The Trouble With Black Cats and Demons

by Kat Simons

  So she changed tack. “You still haven’t explained to me how I can be your mate. Everything I know about leopard shifters says this isn’t possible.”

  “I don’t know how it’s possible. She couldn’t answer that.”

  Some emotion moved through his expression, raising more questions, but before she could ask what he was thinking, he patted her hip and said, “Anyway, it’s happened. And I’m going to be dangerous until we’ve made love and I feel secure in my claim.”

  She shook her head. “We haven’t even known each other for forty-eight hours. You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”

  He frowned. “Do you… Is there someone else? Do you not want me?”

  Because the last question was loaded—and the answer should have been self-evident given the last few minutes—she answered the first. “I’m not seeing anyone. That’s not the problem. The problem is this shouldn’t be happening between us. I’m not exactly feeling like myself either.” She forced herself to meet his gaze as she admitted, “It’s scary. Okay. I don’t act this way with random men—”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She ignored that. “I usually have more control too. And I’m not sure how I feel about chemistry I can’t understand affecting my feelings this way.”

  “Truthfully, I’m not sure how I feel either.”

  “Really?” For some reason, that made her feel better.

  “I am never out of control. It’s dangerous. I’ve spent my entire life ensuring my self-control is absolute, and in less than two days, hell in only a matter of minutes, you completely destroyed all that work.”

  “Not on purpose,” she muttered, a little embarrassed because his comment actually pleased her.

  He chuckled. “I know. But here we are.” He hugged her a little closer. “I won’t rush you, if I can help it. My instincts are pushing me to claim you. In fact my leopard is encouraging me to seduce you right now.”

  “Tell him down boy. We have company.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. My more rational self understands your hesitance. I don’t want to force anything on you. I can wait.”

  “You don’t sound very confident of that.”

  He shrugged. “My leopard hasn’t pushed me this hard in years, so it’s not easy. But I will make an effort not to pressure you. I can’t guarantee I won’t try to seduce you. I’m not that noble.”

  She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t grin.

  “But I’ll make an effort to wait until you’re ready.” He patted her hip. “Now, I think I’m ready to button my jeans. You’d better get out there. I’ll follow in a minute.”

  “Yeah. Good idea.”

  She scrambled away from temptation and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. The gun bumped against her fist. Damn. She took it and the clip in her pants’ pocket and hurriedly buried them in the top of her closet, under a pile of sweaters, out of casual sight and reach.

  When she finished, she faced Deacon again, only to realize he hadn’t pulled on his jeans, or anything else for that matter. The sight of all that beautiful naked skin made her pulse pound.

  Irritated with herself and the situation, she hurried from the room, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

  She paused in the hallway and pressed a hand to her stomach to quiet the nervous butterflies dancing there. Whatever the hell was happening between her and Deacon was happening way too fast. She felt like she was on a runaway train with broken brakes heading right for a cliff that dropped into a bottomless pit. It was not a good feeling.

  She took a couple of deep breaths. When she felt some semblance of control return, she straightened and headed into living room.

  Enough. She had a kid to protect. This madness with Deacon would just have to wait.

  7

  Jonathon was on the couch with all three dogs sitting in front of him, staring intently. He didn’t seem to be talking out loud, but his head was tilted as if in thought.

  Cary cleared her throat to get his attention. “Sorry I took so long.”

  “It’s okay. Me and the dogs were just talking.”

  “Talking?” Another opening. Now, she just needed to pull the truth out of him.

  Instead of answering her question, he said, “I put on a pot of coffee. I thought you might want some.”

  She blinked. “How’d you know I needed a cup?”

  “You have a lot of coffee in your freezer.” He shrugged. “I figured you were as much of an addict as my mom.”

  She dropped onto the couch next to him and leaned forward to see inside his mug where it sat on the coffee table. Milk. She smiled. “I am a coffee addict. Thanks. That was very nice of you.”

  He shrugged again, grinning as he looked at the dogs.

  “We have to talk,” she said. “I need to know why those guys were after you. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  He kept his gaze on the dogs. “You gonna call my mom.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we just tell her I’m working for you or something? Like an after-school job? I don’t want her to know about that stuff earlier. She’d just freak out and get all weird.”

  “She’s got a right to freak out. We need to tell her the truth. She has to understand that you need to be protected right now.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah. Can’t we all. But you’re going to have to humor me and your mother and deal with more protection than just your own wily skills. You’re avoiding my question. Why were those men after you?”

  Just then Deacon appeared from the hallway. He was fully dressed, shoes and all. But he still looked unfairly sexy.

  “Who’s that?” Jonathon asked.

  His accusatory tone brought her roughly out of another Deacon-related fantasy. “Jon, this is Deacon. Deacon, Jon.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Deacon said. “You’re a friend of Cary’s?”

  “Yeah. What are you?”

  Now aggression intertwined with Jonathon’s accusatory tone. She frowned at him. Had all the men entering her life recently come from some strange twilight zone? What was with the instant dislike?

  Deacon’s friendly demeanor dropped. “I’m Cary’s boyfriend.”

  She raised her eyebrows at that. Deacon ignored her expression.

  “You live here?” Jon asked.

  “No. I was waiting for her to come home.”

  “Speaking of home,” Cary interrupted. “We need to call your mother, Jon. But before I do that, I need to know everything you know about what happened today.”

  “Does he have to be here?” He jutted his chin out at Deacon.

  “Yeah. He does.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it in front of him.”

  “He won’t repeat anything you say. I promise.”

  Jonathon continued to frown at Deacon. After a moment, his shoulders hunched and he said, “I can talk to animals. Like really. Not like the way everyone pretends to. I understand them.”

  His voice was so quiet, she barely heard him. “You talk to animals?”

  “Yeah. I’m not weird.”

  “I know you’re not weird. Geez, after what happened earlier, you think I’d be shocked at something like talking to animals?”

  He shrugged, but his mouth twisted into a reluctant grin. “I figured you’d understand. My mom knows, but she wants me to pretend I can’t do it. She doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

  “Does anyone else know?” Someone must. Otherwise, why would this mysterious “boss” pick Jon out of the crowd?

  “I don’t know. The kids at school think I’m weird, but they don’t know why. I suppose a couple of people might have figured it out.”

  “But…why would those thugs want you if all you do is talk to animals. What good does that do them?”

  Jonathon hunched a little deeper in the couch. “I can do more.”

  “Like?”

  He looked up at Deacon then, his gaze focused
and intent. Deacon’s eyes widened and his face started to shimmer and twist. Black hair ran over his skin, and he convulsed once, taking a step back as if he’d been hit in the stomach.

  Cary came half off the couch. “Deacon?”

  He held up a hand and straightened to his full height. His features were normal again, the racing swaths of black fur gone. But his golden eyes burned with fury.

  “Don’t you ever, ever do that again, kid. I’m not someone to be toyed with.”

  Deacon’s suppressed rage took Cary’s breath away. She remained half-standing, half-crouched, unable to move. Not sure what to do. Or who she was going to have to protect from whom in the next few seconds.

  What the hell had just happened? “What was that?” she murmured.

  “I can call animals, too,” Jonathon said. There was a touch of smugness in his voice but over it was a tremor of fear. “Mostly. I can call shapeshifters as well as ordinary animals.”

  “You can make them shift against their will?” Cary dropped back onto the couch.

  “Some of them.” He jutted his chin out. “Most of them.”

  “But not this one,” Deacon said, his voice so deep it was more a growl. “I’m a lot stronger than you are, kid.”

  “For now maybe,” Jonathon muttered, but he dropped his gaze, staring at his lap instead of Deacon.

  Cary met Deacon’s gaze. “You okay?” she mouthed. Which was really two questions. Had Jon’s efforts caused any damage? And was Deacon going to lose his cool and go after the boy?

  He nodded briefly then turned back to stare at Jonathon.

  Cary didn’t like that look on his face. She edged closer to the boy, just in case. “How did you know about Deacon?” She hoped the question would divert them both from this struggle of wills.

  “I could tell when he came back out. I didn’t know when he was the leopard cause he wouldn’t talk to me when I tried. But I could tell when he came out like that he was also the leopard.”

  “Can you always tell a shifter in human form?”

  “Mostly. I’m better at it than I used to be. I’m getting stronger every year.” This he threw at Deacon like a challenge.

  “So.” She frowned. “So those thugs wanted you, their boss wanted you, because of this? Because you can call shifters?”

  Jonathon shrugged. “Don’t know. Why would they? Not much use, is it?”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. She’d be willing to bet someone could come up with a nefarious use for Jonathon’s skills. “We need to call your mother.”

  “She won’t understand. She’ll freak out.” There was a resigned promise in his tone. “You’d be better off telling her I’m working for you after school. Walking the dogs or something. She’ll believe that.”

  “I’m not going to lie to her.”

  “Maybe you should,” Deacon said. “She’ll only worry if you tell her the truth.”

  His response surprised her, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “If she’s not worried, she won’t be careful.” She frowned at both of them. “What’s her number? We’ll call her now.”

  “She’s at work.” Jon flung himself from the sofa and ambled into the kitchen. He was punching in the number on her cordless phone as he came back. “She’s gonna be pissed we’re interrupting her while she’s working.”

  He held the phone to his ear a minute then thrust it at Cary. “Her name’s Sally Webber.”

  Cary fumbled with the phone, getting it to her ear in time to hear, “Emergency room.”

  “Hi,” Cary said, scowling at Jon. “Can I speak to Sally Webber, please?” When a new female voice answered, Cary said, “Mrs. Webber, my name is Cary Redmond.”

  “It’s Ms. Should I know you?”

  “No, you don’t. Your son Jon and I are…” She hesitated a split second before saying, “Friends.”

  “Jon. Is he okay? What’s going on? Who are you? Why hasn’t he mentioned you? Are you from the school? A teacher? How old are you? Where’s Jon? Let me speak to him.”

  The questions came so fast, and so loud, Cary had to pull the phone an inch from her ear. She blinked at Jon who only smirked in an “I told you so” way.

  “Ms… Ms… Ms. Webber!” Cary finally shouted down the phone until the woman fell silent. “I’m not a teacher or from the school. Jon and I just met recently. There’s a bit of a situation, and—”

  “Situation! What situation? What the hell are you talking about? Where’s Jon?”

  “Jon’s right here. He’s safe for now.”

  “Oh my god! Who are you? What do you want? Don’t hurt my son!”

  Cary took a deep breath and tried again. “Ms. Webber, Jon is just fine. A couple of men tried to kidnap him and—”

  “Kidnap!”

  Cary jerked the phone back at the shriek.

  “What do you want for him? Please, let my son go. I don’t have much, but if it’s money you want…”

  “No. No. Ms. Webber, I’m not a kidnapper.” This wasn’t going as smoothly as Cary had hoped. Deacon lounged nearby, a suspicious quirk to his lips.

  Jon made no effort to hide his own amusement. “I told you she wouldn’t like this,” he mouthed.

  She made a face and tried to interrupt the stream of hysteria still spilling out of the phone. “Ms. Webber. Jon is fine. Strangers tried to take him. I stopped them. And he’s now at my home where he is safe.” She managed to get the full story out before another round of questions blasted out of the phone. She waited until Sally paused for a breath then said, “You need to come get Jon, and we need to talk. I think the men who tried to take him will try again.”

  “What? Don’t let them hurt my baby, or I’ll rip your throat out.”

  Cary swallowed, pretty sure Sally Webber meant that threat. “I have no intention of letting anyone hurt Jon. But you need to come over so we can discuss keeping him safe.”

  “How? Who are you? I’m his mother. I’ll keep him safe. Where is he? Tell me now, or I’m calling the police.”

  Cary gave up with a sigh. She gave Sally her home address—which in turn implied Sally had permission to find the house without being affected by the glamour—and pulled the phone away again when the line went dead with a crash.

  “I think your mother’s on the way,” she said to Jon.

  “I warned you. You should have said you wanted to hire me to walk the dogs. She’d still call the cops on you but probably wouldn’t be as crazy.”

  “She’s going to call the cops?”

  “Oh, yeah. And by the time she gets done telling the tale, the cops’ll think I’m here being tortured with burning metal pokers.”

  Great. Just great. “Don’t you dare laugh, Deacon Jones.” She pointed a warning finger at him when his suspiciously quirked lips twitched.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  To save a lot of explaining, Cary mentally gave the cops permission to find her home, too. Better to welcome the whole frigging lot of them and be done with it. Then she went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She had a feeling she was going to need it.

  8

  As Jon had predicted, when Cary opened the door twenty minutes later, two uniformed police officers and a hysterical woman stood on her doorstep. The woman was about 5’1”, had dark hair similar to Jon’s, and wore scrubs. But that was all Cary could discern as she pushed passed her and rushed to pull Jon into her arms. Jon rolled his eyes and griped about her overreacting while his mother patted him down, looking for injuries.

  Cary stepped aside to let the two uniforms in. She was inexplicably nervous about having cops called to her house. She’d mostly managed to stay under police radar while doing her job, often thanks to Jaxer. She had no idea how she was going to explain all this to them without sounding deranged.

  From across the living room, Cary heard Jon say, “I’m fine, mom. Cary saved me, okay. She’s cool.”

  One of the two cops said, “Ms. Redmond? We were led to believe there was a kidnapping.”

>   This cop was a big man, at least 6’3” and thickly muscled. He had a pleasant face, dark blond hair, and serious brown eyes.

  She swallowed and shook her head. “No, no. I mean there was an attempt. But the two men ran away and left Jon alone when they saw me.”

  The second uniform looked her over with a critical, flat expression. He was only around her height but as thick as his partner. His hair was dark, his eyes brown, and his face a lot younger, though no less intimidating, than the first cop’s.

  “Why?” he said, after finishing his visual analysis.

  “Cary’s a lot more formidable than she looks,” Deacon said, unexpectedly. He stepped out of the living room shadows, startling the second cop enough he put a hand to his sidearm.

  The first cop had a completely different reaction. “Son of a bitch. Deacon Jones. What on earth are you doing here?”

  The cop and Deacon exchanged that male hug that involved a lot of back patting.

  “Hey, Trevor. It’s been a long time. How’s Sue Ann?”

  “Great. She’ll be thrilled when I tell her I bumped into you. You haven’t been in town much lately.”

  Thrilled, huh? Cary tried not to scowl. Sue Ann better be Trevor’s devoted wife.

  She nearly rolled her eyes when she realized she was jealous. How stupid was that? This not-acting-like-herself stuff was starting to get old.

  “How’re the kids?” Deacon asked.

  He’d repositioned himself so he could drop a negligent, casual arm across her shoulders. Her eyebrows rose at the possessive gesture. She was tempted to step away but was afraid of how the cops would interpret the move.

  “Fine, fine,” Trevor said. “Stand down, Bacon. This is an old friend of mine and Sue Ann’s.”

  The second cop dropped his hand from his weapon, but his expression remained unfriendly as he stared at Deacon.

  Trevor took in the comfortable drape of Deacon’s arm around Cary and grinned. “Guess I don’t need to ask what brings you here after all.”

  Deacon squeezed her shoulder and made formal introductions.

  Officer Trevor McKinsey shook her hand, still grinning and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. This is my partner, Officer Calvin Bacon.”