To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  “For Heaven’s sake.” Darcy stepped forward, grabbing Declan. “It’s just a little damp, it doesn’t need washing. Come on. Sorry, ladies, we have Special Liaison business to attend to.”

  Amidst a lot of protests and dreamy sighs, Darcy turned and marched away, taking Declan with her. The marble and gilt foyer blissfully quiet as they entered the building and then stepped on through to the corridor that led to her office.

  “And now we have the quadrella.”

  “What?” Darcy glanced over at Declan, making sure to meet his eyes. She would not look lower. Certainly not given his close proximity. Bad enough she could feel his furnace body heat searing into her side, thawing that artic cold clenching her gut.

  “You sure we’re not dating?”

  “No. Did that sprinkler shoot some sort of brain eating fungus up your nose when it hit you?”

  “Nope, nothing like that. It’s just… well, you are holding my hand, Darcy. That’s like dating 101.”

  Darcy looked down in horror, noting for the first time that not only had she grabbed Declan’s hand outside, she was still holding it. Instantly she released him. “I was just saving you from the Great-Greats, don’t be stupid.” She stormed into her office. Still not used to all the wide open space available as she made a beeline for her pristine desk and hopped up, parking her tush on it.

  Declan followed, grinning. Mission control, we have obtained orbit. I repeat, we have obtained orbit. “So what is it you want?”

  Darcy eyes narrowed. Declan was standing before her, damp golden locks tousled to perfection. The expanse of his bare chest and abs spot lit by an adoring beam of sunshine that filtered in through the nearest window, turning his alabaster skin into gleaming flawless - want to caress - marble. What did he mean by that crack?

  “For lunch.” Declan held up the bag. “What do you want for lunch? Turkey salad on rye, or roast chicken and coleslaw on wheat?”

  Oh, of course. Yeah, like he was offering anything else. Flirting was like breathing to this man. And besides, even if he had been, she’d have to be crazy mad to consider getting involved with Declan Benavidez. Okay, yes, she was a clinically diagnosed sociopath with well-intentioned homicidal tendencies. But still, that didn’t mean she was foolish or stupid, in fact, she was considered brilliant.

  So, yeah, the thought of getting involved with Declan wouldn’t stand a chance across the no man’s land of her emotional landscape. It just wouldn’t happen, ever.

  Which really didn’t help to explain why her hand still tingled, the one that had been holding his. And why there was a disturbingly unfamiliar warm glow in her gut. Somehow, this was all Declan’s fault, she was sure of. All this trouble for a piece of birthday cake? It better be double chocolate angel fudge cake, it was all she was saying.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leaving Declan to deal with her mother, Darcy made a bee line for the outdoor bar. Her devious plan was working already. She greeted her dad, allowing him to give her a warm hug and welcoming kiss.

  “What do you think?” Brandt Montgomery’s dark blue eyes twinkled as he directed Darcy’s attention to his latest work of art.

  “Nice.” Darcy admired the ice sculpture bust of her brother, done in tribute for his birthday. “I especially like the way you incorporated the ice bucket in his cranium. Functional and aesthetically pleasing.” She reached over, grabbing the bottle of white wine from her brother’s icy skull and poured herself a glass.

  “How are you, Princess?” Brandt was perhaps the only being on the planet who would even think of giving her a cute nickname and have the guts to use it to her face. Parents, you had to love them. The Sanctuary by-laws demanded it.

  “Good. Busy. How about you?”

  “Likewise.” Brandt smiled, running fingers through his messy dark brown locks.

  Her father was the quintessential artist, one who worked with ice. He was always winning awards at Ice Sculpture Festivals in far off places like Finland and Japan. Five star resorts demanded his pieces for their events. Celebrities and the rich and famous clamoured for his works to be a feature at their parties.

  The artist and the scientist. Darcy supposed on paper that her parent’s meld shouldn’t work. Her mother was laser sharp focus, analytical and pedantic. Her father was creative, spontaneous and demonstrative. Yet, somehow they fit. Brandt brought out Sarah’s softer side. And she kept him grounded.

  Darcy ran a quick, assessing gaze over the group gathered on the back patio. It was a mild and warm Spring evening, perfect for entertaining outdoors, at least for a few hours. Nell, and her Warrior meld husband were seated at the long wooden table chatting with their Grandma Camilla and Great-Grandma Tally. And off to the side, Grandpa Henry, a retired Enforcer, was entertaining birthday-boy Boyd and several of his Alpha Enforcer buddies with tales of his glory days. Her Great-Grandpa Caine knocking back a beer and trying to top Henry with tales of archaeological digs that had gone awry in his own misspent youth.

  Darcy could tell by the way Boyd stood, alert, weight distributed forward, the skin around his eyes tightening almost imperceptibly, that he was aware of her presence. He was constantly aware of his surroundings, on the lookout for the slightest change in conditions. Boyd’s finely turned instincts clamouring at the first whiff of danger.

  It was what made Boyd a top-notch sniper, assigned to the elite Alpha Enforcer squad. The Team that routinely dealt with potential end of the world missions of a supernatural nature.

  Darcy liked to think Boyd’s sharply honed instincts were a direct result of the years she spent stalking her older brother during their childhood. In effect, she’d been training him for his eventual career. But had he ever thanked her? No. Expressed even the slightest hint of gratitude? Yeah, right. All she ever heard was whining along the same vein... you made my childhood a living hell. Which genuinely surprised Darcy, her childhood had been a blast.

  “No Simon?” She looked around for her eldest brother, making sure she hadn’t missed him, though the group wasn’t large.

  “He rang earlier, he’s on assignment, undercover on a case.”

  Darcy bit back on the urge to snort derisively. Simon was always trying to make his job at SRG, Southern Royal Global, their International concern, sound a lot more glamorous than it was. The group specialised in Insurance and Protection on cases with a hint of the supernatural. Simon was an Investigator, but Darcy couldn’t help but think he was nothing more than an accountant with a scary badge.

  “Intriguing case. A bank in Hamburg, money is going missing. Simon thinks someone on the staff is eating it.”

  Damn, that did sound interesting. Darcy was about to ask for more details when she sensed Declan and her mother approaching.

  In three point five seconds Sarah managed to futilely tug down Darcy’s mulberry coloured plaid mini-skirt, tuck a stray lock of her hair back behind one ear and make that judgemental tsking sound she excelled at four times. “You’re the last one here. You did bring a present, didn’t you? A suitable one? You didn’t think maybe you could have worn something a little more dignified? Remember to be nice to Drum. I can’t believe you still haven’t visited those babies like I asked. I told you, if I get cornered on the street by one more relative-”

  Darcy pushed, not slapped, her mother’s hands away. “I’m not late, I’m right on time. The present is on the table, over there. This outfit is perfectly respectable. I’ve worn it to at least three funerals. I haven’t even spoken to Drum yet. And I can’t visit the babies until their gifts are ready. Which will be any day now.” Darcy watched Sarah’s mouth open, her mother was like a dog with a bone. “Did you see I brought Declan. As requested.” She grabbed him by the black t-shirt he’d changed into for the party. Dragging him to stand next to her.

  Sarah’s mouth snapped shut, warm colour flooding her cheeks as a relaxed smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yes. Such a sweet boy. He’s been telling me how much he’s learnt under your tutelage in just a few short
days.”

  Heavens, why had she never worked out before what an effective weapon Declan was against her mother? Could she bottle him?

  Declan reached over to shake Brandt’s hand in greeting, accepting a hearty clap on the back. “Nice sculpture. Can I get anyone a drink?”

  Darcy watched as her parents all but fawned over Declan as he fetched her mother a wine, topped up Darcy’s glass and found an ice cold beer for her dad. She passed him a napkin when he finished.

  “What’s this for?” He whispered under his breath.

  “I can’t talk to you while you have my mother’s lipstick all over your cheek.”

  Declan grinned, rubbing his cheek hurriedly. “Gone?” He turned his head left and right for her inspection.

  Damn, he really was gorgeous. She took a big swig of wine. No, no, she wasn’t going to be another tragic female falling under his spell. “Adequate.”

  “High praise indeed.” Declan grinned, before turning to ask Brandt a few questions about his latest commission.

  Darcy ducked away, leaving Declan to chat with both her parents. Not cowardly at all, strategic. She wandered over to the trestle table, planting kisses on Grandma Camilla’s cheek and then Great-Grandma Tally’s. She then turned her attention to Nell and her meld husband.

  “Double-wide.” She gave Drum a sharp nod of acknowledgment. “Nell.” She winced. Looking at Nell hurt her eyes. “Is it my imagination or are you actually – no hyperbole - glowing?”

  Nell, her oldest sibling, had long cultivated a serene air with her classical pretty looks, love of expensive footwear and elegant clothes. Given her job as a Healer and Doctor, she normally emoted confident professionalism. But right now, her sister really did glow. Her honey gold hair looked as if it had been spun with rays of sunlight included in the mix. Her creamy skin glimmered with a lustrous mother of pearl sheen. And her blue eyes sparkled with deep iridescent sparks.

  Nell smiled warmly, patting her gently swelling belly. “It’s all down to this little ball of sunshine.”

  Given the size of Drum, one of Maat’s Elite Warriors, it was a surprise that Nell’s four month along baby bump appeared a normal size, if not a little small. It wasn’t so much that Drum was tall, he was, at seven feet. But it was more how very wide the man was. Really, Nell should have been humongous, even at this early stage, instead of having such a compact petite bump.

  “Did Hadleigh glow like that? I don’t recall anyone mentioning it.”

  Drum growled under his breath, and if possible managed to wedge himself even closer to Nell, hovering and looming at the same time.

  Nell patted Drum’s hand absently. “No. No glowing for Hadleigh. But then with Valhalla blood running through her veins, she is already in the deity mix.”

  “Can you dial it down a little?” Darcy squinted slightly.

  Drum growled again, deeper, longer.

  “Calm down, Double-wide, I’m not criticising, I’m just asking.”

  Nell rubbed Drum’s arm soothingly. “I don’t have any control over it, I’m afraid. I’m just hoping as my body adjusts, that Sunshine here, will tone it down.”

  Darcy chuffed a laugh.

  “What?” Nell enquired, suspicion lacing her tone.

  “Just imagining the birth, all the Nurses and Doctors are going to have to wear sunglasses.”

  Drum suddenly groaned and went very pale.

  Nell stood up abruptly, grabbed Drum’s head and shoved it down between his knees. “Just breath, He-man. Just breath.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah Montgomery stormed over, her eyes instantly focusing on Darcy. “What did you say?” Her blue eyes blazed, her mouth a thin, tight line.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “One thing. I ask you for one thing.” Sarah shook her head, gazing at her youngest child in clear dismay.

  “It’s fine, Mum.” Nell butted in as she rubbed reassuring circles between Drum’s shoulder blades. “You know how sensit-”

  “Hey!” Drum growled in protest but didn’t try to sit up just yet.

  Nell rolled her eyes. “Sorry.” She rubbed harder. “But you really are going to have to get over this… squeamishness when it comes to anything to do with me and the baby. Either that or you need to re-think being in the delivery room.”

  Drum groaned louder at those last two words.

  Darcy shifted her chair back from the table slightly. If the oversized Warrior was going to hurl, she didn’t want her boots in the splatter zone. Honestly, it seems her mother hadn’t downplayed just how badly Drum was dealing with Nell’s pregnancy.

  “Hey everyone.” Declan strode over, grinning and dimpling. “Ladies.” He whipped around the table kissing everyone hello. “Camilla. Tally.” Then he got to her sister and looked down at Drum’s bent over form, amusement sparkling in those violet depths. “Nell, you look like an angel from heaven. Drum, no need to bow and scrape, dude, a simple hello would suffice.”

  Drum straightened within a blink of an eye. His ink black gaze pinning Declan in place. “Get your hands off my wife.” Warm colour once more suffused his café au lait complexion.

  Darcy tossed back the remainder of her wine. Seriously, Declan was like a walking bomb disposal unit. First, he all but made her mother speechless. And now he’d distracted Drum from baby angst overload, drawing the fire on to himself. She still couldn’t work out if he was the bravest or stupidest man who walked this plane.

  “My hands are no where near your wife. In fact, I brought you a fresh beer.” Declan placed the offering on the table.

  “Then why is my wife’s lipstick on your cheek?”

  “Hands. Lips. You married folk have so many rules, I can’t keep up.” Declan rubbed at his left cheek with a handy napkin. “Done?” He looked at the table.

  “No, that’s my colour, Sweetie-Pie.” Great-Grandma Tally’s eyes twinkled with humour.

  Declan rubbed at his right cheek. “How about now?” He inspected the pink smear on the napkin.

  “That would be Dark Passion Pride, so that belongs to me.” Grandma Camilla volunteered.

  “Am I getting close?” Declan scrubbed at his forehead and then his lips.

  Drum crossed his arms over his massive chest, his ink black eyes never wavering from Declan, a predator contemplating his prey. Declan had managed to defuse one situation only to create another.

  Darcy reached over and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s go say hello to everyone else and congratulate the birthday boy.”

  “And she’s back to holding my hand.” Declan whispered for Darcy’s ears only as she dragged him across the patio.

  Darcy’s head whipped around. Heavens, why must he push and push. “You’d rather I grabbed you by the ear? Shut up and keep walking.”

  Bloody hell, the things she put up with for cake. This was going to be a very long evening.

  Darcy quickly discovered she had a conundrum on her hands. Anytime she tried to move more than three feet from Declan’s side, her mother opened her mouth, a verbal rant and a list of her defects ready to unload. But if she stayed by Declan’s side, Sarah maintained this warm, relaxed glow. The man was like walking Prozac.

  He also turned out to be particularly useful in distracting Great-Grandma Tally from going on ad nauseam about the phallic necklace she was wearing that she’d found a few months ago on her latest dig. The history of the Pzwapthy Tribe and their joyful sexual activities had brought a warm flush to Nell’s cheeks. And even Drum, at over a hundred years old, had begun to look vaguely uncomfortable. Darcy could no more than gulp down another glass of wine, futilely trying to dull her wits.

  Declan put a halt to those stories by simply asking after Tally’s health. Heavens, was no woman immune to his charms? Darcy watching as Tally’s cheeks turned rosy pink, and she became a little flustered at being the focus of Declan’s attention.

  Finally they got to the good portion of the evening, dessert and it was time for Boyd to open his presents. Darcy had to ad
mit the whole night had been worth it for a slice of that delicious gooey double chocolate fudge angel cake. Hmmm, heaven on a fork. Nirvana.

  As evenings went with her family. This one was going down in the win column. And hard as it was for Darcy to admit, all the thanks had to go to Declan. He made a surprisingly good wing-man.

  Of course Darcy should have known better than to count the dead bodies before the war was won. Everything had been going so well, she was half way through her cake. Boyd had opened three presents so far. A fertility statue from Tally and Caine. A new rifle carry case from her parents. A box of bullets from the Alpha squad. And then Boyd picked up Darcy’s gaily wrapped gift.

  He tore back the wrapping paper. Darcy so wished she’d remembered to bring a camera to record the expression on Boyd’s face as he stared down at her present. First in pleased surprise, and then his mind computed the fact that those were his actual footprints decorating the welcome mat. Dark blue eyes flickered up, focusing on Darcy, full of alarm, his face pale.

  “You broke into my house! You took images of my footprints whilst I was sleeping!”

  Darcy shrugged. “How else was I going to personalise it?”

  “Darcy!” Her name was uttered in that exasperated tone by so many people at once that it battered her eardrums.

  “What?” She looked around. Trying to work out what the problem with the gift was. Pleased to note that Declan like wise looked a little confused.

  “How did you get into my house? Past my alarm?” Boyd was being held back by Taite and their father.

  Darcy shrugged. “It was easy.”

  Boyd uttered a war cry and lunged for her. Only Taite’s hold prevented Boyd from doing anything he’d regret. After all, no one attacked Darcy lightly, even relatives.

  “Well. It looks like it’s time for us to go.” Declan grabbed hold of Darcy.

  “But I haven’t finished my cake.” She looked mournfully at her plate. Out the corner of her eye she noted her mother sidling towards her, tight lipped, Sarah’s eyes were flinty and narrowed, her hands clenched into fists. Damn, maybe it was time she made a fast exit. Half a piece of cake was better than none.