by Ann Charles
“What are you hiding in your tent, Finn?” Bruno asked, getting straight to the point.
Oh, yeah, he was definitely back to normal at the moment.
“Nothing, man.” Finn thumped his back leg a few times, his whiskers twitching as he avoided Bruno’s stare by focusing on the smoking joint in his paw. “I just sort of let loose after my performance tonight and don’t want anyone to see my sty.”
I leaned closer and sniffed his black velour vest. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s Cajun peyote.”
“No, not that.” I sniffed again. Scents were like addresses for me, giving a range of details that pinpointed their source. “I smell the monkey brothers’ tent.”
He gaped at me. “You can smell that?”
“I’m a werecoyote, Finn. You know my sense of smell is one of my strengths.” Along with my hearing. I plucked a white hair off his vest. “What’s this?” Finn’s was light brown, not white.
“What?”
“This white hair?”
He shrugged. “I’m getting old. My white hairs are coming in.”
I held the hair under my nose, pretending to smell it. “This isn’t yours.”
“There’s no fucking way you can pinpoint a rabbit by a single hair,” he said, calling my bluff.
He was right. I couldn’t, but he was high enough that I could pull the wool over his eyes. Normally, I wouldn’t try mind games like that on him, but with Donatello in his trance and Ol’ Blue linking it to Finn, I needed to know what the jackrabbit was hiding for his own safety.
I sniffed it again for show, and then I handed it to Bruno. “Bag that for evidence.”
“Evidence for what?” Finn asked, his voice rising. “I’m clean, man!”
“Calm down, Finn,” Bruno said, holding the white hair between his fingertips. “We’re not here to arrest you, we just need your help.”
“Crikey! I’ve nothing for ya, mates.” He slipped into his Australian accent, trying to play it cool.
“I saw you in my crystal ball tonight, Finn,” I explained.
The jackrabbit crossed himself, then fluttered his paws through the air between us, and followed that with some weird scissor move with his paw.
“What color was the smoke?” he asked me when he’d finished with his ritual.
“Gray.”
“Oh, shit.” He twitched his whiskers at Bruno. “Gray can’t be good, can it?”
Bruno shook his head. “Nora says it means you’ve come upon some kind of misfortune. What we need to know is if that has something to do with what you’re hiding in your tent.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
I sighed, too tired for this crap. “Finn, we have a problem. Donatello is in some kind of trance and Ol’ Blue linked him to you. Why?”
Finn thumped his other back leg on the ground. He started to say something and then brushed off the front of his vest.
“I’m worried you’re in some kind of danger,” I added. “And Bruno and I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on in your tent.”
He took a hit off his joint, his eyes darting back and forth between us as he blew out the smoke. “Okay. If I come clean to you two, do you promise not to tell the monkey brothers what’s in my tent?”
I hesitated. If it pertained to the situation with Donatello, then I might need to spill the beans. On the other hand, Finn was putting his trust in Bruno and me, and Finn was a good friend while the monkey brothers were my bosses.
“I promise, Finn.” When Bruno didn’t also give his word, I jabbed him in the stomach. “Come on, Bruno.”
“Fine. I promise.”
Finn nodded and disappeared inside of his tent. I heard a creaking sound, and then he held the flap open for us. “Come in,” he whispered, glancing to the left and right around us.
Bruno led the way. Inside, the place was actually clean, not a single carrot butt to be found. I scanned his small chairs and miniature cupboards, noting the neat stacks of books and a lack of peyote and cannabis paraphernalia. “What’s the big deal?” I asked. “Everything looks clean as can be.”
From out of his vest, Finn pulled a round, white hairy ball. “This is the big deal.” He held it out toward me.
The tiny white bunny twitched its nose at me. “Is that … ?”
I trailed off, hearing a thump come from the closed-up cupboard across the room. Bruno strode over and opened it. The cupboard door made the same creaking sound I’d heard while we were waiting outside. Sitting on one of the shelves was another white bunny. It gnawed on a piece of carrot, looking as cute and cuddly as the one in Finn’s paws.
These two were the escapees from the rabbit trunk that Donatello was currently making his home. How had Finn come to have them?
“What are you doing with the monkey brothers’ rabbits?” Bruno asked. I could tell by his expression that he was wondering if Finn had a hand in causing Donatello’s catatonic state.
“They hopped up to me earlier while I was doing my pre-show sunbathing.”
“Why didn’t you take them back?” I reached out and stroked the tiny bunny’s soft white fur.
“Because they deserve their freedom.” Finn smiled down at the pudgy bunny, obviously smitten. “I’m searching for a good home for them, but it’s not easy down here in Louisiana. I’m afraid they might end up mixed into a pot of gumbo.”
Bruno smirked. “So, you’re running some sort of underground bunny railroad now?”
“Maybe I am. They must have escaped for a reason.”
“Finn.” I tried to reason with him. “You know that Marco and Donatello are good to their animals. Besides, they worked hard to train those rabbits for their act. They even went so far as to teach them to … Hey, is this one actually purring?”
Finn nodded. “But bunnies don’t purr in their throat like cats, they rub their teeth together to make the sound.”
“No kidding.” I scratched it between its ears. “The monkey brothers are going to want these two cuties back, you know.”
“I might be willing to give these kits back if the brothers are interested in making a deal.”
“What sort of deal?” Bruno asked, closing the cupboard door with the bunny safely inside.
“Those money-grubbers can have their bunnies if Donatello stops pressuring me to shorten my show and start putting on two performances a night to double the revenue.”
Chapter Four
Bruno and I left Finn to his bunny fun.
“You know what this new piece of information from Finn means, right?” Bruno asked.
Yeah, I did, but instead I said, “That you want a pet bunny.”
He chuckled. “No, thanks. I have my hands full with a werecoyote who likes to use her cryptic crystal ball to meddle in everyone else’s business.”
I linked my arm in his, smiling up at the moon. “ ‘Meddle,’ you say? You wound me, dear skeptic, with that sharp tongue of yours.”
“Good.” He grinned at me. “Then I can lick you better.”
We walked a while in silence, stopping in front of the monkey brothers’ tent.
“Should we go in and tell Marco how many suspects Donatello has made with his micro-managing?” I asked. It appeared nobody had escaped his clipboard and penny-pinching attempts, which meant that each and every one of us could be the villain who caused Donatello’s predicament.
“No. You’re tired.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him about that. “I am.”
“Let’s get you back to our tent and into bed.”
I didn’t argue about that either.
As we weaved through the tents toward ours, my arm still linked with his, Bruno told me, “I need to check out the monkey brothers’ office first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t want to do it tonight?”
“I’m not going to leave you alone. While the chances seem slim that what happened to Donatello has anything to do with your past coming back to hunt you, I
don’t want to take a chance.”
I yawned, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Be honest. You just want to get me naked.”
“Always. But not tonight. You probably don’t want me pawing you after a long day.”
Pawing me? What the hell? He was always considerate in bed, feeding my needs before his. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Bruno?”
“I just don’t want to be one of those guys who—”
I pulled up short. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Over-analyzing our relationship. What’s going on with you?”
He frowned down at me. “I can’t explain it. I keep feeling uncertain about everything, especially us.”
“But why? I haven’t given you any reason to feel insecure, have I?”
“No.”
“This makes no sense. I’d blame the moon, but it’s not even full.”
We continued through the darkness, walking in silence.
At our tent, he tied the flap closed behind us and led me to our bed. I stripped down and crawled between the sheets, sighing as my head hit the pillow. “Tomorrow morning,” I said, pausing to yawn, “I’ll try Ol’ Blue again. See if anything has changed with Donatello.”
The bed shifted, his body warm as he pulled me close. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure this out together. Now get some sleep, oh great Mesmerizing Madam Electra.”
“I like when you use ‘majestic’ more.”
“I know, but I thought we were talking about you.”
I fell asleep with a smile on my face and dreamed I was stuck in the trunk next to Donatello, wishing I could escape the invisible bonds holding me there.
* * *
I woke just before sunrise, as I did every morning, so that I could go out and greet the sun with the chant my grandmother taught me many, many moons ago. I may no longer live amongst my people in the southwest desert, but I still followed their ways.
Bruno was awake when I came back inside feeling refreshed and playful from the sun’s glowing start to the day. “Did you come up with an answer to our monkey problem?” he asked as I crawled back between the sheets next to him.
“Not yet.” I snuggled up against his side, trailing my fingers over his chest. “But I have an idea about how we could go about brainstorming it.”
“I’m all ears.”
My hand slid southward, circling his navel before landing on more interesting terrain. “Really? Because this doesn’t feel like an ear at all.” I slid my fingers under the waistband of his briefs and took him in hand.
His eyes darkened as I stroked him awake. “Crawl on top of me, woman,” he ordered a short time later, his voice guttural with need.
I did as ordered, my clothes getting in the way as he moved under me, rousing my body to match his.
“Let me inside,” he said, his hips arching under me.
I disobeyed, egging him on further with an erotic hip-swaying dance that involved rubbing in all of the right places.
“Nora,” he panted, his eyes dark pools. “You are so giving.”
I was what? My movements stuttered, but then I continued, feeling more conscious and awkward. That was kind of a weird thing to say. Shaking it off, I leaned over and licked a trail down the side of his neck.
He groaned and took me by the hips, grinding harder.
“You like that?” I whispered.
He frowned at me. “Only if you feel comfortable doing it.”
I stilled. “Comfortable?”
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you into anything.”
Rushing me into … “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I sat up, straddling him. “Bruno, are you analyzing sex right now?”
“Well, officially it’s not sex yet. This is only foreplay, which I am finding extremely pleasurable, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to lick me if it’s not something that you enjoy doing.”
I scoffed. “Trust me, I like to lick you. All over.” I reached out and ran my index fingernail down his sternum. “Now, would you like me to lick you somewhere else?”
His forehead lined. The seconds ticked and ticked.
“Bruno!”
“What? I’m weighing my answer.”
“In case you didn’t hear me right, I just offered to lick you in the most intimate way.”
“I did hear you.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “I was trying to decide if you really mean that, or if you’re just saying it because you think I want you to lick me but you don’t really take pleasure in exchanging oral foreplay.”
My mouth fell open. “This is bananas. And you’re nuts.”
“Yeah.” His gaze drifted sideways. “That’s what scares me. I think I’m losing my mind. I can’t stop focusing on how you feel about every move you and I make.”
I sighed. “Normally, I’d say being concerned about my physical happiness is a good thing, but right now, I want you to get out of this head.” I pointed at his noggin. “And into the other one.” I rocked against him to be clear.
“I’ll try.”
I leaned down and kissed him the way he liked, hard and on the edge of frenzied. When I pulled back, I whispered, “Are you ready now?” He certainly felt more than ready.
He glanced at my mouth. “Did I hurt you with that kiss? I got a tad rough toward the end. I probably shouldn’t have—”
“Oh, sweet hell! That’s it.” I rolled off of him and stood up. “Get dressed, nutter. Let’s go figure out what’s up with that ape.”
He scowled, sitting up. “But I don’t think we’re done here.”
“Trust me, until you can stop worrying about my feelings during sex, we’re done. I’m not going to let you ruin our romantic life with over-analysis. I’m afraid I’ll have an orgasm and you’ll want to stop and talk about how that made me feel.”
He groaned. “What is wrong with me?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sliding a star-covered mini-dress over my head. “But something tells me it’s tied to this whole monkey mess going on right now because everything started going haywire for you and Donatello yesterday.” I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. “Get your pants on, Dr. Sigmund Freud. We have a mystery to solve so that your raging, moral super-ego will shut up and let your sexy, primitive id return to take over in the sack.”
Fifteen minutes later, Bruno and I were heading back to the monkey brothers’ tent. We detoured to their food stand on the way to get some coffee. Eugene was standing at the order window when we arrived. At his feet were his two raccoon friends along with a skunk I hadn’t seen before.
“Hey, Eugene,” I said, stopping several feet away. I didn’t trust skunks. They were often moody and too willing to lift their tail at a stranger. “Odd to see you so early in the morning.”
The werebear tended to sleep in late every day, making sure he got at least eleven hours of sleep in lieu of hibernating for half of the year.
“Mr. Jingles woke me up.”
“Who’s Mr. Jingles?” Bruno asked.
The big guy pointed at the skunk that was currently standing on its back legs while pulling small threads off of Eugene’s cutoff shorts.
“Is he a wereskunk?” He didn’t look like one, or smell like it either, but this was the freakshow division of a circus, so I could be wrong.
“No, he’s just very attentive. I found him in my tent this morning when I woke up.” He reached down and patted Mr. Jingles on the head. “Thanks, buddy.”
“What was he doing in your tent?” Bruno asked, giving the big raccoon the evil eye.
“Cleaning my bookshelf.”
Eugene liked to read in his spare time. Erotic romances were his favorites, followed by gritty westerns.
“What do you mean, ‘cleaning’?” Bruno asked. “If he’s not a shapeshifter, how was he managing that?”
Eugene handed the skunk a piece of what looked like an egg and cheese po’boy sandwich. “He was using his tail as a duster. Whe
n he finished that, he laid out my clothes for me.”
Bruno and I swapped a wrinkled brow.
Before we had a chance to question the bear shifter further, a red-colored squirrel came scampering up and raced past us, climbing Eugene’s leg. He crammed something into the pocket of the big guy’s shorts and then hopped down and took off across the grass again.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s Fred,” Eugene said.
“Fred who?” Bruno asked, still staring after the squirrel.
“Fred the fox squirrel. He just showed up about an hour ago and started stuffing my pockets with nuts.” Eugene lifted his shirt to show us his bulging shorts pockets. He reached in and pulled out a handful of peanuts. “I don’t know where he came from or who told him I was hungry, but the little guy won’t stop. I’ve already emptied my pockets twice.” He offered a handful to Bruno.
“He must be getting them from the elephants’ tent,” Bruno said, cracking open a peanut shell. “You say the skunk and squirrel just showed up?” At Eugene’s nod, he continued, “Same as how the raccoons arrived unannounced last night?”
As if knowing they were the subjects of discussion, the two raccoons looked up at Bruno. The bigger one raised its upper lip. Apparently, it remembered their brief standoff and its heart hadn’t grown any fonder for my fated mate. I crossed my fingers that Bruno wouldn’t need another therapy session because of the damned raccoon’s residual aggression.
“That’s right,” Eugene confirmed. “Donatello must have hired some help for me before he got that case of the jack-in-the-box disease.”
Wait a second. First Donatello went to a statue state then Bruno started analyzing his feelings, and then Eugene gained a bunch of new pets. This seemed like the work of something more mischievous rather than evil. Had someone conjured an imp and set it free? Or could it be some sort of naughty fairy at work? Then again, we were in southern Louisiana, so maybe it was some sort of voodoo bugaboo.
Eugene stepped off to the side, waving his entourage to join him so that Bruno could place our coffee order.
“Did you figure out what’s going on with Donatello?” he asked me.