What the Cat Dragged in (Sanctuary Book 2)

by BA Tortuga

  “So this is where they’ve all come,” Mona said maybe an hour later. She was delivering huge baskets of bread.

  “Mom! That’s biblical.”

  “Blasphemer!” Her laughter rang out, happy and warm. “Connor, you’re dressed. How’s the voice? You should be drinking tea, lovely, not coffee.”

  Connor clutched his coffee cup to his chest. No way. Eve had force-fed him enough tea to make up for the Boston Tea Party.

  “Don’t argue. I’m the granny. It will soothe your throat.” She scooped up a pup, kissed it, and then put it back down.

  He kept his coffee, but he would take a honey lemon tea. And bread with butter and jam. Brock would want a big slab with peanut butter.

  Home, Ragbone. They’re delivering supplies tomorrow. How are you?

  Missing you. He had to smile, because he’d missed talking to someone.

  Mmm. You have fresh bread. He got an image of Brock sniffing the air. I need to get Evie to Mona’s so she can lie down. I think she overdid.

  Is she okay? Should I send Mona with bread for her? Do you want peanut butter?

  I do. She’s fine, and I’ll send Randi to get tea and bread. Mona needs to see Sam for a bit. Brock always read people so well. Maybe because he’d done undercover work. His fuzzy spy, sneaking around with a fedora and a fake mustache.

  Seriously, Ragbone?

  What? It’s sexy. He stirred when Sam told him to, waiting for Brock.

  He felt the sudden heat of Brock against his back, supporting him, warming him. “What are you stirring? It looks good.”

  Soup? I think? It has barley and stuff.

  “Yum.”

  Mona glanced over, frowning slightly. “Is Eve with you?”

  “She went to rest, lady, but she’s fine. Her feet got sore.”

  “Poor baby girl. A nap will do her good.”

  “It will. The bread smells amazing. Can I have a piece, Mona? Please?” Brock was good at pleading.

  “Of course you can.” She cut Brock a piece, and Connor got out the peanut butter.

  Randi popped in and hugged Mona. “Bread and tea for Eve, Gran?”

  “Exactly right, dearest. Can you take some to Gray and Marina too?”

  Connor nodded to Gus, the bears, and Helena as they wandered in.

  “Smells amazing in here.” Tom sniffed, head tilted back. “Meat. Bread. Hot—” He looked at the multitude of babies. “—darn.”

  “Exceptional catch.”

  Connor nodded, applauding wildly, which made the puppies bark and chase their tails in circles.

  Danny laughed out loud and sat on the floor. The pups were cautious at first, but soon they were all over him, jumping and wagging. Oh, these were good men, good family. Good bears.

  Brock kissed the back of his neck before munching the bread noisily, which they all knew made Sam nuts. He hated the audible chew.

  He’s going to bite you, you know.

  I know! I’m waiting. Brock was as bad as Gus and Pete at baiting Sam.

  Mona was the one to whack Brock with a rolling pin. “Mouth closed, Brock.”

  “Ow!”

  “You weren’t raised in a barn, were you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Connor started laughing. He couldn’t help it.

  Sam raised an eyebrow at him, grinning. “Serves him right.”

  Brock grunted. “Ganging up on me.”

  Connor goosed his mate. Would I do that?

  You so would.

  Gus finally joined them, a little girl held in each arm. “Look what I found in the woodpile!”

  “We was hunting wormies!”

  Like there were worms in the woodpile as chilly as it was.

  “Did you find any?”

  “No, but we finded mushrooms!”

  All activity in the kitchen ceased. “Did you eat them?” Mona asked very calmly.

  “No, Grammy. Mushrooms that you find outside make you sick. We picked them and throwed them away so the little babies wouldn’t eat them.”

  “Yay!” Gus kissed them both on the cheek with big smacking sounds. “My perfect girls. We need to wash hands before we eat, though.”

  Bella nodded. “We’re dirty, Gussy, but the bread smells so good.”

  “I’ll take them to the bathroom,” Richie said, appearing from outside. “Come on, you two.”

  Gus handed off the girls, then washed up in the laundry. Soon they had an assembly line of plates and bowls and sliced bread.

  Maybe a big dining hall wasn’t such a bad idea.

  In fact, it might be fun. Less time cooking for him, more time exploring his mate.

  I heard that.

  Did you?

  I did. Don’t tempt me to skip lunch. You need your strength.

  Do I?

  “You’re being obvious,” Sam told him.

  Was that bad? He went for wide-eyed and innocent, trying to decide if batting his eyelashes would be pushing it too far.

  Brock pinched his butt, which meant it must have been too much.

  The bears could eat. Lord have mercy, but they went through some food. Connor never wanted to hear how much he could consume again.

  You are a bottomless pit. Brock stole a sip of his coffee. And I love it.

  I’ve seen you eat. They’d had more than one pizza place orgy. Mmm. Orgy. Well, okay, maybe just a duo-y. He’d have to plan his attack. Brock was treating him as if he was made of glass.

  Once his voice came back, he’d have a better shot at getting some of what was his. He knew it would be soon. He didn’t have any pain now, and his purr was back to normal. Human sounds were just so much more complex, and if he was honest, he was a little scared to try.

  That last scream had snapped something, just like Greg had snapped his ribs. He shuddered, and Brock stroked his back. “Shh.”

  Sorry. Sorry, I don’t want to think about it, at all, but it happened. It will fade. He thought it had to.

  I know, babe. I do. It will be all right. Brock hated to think about what could have happened. Connor knew that. They hadn’t talked about it too much since that first day he woke up.

  It will. He leaned back and kissed Brock’s cheek, then scooped up a pup that was trying to steal a loaf of bread from the basket. “No counter surfing!” he croaked.

  “Connor!” Sam cried. “You talked!”

  “Yes, and now he needs to rest.” Mona gave him a stern glare. “This is when you’ll try to overdo it.”

  “Yes….”

  “Connor,” she snapped. “Brock, take him upstairs and keep him quiet.”

  Brock blinked, staring back and forth between them. Then he broke into a bright grin. “Yes, ma’am.” Brock took Connor’s hand.

  “But….”

  “Nope, we have our orders.” Perfect orders. Me. You. Sunbeam. Naps. No dishes, no baby duty.

  Brock towed him to the loft, and once they climbed up, Brock closed the makeshift doors and locked them. “Bed.”

  He saluted smartly but stripped down and crawled in, grateful to do so. He could nap. He could totally nap.

  When Brock stripped down and groaned, dropping into bed next to him, he saw all the bruises were gone now, Brock’s skin as smooth as ever. He nuzzled in, head on Brock’s shoulder. Love. Did you enjoy your day with Gus and the bears?

  I did. They’re good guys, and I like them. Brock petted him, stroking his body almost from head to toe, a habit they seemed to have acquired since the fight. Checking each other out.

  Sam said they’re going to give them money, invest in the— What was this place? A retreat? A rescue? —sanctuary?

  That’s what they said. I think it’s a good idea. We’ll need to invest in some landscaping and such too, to help keep us out of the public eye. Brock had the sneaky shit down pat.

  We’re going to take the Mustang down soon and go shopping for Christmas. We being me and Sam, of course.

  Cool. Brock kissed his neck.
“I want you to be careful on the roads. I can even drive and go sit in a coffee shop.”

  Worrywart. That might be more fun, though, if they all four went and took Gus’s truck. He blinked suddenly. Brock! Your truck! He hurt your truck!

  Technically it was the ATV that did it in. Brock laughed out loud. “It was worth it, babe. The sight will stay with me forever. Aaron is using it for parts.”

  “But….”

  “Shh. Don’t strain.”

  I loved your truck. I love how you loved your truck. I loved the way your truck was stupid messy and how the radio worked.

  We’ll get a new truck, babe. It will be messy in no time. Brock pulled back to give him an arch look. I mean, we’ll have to get something before you start finding things in the spring thaw.

  We? We’ll go together?

  You need to have a say in the truck if you’re going to be riding in it with me all the time. I can’t let you go find lost things all alone.

  No. No, I don’t suppose you can. He couldn’t stop grinning, because Brock was going to be with him. There was no separate work; they were a damned team.

  Brock rubbed their noses together. “Yep. You and me. Now, we have a house to make first. Even if we weren’t quite ready for it.”

  “Our house. I’ve never had a house.”

  “Ragbone! Hush! No talking.”

  Sorry. Now that he knew he could, he wanted to. He’d been quiet too long. You think we can con Sam and Gus into pizza when we go to town?

  “I bet we can con them into two king rooms overnight.”

  They would like that more than us, I think, hrm? They were the kings of hotels and tents and sleeping in the truck. His own good bed was a luxury.

  “They would. But we would like ordering late-night supper.” Brock kissed him slow and easy. “Rest now, babe. It was good to hear you.”

  Was it? It was good to be heard. I like talking to you. Connor stretched, the ache in his ribs only distant, only a twinge now. He was healing, blessedly. If he could just get over the need to sleep all day….

  Brock laughed. Me too. Zzz.

  Shh. Naps are proof that we’re loved. He pinched Brock’s nipple gently, tugged the heavy mat of fur on Brock’s chest.

  “Don’t make promises neither one of us has the energy to keep, babe.” Brock wrapped him up in a tight embrace, kinda like a mummy but without bandages.

  A warm mummy that smelled like cinnamon and peanut butter and coffee instead of dust and resin, with a nice steady heartbeat instead of whatever mummies had. He imagined it would have to be like mouse feet or shiny bugs or something because he remembered vaguely that mummies’ hearts were taken out along with their brains and possibly their eyeballs, although that part could possibly be totally wrong….

  Brock’s laughter followed him down into his dreams, promising to keep both mummies and shiny beetle-bugs away from him.

  29

  The sound of sawing and hammering filled the air, the smell of sawdust and imminent snow dominating the scents of Mona’s cooking brigade producing all sorts of amazing food.

  Brock stared at the work that had gotten done in just a few short days, amazed at the shit these freaking bears could do right before fucking hibernation season.

  Not that the wolves were slacking.

  Hell, Sam and Connor were fucking roofing masters, bouncing along the damn ridgeline like rubber bands.

  Pete had turned out to be a whiz at electrical, and Aaron had shown up from Utah to do plumbing, septic, and set up generators. They were a real team.

  Brock liked finishing work, he found out. Doors, windows, stairs. He liked the motions of sanding and sealing wood and flashing windows and caulking tubs.

  Their little house was almost done. Two bedrooms and a loft, for fuck’s sake. Eve’s place was finished and just needed furnishings. Freddie was madly building bedsteads and tables, the rustic lodge look making everyone tease about how this wasn’t a B&B.

  It wasn’t. It was a sanctuary. A safe haven, for fuck’s sake, and Brock loved it.

  He wiped sweat off his forehead and headed back into his new cabin. They might end up sleeping at Sam’s and working on this space until spring, but it was going to be functional by the time the bears left.

  The big guys were working on the kitchen/dining hall now. The second floor was going to be little dorm rooms for guests and people who were passing through.

  Lord. He couldn’t even imagine.

  He grabbed a piece of sandpaper, ready to work on the handrail for the loft stairs. They were adorable and had built-in storage.

  “You need some help with that?”

  Brock turned to look at Gus, kinda surprised to see him. “Sure. I need some help with deciding on a finish too. Treads or no treads? What do you think?”

  “It depends. Are you going to sleep upstairs, and are you going to let the puppies in? Because they love their Uncle Connor.”

  “I know. It’s going to be a kitty loft. Pillows. A high hook for his guitar. The kids will want to be up there. Something textured, then.” He tossed Gus a piece of sandpaper. “So what’s up?”

  “I have a question, one I’ve never asked, and I never thought I would, if I’m being honest, man.”

  Brock glanced up, surprised. “Well, shoot. I’ll be honest.”

  “I need a second, officially, and you’re the one I want in the job. We’re too big and too young for me to secure all this by myself.”

  Brock felt the words like a tiny electrical shock. “Me? Really?”

  “If you’re willing, yes. You’re pack, and I would trust you with Sam, with the babies.”

  “Damn.” Emotion swelled in him. “What about traveling, man? You know Connor will have to find things.”

  “That’s part of it, huh? I need you to vet folks. I’m not sure Connor’s gift cares about whether the lost people need to come here or not.”

  Excellent point. He had good instincts that way. “I’m in. I’m honored, Gus.” Brock wiped his hand on his pants and held it out to seal the deal.

  “Welcome home, Brock.” They shook, then hugged in that back-pounding, awkward man-hug sort of way.

  He found himself unable to stop grinning. “Thanks. I have a place down in Oklahoma. A tiny house kinda deal on a lake. You think the bears would find a way to truck it up for me? It has hookups in place and would be a great guest room for us.”

  “I bet that Freddie would do it for shits and giggles. That man is bored and desperate to have something to do that isn’t be all executive and corporate like his big brothers.”

  “Too true. I’ll ask him.” He could totally see Freddie getting into the shifter shipping business. Lots of weird things to send all over the world.

  The thought made him snort. Bearly Crated Import and Exports. Oh God.

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you after I talk to Fred.” Brock chortled. “It has promise.”

  Gus shook his head. “You just leave me out of it.” Gus began sanding, putting elbow grease behind it.

  “You got it, boss.”

  That got him a glinting grin, and Brock realized he and Gus could be friends. Really good friends. The feeling was… comforting.

  “Afterward, I vote we sit with beer on the back porch. There’s not going to be too many more evenings that’s possible this winter.”

  “I hear you.” Brock nodded easily. “I like a beer on the porch.” He loved sitting and shooting the shit. What the hell was going on with him?

  He was getting domesticated.

  It’s a good look for you, Fuzzy. Happiness. Go with it.

  Hush. How many times had he said that to Connor since they’d met? He never meant it. Focus on not falling off the roof, please.

  You got it. Connor’s laughter rang in his head, making him smile.

  No one wanted to go through healing more injuries at this stage of the game. Least of all him and Connor.

  They deserved a holiday season where no one was broken
or shot or casted or anything.

  A host of puppies scrambled in, the one in the lead carrying a tack hammer in his mouth. Oh, ho! Brock caught… Teeny. That was what they were calling him. “No chewing the tools.”

  Teeny growled playfully, tugging firmly, wagging so hard his whole back end wiggled.

  “I got a toy in here, buddy.” Connor had tucked a box of toys in every building just for this reason. “Trade me.”

  Teeny pounced on the fuzzy bone and ran from his siblings, tail held high.

  “Good babies.” Gus sounded as proud as if they were his. In a way, Brock guessed they all were. He was a second now; they were all his now too.

  “They are. Where are Bella and Lisle, by the way?” They were the ones old enough to get in trouble.

  “Randi and Richie took them down to town with Mona. She needed groceries and fabric, and each of the kids had a little spending money.”

  “Oh, good deal.”

  Gus nodded. “She wants to get a sewing machine for Randi. They’re making fleece blankets.”

  “Ah, yes. We’ll all need a bunch in every house.” Brock grinned. Shifters liked to lounge in animal form, and those blankets kept the floor good and warm.

  Gus nodded. “Thank God for the bears, man. Otherwise I don’t know how we’d support this group.”

  “We’d figure it out. We’d make it work. We always have before.”

  “We’d have to, huh? We all have our talents.” Gus clapped him on the back. “I’ll see what’s for lunch, and then I promised I’d help Chris with a bunch of flooring.”

  “I’ll be there in two shakes, huh? I’ll fetch the roof hooligans.”

  “Good deal.” Gus left him, and Brock went still, just trying to absorb everything.

  This was home. His home.

  Fuck him raw.

  30

  The quiet unnerved Connor a little bit.

  No shouting bears, no power tools, no hammering. The hum of generators was constant, but the bears had a plan for solar come spring….

  The snow was falling hard, blanketing everything and making shit seem even quieter somehow. Weird.

  He pondered wandering over to his new house and making some plans for furniture, but it was so nice in his loft at Sam’s….