by Amanda Jones
Sarah scoffed. “Not. Even.”
Patrick pulled Dana a little closer and said, “No, one at a time’s enough, and she’s still breaking me in. Dana’s here to make sure I don’t get eaten. Sarah’s along for the thrill ride.”
Billy raised one scruffy gray eyebrow and looked at both women with incredulity.
Patrick laughed. “Hey, they’re little, but I witnessed for myself this afternoon that both have a sure shot and like big guns. They’ve probably got better aim than your best boy here.”
Billy rolled his watery gray eyes. “I don’t doubt that. We’re better hunters as cats than on two legs. Makes getting a salvageable deer for Thanksgiving a problem. Now, who, exactly, do you think is gonna be eatin’ you?”
A young woman in a short skirt and halter-top, despite the chilly temperature, stalked up through the group and wrapped her arms around Billy’s neck. “That him, granddaddy?”
Him?
Dana suspected this woman just might be one of those vixens who would fight over new Cat cock, and her smack-hand itched. Somehow, she managed to keep it jammed
firmly in her pocket. In her other pocket, she fondled a pocketknife. She had a bigger one strapped to her ankle, but sometimes little did the job just fine.
Billy didn’t respond to the girl.
Dana thought that was a pity. She really wanted to hear his answer.
“Last night, something attacked me,” Patrick said. “I didn’t remember it until this morning when Dana was uh…”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He grinned. “Debriefing me. Don’t know what it was, but it was much bigger than me.”
Billy’s face blanched.
Gently, he loosened the girl’s arms from his neck, turned her, and gave her a little nudge that needed no translation. He was saying shoo.
She harrumphed, but walked away.
Billy got up close and lowered his voice to a whisper while his gaze flitted to the surrounding woods. “Where were ya?”
Patrick shrugged. “Dunno. I suspect I covered a lot of ground last night. I wasn’t exactly running in a defined grid.”
Billy dragged his tongue over his chapped lips and swallowed hard.
“What are you not telling us, old man?” Sarah asked.
“This is kinda Were-cat business, little girl. You don’t wanna get involved. It’s hard to understand.”
She scoffed. “Dude, you don’t know me. You think this Were-shit freaks me out? I know something even freakier, and she’s standing in front of you with a Glock and a Sig Sauer filled with silver strapped to her ribs. I’m a Marine. I’ve been in combat. I’ve seen things worse than combat. People keep trying to kill me, and they all fail. You want to tussle?” She cracked her knuckles and grinned. “Let’s do it.”
“Sheesh.” Billy grimaced and turned to Patrick. “Look, some of our young boys are a mite wild. They don’t understand how little offenses can set folks off. There are feuds that go back a hundred years or more. We got a couple of groups they’ve accidentally run afoul of. They attacked a few people they shouldn’t have, and now we’re trying to clean up the mess.”
“Messes like me,” Patrick said, his voice dark, as he scanned the gathered crowd. His arm tensed, suddenly, and he let go of Dana. Without another word, he stepped toward the group and two young men got up and ran in the opposite direction from where Dana, Sarah, and Patrick had arrived.
He was about to take off after them when Billy shouted, “No! The boundary!”
The boys kept running, but Patrick, seeming to intrinsically understand the meaning in a way Dana did not, stopped.
Before the boys completely disappeared into the woods, several large, dark shapes appeared at the edge and brought both to the ground with bone-cracking thuds.
Even with her sharp vision and suspended disbelief, Dana could hardly believe what she was seeing.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered as the Cats in the group stood around them, murmuring and watching as the boys were dragged away.
“I think that’s what got me last night,” Patrick said.
At the sound of a gun magazine snapping into place, they all turned and looked at Sarah.
She nodded toward the woods. “Those kids may be dumb as fuck, but they don’t deserve to be eaten alive by those things.” She took off, a near-blur in all black with her dark ponytail bobbing behind her.
The look Patrick gave Dana said, “Do not,” but she would. Maybe it was the cop in her.
Maybe it was her mother hen instincts, and not just for her reckless shrew, but for those idiots kids.
She pulled Patrick’s Ruger from her waistband, handed to him, and set off after Sarah with her semi-automatic loaded and ready to kill.
The last thing she heard was, “Patrick, you better stay. If they see you, you’re gonna be the next one with a target.”
Dana hoped he’d stay, too. Fighting would be easier without a dirty cat distraction.
___
“I’m a fucking idiot,” Dana said as she and Sarah crouched low in the brush, waiting for a chance to strike.
The Bears had shifted back into human forms, but were tired for it. Apparently, their bodies weren’t meant to shift so frequently outside their normal moon phases, and they were forced to rest.
Dana didn’t know what they planned to do to the young Cats, but they had left them tied to a couple of trees while they lounged nearby. One Bear had even started a fire. Whether it was for warmth or cooking, Dana couldn’t say. Her gut said it wasn’t there for marshmallow roasting.
“You’re not an idiot,” Sarah whispered back. “You’re in love. Maybe that’s the same thing, though, given what we’ve been through.”
“I’m not in love. I’ve only known the guy for a day.”
“You’re in love. That guy’s so needy he should have his own charity and fundraising telethon. If the potential for love wasn’t there, you would have went home yesterday and left a bill for all your trouble.”
Burn.
No one could have pegged her like Sarah.
“Maybe you’re right, but it’s not going to work.”
Sarah craned her head and they watched as one of the young men tried to wriggle free. If he kept it up, he’d arouse the attention of the Bears, and that would make the Shrews’ rescue attempt all the more unpredictable. “Stay still, you little motherfucker,” Sarah murmured before stooping low again. “Why not? Serious question.”
“Because…”
Hell, Dana couldn’t say why. It wasn’t something she could easily articulate.
She fondled the handle of her gun like a worry stone and fixed her gaze on the smallest Were-bear of the bunch. For some reason, he seemed to be transmitting leadership vibes. He was so small compared to the rest, though. Certainly he wouldn’t be any good in a fight, so why was he coming across as the one for her? Maybe it was that damn gut of hers on the fritz.
“Do you want me to tell you to do it? Is that what you’re waiting for?” Sarah asked.
“Do what?”
“Have a go with Mr. O’Dwyer.”
“I don’t need that.”
The skinny man stood and poked the fire. Then he placed his hands on his hips and nodded to a heavyset woman who’d come through the woods with some burlaps sacks. She dropped the bags and left. He bent over the bags, rooting through them. He must have pulled something out which Dana couldn’t see, because one of the boys let out a long, undulating scream, and his eyes went huge and round.
“He must have some kind of weapon,” Sarah said.
She raised her gun and Dana pushed down her hands. “Wait. You can’t get a clean shot.”
The man stood and the thing that had given the boy such a fright was a Bowie knife—the kind hunters used to skin their game. He held it flush against the young man’s naked chest and milked a scream from him. When he drew back, there was a blade-shaped brand on boy’s skin.
The little man laughed.
> “Silver,” Sarah whispered.
“Think so. I wonder what else is in that bag.”
Leaves rustled behind them and they both startled, aiming their guns into the woods only to find a large, golden mountain lion with gray eyes, stalking close with its distended belly to the ground. Dana put her body in front of Sarah and hissed, “Get back!” keeping her gun poised on the beast.
The cat crept closer and another, sleeker with yellow-gray eyes emerged from the dark foliage. The larger cat stayed put, breathing heavily through its open mouth and baring its teeth, while the other came closer—slowly—keeping its eyes trained on the barrel of Dana’s gun.
Both women crept back.
The cat advanced, lowering his head in a submissive gesture, but walking with confidence.
Oh.
When he was close enough to bite, he swatted a paw at her leg playfully and sat his rump on the ground next to them.
“I thought you were supposed to stay in the clearing.”
He gave his silky head a shake. Apparently, the kitty cat learning curve was short for Patrick if he was in control of his beast already.
Maybe that’ll keep him from chasing furry tail.
She scoffed even thinking it. I’m a jealous stereotype. That’s fucking awesome.
“You’re going to be in deep shit.” She nudged Cat-Patrick.
Both cats nodded.
There was another scream, this time from the other young man.
One of the Were-bears had set a large cooking pot over the fire and stared across the licking flames at the young man, laughing, while the small Were-bear teased his skin with his knife.
“Playing with their food. Savages,” Sarah said. Her voice was tinged with unvarnished disgust.
Dana gave her dirty cat another nudge. “Shouldn’t they have shifted by now?”
Billy, nearby, shook his head. He could provide no follow-up in his current form, so she didn’t push for clarification.
“What’s the plan, boss lady?” Sarah whispered.
“Shoot to scare, not kill. This is about rescue. We don’t want to be seen. We don’t want to make enemies. Paddy, you and Billy stay back. If you insist on getting into this—”
The first boy screamed again, and at the end of it his voice changed from man to beast. He squirmed against the trunk, his body writhing with pain as his skin stretched over elongating bones. His face widened and teeth sharpened. He growled loud, his pain evident as his body contorted within its bindings.
As if the first boy’s suffering had triggered something in the second, now he started to scream and writhe as well.
The Were-bear clapped and laughed at the display.
No time to make a plan.
Dana turned to the cats and whispered. “If you’re going to get in, don’t let them see you. Let me and Sarah take the brunt of this.”
Patrick shook his head.
“This is my job. I’ve had enough people fucking doubting me. Are you doubting me, too?”
He abased himself, but she got a sneaking suspicion he was going to make her pay for it later.
“Stealth, Sarah,” Dana said.
“Mm-hmm.” Sarah was already screwing on her silencer.
Yeah, she’s so getting a raise.
CHAPTER TEN
Fuck, why is he still here?
Dana locked up a gun case and tried to ignore the clumsy presence in the cabin’s doorway.
Billy just stood there watching as Dana and Sarah packed up their gear and Patrick showered.
The fact neither Shrew had grabbed him by the neck and shaken him until he saw stars was a true testament to their maturity.
“Sorry about knocking you over, Miss,” Billy said for the fourth time to Sarah.
She rubbed her sore shoulder and rolled her eyes, mumbling to herself about how a perfectly smooth operation had gone pear-shaped because of an overzealous furball.
“Y’all coming back next month? Startin’ to warm up. We might get a pig and roast it.”
“You’re kidding me, right? All this shit up in the air, and you’re talking cookouts?”
Water stopped pounding against the tub floor.
Dana put up her hands in a calming gesture. “Look, Billy, I think we’re both turned off the idea of roasted meat for a while, but thanks.”
Growling, Sarah slipped around the naked old man with her duffel and portfolio and mumbled some more as she passed. “I’m out. Gotta return that truck and get off the ground before that storm moves in. I’ll see you back in Durham, Dana,” she called out when she was safely down the porch stairs.
“Call me when you land.”
Patrick came out a moment later, his hair dark hair slicked back, and his body’s bottom half wrapped in a white towel.
She tried not to fixate on that bottom half, knowing just how magical it was. His top half wasn’t bad, either.
No. Patrick O’Dwyer was all good.
He was the worst kind of distraction, and she needed to get away from him. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, and was terrified that whatever it was, she couldn’t give it to him.
She’d fail at something, and it wouldn’t be the kind of something she could give herself a try-try again pep talk over. Her job may have been to find a missing man, but more and more, she felt like she was the one who needed finding.
She didn’t understand her feelings, much less what to do with them. He deserved better than that.
“I just stuck around long enough to get Sarah packed up. I’m out,” Dana said, her hand already on her bag. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, turned his head toward Billy.
Billy put up his hands, turned, and bounded down the porch stairs.
Patrick went to the door and closed it. “What’s the hurry, sweetheart?”
“Are you kidding me? You were there. We just had a fire fight with a Were-bear with a Napoleon complex, two expert knife-throwers, apparently—welcome to the goddamned mountains—and a bunch of flunkies and lackeys that came out of nowhere, and you’re asking me what the hurry is? Paddy, Paddy, Paddy. Those motherfuckers saw me. They saw Sarah. They saw both of us put bullet holes in a few of them. Now, they may have run away, but I get the feeling they’ll fight another day and soon. Just give them some time to get patched up. If I see those two Cats of yours—”
“No, no, no.” Patrick shook his head, and a dark glint took over his green eyes. “Not my Cats, remember? Those are the same idiot kids that turned me? Who thought they’d rob me and leave me in tatters? And I’m not even talking about the cats. I’m talking about you.”
Me? She looked at her feet. “Uh, what are you going to do? Turn them over your knees and spank them?”
He blew out a breath. “For fuck’s sake. Avoiding the issue, are ya? Well, I dunno. Honestly, the only reason I went out there to fetch the idiots is because I didn’t want you getting hurt. It wasn’t your fight. No matter. I’m going back to Durham to see what’s left of my pub. See what kind of mess it’s in on my namesake holiday.”
“And then next month, what?”
“I guess I’ll be back here.”
“Now that you have a target on your ass from the bears, right? I thought you said your sense of self-preservation was higher than that.”
He pushed away from the door and grabbed the front of her waistband in a flash, drawing her close so her chest ground against his.
Instinctively, her body melted into his, but then her brain got in the way.
She pressed her hands to his chest.
His eyes narrowed. “Look, I helped escalate the mess, so I can’t leave these people on the lurch. Someone has to clean it up.” He stroked her chin with the back of his hand, and she wondered how dare he be so charming, so beautiful when she was so pissed.
“Why does it have to be you? Why can’t you leave them to take care of their own shit? You can lock down next month. Go some
where safe near home if you’re worried you’ll get out and hurt someone.”
He shook his head and looked at her tenderly before grazing his soft lips across her forehead.
God, he’s going to undo me.
“I’m not the kind of man who takes the easy way out.”
He felt so good, and smelled so nice and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and smothered in his hot kisses for the day…but that would give her hope for something that wasn’t possible.
She pressed her palms against his naked chest yet again, and gave him a small push.
He eyed her curiously, but took a step back, respecting her space.
She walked to the door, heaving her bags up to her shoulders, and gave him one last look over her shoulder. Can’t do this. “See ya, dirty cat.”
Shaking his head, he turned. “Bye, shrew.”
___
Patrick had expected his pub to be a mess upon his return, but it was surprisingly tidy.
He wondered what had gotten into his staff—and whether it was something that could be bottled—as he made his way through the dense crowd. Some 5K runners were still dressed in their excessively festive Saint Patrick’s Day getups and running shoes. They laughed and draped over the bar with their green drinks, filling up their tanks with empty calories.
His gaze landed on the busty blonde stranger behind the bar, barking orders in an accent he couldn’t quite decipher, and the bar’s organization suddenly made sense.
That wasn’t just a shrew, but a Shrew. Had to be.
Maybe there was another nearby—one who hadn’t been taking his calls.
He stopped in the kitchen and found Uncle Simon patting hamburgers into shape.
He dropped the ground beef and made a beeline for Patrick. “Where were ya? I was worried sick. Your dad always handled the business stuff at the old place. I didn’t know what to do. I even hired a woman to—”
“Hey.” Patrick gave Uncle Simon’s shoulders a squeeze. “It’s all right. I had some personal stuff to take care of. I’ll be gone again next month and the month after. Ongoing. We’ll have to put some sort of system in place for my absences. So, who’s the woman behind the bar?”
“She works for Miss Slade. She must have thought we’d need the help today.”
