by Vonnie Davis
KeeKee meowed in what Cameo hoped was understanding.
Once she had her shower and put on her pajamas, she pulled back the blankets to crawl in bed. She’d found a white duvet and matching pillow shams edged with green embroidery to brighten up the dark bedroom. In case the kitty had to use the liter box during the night, she made sure the doors were open.
She placed KeeKee in bed with her and covered up. The kitten sniffed all around her body as if making sure she was safe for the night and then curled between Cameo’s shoulder and head. Her last thought before drifting off was Bowie rolling across her hood and windshield and a bear jumping off the boot of her car. No, she did not dream the man was a bear-shifter. She didn’t.
She was sound asleep when something heavy hit the floor upstairs. Had Bowie’s bed collapsed? Her alarm read four o’clock. The back exterior steps leading from Bowie’s balcony down the side of her deck shook. She tossed back the covers and ran to the window overlooking the bottom of those steps.
A light brown bear and Tiny bounded down them. In the darkness, she could have sworn both bear and dog lifted their hind legs and pissed against the bottom post of the steps before loping through the back yard.
She was dreaming.
She had to be. If a bear had truly come down those steps that meant Bowie’s story was true. A fact she refused to believe. She stumbled back to bed and crawled under the blankets, ready to fall asleep so the rest of the dream would come to her.
Sleep never came. Her mind went over every moment, every action and word of the last two days. Meanwhile, she tossed and turned until the kitten drew tired of her constant squirming and jumped from the bed and onto the window sill.
Cameo was still awake shortly after five when the steps shuddered and creaked under excess weight again. KeeKee growled but, this time, Cameo stayed in bed. The less she knew, the better. At least now she understood why steel beams fortified Bowie’s balcony and why a six-feet high fence ran both sides of the back yard ending in a thick row of close-growing pines.
This was a house built for shifters. Was Earnan Matheson a shifter? Would Effie tell her if he was? She imagined such knowledge had to be kept secret. Knowing the pink lady as she did, she imagined she’d do whatever it took to protect her precious Earnan.
Cameo would protect Earnan, too, because of his kindness toward her. She rolled her eyes toward the thumping on the ceiling. Truth be told, she’d protect Bowie, too. He had a reputation as a police officer to preserve. She yawned and KeeKee landed on the pillow beside her.
Of all the places with reputable law practices searching for new lawyers, I just had to apply at one in a beautiful seaside town with witches and bear shifters. Yay me!
Chapter 8
Before Cameo started her new job next week. She’d need more clothes to augment her meager work wardrobe. Once again she thanked her late Aunt Edna for the generous inheritance she’d bequeathed her. Although she’d sooner have Aunt Edna to talk things over with—like her attraction to a man who claimed to be half bear. The woman would laugh until she peed her bloomers…just a little.
Cameo placed the pillow shams back on the bed. Was she really attracted to Bowie? Or was it that he was good looking and larger than life and protective and— She growled as she chose clothes for a day of shopping. She’d forgotten to add “totally whacko” to the list. Any man who claimed his bear half had chosen her for his mate had to be a hammer shy of a set of tools.
Before she headed out the door, she kissed KeeKee goodbye and gave her a treat. She unlocked the outside door and found a floral arrangement of yellow roses and daisies in a ceramic container that resembled Tiny. Carrying it back into her apartment and setting it on the desk, she pulled the card out of the envelope stuck in a plastic holder.
“Would ye give a neighbor a chance to apologize? How about lunch and a walk along the beach tomorrow? I’ll pick ye up at noon. I think I ken where ye live. Bowie 3555-0012.”
She tried not to get all sentimental about some flowers. KeeKee stretched from the desk chair to sniff at every blossom. Cameo petted her. “What do you think? Should I accept his invitation?”
The kitten meowed and rubbed her head along Cameo’s sleeve before she jumped down, her tail held erect as she pranced to her wicker bed.
“Guess that means yes.” She dialed the number on the card and saved it under his name.
“Bowie here.”
“This is Cameo. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful and lunch tomorrow sounds very nice.”
“Well, now, ye’ve made me day. ′Tis happy I am ye like them. I’ll see ye at noon. Wear warm clothes. The breeze from the bay will be brisk even if I hold ye close, which I plan to do. And sneakers or boots will be called fer, too.”
“I’ll dress accordingly. See you then.” She positioned the arrangement in the corner of the desk and said her farewells to KeeKee again who replied with a meow.
She found two pictures of calla lilies at Jillian’s to hang on either side of the bay window. On the wall above a shelving unit she spied a silver-colored metal long spray of roses, other flowers, and butterflies which would look perfect over the sofa. Jillian climbed a ladder to reach it. She also told her where to find two stores that carried office clothing.
The first store had a sale on blazers and she found three in navy, emerald, and ivory in her size. There was a red and black tweed, too, but with her hair color she so seldom wore red. Still, she liked it and bought it, also. Three skirts were tossed onto her growing pile along with a few scarves. Cameo decided she’d spent enough for one day.
She carried her bags and boxes to the door and stopped. The man wearing the HSS knit hat leaned against her car, taking a drag on a cigarette. What was he doing? Following her? Stepping back from the doorway, she fumbled her cell from her purse with trembling fingers and dialed Bowie.
“Bowie?” Panic laced her voice.
“Cammy, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been shopping at Dora’s Designs and when I went to leave, the man with the tattoos was leaning against my car.”
“Is the feckin’ bastard still there?”
“Yes. He’s smoking a fag as if he has all the time in the world. He…he must be following me. But why?”
“Stay, where yer at. I’m on me way. Dinna go outside.”
Dora looked at her as if she’d lost a couple marbles. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take the red skirt that goes with the tweed blazer I bought.”
“I’ve got it in pleats and pencil slim.”
What did she care at this moment? She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the guy was still there. He was. Her throat was so dry with fright, she could barely swallow. “Bo…both and the green and ivory plaid skirt that matches the green blazer. Oh hell, give me the black sheath, too. Every woman needs a little black dress. Right?”
While the happy shop owner went for the requested items, police cars silently rolled in and surrounded the man. He took off on foot and Bowie ran after him.
“What’s going on out there?” Dora stopped, her arms draped with clothes, and stared out her windows.
“I don’t know his name but he’s part of a dangerous gang from Glasgow. They go by the initials HSS, which means Highland Savage Snakes. They rob, kill, and abduct children for sex trafficking. For every kill with a gun, they get a star tattoo on their face and for every kill with a machete, they get a half-moon tattoo.”
Dora’s hand went to her throat. “Me Lord. I had a break-in last week, but the police never mentioned it might be gang-related. This is so scary.”
Both women stood at the display window waiting for something. Eventually, Bowie dragged the handcuffed man back to one of the squad cars. One of the man’s eyes was nearly swollen shut and his mouth bled. He issued orders to another policeman and he shoved him in the back seat before taking off.
“That Bowie is so nice,” Dora said. “He’d lay his life down for anyone here in Matheville.” She elbowed Cameo. “H
e’s single in case ye didna ken.”
Bowie smoothed his uniform shirt before opening the door to the dress shop. His protective gaze zeroed in on Cameo. The force of it warmed her all over.
He strode toward her and swept his fingers in her long hair. “Are ye alright?” His cheek rubbed against hers as he pulled her closer.
Her palms rested against his shirt. Body heat from running radiated off him and his heart beat strong. “Yes. I guess I could have just walked out and yelled at him to leave. I’m sorry I was a bother.”
“Where yer safety is concerned, ′tis never a bother.” He pressed her head to his chest. “Ye are mine ta protect whether ye like it, or nae.”
She dropped her packages and rose on her tiptoes to wrap her arms over his shoulders. He lifted her off the floor and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Unless he was using an alias, the name on his ID was Hamish McFee. Dinna worry. I’ll check him out.” He set her down on her feet. “Are ye ready ta go?”
“As soon as I pay for what I bought while I was waiting in fear.” She turned to Dora who was wrapping her things in tissue paper.
Dora stopped wrapping and looked at the policeman. “Bowie? Will ye be keeping that no account man in jail? Ye know I was robbed nae long ago. Tweenty-two years I’ve had this little shop, I’ve never had a burglary.”
Bowie patted Dora’s hand. “I promise to do me very best. I wouldna want ye hurt in any way. Ye ken yer one of me favorite shop owners. For now, he’ll be off the streets.”
Cameo was surprised at how protective he seemed before she turned her attention to Dora. “How much do I owe you?”
Once she’d paid her bill, both she and Bowie gathered her purchases and carried them out to the backseat of her car. He dropped to his knees and inspected the undercarriage for what, he didn’t say. He also popped her hood and trailed his fingers over the wires. “Everything looks okay. I’ll follow ye home. I need to ken ye get there okay.”
He opened her door and arched an eyebrow. “Well?” He pointed to the inside and she stuck her tongue out as she slid into the driver’s seat. Laughter rolled from him. “Turn on the light at the bay window so I ken everything inside is alright. Och, and stick that tongue out at me again and I’ll suck on it until yer pretty eyes cross.”
Holy crap! He sounded like he meant it. She started the car and drove off, never looking back until she stopped at the traffic light at the end of the street. It was green, but she stopped and thought about the consequences of her actions. He was right behind her. She shouldn’t. Really, she shouldn’t, but her badass half got the best of her. She turned around and stuck out her tongue while the light was yellow.
She floored it and the light turned red as she was almost through the intersection. Teasing him was as close to fun as she’d had in a long time.
Having a police car’s flashing lights and blaring siren chase her through the red light was not such a good feeling. Spoilsport.
She pulled over and Bowie got out of the squad car, slamming his door. He swaggered to her compact and tried to open her locked door. “Unlock this damn door!” So this was what his official voice sounded like. It was a bit of a turn-on. She lifted the lock lever and he swung open the door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and picked her out of the car. He backed her against the metal and issued a dare. “Stick that fookin’ tongue out at me one more time. I dare ye.”
Her badass side had gone into hiding and she shook her head.
“Och, so yer more chicken-shite than a brave woman. Aye?”
That did it. Badass burst forth and stuck out her tongue.
Bowie sucked it in his mouth and did such marvelous things to it, she moaned and pulled at his hair. He moved her so his erection rubbed against her mound. When she was near having a climax, he set her feet on the ground. “Dinna kick me bear. He makes me do things I shouldna.”
His remark stung.
“How could you say a hurtful thing like that? Who just kissed me? You or the bear? Which ever one of you that’s trying to romance me, stay the hell away. I mean it. Don’t you dare follow me home.” She got back in her car, fastened her seatbelt, and peeled out for her apartment. So much for allowing her badass side out to play.
The jerkwad followed her home even though she’d ordered him not to. Her mouth was full of the taste of him—coffee, donuts, and tooth paste. She unlocked her boot to remove the wall hangings and other things she’d gotten at Jillian’s. He opened her back door to grab her bags and boxes of clothes. Neither one spoke. They walked around each other, making sure they didn’t come into contact.
Bowie made a quick inspection of her place, opening closets and checking behind clothes. “′Tis safe.” He made a quick exit, saying no more. He just had to show her he was in charge of her space. Cameo locked the door and flopped onto the sofa. KeeKee joined her, snuggling close. “Except for food, it’ll be a while before I go shopping again. I wanted to get a couple pair of heels, but I’ll order them online. You would not believe what happened to me today. There’s a criminal who’s fixated on me.”
KeeKee placed her paws on Cameo’s chest while she talked about the man with the tattoos on his face. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the cat understood what she was telling her.
She placed half a cup of dry kitty food in KeeKee’s bowl and filled the other one with clean water. Once again, she got the foldable footstool and replaced the pictures of ancient ships with calla lilies. She measured the sofa to find the center point and began hammering in nails to hold the long metal floral display. A hummingbird ceramic piece was placed over the desk. Now the living room reflected her tastes.
She put the tools and stepstool away and carried her new clothes to her bedroom. Just to be sure she’d chosen the correct sizes, she tried them on before removing the tags and hanging them. KeeKee followed her out to the kitchen where Cameo gave her two treats. She slapped together a peanut butter and jellie sandwich and downed it with a soda.
“Let’s take a nap, pretty kitty. Come on.” After she took some aspirins for her thumping headache, she slipped under the new white duvet and KeeKee snuggled in for a nap with her.
When KeeKee patted Cameo’s lips with her paw, she woke to a dark room. “Goodness, how long did we sleep?” She rolled out of bed and stretched. It was five minutes after eight. “Guess we need some supper.” Slipping into her baffies, she schlepped out to the kitchen. “I’m having tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. I’m not exactly a gourmet cook, but I make a mean sandwich. Which would you prefer? Kitty chow or kitty chow?”
After they both ate and she had the dishwasher humming, Cameo opened the bag Effie had dropped off the other day. It was a wireless, battery-operated doorbell. She read the directions written so tiny on a thin piece of paper, she had to squint to decipher the print. The instructions were in English, French, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, and German. She inserted the batteries. Pushing the button made no sound, so she opened the back and flipped the batteries around. Then pressed the button. Still no noise.
Bowie ran down the steps. “Hold yer bloody horses. I’m coming.” He unlocked the outside door and no one was there. Not that she was spying out her peephole, or anything. He glanced up and down the street and, evidently seeing no one, closed and locked the door. He trudged back up the steps. “Tiny, shut the fook up. Nae one’s at the door.”
She fiddled with her doorbell some more. Switched the batteries again, slid a red switch up, and pressed the button a couple more times. The thing was still silent. Something must be defective with it; she’d have to show it to Effie. Bowie barreled down the steps again and she peeped out the hole. Good grief, he had his gun out and Tiny was going batshit upstairs.
Bowie nearly ripped the front door off its hinges, dropped into his shooting stance, and threatened to blow the balls off the bastard who kept ringing his doorbell. Cameo glanced at the tiny printed directions she held in one hand and the doorbell in her other with her thumb rhythmically pressing the silent button
over and over.
No. It couldn’t be her.
She stopped tapping the doorbell until Bowie reached the top of the steps and then she rang the silent doorbell twice. This time, Tiny burst through the door and charged down the stairway, froth gathering at the corners of his mouth. He damn near chewed off the doorknob. Oh shit, it was her. The wireless doorbell must be on the same frequency as Bowie’s. He could hear it, but she couldn’t.
She tiptoed into her bathroom and laughed like she hadn’t in ages. He’d accused her of kicking his bear. Well, payback was a bitch.
At four o’clock sharp when a massive weight hit the floor and a few loud footsteps sounded through the upstairs apartment, Cameo jumped out of bed and ran for the desk in the living room where she’d placed the doorbell. She rang it several times.
Tiny and Bowie’s bear both went apeshit, roaring and barking. Wood cracked and the two fell asshole over tin cup as their legs got tangled in their rush to reach the front door. They tumbled over each other as they rolled down the stairway. Banisters here and there were kicked out and between the bear’s and Tiny’s weight, the exterior door collapsed onto the porch.
Cameo gasped as she stepped back from the peephole. She hadn’t been expecting this much damage, just some major annoyance. She must have jumped three feet when her door was kicked in and a bear stood glaring at her. Loud huffing and bearing his upper teeth warned her. Her racing heart answered the threat. Holy hell, she was going to be his breakfast.