Cheetahs Never Win

by RJ Blain

  Someone needed to tell Sassy’s father a swift kick in the ass and a short-term kidnapping wouldn’t stop his daughter’s grief.

  Within twenty minutes and one future father-in-law induced transformation, which also featured a scalding hot shower to get the blood off, I contemplated killing the bastard for running me through a wringer and dumping me on his bathroom floor. He dropped a towel on my head. “As no one except my daughter would ever want to see you naked, dry off, wear the bathrobe on the vanity, pull yourself together, and stop that train wreck. I don’t care how you do it, just make the crying stop!”

  “I thought Joe said three days.” I groaned and debated if I had the energy to wear the damned bathrobe. My chest ached the worst, but after a brief inspection, I’d emerged from the shooting with dark bruises. My shoulder screamed protest when I tried to put the towel to good use, managed to tolerable levels, and struggled to shrug into the bathrobe. I ultimately needed help to get into it. “That was not three days. That was a single night.”

  “And my little kitten spent the entire damned time sobbing her heart out because she doesn’t know how to handle this.”

  Who did? “I’ll do what I can.”

  “You always have. Now get your ass out there and make the crying stop.”

  I secured the bathrobe, sighed, and worked the kinks out, wondering how lycanthropes dealt with shifting when it hurt so damned much. I wanted to find the nearest soft surface and flop onto it without moving for a week. With a little luck, I could make Sassy the soft surface and keep her from driving her father insane.

  I recognized a lost cause, so I gave up hope of making the crying stop anytime soon and braved the storm.

  Joe still fought to keep his sister contained, and I closed the distance between us, wiping her cheeks with my thumbs. “Your daddy’s mean,” I complained. “I’m going to need you to dry those eyes and start getting ready for work, Sassy. We’ve got names, so instead of tears, we’re going to give them the balance of heartache and make them regret the day they thought they could get away with this. And however tempting, we won’t be getting revenge. That’s not what Maxwell would want. If you want to cry, wait until the funeral. There’ll be time enough for that then.”

  “I’m so mad.”

  Ah. I reevaluated my opinion about her state of mind, and had I been thinking clearly, I would’ve remembered Sassy’s response to frustration in safe places was to cry it out since murder was illegal. “We still can’t kill them.”

  “That’s why I’m mad.”

  I shot a glare at Sassy’s father. “I think she’s moved on to the anger stage of grief.”

  “We’re all there,” he replied. “And don’t you look at me like that, boy. You couldn’t tell that was angry crying, either.”

  While he had a point, it didn’t stop me from giving him another dose of my glare.

  “Daddy, he’s a first shifter,” Sassy whispered. “He’s a territorial first shifter. And you’re turning gray-green, Aaron. Go sit down.”

  “Remember that part I warned you about when he first shifted, Sassy? It’s starting, and he’s going to be miserable. Nausea, fever, chills, you name it, he’ll experience it. You have two jobs to do.”

  “Two? What two?” she demanded, and after consideration, she placed her hands on my hips to direct me to the living room couch. “Your sides aren’t hurt, right?”

  “My back’s fine,” I told her. “And I’m feeling more bruised than anything else.”

  All in all, I’d gotten lucky. I supposed I would never learn if I’d gotten lucky, or my lively state had been by design.

  The instant I sat, Sassy stretched out, used my lap as a pillow, and passed out. I lifted my hand and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Joe? Can you grab me a pillow and her blanket? What were her two jobs supposed to be, anyway?”

  “Keep you calm and feed you whenever you can keep something down. I’m exaggerating on how bad it’ll be. I have several pill bottles with your name on them. You’ll have the fever and chills, but the nausea should be manageable and the pixie dust will make sure you don’t give a shit you’re miserable.” With a little help from Sassy’s father and brother, I made myself comfortable and tucked Sassy in so she could rest. Even in sleep, her expression seemed pained, and I stroked my hand over her head, not sure what anyone could do to give her respite from everything.

  “I don’t use pixie dust often,” I admitted. “It’s not my thing.”

  “You’re a restrained, sober man. We can barely get you to have a beer. We know. But you’re going to have this pixie dust. It’ll help you keep your temper controlled, and the last thing we need is you getting snappy. I’ll start you off on a light dose. We want you in a decent mood, not higher than a kite.”

  “As long as I’m not impaired for this.”

  “It’ll hurt,” he warned.

  “I’d rather hurt and be functional. I need to be able to think.”

  “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  I nodded. “I’ll take some painkillers, but we’ll leave the dust for if I start going for someone’s throat. Deal?”

  Joe chuckled and shrugged. “Whatever you want, Aaron. I’m not going to argue with you over it, not when you’re itching to catch these bastards.”

  “What do we have on them, Joe?”

  “A lot of names, recording devices like I hoped, and some interesting evidence left in Sharon’s apartment. I don’t know where Sharon got it, but we have some non-circumstantial evidence to work with.”

  Non-circumstantial evidence, glorious, wonderful, hard, useful evidence sounded better than even painkillers. “What type of non-circumstantial evidence?”

  “Financials. Bank accounts, amounts, more names, and more than a few of them match what Sharon told you,” he announced.

  In so many investigations I’d participated in, the financials often told the most accurate story, leading to convictions, exonerations, and in one case, even a complete overturn of an old conviction. “How does that fit with what we know of Sharon, the outfit, and our culprits?”

  “If accurate, planted evidence is still evidence, and the police have the evidence. Maxwell’s partner has already been arrested on a charge of conspiring to murder a law enforcement officer. Rob’s been feeding me intel.”

  That led me to a concern I didn’t want to think about too much. “Is Rob part of the conspiracy?”

  “Not as far as I can tell, but anything’s possible at this point,” Joe admitted. “Your brother’s looking into it. Several police commissioners are being arrested by a mixed hat of the CDC, the FBI, and the military police for their part in Maxwell’s murder. A lot of the evidence seems to be a paper trail leading to Maxwell’s murder.”

  “He was the target?”

  “It looks like it, and you and Sharon were just the extras. Perhaps they didn’t account for the lycanthropy virus? The virus is a major contributor to why Sharon made it to the hospital, taking a close second place to you administering CPR. And yes, I saw everything. You did the only thing you knew how to do, and while you got fucking lucky, you made a difference. Try to focus on that in the days moving forward. Also, if you could stop petting my sister, that would be great. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

  “Joe, I’m going to be marrying your sister. I recommend you get used to it.” To prove I refused to be cowed by him, I kept stroking my hand over her hair. “She’s had a hard few days.”

  “You marrying my sister is also uncomfortable.”

  “Maybe you need to see a doctor. You’re the one who wanted this to happen.”

  “The consequences of such actions weren’t yet apparent when I opened my mouth and encouraged you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ll probably survive.”

  “Wait. You’re going to be marrying my sister?” Joe scowled. “Cheetahs don’t marry.”

  “Like hell we don’t,” Sassy’s father muttered. “See this ring?” He held up his left hand. “This ring
is evidence that cheetahs definitely do marry, and if you had a single functioning brain cell in that skull of yours, you’d drop it. If your sister hears you, you’ll never hear the end of it. Also, as you’re giving Aaron a hard time, you can help plan the wedding, since their elopement plans are officially canceled. It’ll give Sassy something to look forward to after the rest of this mess has been sorted out.”

  “I have to return to work.”

  “If you even think of skipping your sister’s wedding, you will be returning to work in pieces.”

  While I really doubted Sassy’s father would kill Joe, I worried enough I rested my hand on Sassy’s shoulder and stared at him. “I’d give up now.”

  “I should’ve just told you it was better to be a coalition male. Damned breeders.”

  “I’d watch your mouth, Joe. He wasn’t born a cheetah. They might have nothing but girls. Then you might be surrounded by nothing but breeders. And if their children’s children have daughters, you coalition males are going to rue and lament the day you made fun of him for loving your sister.”

  Joe scowled. “They’ll be lucky to have a single girl.”

  “Don’t count your eggs until they hatch. Your sister’s more stubborn than a rock, and her male’s not much better. They’ll have a bunch of baby girls just to spite you.”

  “That’s not even biologically possible, Dad,” Joe complained.

  I knew one way I could make it biologically possible. “Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll just ask a succubus and incubus for help. I’m sure they’d be delighted to help with the conception of many little girls to help boost the breeding cheetah population in the city.”

  Joe’s eyes wouldn’t. “You wouldn’t.”

  I cocked a brow. “Try me. Keep complaining, Joe, and we’ll see what happens. Now, being serious. Where are we at with the investigation? How can I help?”

  “The first problem is the infiltration into law enforcement. Losing several commissioners and a handful of cops involved with the original investigation hurts. Add in the fact that several of the judges who issued warrants will face accusations for their involvement, and this is turning into a mess. In good news, the judge who approved Rob’s warrants seems to be outside of the conspiracy. The FBI, CDC, and military are cleaning house, and they’re armed with angels. Because they’re law enforcement officers accused of the murder of another law enforcement officer, a lot of those pesky human rights laws simply don’t apply. If they can’t claim they weren’t involved, they’ll be questioned until we get the information we need. The angels will see it’s done fairly, but while they retain their right to remain silent, doing so is an automatic imprisonment without bail until the completion of the trial.”

  I grimaced. “And it’s essentially an admission of guilt if they can’t verify to an angel they are not guilty of the crime.”

  “Right. Not very satisfying for us, but we catch the bastards. Maxwell’s death ensures they’ll live the rest of their lives in prison. And if any of them have the talents required to pull off the murders and mask the truth, well, it wouldn’t surprise me if Texas temporarily revived the death sentence specifically for this case. It’d drag out in the courts, but with so many women and children dead, it might happen. And if they don’t, they’ll be locked in maximum security, and kept in a cell that nullifies most forms of magic. Either way, they’ll have hell to pay.”

  “Will eliminating the law enforcement participants and judiciary participants be enough to bring the mountain down?”

  “It’s only the first pebbles of the landslide. We’ve cut off their easy way of obstructing the investigation, though.” Joe paced the living room.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Sassy’s father went to answer it. Moments later, my parents stepped into the room with my brother in tow. I lifted my hand off Sassy’s shoulder and waved. “If anyone else cries today, I might snap. Please no crying. I’m done with crying for now. Thank you, Mom.”

  My mother sighed and shook her head. “All right. I got it out of my system last night, anyway. How are you feeling?”

  “Bruised but otherwise fine.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend, baby. How’s Sassy holding up?”

  “She had a rough night.”

  “So much crying,” Joe muttered.

  “Couldn’t kill anyone over it, got frustrated?” my mother guessed.

  “How’d you know?” Joe blurted.

  “We’re southern women, Mr. Chetty. When we want to start with the killing and can’t, that’s frustrating. Someone tried to kill my baby twice. You better bet I was frustrated. You’ve got a lot to learn about women, bless your heart.”

  “He’s a coalition cheetah, Mom. He can’t help it.”

  “Ah, yes. I’ve been learning about you coalition males. From my understanding, you are relentlessly into other males unless a female forcibly evicts you from the coalition?”

  Heaven help us all, my mother had taken an interest in cheetah breeding habits. “Good luck, Joe.”

  Sassy’s father grinned at my mother. “Yes, Mrs. Clinton, that’s exactly how it works. My little kitten wisely captured her breeding male before his induction into a coalition. I raised her to be smart. Her momma’s mad she didn’t get to wrangle him properly, but I figure she’s been wrangling him for years.”

  I wouldn’t tell my mother the bastard had popped me in the mouth to help his daughter get what she wanted.

  “I will hope they have many daughters despite the odds being against them. I know a succubus. She owes me a favor. We could arrange for a girl or three. Cheetahs need more girls. I’d be helping your species out a little.”

  Sassy’s father turned his attention to me. “I see your threats about sex demons was not an idle one.”

  I shrugged and held my hands up in surrender. “I had no idea Mom had any dealings with demons.”

  “Just because they indulge in sin doesn’t make them monsters,” my mother replied. “No, there are other monsters worth worrying about, and they’ve tried to kill you twice. Is there anything we can do to help? Also, if you need a succubus and incubus for the strategic planning of my granddaughters, I know a pair who’d love to meet you.”

  I smirked in Joe’s direction. “Try me,” I mouthed at him.

  He flipped his middle fingers at me.

  Sassy’s father excused himself, went into the other room, and returned carrying a box, which he set on the floor with a loud thump. Five more trips later, and he patted the stack. “This is a complete newspaper archive of all dates we think are relevant from the murders. We need a complete collection of any articles that may involve those on the list Aaron got from Sharon Gray. In addition to this, we’re trying to form profiles on all political activities of those involved. We’re hoping to get a complete picture of what led up to the mass murders. Hopefully, we will also catch the killers hired to pull off the killing, but I doubt we’ll have the resources. We also speculate they’re providing some of the information to make sure their hires are brought to justice.”

  “With one hand they giveth, with the other they taketh away,” my mother grumbled.

  “On our breaks, we can plan a wedding,” Sassy’s father announced.

  “I brought a binder.”

  I rolled my eyes so hard I hoped to give myself a concussion, but I remained conscious. “No marriage license, no wedding. That’s how it works.”

  “I’m friends with one of the county clerks,” my mother chirped. “I’ll give her a call. I’m sure she’ll have no problem sneaking out of work with the seal and all the information you need.”

  “Mom,” I complained. “We can handle going to the courthouse on our own to get the paperwork when needed. There isn’t going to be a wedding until after we’ve caught these bastards and made sure they’re so ruined they’ll wish we’d killed them.”

  “That’s my boy. What can we do to help so we can get to the wedding planning?”

  I considered my parents. “You’d take on a
bunch of ultra-wealthy politicians and conspirators if they’re in the way of a wedding, won’t you?”

  “Well, that other son of mine isn’t getting married, so if I want a wedding, I have to get rid of a bunch of corrupt politicians. And those corrupt politicians hurt my baby boy. What do you think?”

  I coughed. “I think I should have just dumped the case on your lap from the start.”

  My mother shot me the look, the one that meant I’d skated out onto thin ice and was a single step from regretting it for the rest of my life, however short that might be. Very short, according to her expression. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I knew you were always smarter than your brother.” My mother snagged one of the boxes, set it beside my feet, and joined it on the floor. “For the record, I have a strong dislike of politicians, I will enjoy this far more than I should, and I know how to use a gun.”

  “You’re a Texan, Mom. Most Texans know how to use a gun. It’s in the guidebook on how to be a Texan. You told me this when I was four, which was when you told me I’d get a switching I’d never forget if you caught me treating any gun like a toy.”

  “You were one when I first told you that, boy, and I told it to you every month once a month, while slapping my leg with a switch I’d picked just for the purpose of scaring obedience into you. It worked. I’m still a better shot than you are.” With a delicate sniff, my mother removed the cover from the box and pulled out a newspaper. “List, please.”

  “I’ll go print a copy, ma’am,” Sassy’s father said, leaving the room.

  Mark plopped onto the couch next to me. “How’s Sassy holding up, really?”

  “I forgot she’ll cry if frustrated enough, and she’s probably frustrated she can’t indulge in multiple cases of homicide. Add in Maxwell, and well, what were you expecting? Her father got tired of it not long before you arrived, dragged me into the bathroom, made me shift, and demanded I make the sobbing stop. I guess it counts if she passes out from exhaustion?” I smiled at Sassy and brushed her hair away from her face. “She had her spats with Maxwell, but…”