by RJ Blain
Spitting curses a match for Randal’s in vehemency, Todd seized the scruff of my neck. “How do you propose we move her? She’s larger than the average male tiger.”
“You like saying that cloak of yours is indestructible, sir. Wrap it around her. We’ll find some rope and harness you up. You can drag her through the water easily enough. I’ll keep her head above water.” Randal sighed. “We’ll figure something out. Dereks, with me. Rest of you, secure the President’s body. We’re on a time limit, so hustle.”
The four men obeyed, which I considered a miracle, and no one said a word while President Wilson’s detail did their final task for their lost principal. They wrapped his body in a blanket they retrieved from back of the long vehicle. After they tended to their fallen president, Dereks cleared his throat. “We have some things in the supply we might be able to use.”
Randal left my side and joined Dereks. “That should work. Secure her the best you can in your cloak, Mr. Jacobson. Let’s try to avoid being out in the open when the next storm hits.”
Next storm?
Todd didn’t give me long to think about the weather. He adjusted his hold on me and jostled my right shoulder. Todd cursed while I struggled in his grip, fighting until I managed to get my paws under me and stagger upright. Snarling and spitting at him, I rose on my hind paws and swiped at him, I dropping down, careful to avoid weight on my busted shoulder.
The stallion hopped out of my reach, and step by painful step, I pursued him, spitting feline curses at him.
Randal sighed and stepped away from the vehicle to check the ground. He grabbed my boots out of the water, and after a moment of digging, he located the stiletto. “Or she can chase you all the way out of town. That works, too. It’s not like we’ll be able to move very fast anyway.”
I made it to the outskirts of Fort Lauderdale before I sat and refused to move another inch, staring at Todd with my ears flattened back. Sighing, he knelt in front of me, ignoring the water swirling around us, and ran his hands alongside my muzzle. “You’re probably too heavy for me to carry for long, even if I shifted. We have maybe half a mile left.”
“I’ll go warn Cleo,” Randal said, taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, tossing his clothes over to Todd. “Won’t take me long if the storm surge hasn’t gotten too deep. Shouldn’t slow me down much.”
Several moments later, Randal shifted into a sleek black panther, yowled, and ran along the road, splashing through the water.
“He just turned into a cat,” Dereks spluttered.
The other three Secret Service agents stared after Randal, their jaws slack and their eyes wide.
“I’m sure you’ll start picking up some annoying habit soon enough. You’ve gotten used to a giant black tiger hobbling around, but he shocks you?”
Dereks’ face splotched. “He’s one of us!”
“Technically, I think he’s your boss. You’re going to have to get over it. Times have changed. Everyone’s something nowadays. You’ll be grateful enough in time; if your principal is a shifter, they’re often a bit tougher to kill.” Todd sighed and scratched behind one of my ears. “You hanging in there?”
Too tired to even try to bite him or swipe at him with my claws, I settled for a reproachful stare and a sigh.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I haven’t done anything for a change. I’m just doing what I’m told. Some battles aren’t worth fighting, and facing off against a half-crazed tiger is a good way to get mauled. At least we might be able to calm Anatoly down now. He’s been insufferable since you were taken.”
“Anatoly?”
“Feline clan leader; he’s a part of the Clan Council, and he represents all the cat clans. Siberian tiger. Fancies our little lady here, and there’s—”
While thunder rumbled on the horizon, promising a violent storm in the near future, the weather had nothing on the infuriated roar thundering down the road. I bared my fangs and forced myself back to my paws, leaning against Todd. My breaths emerged as deep growls.
“I recommend against screaming. Anatoly doesn’t like when people scream. In fact, don’t do anything he might perceive as a threat until he has a chance to convince himself she’s alive.” Todd rose to his feet and joined the Secret Service agents. “He found your sword.”
I hissed at the reminder of the broken blade. I made it two steps in his direction before a glimpse of orange warned me we had company. Anatoly slammed into me, drove me into the water, and we rolled. The pain in my shoulder infuriated a roar out of me, and I unsheathed my claws and tore at his fur, snapping my teeth at his throat.
“And tigers tend to be violent, aggressive felines with a general lack of self-preservation skills.”
Anatoly planted a paw on my chest while I paddled at him with my hind feet. The water numbed my shoulders and back, although I didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought I should. My right paw refused to obey me, but I hooked the rest of my claws and buried my teeth in his fur.
He pinned me down and unleashed a roar so loud my ears rang. I had to pant and catch my breath, but when I did, I roared back, although mine came out weaker than his.
“All right, Anatoly. She’s got a broken shoulder. Let her up. Since you’re here, you can help me carry her. Between the two—”
“Three,” Gentry said, sloshing through the water to Anatoly’s side. With a snarl, he planted his foot against the tiger’s shoulder and shoved. “Go ahead. Touch her again before Cleo and Henry get a chance to look her over. I’ll flatten you, little kitty.”
“And thus begins the posturing and fits of jealousy. Can we please do this when we’re on dry land? Or she’s had a chance to shift back to human?” Todd complained.
“I’ll flatten you, too, horse!”
I snarled and hissed but managed to roll over and climb to my paws. My shoulder throbbed, and annoyed at the pain, I turned to Anatoly and roared at him again.
Undaunted by my display, the tiger stared at Gentry and sat, his posture one of smug satisfaction. I reared onto my hind paws, sheathed my claws, and batted the tiger’s muzzle for ignoring me in favor of the grizzly bear.
I underestimated Gentry’s strength. He wrapped his arms around my back, lifted me out of the water, and turned to Todd. “Shift, horse.”
Charlotte’s premier stallion heaved a sigh, shook his head, but obeyed.
I drew the line at riding Todd while a tiger, and although I had no idea how I managed it, I shifted before Gentry could wrestle me onto the stallion’s back. I sank my teeth into his arm as hard as I could in a bid for freedom, kicking and clawing with my impotent nails. My right arm wasn’t back to normal but moving it didn’t trigger nausea or knock me out.
Progress was progress, and I wasn’t going to complain.
Todd changed back and panted from the effort, doubling over before forcing himself to stand straight. Whipping off his cloak, he covered me with it, tucking it around me while Gentry tightened his grip and held me in place.
With a faint smile, Todd ruffled my hair. “All right, crazy little tigress. Where’s your off switch?”
Anatoly shifted back to human, and his growls rumbled in his chest. “She doesn’t need an off switch.”
“No fighting. If you want to maul each other, do so after she’s with the mystics. Anatoly, make yourself useful and help those… who are they, Todd?”
Todd grimaced and glanced at the blanket-wrapped body. “President Wilson’s detail. Survivors. President Wilson suffered a heart attack.”
“Great. My sister’s going to lose her shit when she finds out.” Gentry adjusted his hold, turning me until I was cocooned in Todd’s cloak. When he had me wrapped to his liking, he tossed me over his shoulder. “There. Maybe you’ll stay out of trouble.”
“That hurts,” I complained.
“You’re the one with the broken shoulder who was stupid enough to wrestle with a tiger. I bet it hurts. If you’re expecting pity, I may indulge you once Cleo and Henry get a c
hance to look at how much damage you’ve done to yourself this time. Until then, you’re staying put.”
Dereks recovered first. “Your sister, sir?”
“Stephanie Miller, President of the United States. I’m Gentry Adams, guild leader of Dawnfire, a mercenary guild based in Charlotte.” Gentry nodded to Todd. “That’s Todd Jacobson, guild leader of the Lancers’ Alliance, another mercenary guild based in Charlotte. As for the tiger, he’s Anatoly Silverston, the second ranked shifter in the United States of America.”
“Adams? Like Abraham Adams?”
I tensed but couldn’t even free my hands from the confining cloak. “Gentry, I…”
Gentry twisted around to snarl and snap his teeth at me. “That piece of filth betrayed his family, his President, and you, his principal. As far as I’m concerned, he never existed. Am I understood?”
Todd snorted, reached over, and ruffled my hair again. “Just leave her alone about it, Gentry. It’s going to take a lot more than that to convince her. I should know. She’s the damned most stubborn female on this entire bloody planet. When you do try to sit her down and talk sense into her, I want to watch. That sort of entertainment only comes around once every hundred years.”
With my hands tangled in Todd’s cloak, the only weapons at my disposal were my teeth, and I enjoyed biting his wrist so hard the stallion spat curses and did his best to shake me off. I held on until Anatoly, laughing at the stallion’s expense, came to Todd’s rescue and pried me off.
At some point, exhaustion and pain caught up with me, and when I opened my eyes, I was on Anatoly’s lap while Henry poked and prodded at my shoulder. A sedative-induced fog clouded my head, detached me from my body, and gave me the unique and rather unwanted opportunity to watch a mystic piece me back together.
I hoped Henry knew how to put the pieces of my shoulder back where they belonged, because I sure didn’t.
“That looks bad,” I slurred.
“And the last of the peanut gallery rejoins us,” Henry muttered. “Were you trying to cripple yourself, or were you just that confident I’d come around and save your ass?”
“You sound like Cleo.” I heard myself whining, but I was powerless to change the tone of my voice. “Why do you sound like Cleo? Hey, Ana. I have a shoulder, and he’s putting his finger in it.”
“You’re not feeling any pain, are you?” Anatoly replied, his tone wry. “Henry, please tell me I can move. My foot fell asleep twenty minutes ago.”
Henry pulled back, his focus steady on my mangled shoulder. “Go ahead. Try not to jostle her. Until Cleo gets back to see what else we can pump into her, I don’t want to push our luck.”
“All right.” Leaning back, Anatoly shifted his weight under me while holding me close to his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. “That should do for a while.”
“How do I still have a shoulder? He tried to cut it off.”
Henry snorted. “Trust me, we can tell. If you were a mystic, we’d still be trying to find the missing pieces of your shoulder blade. By some miracle, which I absolutely refuse to question, I haven’t had to break anything to get it back in place. Your collarbone didn’t fuse when you shifted, but it’ll be easy to get it back where it belongs. I can’t tell if you’re the luckiest lady alive or cursed.”
“I stabbed him because he hurt all the horses. Then I stabbed him a few more times. My horse. Did you find my horse?”
“And we’re back to the rambling about that horse,” Anatoly complained in a tone warning me I must have asked about my little bare-skinned horse already.
Henry reached over me and swatted Anatoly. “Quiet, tiger. If you upset her, I’ll ask Todd to hold her instead of you. Which horse are we talking about?”
“My horse.”
“You have several horses. Which one?”
Why didn’t they understand I only had one horse with me? Tears welled up in my eyes, and I wailed, “My horse.”
Anatoly lifted his head and twisted beneath me to call over his shoulder, “Todd, come translate this woman’s incoherency.”
The stallion made an appearance, wearing a button-up shirt and a pair of jeans, both of which were soaked. I blinked, realizing I wasn’t wet anymore, and after consideration, I decided the white canvas pitched overhead had something to do with my dry state. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been dry, and I told them so.
Anatoly shushed me with a few soft words and stroked my hair away from my face.
Todd crouched beside me, reached out, and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. I enjoyed the chill of his skin on mine. “What’s the problem?”
Henry snapped his fingers in front of my face, drawing my attention to him. “Still with us? Tell Todd what you want.”
“My horse.” I hissed, annoyed they couldn’t understand what I wanted. How could two simple words be so difficult for them to grasp? “I want my horse. Where is she?”
“Well, we got a gender out of her this time. I’m going to guess she’s talking about the little mare we found that isn’t fit as a fiddle but is ready to kick someone into next week. How is she?”
“The horse or the girl?”
“I certainly didn’t go on a wild goose chase across the United States after some horse.”
Henry laughed. “When Cleo gets back, I’ve got her pieced together sufficiently you and Nate can take turns forcing her through shifts. The two shifts she’s already done helped; her shoulder blade took a lot of damage, but the bones fused back together in the right order. I’m classifying it as a miracle and leaving it at that.”
“My horse?”
Todd patted the top of my head. “I’ll make sure they take good care of your horse, okay? Your horses are taking a nap under the other pavilion, wrapped up nice and snug in their blankets so they don’t catch cold. When Henry and Cleo say you’re clear, we’ll take you to see your horses. We brought them with us.”
Although I wanted to believe him, I couldn’t imagine how my little horse had survived any length of time without someone taking care of her. “She didn’t die?”
“She’s very sick, but I’ll make sure they treat her right until you’re back on your feet and can take care of her yourself. Do what Henry tells you, and you’ll be giving us more gray hairs before you know it.” Todd flicked my forehead with his finger, rose, and headed off before I could figure out what to say.
I finally settled with a soft, “Bwuh?”
“It’s the drugs,” Anatoly informed me. “Don’t worry about it. You know him. His word’s good, and if he says your horse will be treated right, he means it.”
I considered protesting but decided it was too much work. I glanced at my shoulder while Henry worked and mumbled, “Hey, Nate?”
“What is it?”
“I have a shoulder.” I didn’t understand what was so funny, but the shifter and mystic broke down in a helpless fit of laughter, leaving me to wonder what was wrong with them. “You two are crazy.”
“If you say so, peanut gallery. If you say so.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
I swore never to allow Anatoly, Todd, or Gentry to induce my shifting ever again. They took turns forcing me to transform before I had a chance to escape. I lost count after ten shifts, and when I finally recovered fast enough to take them off guard, I bolted for freedom only to trip over my own paws and roll into a deep mud puddle outside the pavilion’s cover.
Splashing to a halt, I rose, dripping mud, sand, and saltwater from my fur. The gunk clung to me, and by the time I extricated myself, I had a snickering audience.
A smiling Anatoly crouched beyond my reach. “One more time, then you can eat all you want and get some sleep.”
My right paw worked again, and I swiped, splashing stagnant muck in his direction. I followed up with the loudest, longest roar I could muster.
My racket summoned Henry and Cleo from the pavilion, and the pair of mystics glared at me. While Henry sucked in short, shallow breaths, Cleo
slapped his forehead. “We said make her shift, not let her go play in the mud. Why can’t you three follow simple instructions?”
Maybe Cleo could get away with talking back to Todd, but Gentry grabbed the donkey by the back of his neck and tossed him into the mud with me. “You just volunteered to fill her in on everything she’s missed, clean her fur, and make sure she’s fed before putting her to bed. Thanks! You’re a great mystic. So very useful, doing all the little things us shifters can’t.”
Henry laughed and ended up in the mud, too.
“Let the mystics do their work. She’s safe in their hands.” Gentry liked grabbing people by the back of their necks, because he snagged both Todd and Anatoly, shoving them beneath the pavilion, disappearing behind the thick canvas curtains designed to keep the wet outside where it belonged.
“Gentry’s a clever bastard when he wants to be,” Cleo muttered.
Henry flopped into the mud, landing on his back with his arms over his head. “I never thought I’d say that this actually feels nice. It’s warmed up since yesterday.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. No one’s going to bother us out here. If I’m taking a nap in this nice mud puddle, you can set our lovely lady friend here straight so when she’s mobbed by the idiots in the pavilion, she’s prepared.”
The donkey sighed, turned around, and splashed into the mud on the other side of me. “Why not? Mud’s good for my complexion anyway.”
I stretched out, found a spot shallow enough I could rest my head on my paws without inhaling any of the muck, and made myself comfortable. In a way, I appreciated my inability to speak as a tiger. It made listening easy, and I could relax without needing to answer unwanted questions.