name is Hal Pepper. Sounds like a fuckin’ character from a Dr. Seuss story. Dario is having Galen look into it. He shot Mia Porter in the thigh. Clean enough. Went clean through. The woman he was with left the scene. But they have surveillance footage. The brother will forward it to my office so we’ll see if we can’t figure out who she is too.”

  “Do you think this is related?”

  “At first he said he was acting alone. Then he said she’d pissed someone off. Probably by saving me. I don’t know for sure, but it’s awfully coincidental, don’t you think? Two cats in the same jamboree shot within the span of a week? And the second shooting victim is the person who helped the first one?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  “No. Me either. They didn’t use silver though. With me they did. This was 9mm ammo. Enough to do a shitton of damage, even kill her if they’d hit her hard enough and in the right places. But I don’t know why they’d use it on me and not her.”

  Max heaved a sigh. “I connected with Bertram’s second. Not his Bringer. Claims Bertram is in South America right now. Also claims to not know anything about this incident. I find that hard to believe.”

  As did Gibson. At that point, he suspected everyone having anything to do with the Smithville jamboree.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m questioning Mia. She’s in the shower right now.”

  “Your definition of questioning must be vastly different from mine.”

  Ha.

  “She got shot in the leg. It bloodied her clothing.”

  “Don’t even think I don’t know you smiled when I said that. Keep me apprised.” He hung up. Max knew Gibson would ask for help if he needed it. His brother let him do his job, as their father had before him. That was a source of great pride.

  He wandered around the living room, pausing to look at the photographs. The place smelled like a male, but it was clearly someone she was related to. The resemblance was strong, just like it was with Drew.

  There was a vague memory of her saying it was her brother’s place.

  She’d been a pilot. He knew part of the story because he’d had a quick check of
her done after he’d met her. But he saw pictures of her, medals on her chest, and it hit home. What had happened to her after she returned?

  He spoke when she came out of the bathroom moments later. “I ordered some Puerto Rican food. Should be here shortly.” They’d known the phone number and the address so he took a guess that she ordered it frequently.

  Simple delight rode over her features, making her beautiful. “Yes, that works.”

  She’d braided her hair back from her face, exposing her features. “I like your hair like that.” He frowned momentarily, not having had any intention of saying that out loud. “Are you feeling better?”

  She shrugged. The blush she wore heated her skin, sending her scent through his senses. “Better than I was an hour ago, sure.”

  “Sit and get that leg up.” He pointed to the couch, more gruffly than he’d intended.

  “You’re imperious, aren’t you?”

  But she did it.

  “You have two brothers, right?” He leaned forward to tuck a pillow under her knee before sitting down across from her.

  “Yes.”

  “So the bossiness of shifter males isn’t something new to you.”

  “Not new, still annoying.”

  “Difficult.” He sniffed. “Did you recognize the cats who came into your store today? Have you ever seen them before?”

  “No. They came in and I noticed they were shifters. I thought it was funny that I didn’t recognize them. We have regulars from the jamboree.” She sounded nearly defensive and he felt bad anew about what had happened.

  “You’re not shunned, of course you have regulars from the jamboree.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, no, I didn’t recognize them.”

  “What about from the other night? The night I got shot. What did you scent that night?”

  “Cats first. There aren’t so many of us around here that it’s something I scent very often. Then the gun oil.”

  “And then the shots?”

  “Yes. Three pops. I was less than half the block away from you. They ran, but you were on the ground. I didn’t know if you were alive or not.”