by Liz Craven
“I think I’d enjoy being courted,” she confessed.
His heart turned over. Before he could promise to sweep her off her feet, she said, “Here.”
“Here?”
“Here,” she repeated, gesturing frantically at the passenger’s window.
“Here what?”
“Well, now it’s there,” she snapped, twisting to look out the back window.
“Huh?”
“You missed the exit.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jan hid a smile as she led a grumbling Lucas up the side staircase that led to her floor. Tucked into the back corner of the building, it afforded her a sense of privacy she appreciated. With only one wall against a neighbor’s—and that wall in the kitchen/dining room—she could indulge in some loud fantasies with the handsome man behind her.
She began rooting in her purse, searching for her keys. When she finally located them, they’d reached her door. Lucas clapped a hand over her mouth and took the keys from her hand. To her surprise she didn’t immediately panic at being grabbed.
“I smell pizza and hear the television—a baseball game. Someone’s in there.”
Jan’s muscles locked and fear stiffened her spine.
Lucas released her mouth, but wrapped a supportive arm around her as he leaned forward to examine the lock. In a voice so low, she could hardly hear him, he said, “It hasn’t been picked. Who else has a key to the place?”
“Management and Elliot.” Shame swamped her. She should have had the foresight to change the locks. God, she was stupid.
Lucas squeezed her gently. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll take care of this.”
“I’ll call the police.” She pulled her mobile off her belt.
Lucas shook his head. “Call Damien. I smell Ketamine.”
“Special K?”
He shook his head and she tried not to be distracted by the odd light refraction in his eyes. Knowing he was a tiger and seeing the partial shift were two different things. Her mind shied away from the preternatural aspects of her … boyfriend? Husband?
“It’s high grade and not diluted. I also smell gun oil. Whoever is in there is waiting for a Tigre or a shifter of some kind with a tranq gun. We can’t get the police involved. Go back downstairs and call Damien.”
She balked. It was stupid and moronic, but she did it anyway. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay here and listen. See if I can tell anything.”
“And what if someone opens the door—” One day she was going to learn to keep her mouth shut.
The door swung open and a tall, slender man she’d never seen before appeared. He wore a pair of scruffy jeans and a faded wifebeater, in his left hand hung a tall kitchen garbage bag. Well, at least whoever was squatting in her apartment was taking out the trash.
The look of surprise on the man’s hawkish face made it appear as misshapen as a caricature. Jan and the stranger froze, staring at each other for a full second. Lucas had no such deer-in-the-headlight moment. He lunged at the man, but before he could grab him, the caricature let out a startled yelp.
The croaking sound brought Elliot running from the living room. A short man with a developing beer gut, her ex-fiancé inspired little more than a vague feeling of disgust—until she saw the gun in his hand.
“Run—” Lucas growled over his shoulder at the same time she shouted “Gun!”
Lucas was fast, but not even preternatural speed could out run a bullet—or a dart, she realized a moment after the soft pop sounded.
A fletched end stuck out of Lucas’s shoulder, but he didn’t fall down like people did in the movies. Instead, he roared in rage and staggered forward, trying to fight as his body refused to cooperate. The seconds it took him to slump to the floor felt interminable.
Sick at the sight, Jan tried to move to his side, her emotions overriding her common sense. Apparently Caitlyn was right. She was the moron running up the stairs.
Her attempt to check on Lucas came to a screeching halt when Elliot turned the gun on her.
“About damned time you showed up,” he muttered. “Get in here.”
Wifebeater apparently didn’t think she was complying fast enough, because he caught her arm, hauled her across the threshold and slammed the door shut. He tossed her against the wall hard enough for her head to dent the drywall. Black roses bloomed before her eyes and pain exploded in her skull.
Shit. She hadn’t even had the intelligence to scream. Too late to do anything about that, so she went on the offense. “What the hell is going on? Have you gone insane?”
Moving gingerly to keep her head from falling off, she shifted to kneel beside Lucas. Satisfied that he was breathing, she yanked the offending dart from his shoulder.
“Do you think she knows?” Wifebeater asked.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she snapped out.
“Doubt it. It’s not something they would share with a hu—with her.”
She had no doubt they were debating her knowledge of Tigre. Her eyes fell on the keys Lucas had dropped. She grabbed them and shoved them into her purse—using the obvious action to disguise her thumbing Caitlyn’s home number. God bless speed dial.
Leaving the purse open, she decided feigning ignorance was the smart move. She glared at the two men, before pinning her gaze on Elliot. “You are in violation of the restraining order.”
Both men laughed.
“Restraining order?” Elliot snorted. “God you’re dumb.”
She bristled. “I’m not the one courting jail time and shooting a doctor.”
“Hot damn!” Wifebeater exclaimed. “We got their doctor.”
“Been better if we got their leader. Hell, after all the work I had to do, we should have gotten two of them.”
“You’re never satisfied. This is more than enough to force our fathers to let us into the society as full members. We’ve more than proved ourselves.”
Elliot grunted before fixing Jan with a reptilian stare.
“Aren’t you a little old to be mixed up in some bizarre initiation? Don’t most men outgrow this after rushing a frat? Or are you trying to become Water Buffalos like in the Flintstones?” Jan hoped her expression was outraged and not terrified. Her assumptions strained credibility, but then Elliot had never afforded her great intellect, likely because he had a mediocre mind.
“What are we going to do about her?” Wifebeater asked with an unnecessary head jerk towards Jan.
She wanted to roll her eyes. Apparently, the dynamic duo planned to ambush her with a Tigre escort, but had given no thought as to what to do with her. When she’d chosen to settle down with Elliot, she’d picked him because he’d had little flash, but a steady job and a plodding, responsible approach to life. Good, faithful husband material.
Clearly, she had a real gift for judging men.
“If we let her go, she’ll go to the police,” Wifebeater said.
Elliot considered it. “If she goes to the police, they will take care of her.”
What a prince. He figured he could just sit back and let someone else “take care of her.”
Elliot procured some rope while Wifebeater held the gun on her. Jan briefly considered all sorts of heroic, butt-kicking moves she could make, but the unfortunate realization that she was a real person without a stunt double saved her from idiocy.
“Here.” Elliot shook a length of twisted nylon at her. “Tie him up.”
She loosely looped the rope around Lucas’s wrist.
“Tighter,” Wifebeater growled.
She obligingly tightened the ropes. The morons had clearly never seen how sharp a tiger’s claws and teeth were. Her greatest concern about tying Lucas was the rope would get caught in his teeth—like popcorn kernels or stringy chicken.
A pounding at the door startled a squawk out of Jan.
Wifebeater jumped then clamped a hand over Jan’s mouth. “Shut up,” he snarled, before telling Elliot, “You’d better get th
at.”
The knocking became near frantic and a voice kept calling, “Hello! Hello! Anyone home?”
Trapped in the small entrance, it took a few moments for the two bungling bastards to drag their victims behind the door in such a way to effectively hide them from the panic-stricken door-beater.
Elliot secured the door’s chain before cracking it. “Yes?”
“Thank God you’re home. I’m Peter from downstairs. Water’s pouring from my ceiling. Is your tub overflowing or your dishwasher running?”
“No,” Elliot snapped. “No water is on in here.”
“Can you cut off your valves to be safe? The building services guy is on his way.”
Elliot turned to shoot Wifebeater a panicked look. Within a split second of the redirection of his attention, the door exploded inward.
An extremely tall man, skinny enough for Jan to think anorexic, exploded through the door. The man was taller than anyone Jan had ever known. He was otherwise unremarkable except for the furry forearms and clawed … paws?
In moments, the two assailants were down and Fuzz-arms was slicing through the taut knots she’d just secured.
“Easy, Jan. I’m a friend of Lucas’s. Damien and his enforcers are on their way.”
She stared at his hairy arms, which melted into spindly human forearms and freckled hands. “You aren’t a tiger.”
“I’m Ursidae,” he told her gently. “A bear shifter. Why don’t you close the door and get me a wet washcloth?”
The back of her mind knew Peter was giving her busy work, but she followed his instructions. The door settled back into place, bent, but lockable. By the time she’d managed to work the bathroom faucet with her trembling hands and returned, Pete had removed Lucas’s shirt and carried the shorter man to the couch. Or maybe he’d carried him to the couch and then removed his shirt.
The-holy fuck-bear shifter took the dripping cloth and wrung it out over the pot of a near-dead philodendron.
“Maybe you should sit down,” he suggested.
She took his advice and didn’t spare a glance at the bound, gagged, and unconscious men by the door—damn the bear was fast. Sitting beside Lucas on her too small couch, she asked, “Who are you?”
Peter smiled and sat in the chair across from her. “I’m a friend of your mate’s. He saved my sister’s life—and my niece’s—when she had complications from labor. He asked me to move in after your apartment was vandalized.”
“So you picked up and moved?” Her mind seemed to be operating from a distance, and she could feel herself starting to tremble.
“The doc’s a real popular guy. Because of him, we’ve had more live births in the past few years than in the previous decade. The Ursidae would do anything for him. Keeping an eye on his mate’s place was nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” Yep. She was firing on all cylinders.
“You know, you aren’t looking that great.”
“I can’t imagine why not,” she muttered
Peter apparently missed the sarcasm. “I’m sure it’s because of the break-in and stress. Maybe you should lie down.”
“Shouldn’t we do something for Lucas?”
“We’ll have to analyze what they shot him with first. Then we can treat him. For now, his color is normal and his pulse strong. It’s a good sign.”
“He said it was Ketamine.”
“One of the men on the floor?”
“No. Lucas. He said he smelled it.”
“Ah. He’d know.” Peter nodded. “He’ll be fine. They probably gave him enough to knock the tiger down. That means, he’ll sleep quite a while, but should be fine. Did they say anything?”
She followed the incline of Peter’s head to the two men on the floor. “They wanted their daddies to let them join some society as full members.”
His eyes narrowed. “He said the ‘Society’?”
She nodded and stared at his hand for a moment when Peter extended the washcloth.
“For his forehead,” the bear prodded.
She took it and draped it across Lucas’s forehead. It took four tries to lay it in the right position. She heard Peter talking behind her, but she couldn’t process his words. It took a moment to realize he was on a mobile phone. He knelt before her, closing the phone, before wrapping a blanket around her.
“Maybe you should lie down.”
That sounded like a brilliant idea. Tuning out the rest of what Peter said, she draped herself across Lucas’s chest and closed her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Jan awoke in the same bedroom at Caitlyn’s where she’d spent her first night. She didn’t awake in a better mood this time around. After being poked and prodded and grilled by Damien, hauled back to his house like ratty luggage, and turned over to Caitlyn’s smothering … Damien had better hope she didn’t get her hands on a gun.
Never a morning person, it took her a few moments to realize there was a warm wall of flesh plastered against her back. A deep breath brought Lucas’s unique scent of wildness and spice. Savoring the sensation of snuggling back against him, her temper sparked at the interruption of Caitlyn’s voice.
“How are you feeling?”
Embarrassed at getting all weak-kneed. Humiliated by my relationship with Elliot. Terrified at how worried I am about Lucas. What she said—growled—was, “Fine.”
Caitlyn ignored her obvious displeasure. “We need to talk before Lucas wakes up.”
Jan tried to sit up, but Lucas tightened his arm around her waist and grumbled in his sleep.
“Is he going to be okay?” she demanded unconsciously echoing Caitlyn’s stage whisper.
“He’ll be fine, but there are some things you need to know about dealing with him right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s not human.”
“Somehow, I’ve caught onto that.”
“He’s going to be weird when he wakes up.”
“Because he was so normal before,” Jan sniped.
Caitlyn shook her head. “I’m not joking. He’s not human and his mate was threatened. The tiger will surface, even in human form, hell bent on protecting his mate.”
“Okay?”
“Jan, Lucas is going to behave like a Neanderthal. I know it goes against every bone in your body, but roll with it. His primal instincts will have taken over. Once his cognitive functions reassert themselves, he’ll return to normal.”
“What do you mean by ‘Neanderthal’?” Jan demanded, no longer whispering. Jesus, how much more could she take before they hauled her drooling and gibbering to a mental ward? “If you think I’m going to let him drag me off by the hair—”
“I promise you, no hair dragging,” a voice rumbled in her ear.
“You’re awake,” Jan inanely accused him, sitting up.
Caitlyn asked an intelligent question. “How are you feeling?”
To Jan’s surprise, he leveled a glare at Caitlyn. “I’m starving.”
The Tigrine hesitated, weighing the wounded tiger with her gaze before rising. “I’ll fetch some breakfast and be right back.”
When the door closed, Jan demanded, “Why are you angry at Caitlyn?”
“I’d be angry at anyone who tried to make you fear me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He raised his brows. “That’s why you ran from my bed and jumped into a frigid river? Because you weren’t afraid?”
Jan stuck her nose in the air. “I wasn’t afraid. I was … startled.” The look on his face clearly challenged her creative recollection. She went on the offensive. “What was Caitlyn trying to warn me about?”
“She’s concerned about my reaction to the danger you were in. And your reaction to my reaction.”
“You seem … okay.”
He grimaced. “I’m not. It’s taking effort. I want to lock you in a vault and keep you safe.”
Jan felt her body bristle like an angry cat. Lucas held up a hand.
“I know you ar
e far too independent and if I did something like that, you’d be miserable. If either of us is going to suffer, it’s going to be me.”
“I don’t want you to suffer.” Her stomach turned over at the thought, but she recovered quickly. “Not that I’m going to let you coddle me.”
He smiled—or grimaced. “My tiger will settle when he’s sure you are safe.” He gave a pointed look around. “I remember being shot and telling you to run …?” he prompted.
Figuring he’d get the details later, she opted for a concise summary. “Your friend Peter showed up and took the two men by surprise.”
A satisfied smile played about Lucas’s mouth. “You weren’t hurt.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Bump on the head, but otherwise not even a chipped nail.”
Amusement danced in his eyes when he glanced at her jagged nails. “Glad to know that.”
“Damien brought Elliot and his friend back with us,” Jan said quietly. “He has questions about some society. He won’t tell me what he plans on doing with them.”
Lucas’s eyes slitted. “Elliot’s here?”
Shit. Had she left her brain in Carey?
He jerked suddenly. “Did you say the Society?”
“That was Peter’s reaction, too. What’s the Society?”
Lucas sat up and hauled her into his lap, tension radiating. “Throughout history, two groups have hunted us, The Society for Preternatural Research and the Coalition. It’s why most shifters immigrated to the new world. The Society has always been well-funded from the private sector. They’ve hunted us to make use of us as lab rats for the sake of ‘science’.”
“And the Coalition?”
“They are a religious group that believes our kind are descended from demons and must be destroyed.”
She processed that for a moment and decided to shelve the crazy religious weirdos for the time being. “Are you sure that’s what Elliot meant by Society?”
“Yes, but Damien will confirm it.”
Her stomach turned over at the satisfaction in his voice.
“Of the two, the Society is less … ruthless. The Coalition has its roots in the Spanish Inquisition.”
