by RJ Blain
I also had a criminal to hunt, something I couldn’t do with the Secret Service breathing down my neck. When I added in my large bounty and the fact Anatoly knew who I was, I had enough trouble to last me several lifetimes.
Gentry sat behind his desk and stared at me, one of his eyebrows lifted high enough to impress me. While I could make my eyebrows take a hike, it was an all or nothing deal. “I believe I mentioned something about taking the train already.”
“You’re a very frustrating individual, Mr. Adams.”
“Agent Randal, are Siberian tigers always so insufferably stubborn?”
“Yes, sir. They have a reputation.”
“That’s what I thought.” Gentry shot me a look before turning his attention to the stack of papers taking over his desk.
I shoved my chair back and used the table as a foot rest, knowing I still wore shoes and was breaking every basic etiquette rule. Why would the President ask me to do a job but put me in a position where I couldn’t do the work?
Spending time with any of them would make my job more difficult and taunt me with what I couldn’t have. Waiting in silence soured my temper, but I understood working hard, so I pretended Gentry and Randal didn’t exist and thought about why the head of the Secret Service would betray his nation and his family to steal a Starfall stone.
No matter what, I needed to find the truth. Unfortunately, staring at the wall of Gentry’s office offered me no answers.
“How did you find the access tunnels in the National Archive?”
Gentry’s voice startled me so much I launched off the chair, jumped away the table, and made it all the way to the door before I skidded to a halt, my heart thumping a wild beat in my throat, my hand on the hilt of my sword.
“You have superb reflexes, Runs Against Wind.” The grizzly chuckled and shook his head. “Are you part bird? I’m pretty sure you took flight for a moment there.”
My dignity died a terrible death, and I contemplated picking a fight with the bear in an attempt to resuscitate it. “How the hell would I know?”
“Ah. You’re an orphan, then?”
The truth served as a weapon as often as not, and I could use it as a shield, too. “I don’t know if I’m an orphan.”
Gentry’s eyes widened. “You were abandoned.”
Abandoned seemed as good a word as any, so I shrugged. “Close enough. Never met my parents that I can remember. It worked out.”
If I wanted, I could ask the President about my mother, but the truth had already built a wall high enough I wasn’t sure it was worth the effort of climbing. Then again, when I thought about it, the cost of my life was two swords, both of which Gentry owned.
Why me?
“I see. So, you became a courier and part of the Cheyenne tribe.”
I nodded.
“So, how did you know about the access tunnels in the National Archive?”
“I read about them.”
“You read about them? Are you telling me you just found them in a book?”
Once again, I relied on the truth to shield me. “I’ve been to the National Archive before. You can find just about everything in it—including blueprints for buildings. I’m a courier. When a client wants information, libraries are the first place a good courier goes. Sometimes that information is found in blueprints. The National Archive has an impressive collection of blueprints for famous buildings.”
“While I was aware some couriers did function as low-level researchers, I was unaware you’re educated enough to read blueprints.”
I widened my eyes and stared at the grizzly. “I’m self-taught, sir. If you look at them long enough, they start to make sense. Did you think I just rode around all day and hit people?”
Gentry grimaced. “I apologize. I work with mercenaries every day. Mercenaries are a similar breed, although they ride fewer horses and hit more people. Many literate mercenaries do stints as couriers as well.”
“Being able to string enough letters together to sound out words doesn’t make someone literate.”
“On that, we’re in full agreement. Do you have any other tricks up your sleeve I should be aware of?”
I thought about it, and it didn’t take long for me to come up with a rather lengthy list. “I’m really good at riding horses.”
“You’d have to be to ride animals like yours.”
When I did make my way to where Dipshit and Devil Spawn were stabled, I expected a world of suffering as my horses reminded me why leaving them alone for an extended period simply wasn’t done. They’d reinforce their edicts with their hooves and teeth, and I’d need to be sharp to avoid broken bones. I shrugged and kept quiet.
“Why did you choose to use a katana? It’s an uncommon weapon.”
The answer came second nature thanks to six years of people asking me the same question. “Good weight, long reach, suitable for horseback, and I think they’re pretty.”
“Important factors for a courier.”
I nodded.
“So, you knew about the tunnels in the National Archive from previous research. Explain to me why you decided to dodge your detail and investigate on your own?”
Grimacing, I crossed the room and returned to my chair. “I wanted to find out if I could.”
“Why do I get the feeling this justifies many of your actions?”
Randal cleared his throat, and I twisted around in my chair to glare at the Secret Service agent. To all appearances, he seemed innocent enough, except the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought to hide his amusement.
“I was curious!”
Randal coughed. Gentry’s gaze landed on the Secret Service agent, who grinned but only for a moment. “She is a cat, sir. They are, by nature, curious. They also get into things they shouldn’t, wander off at a whim, and insist on poking their noses where it doesn’t belong. If anything, I’d say she’s a very good match for Mr. Silverston.”
“I can’t deny it; that cat deserves a taste of his own medicine.”
“It would keep them both out of trouble.”
“There’s the matter of the Blade Clan betrothal agreement.”
If Randal kept coughing, he’d have a sore throat.
“If you have something to say, Agent Randal, say it.”
“Has anyone asked Mr. Silverston what he wants?”
Gentry laughed. “She kicked him in the face, Agent Randal. They had it out on the mat, and she cold-clocked him with her forehead. He has antagonized her every single step of the way. His fur stands on end if an unmated male comes within sniffing range of her. Maybe she doesn’t know how to use her nose yet, but you certainly do.”
“Then I’m very confused, Mr. Adams.”
“She’s a very new shifter with no control over her shifts. He’s being a gentleman—as much as a tiger can be. I suppose I’ll have to stake a claim in this. Which one do you think I should forcibly adopt? If I can’t steal him as my nephew, I can acquire his striped ass in other ways.”
My mouth dropped open, and the blood rushed out of my head and pooled in the vicinity of my feet. “What?”
Randal chuckled. “Take the tiger, sir. He’ll put up a more satisfying fight.”
“You’re a cat, aren’t you?”
“Panther, sir.”
“I should have known. Your mate?”
“A falcon, sir.”
Gentry’s eyes widened, and both of his eyebrows took a hike. “You’re mated to an avian?”
Pride lit the Secret Service agent’s eyes. “Sir.”
“And here I thought a grizzly and a bunny together were quite the pair. I’m impressed she let you bite her.”
“Let, sir?”
“I’m not sure I should ask.”
Randal’s confident smile not only confirmed he’d won the round, but he knew it, too.
“A falcon,” the grizzly grumbled.
“Falcons are the most common of avian species, sir. They prefer being left alone and don’t advertise what they a
re. They’re far more common than Siberian tigers. My mate’s colony has sixty-three members.”
While I knew Anatoly led the Siberian tigers and headed the Clan Council on behalf of most—if not all—feline clans, I had never looked into how common certain species of shifters were. “Siberian tigers are rare?”
“You were born under a rock, weren’t you?” Gentry muttered, shaking his head. “Siberians are the rarest of the large cat species; most tigers are Bengals. Panthers are common. Lions aren’t common, but they aren’t uncommon, either.”
“How many Siberian tigers are there?”
Gentry hummed, got up, and headed to one of the bookshelves surrounding his desk. After a short search, he pulled down a thick volume and flipped through it. “This information is a few years old, but it’s close enough. Add one for you.”
I felt my eyebrows rise. “One for me. No others?”
“Exactly. That’s what rare means. Since this was released, I haven’t heard of any other Siberian tigers being found. Ah, here we go. There are approximately thirty thousand Bengal tigers in the United States. In comparison, there are twenty-six—now twenty-seven—Siberian tigers.”
I spluttered. “There’s only twenty-seven Siberian tigers?”
“Four of whom are females, excluding you. Does that answer your question?”
It explained a great deal, including Anatoly’s protective tendencies and claim I belonged to his clan. Unfortunately, it also raised a lot of questions. “And the other females?”
Gentry sighed. “Mayor Longfellow’s daughter, Blossom, is a Siberian tigress mated to a lion. The other three are first generation shifters, mated, old, and content with their long lives. They were old when Starfall happened. Siberian tigers often breed true, but only in the sense if you put a pair of them together, you’ll likely end up with a cat of some sort. Most of their children are Bengals. It’s no surprise to me the President is taking your safety seriously. I don’t think anyone, Anatoly included, actually thought there’d be another Siberian tigress in our lifetime. Take that as you will.”
The universe enjoyed kicking me in the teeth. That was the only explanation for my life.
Chapter Forty-Five
If someone didn’t let me out of Gentry’s office so I could get something to eat, someone was going to die.
The reason for my starved state remained behind his desk, the papers in front of him consuming his attention. Uncle or not, I was considering the nutritional value of grizzly bears.
Since pacing hadn’t caught his attention, I took the direct approach, stepped to his desk, and slapped my palms down in front of him. “Do you not believe in eating?”
“Are you hungry?”
I leaned forward and roared in his face to let him know what I thought of his asinine question.
Gentry rubbed his right ear. “You’ve gotten very good at that.”
“I’d like to state, Mr. Adams, I’d rather not have to fight a grizzly today,” Randal murmured from the door.
“Your hypocrisy astounds me. You let the tiger fight with her, but you won’t let me fight with her?”
“The tiger has Presidential permission to fight with her. You do not.”
“I’m hurt by this, Agent Randal.”
My Secret Service agent smiled. “I’ve been assured it’s impossible for you to be hurt so easily, as you are a male grizzly. You would shame your entire family, and they’d beat you until you remembered manly grizzlies are not crying babies.”
“Does the President hate you?” I straightened and rubbed my hands together before adjusting the papers in front of me.
“I’m thinking she might. I got into one little fight on the street. One. I even helped the scrawny tiger and his horse friend. No, she’s upset because she believes open brawling on the street is beneath an Adams man.” Gentry huffed. “I think you just like roaring.”
I did enjoy roaring; something about the sound felt right, especially the way it rumbled in my chest and throat before bursting out of me. “I recommend against giving me excuses to roar, Mr. Adams.”
“Gentry.”
“Who are you calling scrawny?” Anatoly murmured in my ear.
I ended up on Gentry’s desk, where I spun around, sending papers flying in every direction. Instead of loosing a proper roar, I squeaked.
“And there goes my work, scattered to the four winds. Thanks, Anatoly.”
“Glad to help. Have you fed my tigress yet?”
“Of course not. I’m not paying to feed her. That’s your job.”
With a soft laugh, Anatoly reached up, grabbed me by my waist, and pulled me off Gentry’s desk. “You’re going to have to work on that. We’re tigers, and tigers are the most dignified of feline species.”
I glimpsed the President of the United States silently stride into the room, position herself behind Anatoly, and jab him in the ribs. A startled roar burst out of him, and he jerked away, dragging me with him when he fell to the floor. I yelped and ended up sprawled across the tiger’s chest.
The President nudged Anatoly with her toe. “You’re going to have to work on that. I thought tigers were supposed to be dignified. That was not dignified. Did you mean to say clumsy instead?”
Gentry circled his desk and stood over us. “Hey, Steph?”
“Yes, Gentry?”
“I’m adopting the scrawny tiger.”
Anatoly froze beneath me, and his eyes widened. I took advantage of his surprise to jerk away and hop to my feet, my face hot from embarrassment. Anatoly had a gentle scent to him, and something about it made me want to take a few more sniffs. I clapped my hands over my nose and mouth.
Under no circumstances could I have anything to do with Anatoly, and I definitely couldn’t indulge in admiring him sprawled on the floor at my feet.
Damn him and his tall, dark, and handsome ways. My eyes locked on his mouth, which had gotten me in so much trouble in Miami.
I whimpered at the realization Henry had the right idea; when I got too close to him, his mouth tempted me, and from his mouth, I noticed his throat, which made me want to do things I shouldn’t, like bite him.
Before my shift, I’d suffered through aroused interest in men far too often for my comfort. I controlled it by fighting and picking men with terrible tempers and worse personalities so I wouldn’t want to do something foolish like stay with them.
I needed to take a very cold shower or find someone to take out my frustrations on.
“Excuse me.” The President stepped between me and Anatoly, staring up at her brother. “Did you just say you wanted to adopt a scrawny tiger?”
“I did. My den’s feeling a little too quiet, and I could use some amusement in my life.”
“Why do you want to adopt a scrawny tiger?”
“I just said I could use some amusement in my life since you won’t let me participate in street brawls. I’m upgrading him from nephew status to son status. Nephews are overrated. Sons, on the other hand, I can have a great deal of fun with, and they often bring a daughter into the family. This would remove certain obligations, as only the absolute best would be acceptable for one of my sons.” Gentry huffed and stared down his nose at the President of the United States. “Felicity said I could.”
Torn between amusement and horror, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask anyone if you could. You just blurted that asinine question out right before they got here. Who is Felicity?”
“Felicity is his wife. Agent Randal, please see if Felicity might join us for a minute.”
Gentry grunted. “That was not very nice of you, Runs Against Wind.”
“Only what you deserve, Mr. Adams.”
“So, which one of you was roaring in here, anyway?”
A smug smile spread on Gentry’s lips, and he pointed at me.
“Why?”
My stomach chose that moment to growl, and Anatoly hopped to his feet with a laugh. “She’s a newly shifted tigress, Madam President
. She’s just hungry. Gentry didn’t want to feed her.”
“You want me to approve you adopting some scrawny tiger, but you’re unwilling to feed his tigress? I’m not sure you understand how parenting works.” The President sighed and shook her head.
Anatoly cleared his throat. “I’m not up for adoption. I’m a full-grown man.”
“You like pretending you’re an old fart of a shifter, letting everyone assume you’re a Starfall first generation, when in actuality, you were born a few minutes before your sister, which was no more than thirty years ago, give or take a few years. You only classify as a first generation shifter because you thought it was a good idea to lick a Starfall stone when you were a cub.”
My mouth dropped open. I’d been under the impression Anatoly was much older than me, a result of his long-time status as a Clan Council member. I did the math, stared at the tiger, and blurted, “You joined the Clan Council when you were ten?”
“He was six, actually,” the President corrected. “Samuel liked him and thought it was funny watching a little cub beat up much older adults. He shifted very young, as did his sister.”
I gaped, struggling to process the situation. “Doesn’t that mean his sister signed to become some man’s wife at… ten? Eleven?”
“Ten. She would have been the same age as her groom. Siberians do mate for life.”
“Ha!” I whipped around and pointed at Gentry. “You lied. You said there were only five Siberian tigresses, and the others were old, except for me and Blossom.”
“Damn it,” Gentry muttered.
Anatoly sighed. “What did you tell her, Gentry?”
“That there are only five Siberian tigresses, including her.”
“There are six. Why did you exclude my sister from the list?”
“She tried to drown me last time I saw her.”
Anatoly sighed. “The last time you saw her, you were expressing disappointment you wouldn’t be welcoming a nephew into the family, Gentry. She was ten. My sister mauled you before she tried to drown you, too. I should have let her.”
“I’m establishing you’re not actually an old man. Old men frighten away promising young ladies seeking a mate. I’m doing you a favor.”