My Twin Trouble (Middlemarch Shifters Book 15)

by Shelley Munro

“What about Sly? Don’t you want to spend time with him?”

  Joe cast his gaze on Sly. His twin didn’t give away his thoughts. Too bad. “I’d like you to stay.” He wouldn’t say more. She wasn’t ready for him to stake a claim. Not yet.

  “Okay.”

  Joe caught the pleased note in her voice and smiled. “Tomorrow, babe. Don’t work too late.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Joe hung up, victory thrumming like a loud drum in him.

  “She owns the garage and workshop?” Sly asked.

  “Yeah. She does a bloody-good job of it too. The locals were wary at first but now she has more work than she can handle. Word has spread.”

  “Is she really working tonight?” Sly asked.

  “Yes.” Joe cut straight to the point, understanding exactly what his twin implied. “She’s not cheating on me. She’s not Maggie.” He glowered to enforce his words. Damn, he hated them arguing and about a woman at that.

  Sly thankfully backed away. “I might veg in front of the telly with a couple of beers. Can we talk about the farm during the commercial breaks?”

  “Sure. Grab a beer and go ahead. I’ll clean up since you cooked.” Joe rinsed and loaded most of the dishes into the old dishwasher, letting his breath ease out when Sly left the kitchen. Fuck, it had never been like this before. They’d both changed and he wondered if they’d ever fall into their easy relationship again.

  Did Sly blame him for ending up in jail? Had he expected Joe to turn himself in as well?

  “Nah,” he muttered. That couldn’t be it. Sly didn’t seem to like Kiera. Joe frowned and swiped the dishcloth over the counter to clear a few crumbs and splotches of water.

  He deliberated discussing the matter with Saber. Nah, Saber would tell Joe to give Sly time to adjust.

  Joe grabbed two beers from the fridge, stopped by the small room they used as an office to collect the farm cashbook and diary and went to join his brother. Sly was channel surfing when he stepped into the den.

  “Not much on,” Sly said.

  “We could watch a movie on Sky.”

  “Another time. I’m a bit restless.”

  “Take a look at the accounts then,” Joe said, tossing him the books. “I sold the thirty calves we purchased at foot with the new cows. Got a decent price. I’ve been working on the fences in between contracting out to cut hay and silage.”

  Sly opened the books. Joe took control of the remote and found the car show Kiera liked to watch. He’d come to enjoy the program too.

  Apart from the television and the occasional flip of page, they sat in companionable silence. Joe started to relax, the events of the day and fatigue settling in. He should go to bed, but he and Sly needed to reconnect.

  “What would you think about buying a few alpacas? They’d work well down here.”

  “Alpacas?” He knew nothing about alpacas, but if they’d caught Sly’s attention, he’d listen. “I don’t know much about them.”

  “Their fleece sells for big bucks. The initial outlay is large but the returns are good.”

  “How big are we talking?” Joe fell into the conversation about pros and cons and it seemed like old times. By the time they hashed out several scenarios, he was excited about the idea. “You want another beer?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve had enough. I might try to catch some sleep.”

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “No shit,” Sly said, rising and stretching his hands above his head. “I’m not sleeping well. If I can’t sleep, I’ll probably go for a run.”

  Joe stared hard before replying. “No problem. See you in the morning.”

  Sly jogged down the passage to his bedroom, his feline restless and agitated. His nostrils flared at the sweet scent of the woman permeating their house. Joe didn’t seem to notice. Worse, he didn’t seem to care. Joe wanted her for keeps. The woman didn’t realize Joe was subtly stalking her—object: marriage and mate.

  Sly saw it and the knowledge hurt his chest. He didn’t understand Joe’s trust. Women were trouble—the single ones at least. His brothers’ mates seemed loyal, but possibly that was the mating bond at work.

  Maggie…

  Hell! He had to purge her from his memories.

  At least Joe’s woman hadn’t intruded into his personal space. Only Joe’s scent lingered in his room along with his own. Sly flung off his clothes and, naked, prowled to the window. He lifted the window, opening it as far as possible, letting the fresh air sweep into his room.

  An idea came to him. Maybe he’d check on Joe’s woman. Make sure she was actually doing what she’d told Joe. She might be feline, but he was skilled at subterfuge. She wouldn’t learn of his presence. Decision made, he crawled through the window and called his cat to mind.

  Denied of the opportunity to shift at will, he savored the pain of his muscles and bones twisting and reshaping. He groaned soundlessly as he fell to all fours and black fur rippled over his skin. As always, the surge of his senses—the whoosh of sight and the rush of noise—made him purr.

  The rumbling sound vibrated in his throat. Once clear of the house, he increased his speed, glorying in the play of muscles and the wash of cool air over his fur.

  It was a good distance into town but the outing didn’t faze him. With shortcuts and his feline speed, the journey wouldn’t take long.

  Nearly two hours later, he crept along the back street. The enticing scent of rabbit had distracted him otherwise he would’ve arrived much sooner.

  Lights spilled from the workshop along with a clang, clang, clang and a spicy, feminine curse. The notes of a rock ballad spilled from a radio in the corner, the song tinny although recognizable. She cursed again, calling the truck a stubborn bitch. In spite of himself Sly’s lips curled into a toothy, feline smile.

  She hadn’t lied. So far.

  He’d hang around and make sure she didn’t meet with anyone after she finished work. Sly slinked closer, keeping the wind in mind. The last thing he wanted was for her to realize he was spying on her. He crouched, blending with the dark shadows, and settled in to wait.

  An hour passed. Sly watched the woman wheel herself from under the truck. She peered into the engine, made an adjustment and jumped into the driver’s seat. She turned the ignition and let out a cry of victory when the truck purred to vibrant life. The vehicle sounded fixed to him.

  She switched the engine off and tugged off her cap. Locks of curly, black hair tumbled down her back. He’d seen her hair loose this morning yet hadn’t appreciated the beauty of her tresses. A man could wind them around his hands or tug on the long strands to control her. Sly wondered if Joe used her hair that way, and a shudder passed through him.

  Joe’s woman.

  Not his.

  The woman pulled the zipper of her overalls down to reveal a tight, pale blue tank top. Nice. Sly continued to study her while she closed up for the night. The roller doors rattled as she shut them, coming to rest on the ground with a metallic thud. The steel caps of her boots beat a tattoo, and he mentally followed her progress across the cavernous workshop.

  She’d told Joe she intended to stay at the apartment. A joke. From memory, it was pretty basic—a one-room place with a poky bathroom and simple kitchen facilities. Her upper-class accent didn’t fit with the image of garage owner yet, by all accounts, she’d made a success of the place.

  Sly circled the workshop until he could observe the windows of the apartment. He watched her peeling off her overalls, tugging them down her long legs to reveal brief shorts.

  She turned to the windows and peered outside. For a tense few seconds, he suspected she’d spotted him. Instead, she pulled across the curtains and screened his view. Too bad. Joe had good taste.

  He settled in a shadowed area, his black coat helping him to merge with the darkness. Middlemarch remained the quiet, country town of his youth and the disturbance of passing cars was intermittent.

  The faint stream of light escaping the barr
ier of the curtains shut off. Sly tensed, waiting for her to depart the building via the side door. It didn’t happen, which surprised him. At gut level, he’d suspected deceit. All women had agendas. Hadn’t Maggie taught him that?

  Another half an hour passed. Maybe she was sitting tight for the evening. About to leave, an approaching vehicle froze him on the spot. The car crawled to a halt, bringing the return of suspicion. She wasn’t going anywhere because her lover was coming to her.

  Joe would thank him for this.

  Two men climbed from the vehicle, bringing a frown to his face. They didn’t march straight to the side door for her to let them inside. Instead, they split up. Sly growled, a low, menacing rumble. He rose and slinked after one of the men, taking care to keep to the shadows.

  A streetlight illuminated the face of the man Sly followed, the harsh visage giving Sly pause. The man looked like a thug, his thick body and the scar slashing his chin reminding him of several of the prison inmates.

  Sly hung back when the two men met again to compare notes. Their whispers were frustrating, especially with the scanty cover where they stood.

  One of the men trotted back to their car and returned with a crowbar. With careful glances over their shoulders, they approached the side door. In the excitement of his homecoming, he’d forgotten to mention the people hanging around the farm. They mightn’t be the same men, but the coincidence made the back of his neck prickle. Sly hovered in the shadows, undecided how to act.

  One of the men made short work of the lock and with minimal noise. A pro. The air whooshed from Sly as he finally accepted the truth. These men weren’t here to play lover. They intended to steal from the woman or worse. The knowledge slipped into his mind like a stealthy feline.

  Damn. He’d wanted to tell Joe the woman was making a fool of him. Hell, he wanted to hate her because her presence created a chasm between him and Joe. But he couldn’t let her get hurt. He refused to walk away to let her face danger alone.

  Sly thought for a moment. The workshop wasn’t alarmed because the men had already entered the building. The post office across the road did have an alarm. After a quick check for traffic, Sly darted across the road and shifted. He fired a rock through the front window of the post office and took heart at the shrill buzz of the alarm. The owners of the bed and breakfast would hear and call the cops.

  Sly sprinted back across the road and slipped through the open door. The two men had headed straight for the apartment, which told him they’d done their homework.

  Heart thumping, Sly stalked closer, realized he was naked and shifted. He hadn’t noticed weapons of any sort, apart from the crowbar. Hopefully pride had made them consider her an easy target.

  “Open up,” one of the men demanded.

  An English accent and the same as the other time. Interesting. A problem from home coming to bite her on the arse?

  “I’ve called the cops,” the woman shouted.

  “You’ve created enough problems, missy.” The man inserted the crowbar in the doorjamb.

  Sly crept close enough to spring at the second man. He screamed as Sly’s claws sank through his clothes and into his flesh.

  “What the hell?” Crowbar Man shouted. “That’s a fuckin’ leopard.”

  Sly wrestled with the man, fury like an impetus driving him on. They rolled. Sly’s mouth closed around his upper arm, anger a red tide before his eyes. Then he tasted blood, and years of lectures from Saber interceded. Insanity receded and he cautiously loosened his grip.

  “Keep away from me.” Fear colored Crowbar Man’s voice. He held the steel bar like a weapon now, his eyes visibly wide even in the scant light.

  In the distance, a siren approached, and he silently thanked the busybodies at the bed and breakfast. Sly backed away, thankful when the man scuttled toward the wall. Sly turned his attention to Crowbar Man and loosed a growl.

  “Who’s there?” the woman demanded.

  At least she wasn’t stupid enough to emerge from her apartment. They hadn’t managed to break the lock on the door yet because he’d distracted them.

  A vehicle pulled up outside. The siren came to an abrupt halt.

  “You should’ve listened to me,” the woman called. “The cops are here.”

  A woman who didn’t panic in a crisis. Of course. That quality would attract Joe. Sly backed into the shadows, concealing himself behind a vehicle, content to let the cops do their thing. Of course he might have some explaining to do when the men started blabbing about black leopards.

  The lights came on without warning. Crowbar Man let out a curse. Sly pressed closer to the vehicle and hoped to avoid detection. He didn’t want the woman to realize he was checking up on her.

  “Police,” Laura’s authoritative tone pierced the silence. Sly experienced pride in his best friend’s wife. “Out where we can see you.”

  “We weren’t doing anything,” Crowbar Man said in a distinct whine. “Look what she did to my friend.”

  They weren’t babbling about big cats or leopards? That was weird.

  “You okay, Kiera?” A voice called out—a feminine one.

  “I’m fine. They never touched me. Can I come out?”

  “No. What are you doing here, Isabella?” Laura sounded resigned.

  “I was driving past, on the way home from visiting Felix and Tomasine. I decided to investigate the alarm.”

  “And?” Laura asked.

  “Someone fired a rock through the window. The door’s still locked and the hole isn’t big enough for someone to crawl through,” Isabella said. “The postmaster arrived as I was leaving.”

  “We didn’t break no windows,” the man on the ground said. With a quick glance around the workshop, he pushed to his feet. Sly peered from beneath the vehicle and watched the men, trying to puzzle out the situation. They obviously knew about shifters and were playing it cool.

  “We’ll sort this out at the station,” Laura said.

  “Fine with me,” the man said—the one Sly had attacked. His English-coated words emerged with a quiver. Even more interesting. What were the odds? The woman held secrets and he intended to ferret them out. One woman had made a fool of them already. It wouldn’t happen a second time.

  Crowbar Man belted his fist on the woman’s door. “Come out, missy, and tell them we’re friends.”

  “You wouldn’t need the crowbar if you knew her.” Laura pulled handcuffs off her belt and approached the man leaning against the wall.

  “I haven’t met everyone in England.” The woman’s shout held exasperation.

  “I’ll bring Kiera to the station with me,” Isabella said. “Leo won’t mind if I’m a bit late.”

  “Thanks,” Laura said.

  Isabella helped Laura escort the two intruders out before returning.

  “Okay, you can come out now,” Isabella said.

  The door cracked open and the woman poked out her head.

  “No, not you.” Isabella turned to stare straight at his hiding spot. “Him.”

  Sly backed out of hiding. He should’ve guessed concealment wouldn’t throw off Isabella. The former assassin didn’t miss a thing.

  “Joe?” Kiera asked.

  Sly snorted. The woman wasn’t as clever as she assumed if she confused him with his twin.

  “Oh Sly,” she said in the next breath. Her brow creased in a frown. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving your butt,” Isabella said dryly. “I smelled his scent over at the post office. He set off the alarm on purpose.”

  If anything, Kiera’s frown intensified. “Thank you,” she said finally.

  “I’ll drop you both back at the farm after you’ve finished at the police station,” Isabella said.

  Sly ambled over to Isabella and rubbed his head against her thigh before backing away, turning down the ride. He turned and trotted from the workshop, determined to keep away from Kiera. Dammit, he wished the sneaking admiration starting to fill him would take a hike. The woman grabbed
his attention far too often—he didn’t want to like her too.

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you know those men?” Isabella asked during the drive back to the farm.

  Bother. Part of Kiera wished Sly had accepted the offer of a ride instead of going off on his own. Isabella noticed everything, and Kiera could have done with a buffer. “I assume they work for my brother’s friend William.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Laura?”

  “Because I don’t want my family business dragged through the court system. At least now I’m forewarned and can take steps to protect myself. Laura said they’re here on a visitor’s permit and they’d face deportation after the charges. I’m fine with the punishment.”

  “I can help if you want,” Isabella said.

  “Why would you help me?” Kiera asked, surprised at the offer from a woman who usually held herself aloof with anyone who wasn’t a Mitchell or a close family friend.

  “You’re a shifter. You seem decent and Joe likes you. Why aren’t you at Joe’s place now anyway? Did you have a fight?”

  “Of course not. I needed to finish work on a truck. Things are weird now that his brother has turned up. I decided they might like time together without me in the way.”

  Isabella took her attention off the road to glance at Kiera. “And yet Sly turned up at the garage.”

  “He doesn’t like me.”

  “Maggie screwed him over,” Isabella said. “I suspect he doesn’t trust anyone at present, especially women.”

  Kiera shrugged, unable to dispute the facts.

  The farmhouse stood in darkness as they pulled up outside, but a light flicked on seconds later. Joe appeared, wearing only a pair of jeans. “Isabella, what’s going— Kiera?”

  “Someone broke into the workshop,” Kiera said, climbing out of the car and going to join Joe. “I’m okay.” She turned to Isabella. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

  “No problem. I’d better go before Leo sends out a search party.” With a wave, she backed up the car and drove off.

  “Are you okay?”

  Kiera scowled. “The two men who broke in work for William. I didn’t tell Laura and Charlie.”