Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V

by Buffi BeCraft

  His woman was particularly lovely in the almost-sheer fabric gown that played havoc with his imagination. He could almost see the outline of her feminine assets. He grew hard remembering last night. Of course, it had always been that way. Still, thirty summers later, just the thought of his mate sent a wave of lust spiraling through his gut.

  “My king. Leo,” Her lashes fluttered down over pink cheeks. Yes, she felt it too. Pride made him stand just a bit taller as he went to wrap her in an embrace. He was half-tempted to ask her to Change, to shift into lioness form so that they could go running on the plains. Perhaps he could coax her into a romantic mind. He had no issue with trying again to make that babe a reality.

  Slanting a look upward through tilted cat’s eyes slammed home the image of her in the bath, kneeling right before taking him in her mouth. Never mind, running would take up too much of the day, he reasoned. Mathais’ palms itched with the need to run his fingers through her thick gold hair, loosening the braids until the mass fell around her waist. He focused on her lush lips, almost not absorbing her words. “My love, I would ask a boon.”

  Mathais grinned wide, happy to comply. A boon? His lovely mate never asked for much. She was queen, yet disdained wearing jewels. Naturally tidy, she left little for her servants to pick up after her. He grasped her delicate hands between his large rough digits. Despite his body’s ability to heal rapidly, being a warrior had taken its toll; his knuckles were beginning to ache in the cooler weather.

  Naomam cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve been to the healer.”

  Her words made his heart jump expectantly. “And there will be no babe. Ever.” the last words ended on a teary whisper. “I would ask for you to reconsider the priests’ request.”

  Mathais stepped back, shock sliding a cold knife in his heart. It wasn’t the lack of an heir. Rule for the people of Bastet was decided by the cat goddess. Yes, they had always wanted a babe, a little kit that was part of them. Not being able conceive was not unusual for their people, so it would be no hardship to claim an orphan as their own. Any kit they adopted would likely be spoiled beyond reason. But…his voice was harsh, unyielding. “I will not call some mongrel wolf my own.”

  “Leo, be reasonable,” Naomam beseeched, fueling his temper. She was a queen, the Lia of their people should not have to beg anyone for anything. Not even him. “Please. This one thing. The priests say that claiming the wolf cub as ours is Bastet’s wish. It would be like raising the goddess’ own.”

  Stepping back, Mathais dropped his hands to his sides; he turned his back. Hardening his heart against the swell of grief he felt through their shared matebond. “I will not raise a werewolf.” He strode away, aware that he’d plunged his own knife of betrayal into his mate’s heart. “And mark my words. If those dogs try to settle on my lands, I will drive them off. I will not be the one to defile my house or the goddess with the likes of those primitive nomads.”

  Time shifted.

  Mathais crouched in grief, clutching the torn, bloodied remains of his mate to his chest. This was all his fault. If he’d only watched her closer. Perhaps relented enough to find one of their own kind for her to raise?

  The memory of their last argument slammed through his mind. Naomam often slipped away from her guard. But why would she come to the werewolves when he expressly forbade her? It was a stupid question. He knew. Knew in his gut that she’d come for the wolf babe.

  Behind him, the men silently waited for his orders. Their grief was great, but nowhere near his own. Mathais’ eyes burned as he stared at the trail of the werewolf camp. Hate and fury burned bright with his magic, infusing his will into his people.

  Fucking dogs. He would kill them all.

  * * * *

  The ringing of Matthew’s cell phone jarred him out of the zone. He looked up, blinking, trying to get his bearings and his sense of self back in order. Holy Jesus Christ on a stick, I’m dreaming during the day. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Unsettled to his core, he stared at the short length of bar in his hand with a bit of confusion. When had he walked to the rack for that? He hadn’t. He’d slipped while daydreaming and floated the bar into his grasp. Frowning at the serious lapse of self-control, he put the rod down and fished his phone out. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Ridley, this is— ” The whiney accountant didn’t know when to give up.

  “Mr. Hambly, it’s late.” Matthew glanced at the accurately scaled Big Ben lamppost/yard clock he’d envisioned for his mother’s birthday two years ago. He’d found excuse after excuse to not ship it. He didn’t expect her to accept anything from him. Still, the daydream had ripped a hole in his chest and he was harsher than he intended. Like Mathais. “Both our days ended at four o’clock. Do yourself a favor and go home. Play a video game.” Or whatever supreme geeks like Milton Hambly did for recreation.

  “Sir, please. I need you to see this.” Hambly’s voice lowered to an almost whisper. “I was going over electricity usage. Something is going on. This is…you need to see this.”

  “Conspiracy theories, Mr. Hambly?” Matthew sighed, at the end of his patience.

  “Please, Mr. Ridley.” The accountant fell quiet. Matthew hoped the call had dropped. Hanging up seemed like a good idea, but the quality of Hambly’s voice was desperate. Hambly’s scared breathing proved the call was still connected. “I heard something.” Hambly swallowed. “Meet me at the fire door at G-Four. You really have to see this.” The call beeped and ended. Matthew frowned at the display.

  G-Four? What was wrong with Hambly? The underground research levels only went down to G-Two.

  Matthew debated about two seconds. With a curse, he turned away from his project. Putting away his tools, he wondered if other area managers had the same insane accountant problems. There was probably a looney-bin ward specially designed for those driven off their rockers by math.

  “Dad?” Matthew walked through the house, pulling on an old, but decent button up work shirt. Technically, BioPet frowned on anything other than full business attire. Screw them, thought Matthew, this was his after-hours business outfit. “Dad. Wake up. I’m calling you a cab.” He stopped in the middle of the living room. His father was gone, thank God, replaced by his brother-in-law?

  His mother Diana Ridley’s, now Weis, marriage and adoption of several orphans never really bothered Matthew. But when his younger sister married one of the sons, Matthew wondered how you introduced that convoluted relationship at a corporate party. Not that he ever actually imagined he’d be able to socialize with his estranged relatives in a public setting. His mom and sister had gotten a far better deal replacing the Ridley men.

  Dark haired and lanky as the picture on Matthew’s dresser, Grumpy returned his once-over with keen intensity. His brother-in-law, Brandon Weis, practically stepped out of the photo wearing the same black long sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves shoved up the forearms, jeans worn almost white, and a broken-in pair of Converse.

  Unnerved by the man’s silent stare, Matthew broke the stand-off first. “Not to be rude.” He glanced around the room once more, just in case he’d missed his dad the first time. His gaze returned to the almost-stranger. “But don’t you understand the word, no?”.

  “My wife wants her brother home for our mother’s birthday.” Brandon Weis shrugged, walking to the wall to look at one of Matthew’s early pieces of wall sculpture. Vines and leaves twisted into a shape of the sun. It was interesting, even if the detail wasn’t as clear as his later pieces. “When it comes to my wife or mother, you don’t get a vote.”

  “Stop talking like that. It’s creepy,” Matthew muttered. “Look, Weis. I’m kind of busy right now.” He walked past, trying not to let the prickle of the fine hairs on the back of his neck bother him too much. “You let yourself in. Let yourself out. Don’t forget to lock up.” Geesh, this place was as secure as a revolving door. Matthew grabbed his keys and walked out the front door, his brother in law on his heels.

  The cat
had vacated his spot from under the fern. Bad naturedly, he wished Ramses had taken a chunk out of Weis before taking off. Fickle cat. Still, he couldn’t see getting a dog and risk upsetting his pet.

  There was no other car in sight, surprising him when Weis slid in the passenger seat of the eco-friendly hybrid. Matthew turned to glare at the intruder. “What is it with you? I told you over the phone. I’m not going to your big bar-b-que.”

  “Family picnic,” Weis corrected. “You have to go. You are Diana’s family.” A faint buzzing interrupted the rest of his sentence. Weis frowned, reached into his pocket, and held up his other hand for Matthew to be quiet.

  With a tired sigh, Matthew cranked the car and backed out of his driveway. He nearly winced in sympathy at the frantic voice that he heard after his brother-in-law’s brief hello. Weis took the phone away from his ear and gave the device a moment’s consideration. Matthew wouldn’t blame him for hanging up. Finally, he put the phone back to his ear.

  “No, Seth. I’m not going to get involved. You’re, what? Twenty-five? If you don’t want to share a room, then get a job and move out.” He stopped a moment to listen. The lean planes of his jaw tightened. “I’m only going to say this once? Now listen, little brother.” He took a breath. “One, Raymond may be the new guy, but he has as much right to be there as the others. Two, if you ask to stay with me, I’ll rip out your intestines through your nose. Three, if you even think of asking Karen to stay with us, then I’ll not only rip out your intestines, I’ll make Christmas tinsel out of it and nail your gonads to the doorframe.”

  He closed the phone and dropped it into his shirt pocket. Meeting Matthew’s glance, he shrugged. “I live in a three bedroom mousetrap. I’ve got three kids and my wife just dropped another set of twins that can’t tell the difference between day and night. I can’t afford to be nice.”

  “I can’t believe you actually said dropped?” Matthew shook head incredulous at the callous description. Weis had obviously been through the process before, but Matthew couldn’t help but feel a little offended his brother-in-law’s attitude on behalf the new babies.

  Weis lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, his tone as if they were talking about the weather. “I think we need a specialist to look at them and Karen thinks I wig out if the teeniest little thing is out of the ordinary.” He frowned, his show of indifference slipping. Dark, intense eyes pinned Matthew. Someone else might have squirmed under the scrutiny; he was used to being sized up. “Which is why you’re coming to the party,” Weis said.

  “Uh, sorry. I don’t follow you.” Matthew could have laughed. He might wish things were different, but he had no intention of ruining his mother’s birthday party. The Ridley men sucked at relationships. Instead, he turned the tables back on his unwanted guest. “What does that have to do with babies confusing day and night? And why aren’t you helping my sister with them anyway?”

  Weis made a sound of exasperation, as if he didn’t like having to explain himself. He bit out his words accordingly. “The picnic-slash-surprise party is in two weeks. And whether or not I stay up at night, rocking babies and changing diapers is none of your business. I plan on everything going smoothly. If taking a day to make sure you being there makes Karen happy and not stressed, then I’ll drag you back and keep you in a cage until the big day.”

  “You know, there’s something not right about you.” Matthew paused after turning over the engine, meeting the other man’s eyes. He flashed back to going to the zoo as a kid and trying to outstare the tiger. His mom had been quick to shuffle him off to the next exhibit, fussing at him for ‘challenging’ them.

  “I’ve been told that.” The other man didn’t look insulted. He kept eye contact, steady, confident—like a predator.

  If memory served Matthew right, he remembered Brandon as the quiet and shy type. Not an in-your-face control freak. The other twin Karen dated in high school had been more like this. But hey, what did he know? All he knew was the second hand updates gleaned from his sister’s letters and his own self-absorbed memories as a nineteen-year-old. “No. I’m not going.” Matthew shook his head, then checked the rear window to pull out of his driveway. “I have to work.” It wasn’t exactly a life, but he had plenty to keep him busy.

  BioPet was supposed to begin production on a new ingestible flea and tick product in a couple of months. Joy of joys, Matthew’s division was going to oversee it. He imagined Milton Hambly having kittens over the initial overhead on that project. Which brought him back to his unwanted guest and the mystery of Brandon Weis’ transportation. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “Where are you going?” the other man rested an arm on the door frame.

  “To work.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. I’ll ride along.” Weis’ smug smile made Matthew want to grind his teeth. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at his passenger.

  “You know, some would get the hint that I was trying to get rid of you.” Matthew snapped.

  “.Oh, I got that part.” Brandon crossed his arms as he settled his head against the headrest. “You’re just not getting rid of me. So, why are you going back to work? I know you put in banker’s hours before staying up all night in your shop. The babies sleep more than you.”

  “Ha-ha. Have you been checking up on me?”

  “Yeah. I know a PI guy. Said you were as boring and regular as a senior citizen.” Weis’ smirk deepened. “His words, not mine. Personally, I figured the state of your colon was a little too TMI.”

  “You investigated me?” Matthew pulled over, pissed. Usually he had a live-and-let-live outlook. Screw that, he wanted to punch someone, namely Brandon Weis. The asshole already had his family—Matthew shoved down the bitter jealously and focused on being pissed at the personal intrusion. “Why?”

  Weis didn’t move or appear concerned about Matthew’s anger. In fact, the guy reminded him of a sleeping lion. Resting, but ready to strike. He rolled his head to meet Matthew’s eyes in an unblinking stare. “Sue me. I remember you being a real asshole. With all the trouble my family’s had lately, I need to make sure you don’t bring more down on our heads.”

  Remorse hit Matthew like a ton of bricks. Still, he didn’t like it. “Sorry. I heard about the fire and…” How did you apologize for some serial killer murdering your estranged brother-in-law’s adopted brother? What was weirder was that technically, the dead guy and Brandon Weis were Matthew’s adopted brothers too. The feeling that he’d let down more than just Mom and Karen wormed into his conscience. Matthew decided to shut up.

  “So, why are you going back into the office?” Brandon became suddenly interested in the passing nighttime scenery. “Sudden desire to count dog vitamins?”

  “No. I have to talk my department accountant off the ‘cliff’. Gone right off the deep end. He’s developed an obsession with budgeting and spending itemization. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s sniffing markers.”

  “Makes me happy to be self-employed.”

  “Yeah.” Matthew allowed the uncomfortable silence to remain as he drove the rest of the way to BioPet. Parking at the security gate, he waited for the guard to acknowledge the sticker on his window and wave him through. Instead of the usual, the uniform motioned for him to roll down his window. The glass slid down in a smooth glide, even as the hair on the back of his neck rose. “Is there a problem?” a glance at Brandon Weis, confirmed his brother-in-law’s intense interest in the guard.

  In the bright security lights, the company rent-a-cop, bent down to peer into the car. The guard was completely average, slightly overweight, with round features and brown eyes. “Good evening, Mr. Ridley. You have a guest?”

  “Yes.” Matthew tried to remember the guy’s name and came up blank. The guard was completely forgettable, though an everyday afternoon acquaintance. He glanced at Weis again. “Sort of. I was going to let my buddy wait in the lobby while I ran up to my office.” The Bio-Pet’s lobby was the ultimate in consumer relations, boasting an interactive t
our and public break room. “It’s never been a problem before.”

  “Of course not, Mr. Ridley. It’s after-hours. I just need to make a notation and you’re free to go.” The guard’s intense interest and Brandon Weis’ in one another was mutual. Matthew had the weird feeling that something was up. Something really bad was about to happen. With a fake smile, the guard waved them through.

  “Well that was odd.” Matthew’s hung in the quiet car as he parked in the small parking lot designated for mid-level managers. Then again, his night had been heading full tilt on odd since he got home. “You okay?”

  Brandon nodded, looking wary as he did a one-eighty of the garage. “You calling me your buddy? Yeah, I’m freaked.” He said blandly.

  Matthew was ready to be done with Hambly and get back home behind locked doors. He frowned. He didn’t usually operate off of ‘feelings’. That kind of mentality had made his mom and sister the focus of his father’s scorn. Matthew preferred proof and planning. Squaring his shoulders, he led the way to the ultra-modern glass and steel building.

  Inside, Bio-Pet’s main lobby was decorated in shades of red and blue. Massive blown up pictures of pets, supposedly leading happy lives because of BioPet’s products, hung from the ceilings. The interactive tour began on the right and worked clockwise around the room in stations six feet apart. Guests were able to wander around, using wireless headphones to hear the mini-movie clip at each screen. Kids loved the tour.

  “I’ll be right back.” Matthew pulled his badge from his wallet, then shoved it back in his pocket. Brandon nodded absently, removing his cell phone and fingering the smooth screen. At the elevator, Matthew inserted his badge into the reader. This kept the visitors in the lobby where they belonged. He’d been told that sensors in the elevator would alert security if they picked up more people boarding the elevator than authorized.

  As expected, the ride to the seventh floor was smooth and uneventful. Matthew took a moment to study the faceplate. The floor selections went up twelve floors, gave an option for ground level, then G One and G Two for the below ground levels.