White Tiger

by Jennifer Ashley

* * *

  Addie took the 377 and kept heading south. The money Kendrick had left with her burned in the pocket she’d shoved it in. She’d run her thumb over the wad and realized it was about five thousand dollars. She could consider it a tip, she supposed. She’d served some really good pie.

  Addie started laughing, the laughter turning hysterical. She took a deep breath, trying to stifle it. Losing her mind right now wasn’t going to help her.

  Kendrick had told her to leave Texas, to go anywhere. Addie’s heart pounded as she contemplated what to do. Ivy would be scared for her. Her big sister didn’t handle life as well as Addie did—Ivy had a comfort zone she’d rarely left since her divorce.

  But then, if Kendrick was afraid the guys who’d attacked the diner would look for her . . . Addie couldn’t lead them back to her sister’s house, where her innocent nephew and niece lived.

  Kendrick was right—she should leave the state and just keep driving. The only trouble with that was, Texas was such a damn big state, and Loneview was more or less in the center of it. It would take a long time to cross a border. But she had a change of clothes in her trunk—she often changed into and out of her uniform at the diner—and now the money Kendrick had pressed upon her.

  She could go to New Orleans, lie low there in a motel somewhere—however low a person could lie in New Orleans. She could blend in with the tourists, at least.

  Addie’s fingers firmed on the steering wheel. She’d drive on through the night, call Ivy and assure her she was all right, that she needed to get away after the trauma. She’d even mail Ivy some of the money.

  She knew these back roads pretty well and started looking for the turnoff that would let her head east. A little maneuvering would get her into San Antonio, and the 10, which would take her straight to Houston and then to Louisiana and New Orleans.

  A flash of light caught her attention, and Addie glanced into her rearview. Her heart sank as she saw the unmistakable lights of a police car coming up behind her. Had they followed her from the diner? Did they know about Kendrick? The dead Shifters?

  She soon heard the wail of a siren as the car came closer. This might not be about her. Might not. But there was no one on this back road but herself.

  The lights grew closer until they were right on her bumper. She knew better than to try to floor it—they’d chase her, and life could get bad after that.

  Their headlights flashed, and they sounded the horn that meant, Yes, we’re following you, lady, and you need to pull over.

  Swallowing, Addie put on the brakes and halted on the highway’s shoulder.

  A glance into the mirror showed that much of her hair had escaped its ponytail and hung in long hanks down her face. She hoped by all that was holy she hadn’t looked this bad when she’d thrown her arms around Kendrick and kissed the hell out of him.

  The heat of that kiss still lingered on her lips, the sensation of his hands on her body imprinted there for life.

  Two men approached the car. One leisurely strolled toward her window while the other remained at her taillight, almost in her blind spot.

  The one who approached her open window wore an immaculate khaki-colored uniform, his short hair combed and perfectly straight. He wasn’t Loneview police, she realized; he wore a county sheriff’s department badge on his chest and his name tag read Alvarez.

  He stood at her window, leaning slightly to look inside. “Ms. Price? Can you step out of the car for me?”

  Addie tried to hide her agitation as she opened the door and got out. Cool wind wrapped her bare legs. She saw that the other deputy remained at the rear of her car, and he had his gun in his hand.

  “Mind telling me where you were going?” Alvarez asked her.

  “I don’t know, really,” Addie said, her voice shaking. “Anywhere.”

  “Your car was seen heading out of town after the trouble at your diner,” he went on. “You were a witness.”

  Not a question. A statement. He knew she’d been there. But then, if he’d talked to Bo, Bo would have told him she’d been working her shift tonight.

  “Yes,” she said, her mouth dry.

  Alvarez was watching her with a calm, steady look, but she read the suspicion behind his eyes.

  “Wait,” she said. “You think I had something to do with it? I didn’t. I was scared out of my mind.”

  “I can imagine,” Alvarez said, continuing with the calm tone. “I’m going to ask you now why you were driving down this highway instead of going home. You’re not obligated to tell me, but I’m going to ask. Seems a kind of strange thing to do.”

  He wanted her to confirm his suspicions, that she was involved somehow, that she knew all about who had done the shooting and why. His eyes and tone of voice encouraged her to.

  Addie thought of Robbie’s too-serious gray eyes as he looked after the smaller cubs. She also remembered the way Robbie had momentarily let down his guard when he’d seen Kendrick, to run to him and cling to his legs.

  No way was she giving up those kids to the cops. Not their fault their father had been hunted, not their fault he’d killed a guy with a sword. Kendrick had been defending them against men who’d tried to shoot them all dead.

  If she gave up Kendrick, the cubs would be taken. To where and what would happen to them, she didn’t know. She was equally certain that Kendrick could take care of them now, wherever they’d gone.

  “I was just so scared,” Addie said. Her voice quavered—not a lie. “I don’t know where I was going. Driving around to clear my head.”

  Alvarez pinned her with his dark stare then grudgingly gave her a nod. “Understandable. But I need to ask you to—”

  He broke off sharply. Addie went ice-cold as she realized he was staring at her pocket, which was bulging with the money roll Kendrick had handed her.

  “Ms. Price,” Alvarez said, voice sharp. “I’m going to ask you now to empty your pockets. Again, you don’t have to comply, but I’m going to ask.”

  Addie heaved a sigh. If she didn’t do what he wanted, he could arrest her or at least take her in for questioning, advising she call a lawyer. Not that Addie had one.

  She drew a breath, reached into her pocket, and took out the bills. “It’s mine. A friend gave it to me.”

  There was no law against carrying around a lot of money. But an underpaid waitress racing down an empty highway with thousands of dollars in her pocket after the diner where she worked had just been shot up didn’t look good.

  Alvarez stared hard at the money. Then he looked back at Addie, anger in his eyes.

  “Ms. Price, I’d like you to come to the sheriff’s department with me. There are few questions you need to answer.”

  No telling her she had a choice this time. Sighing, Addie nodded. At least they didn’t cuff her before they put her into the back of the sheriff’s car and drove away.

  * * *

  “Dad,” Zane asked Kendrick in their motel room well south of the I-10. “Is Addie going to be our new mom?”

  Kendrick glanced down at his youngest son, barely four years old now. Kendrick’s heart constricted. Zane had the look of Eileen, Kendrick’s mate, who’d passed bringing this lad in. The eyes that looked up at him, thought they held the green of the white tiger, were hers.

  Kendrick shook his head but kept his voice gentle. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing Addison anymore, son.”

  Zane’s eyes filled with distress. “But I like Addie. She gives me pie.”

  “I know.” Kendrick’s voice was harder than he meant it to be. “But it’s too dangerous for her to be around us right now. We don’t want Addison getting hurt.”

  It had been a hell of a hard thing to unwrap his arms from around her and tell her to go. The sudden joy of her kiss, the taste of her sweetness, the feeling of her body the length of his had awakened a hope he’d not felt in a long, long t
ime.

  Grief and pain had consumed him for years, and then Addison had smiled at him, her blue eyes warm. The hot promise of her body had made aching need, long-suppressed, spring to life.

  He had to send her to safety, away from the Shifters who’d turned on him, from humans who might find out she’d helped him. From himself.

  Zane nodded at Kendrick’s words, but Kendrick knew he didn’t really understand.

  Robbie, flipping through channels on the television, the sound muted, did understand. He said nothing though, only his hunched back betraying his unhappiness.

  Damn it. Kendrick hadn’t meant for his cubs to be out in the wide world any longer than they had to be. He was supposed to find a new safe place for them, for all his Shifters.

  He was working on it, but slowly. Kendrick had hoped he’d find a new site for his Shifters quickly, far from here, possibly in Alaska.

  That plan had fallen apart as soon as Kendrick, trying to take his cubs to safety from the collapsing compound last November, had been found by Dylan Morrissey. Dylan was an alpha stronger than any other Kendrick had met, didn’t matter that Dylan had a Collar firmly around his neck.

  Dylan had decided that Kendrick, an un-Collared Shifter that Shifter Bureau didn’t know about, could help him with covert operations he was running. They were so covert, even the Shifters in the local Shiftertowns didn’t know about them.

  Dylan promised protection for Kendrick and his sons and for any un-Collared Shifter that Kendrick had led, as long as Kendrick stayed around and helped him. Kendrick saw no reason not to—he could keep looking for a new place while he assisted—but he knew deep down inside that Dylan wouldn’t let Kendrick go until he was ready.

  Dylan had not been happy that Kendrick had set up his “Shiftertown” in Dylan’s area of control, though Kendrick hadn’t realized until too late he’d violated Dylan’s territory, an unforgivable act. He hadn’t understood how far Dylan’s power reached.

  Kendrick sat down heavily on the bed. He should never have gone to Addison’s diner, never endangered her, or his cubs. But they’d clamored to go, happy to get out of the boring motel room and eat some real food.

  Addison, her name tag read. Kendrick hadn’t been able to stop looking at the name, the label hung on her so all would know who she was. Humans so readily gave each other their most intimate names.

  The cubs called her Addie. Not the same thing. Addie was cute and bouncy. Addison was more remote, lovely, like coming upon a sudden beautiful vista after climbing through a dreary, desolate landscape.

  Addison had smiled at Kendrick and the cubs, her eyes warm. No distance. Addison was open, friendly, kind.

  Tonight, he’d found her in his arms, her mouth crushing his in that burning kiss . . .

  “Dad,” Robbie called in agitation. “Look!” He was standing up, staring at the television, his small fists balled. The younger boys, who’d been dozing at the end of one bed, sat up to see what had caught Robbie’s attention.

  Kendrick fixed his gaze on the screen, the picture playing with no sound. He saw Addison being led up the steps into a building in the middle of a dark town, two men in law enforcement uniforms on either side of her. Words and numbers poured across the bottom of the screen, stock quotes, game scores, and the highlights of the story unfolding.

  Shootout in Loneview. Suspected accomplice taken in for questioning.

  “Turn that up,” Kendrick said.

  Robbie, who’d figured out how to work every remote in the room five minutes after they’d checked in, clicked a button.

  “. . . The county sheriff’s department suspects this woman of having a hand in the shooting, though it’s unclear whether she let in the shooters or covered their escape, or whether she was coerced or working with them. Police haven’t discovered the motive for the shooting—a robbery gone wrong, or an act of terrorism.”

  Addie glanced once over her shoulder, her face fixed with fear she was trying not to show.

  “Son of a fucking . . .” Kendrick’s words faded into snarls. “Robbie.”

  Robbie gave him a solemn nod. “I’ll take care of them, Dad. Are you going to go save Addie?”

  Kendrick didn’t know if he could. She was in custody of the human police, and Kendrick was an un-Collared Shifter who was breaking the law simply by existing. What the hell he could do, he didn’t know.

  He’d think of something. He’d spent his whole life making things up as he went along—why stop now?

  “Be ready,” he said to Robbie.

  The lad knew what he meant. Robbie had learned how to lie low and then move at the drop of a hat—he’d have their collective belongings together and the littler boys prepared to go.

  Robbie nodded. “Goddess go with you,” he said.

  Zane and Brett sat quietly, their large eyes on Kendrick. He went to them, bending down to give them tight hugs, kissing the tops of their heads, before he made himself turn and leave them.

  He heard, before he mounted his motorcycle he’d parked next to the door, Robbie clicking all the locks home and dragging a piece of furniture in front of the door.

  Kendrick slung his sword on his back, started the Harley, and rode away north.

  * * *

  Addie sat with her hands folded in front of her in the interrogation room. Alvarez still hadn’t handcuffed her, but he’d made it clear she’d be restrained if she tried to leave before they were finished.

  Alvarez faced her, his partner, whose name was Hickson, beside him. Hickson started a recorder.

  “For the record, Ms. Price,” he said. “Let’s go over events one more time. I want to emphasize that you’re simply here so I can ask questions. You haven’t been charged. Now . . . who was in the restaurant?”

  Addie swallowed. “No one. The last customers had gone.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound helpful, not worried. “I was locking up, and Jimmy stepped outside for a smoke.” She didn’t like to think about Jimmy, falling in the door, surprised and dead. He hadn’t deserved that. “The shooting started and I hid until they were gone.”

  “Hmm.” Alvarez shifted in his seat as though growing comfortable for a long chat. “When we went over the diner, there were four place settings and four glasses at the counter. One set of dishes at a booth. Who were those for?”

  Addie wet her lips. “Oh—just regulars. They’d gone. I was locking up, like I said. I hadn’t had time to clear the tables.”

  She thought hard about when the guy in the John Deere cap had left—she was positive it had been before Kendrick had arrived. Kendrick had been late. But if John Deere Cap had seen Kendrick on his way . . .

  “No one was there,” she repeated.

  Alvarez didn’t believe her. Addie read that in his eyes. Hickson didn’t either, but he was remaining deferentially silent, letting Alvarez lead.

  Alvarez leaned forward and asked, “What about the pie?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Addie started. “Pie?”

  “There were four plates behind the pass, pie boxes open, and a spatula thing for scooping pieces out.”

  Addie had forgotten about that. She’d set up plates in the back just before the shooting started. “Oh. That. I was going to serve some customers out front, but they left before I could bring the order.”

  “Yeah?” Alvarez looked interested. “Why do you think they did that?”

  Addie wet her lips. “How should I know? Maybe they were tired and didn’t want to wait. Maybe they had to go to the bathroom. They didn’t say.”

  “Did they pay you?”

  “For what?” Addie asked, bewildered. “The pie?”

  “For the drinks you’d already served. And for the pie, since they’d obviously ordered it.”

  “I don’t remember.” Addie pressed her hands to her face. “I really don’t remember.”

 
“And what did you do to get that very large tip? You were carrying around five thousand dollars. You know that, right?”

  Addie jumped again. Yes, she’d guessed at the amount Kendrick had simply handed her. Which the police now had as well as her purse.

  “Who were these last customers?” Alvarez prodded. “What did they look like? You said they were regulars. Do you know any of their names?”

  “I . . .” Addie couldn’t think. Which was exactly what Alvarez intended. He’d ask her the same questions over and over until she couldn’t remember what she’d told him and blurt out the truth when she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  Addie tried a faint laugh. “If you think the farmer who comes in every night had anything to do with the shooting, you’re wrong. I don’t know his name, but he’s a nice guy. He doesn’t get along with his wife, so he eats in the diner a lot. Mostly for the company. Couldn’t be the food.”

  Alvarez listened with seeming patience. “He might have had nothing to do with the shooting, but he might have seen something. Maybe he saw these other customers when they suddenly decided to leave. Tell me about them.”

  “About who?”

  “The four customers at the counter.” Alvarez spoke slowly, as though Addie had trouble understanding English. “Did you know their names?”

  Kendrick, Robbie, Brett, Zane. Good thing telepathy wasn’t real or Addie would have just given them up. I hope they’re all right.

  “Or at least what they looked like,” Alvarez prompted. Hickson simply sat and listened, and the recorder made a faint, electronic hum.

  Someone knocked on the door of the stuffy room. Hickson calmly rose and answered it.

  Kendrick walked in. His hair was slicked down on his head, the strands arranged so the white wasn’t as obvious through the black. He carried a leather folder in one hand, and he was wearing a suit. Coat, slacks, ivory-colored shirt, tie and all.

  Where the hell did he get a suit? was Addie’s first dazed thought. And doesn’t he look good in it?

  No, he looked damn good in it. The coat hugged broad shoulders, the collar and tie framed his square face, the slacks skimmed athletic legs. He looked like a corporate pinup guy, like the billionaires on the covers of romances her sister devoured.