Shrew & Company Books 1-3

by Holley Trent

  The old barn he’d taken refuge in was dark, and although the farmhouse on the premises seemed deserted, he didn’t want to risk drawing attention to himself. In the morning, he could sneak over and investigate, but in the dark, caution seemed his best bet.

  He unpacked his backpack, rolled it into a makeshift pillow, and made a pallet with his rumpled clothes. With his weary body supine and his hands cradling the back of his head, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Even with his circumstances being tenuous, this lack of structure afforded him a certain freedom he’d never been able to indulge in.

  He could come and go as he pleased, and although there was risk and uncertainty, there were rewards.

  The night sky was clear and starry, and Felipe meditated on those celestial bodies through a hole in the barn’s roof. He’d never been taught constellations, or much of anything, for that matter, and maybe that was why they seemed so extraordinary. He hadn’t become jaded to them, or worse, oblivious.

  He’d spent most of his life trapped indoors. Trains. Tents. Trailers.

  Maybe one day, he could feel safe enough to sleep outside.

  A long blink became a short nap, and when he opened his eyes again, morning was dawning.

  His body was stiff from being on the cold hayloft floor, and he stretched his arms and yawned long and deep before the prickling hairs alerted him to danger.

  He sat up and pushed himself against the wall.

  The bleariness of his vision slowly gave way to reveal a dark-haired woman in black leather pointing a gun at him.

  “Mierda.”

  She leaned against a roof support, calm and cold as ice, her hands steady around the gun’s handle. Her brown eyes held a hint of impatience—as if she were annoyed at having to wait for him to wake.

  Or perhaps at having to be there at all.

  He knew the feeling.

  He poised to stand, but two things gave him pause: her grunt of “Nuh-uh” as she wagged the gun barrel at him, and the sudden surge of blood away from his brain to a part that seemed to have a mind of its own.

  Bad timing, but damn, what a woman.

  He suspected the grin he wore had a tinge of insanity about it.

  “Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy, Mr. Castillo,” she said.

  He didn’t know what she meant, but he wasn’t trying especially hard to parse her words, either. She had a nice voice. Sultry. There was an edge to her words and her tone was modulated—controlled—but he imagined that same voice whispering into his ear, telling him what to do to her…

  He grinned broader.

  She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Castillo, do you understand English?”

  He raised his shoulders slightly. He wasn’t saying a damned thing until she put down that gun or else used it. Didn’t matter to him either way, but if he was going to go, he hoped she’d at least make it pleasant for him. His eyes trailed down to the lacy edging of her camisole. The black of the trim made her brown skin’s ruddiness stand out in a lovely contrast. Peanut butter with a hint of chocolate. He felt his grin widen as he pondered how she’d taste if he dragged his tongue along that teasing collar.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Mr. Castillo.”

  He shrugged again, and this time let his gaze trail down her torso to the breasts squeezed together, mounded high from the way she held out her gun. Bit more than a handful. He bet they’d feel like a dream pressed against his naked chest. And when was the last time he’d been naked with a woman, anyway? Must have been a long damn time, because his temperature didn’t usually go from a healthy ninety-eight-point-seven to incendiary in ten seconds flat.

  “Your brother called my boss,” she continued, and he struggled to focus on her words.

  So, this was the help Fabian had acquired. Some help.

  Felipe’s gaze trailed down her athletic thighs and slender calves to the black harness boots she wore. Good leather. Broken in, so not just for show.

  He rubbed his thumb’s pad idly over the long scar on his waist as he assessed her. By the time his stare made it back up to her face, her gaze had locked on his hand, fondling that naked skin near his waistband.

  She didn’t stop staring until he ceased rubbing. Given the location of his scar, if she’d noticed that, she very likely noticed the swell at his crotch as well. The room was bright with that hole in the roof, and he wasn’t exactly trying to hide his aroused state. After all, she’d come after him. She deserved whatever eyeful she got.

  Her gaze met his again, and he couldn’t be sure, but her face seemed slightly redder than it had been before. Was this a woman easily prone to embarrassment? He didn’t think so. A woman who held a gun with that kind of confidence certainly wouldn’t be embarrassed by a stranger’s erection. And even with her standing there, aware of him, his arousal didn’t diminish in the slightest bit. If anything, he was more turned on by their exchange. Those thighs of hers would probably clamp his waist tight while he pressed into her. She wouldn’t just lie there and wait for him to finish. No, she’d ask for more.

  He grinned again.

  This time, she didn’t respond with an eye roll.

  “I’m going to put my gun in its holster.” She pointed to the empty holster with her free hand.

  He didn’t need the sign language.

  “I know what you’re capable of,” she said.

  Did she?

  “Please don’t run. My job is to get you somewhere safe.”

  Just her? All by herself?

  It wasn’t that he doubted the petite gunslinger, but what had Fabian been thinking?

  Felipe would have been just fine on his own. Fabian must have thought Felipe would do something rash. He’d always been the risk taker of the two of them, but this time, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. All he’d wanted was to put some distance between him and the circus until Jacques cooled off. He’d go back and bide his time, then he and Fabian could get away for good. This was just meant to be a scouting mission. Of course, there’d been no way to tell Fabian that. He’d left without saying goodbye, and only stuck around the circus long enough to catch Fabian’s signal.

  Still, he wondered…

  He put one hand up, palm-out, in a reassuring gesture and pressed the other to the floor to help him stand.

  She watched him warily and slowly deposited her firearm into its holster.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “I’m not the typical private eye, Mr. Castillo. I’ve got a network that—”

  He shook his head. Network? “Explain, please. Use a different word.”

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and blew a raspberry. “I hoped you’d be better at English than your brother.”

  “I am, but only”—he made a waffling gesture—“on paper.”

  Was that the right phrase?

  “Right.” She switched to slowly enunciated Spanish. “Listen, if I were a normal cop, I’d never find you. Wouldn’t know where to begin looking. But, I’m weird just like you, so there are people I can go to for help. Even when you’re invisible, you leave a psychic trail, and I have a couple of very discreet friends in the area who helped me pick it up.”

  Felipe crouched and balled his clothes into his bag. Friends? Time to go. Having one person on his trail was bad enough, but to know that several had a clue of his whereabouts didn’t exactly instill calm in him.

  The woman closed the gap between them and rested a soft, warm hand on his naked shoulder. Immediately, he stilled, and didn’t know why. Any other time, he would have run.

  He dragged his gaze up to watch the movement of her luscious pink lips.

  “They gave me a general idea of where you were. That’s all I asked for. I didn’t want them to have to lie if the police ever questioned them, not that they will be questioned. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”

  He bobbed his shoulders once more. Knowing what was right or wrong with hard with her standing so close. At that moment, right seemed like
unfastening her pants and letting them fall to her ankles…pressing his face against her feminine warmth.

  Jesucristo.

  He swallowed hard, and she dropped her hand.

  “My name is Sarah Miller. I work for Shrew & Company,” she said, taking a step back and squatting with her arms draped over her thighs. “We’re private investigators. Lately, we’ve had a lot of clients like you. Not invisible, necessarily, but not your typical humans. We’re very discreet, and we’re usually good at picking the right side of a conflict. Your brother called my boss.”

  “How did he—”

  “Know about us? Not important. Stay focused.”

  He raised a brow.

  “My boss did some research. Found out some rumors about your boss that could be pretty devastating to his business if true.”

  People outside the circus had heard about Jacques? If Jacques knew he had a secondary reputation, he’d be angry. And when he was angry…

  She put up her hands. “I don’t know what Jacques’s plans are, but I’ll find out when I get you somewhere safe. I promise you we’ll get your brother out without so much as a hair shed. First things first, we need to move. Can’t stay here long.”

  “Why not? Is this place not abandoned?”

  “It is, but the north edge of the property abuts the territory of a group my company is not too friendly with right now.” She let out a little giggle that made his cock twitch.

  Whoa, there.

  She turned to the loft window, and he made a quick adjustment of his pants before she spun back around.

  “Of all places, you’d have to come here.” Her lips quirked up at the corners and judging by the mirth in her eyes, she found the entire melodrama amusing. “Maybe you can rest for a while longer. Last night was full moon, so the Bears are probably down for the count right now. They go hard in bear form and are pretty much dead to the world the morning after. Sort of their Achilles’ heel.”

  “But?”

  “But, I’m parked behind the barn. They always have a human scout or two making the rounds and checking on their holdings, so it wouldn’t be wise to linger for very long. I bet you’re hungry, anyway.”

  “Are you offering to buy me breakfast?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll write it off as a business expense. So, rest up and I’ll keep an eye on the woods back there.”

  She poised to stand, but Felipe wrapped a hand around one of her knees, stilling her. She stared at his hand, but didn’t swat it away.

  “What if I’m too…excited to rest?”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it, and narrowed her eyes at him. She must have been thinking it over, whatever it was, and after a moment she said, “That’s your prerogative.”

  “And…yours too?” He let his hand inch further up her thigh. The tight muscles beneath his fingers tensed, then relaxed.

  When she spoke, there was a rasp in her voice. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  He nodded. “I am. I always have.”

  “Perhaps your sense of self-preservation needs recalibrating.”

  He eased forward, placing his other hand on her second leg.

  She stared down at it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my sense of self-preservation.” He leaned in close so their noses nearly touched, studying the dark brown of her eyes for a moment, before grazing his lips over hers.

  Soft, just as he’d expected.

  She leaned back a bit, forehead furrowed and lips pressed into a flat line. Her expression had shifted from bemusement to annoyance. “That technique usually works for you?”

  He didn’t get her meaning. All he wanted was a kiss. And maybe a bit more, if she’d let him. Naturally, he had a strong curiosity about what the curves hidden beneath her jacket looked like. Whether she’d be all muscle or whether there’d be some flesh for him to sink his teeth into.

  But, if she didn’t want a kiss, he wouldn’t give her a kiss.

  Wearing a grin, he eased away and reached for his shoes. “I don’t need the rest. We can leave at your leisure so you can buy me breakfast.”

  She shook her head and stood, jamming her hands into her pockets. “Don’t get too excited. We’re going through the drive-through and you’re sitting in the back.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He must have thought she’d been joking.

  As Sarah carefully navigated the winding mountain roads near Patrick’s cabin, Felipe’s evil glower was a fixture in the rearview mirror. She wasn’t so thrilled, herself, playing chauffeur and babysitter.

  They didn’t speak, and if it hadn’t been for Felipe’s glares and Sarah’s eye-rolls, they would have had no communication at all.

  When they approached Patrick’s gated driveway, she slowed and patted the center console in search of her walkie-talkie. She activated it and purred into the mic. “Where are you, Shrew?”

  A shock of blonde emerged from a well-camouflaged hunting blind, and moments later Tamara lifted the yellow barrier blocking the path.

  Sarah drove past the gate and stopped, waiting as Tamara replaced the large metal bar and clapped a padlock onto it. The gate wouldn’t keep out anyone who wanted to walk up the mountain as the property wasn’t fenced all the way around, but anyone ambitious enough to make that long trek was welcome to try. Besides the private road, there were no easy paths through the trees. Much of the journey up to the property was steep and riddled with rocky terrain in some places, and damp, boggy copses in others. Shy of being a mountain goat or certain types of Were-animal, the path was the safer bet.

  Tamara climbed into the front passenger seat and immediately turned to assess Sarah’s new charge. “Hello, circus freak.”

  Sarah put the truck into first gear and observed Felipe’s placid expression in the rearview mirror. She rolled her eyes.

  “Hello, rude blonde,” he responded.

  Tamara narrowed her green eyes to slits. “You smell like trouble. I don’t like you.”

  His expression didn’t change. He was cool as a cucumber…at least when it came to Tam. “Already?” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “Bueno. I never get on well with Russian women.”

  “I’m not Russian!” Tamara said, her voice escalating to a shriek toward the end of her declaration. “I’m—”

  He crooked up an eyebrow, daring her. Goading her.

  Sarah suppressed a laugh and was maybe even a little impressed by his quick read of her fellow Shrew.

  “Asshole.” Tamara growled. She faced forward and slumped in the seat. “I don’t like him.”

  “You don’t like anyone,” Sarah responded.

  “I like the ones who don’t talk back.”

  “Like I said.” Now Sarah laughed in earnest. Typical Tamara. It’d been a running joke amongst the Shrews. All of the Shrews were opinionated—that was part of their individual constitutions, even before that research study whacked them out. But of them all, Tamara had been born with the loosest filter. If something was on her mind, she said it. She held nothing back. Maybe it was a side effect of her atypical upbringing in Romania, or maybe it was just the way her brain was wired. She didn’t like being rebutted, which made her fairly rude as far as receptionists went, but she was damned good at strategizing. That’s why Dana kept her around. She planned to get the surly blonde off the phones as soon as they found an applicant they trusted enough to be let in on their secret. Doc had someone in mind, but wasn’t sure whoever it was could hack it long-term.

  “What did I miss while I was out tracking Mr. Castillo?”

  “Well…” Tamara put her combat boot-shod feet up on the dashboard and crossed her legs at the ankles. “We got some sketchy intelligence. Heard the Bears have formed a loose alliance with some other group who hold a grudge against the Cats. That’s all we know. We asked Billy who else could possibly be angry with them and he played coy, the idiot.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and slowed the pick-up so she could concentrate on steering around the
hidden booby trap. It wasn’t much of an obstacle, truth be told, but if an unwelcome party wasn’t aware of it, they’d find their front tires stuck in deep ruts right beneath a couple of surveillance cameras.

  She glanced into the rearview mirror and found Felipe’s expression had shifted from one of bemusement to one of interest. Apparently, this discussion fascinated him.

  He winked.

  Ugh.

  She returned her attention to the path. “I’ll make Billy talk. Hate working with half-assed information. I’m not going to keep sticking my neck out for these furballs if they’re not going to do us the solid of filling us in on the full backstory.”

  Tamara blew out a breath. “Good luck. Both Dana and Patrick have issued enough threats to the guy he should have pissed himself. I mean, good threats. I wrote some of them down for later.”

  “Qué coño…” Felipe murmured.

  The Shrews ignored his distress.

  Tam continued. “He just stood there with his usual dumb expression and said he didn’t know anything. Is true he’s stupid, but he knows something.”

  Sarah’s gut agreed. “I really do hope we’re picking the right side in this conflict,” she mumbled. The familiarity of the sentiment weighed heavily on her.

  When she’d enlisted in the Marines, she was the sort of recruit who thought she and her fellow soldiers were doing some good. “Good” was hard to gauge when so much of what she saw was a lot of scared little kids and women who had that all-too-familiar look of terror in their eyes: the one that comes from being not-quite-resigned, but too frightened and too ignorant to improve their situation.

  “What choice do we have now? Patrick is a Cat, whether he wants to be or not. Patrick is Dana’s, and we do what Dana says.”

  Sarah cut her narrowed gaze sideways at Tamara, and her passenger put up her hands.

  “That didn’t come out right. If Dana says jump, I jump. I trust her. She doesn’t make mistakes.”

  Sarah relaxed into her seat a bit and blew out the annoyance she’d been holding in. A lot of what Tamara said was lost in translation, but Sarah was particularly sensitive when it came to perceived slights against Dana. Dana knew her better than anyone. She was her best friend, and Sarah upheld her gospel because she trusted her implicitly. Dana wasn’t just “boss lady.” She was the wisest person Sarah knew.