by Josie Hunter
Later, she promised herself, she would find Robb Jackson and spend a few minutes alone with him. Who knew what might come of a quick tryst at Cougar’s club, depending, of course, on whether Robb would relinquish his control to her. Rosa knew it would do the man good to let someone else be in charge a while, to make the decisions and give the commands. Robb took his protection duties seriously, and honestly, she’d never seen the man relax. If he would only agree to give it a try, Rosa could have him relaxed and purring like a kitten. The thought of Tomcat 6 purring like a kitten made Rosa smile, and then she almost laughed. Robb Jackson was many things, but a kitten was certainly not one of them.
As if on cue, a sly smile slipped across his lips.
Damn, he’d smelled her desire. She cast a quick look at the crowd to see if anyone else had noticed. Most of the audience remained focused solely on the dancers and the band. Thankfully, he seemed to be the only one who’d noticed her scent, and she relished his interest. Just the idea brought another bit of moisture to her pussy. He shifted a bit beneath her gaze, and she envisioned his cock hard and straining against his pants. What she wouldn’t give to have that swollen, throbbing cock beneath her hands, slipping a cock ring over the velvety steel of his erection. When she saw him take a deep swallow, she wondered if he might just be capable of reading her thoughts in her gaze.
Loving that she could create such a reaction, and feeling very much in control now, she gave him a tiny smile in return.
Damn, it was a good day.
* * * *
Raptor knew he was almost invisible to most of the crowd. Both humans and shifters tended to deliberately avoid people in wheelchairs because the poor souls trapped inside made them so uncomfortable. Poor babies. Seeing someone incapacitated made them feel so helpless and sad and holier-than-thou. He saw everyone’s gaze skitter over him as if he were a bug-shifter. Each time, his hand clenched into a fist, and he had to concentrate not to wrap his hands around their throats. Fuckwads.
Another thing about humans and shifters both was they tended to avoid really unattractive people, which gave him another strike against getting people to like him on fucking Facebook. With his craggy face and beaked nose, it was almost certain he’d been dubbed “ugly” by just about everyone living it up in the park. The exception might be his prey. He cast a glance to that pretty snake-shifter. Ms. Santos was definitely a cut above average, in both looks and attitude. He’d give anything to do the horizontal rumba with her, but unfortunately his dance card had pretty much disintegrated along with the strength in his legs. Fucking Viper. The man should thank God and every lucky star in the sky he was already dead. Raptor had saved up enough fury to kill him several times over for the torture he’d endured in the last year. Since he couldn’t use it constructively to kill his dead captor, he’d just have to use it de-constructively by helping his brother, Talon, get the woman into their evil clutches. Bwah-hah-hah-hah.
He almost laughed out loud. He nearly choked trying to hold it in, and a sexy little bunny-shifter standing next to him did a crazy little sideways dance to avoid him, plowing into her big, ugly friend in the process. God forbid she got a bit of his spittle in her pretty blonde hair. She didn’t have the gentle soul of Rosa Santos. Lepus bitch.
Gentle soul or not, kindhearted or not, Rosa Santos didn’t have much of a future. She’d either cooperate and live or fight them and die. Both options probably sucked for her, but he certainly didn’t give a fuck. He was in it for the dough, the glory, and the promise of a little walk-and-shift action.
Raptor watched the dance troupe for a moment before wheeling his chair toward a copse of trees on the far side of the park. He passed a few feet away from the man he knew to be head of security for Cattail Ranch. Not the main man of course. That special honor was reserved for Cougar Lucas, youngest brother in the Catamount pride. Raptor had learned about the hierarchy over the last few weeks while they planned out this caper. Caper. He loved that word. An illegal act, of course, but also meaning to prance, to skip, to leap, all things he’d be able to do if this little caper went down as planned. He almost laughed out loud again but managed to hold it in as he gave the Tomcat a wide berth. The dark-haired cat was pretty much Cougar Lucas’s right-hand man and in charge of the day-to-day shit. That made him very dangerous.
The Tomcat didn’t pay him any attention. He was focused on the dance instructor’s ass as she bent over to speak to the children. Raptor smiled to himself.
“Maybe not so dangerous after all. Piece of cake,” he muttered, heading for the cottonwood tree at the edge of the park where a large eagle perched on one of the lower limbs.
Latecomers to the dance program gave the speeding wheelchair plenty of room. Raptor saw them all pretending not to see the man talking to himself and going in the opposite direction of the festivities. Raptor counted on the fact they would think he was just another crazy veteran and leave him the hell alone. In fact, he helped with the illusion by loudly talking nonsense and occasionally batting an arm at the sky as if something were about to attack him.
It didn’t take much to pretend he was deranged. After months in captivity, unable to shift, in so much pain he sometimes wished he could bite his own wrists open, Raptor knew he sometimes had trouble with reality. Too many times he’d become aware of himself, only to discover he’d changed locations, time had passed, or someone—usually his twin—was watching him apprehensively for no apparent reason. He knew, though, even if he couldn’t remember them, those reasons were plentiful.
Glancing up at the sky, he felt the familiar rage boil through his body, threatening to overtake him again. It took everything in his power not to scream. He was a fucking eagle. He was meant to own the sky, and here he was, bound in human form, not even able to walk. Juan Santos had been a sadistic bastard, but his father had promised to make it right if Raptor would do a little favor for him. Raptor was fucking A-OK with doing favors, and his world would be peachy in no time.
Parking his chair under the tree where he knew the eagle perched in the leafy boughs, he locked the brake and glanced back at the stage. Pulling his ball cap off, he waved it at the eagle.
“Shoo! Fly away, you fucking bird! This is my tree.” He watched with satisfaction as Talon ruffled his feathers in irritation and several people high-tailed it out of the area.
Raptor waved the hat a little harder toward the eagle, muttering a string of words he knew would be unintelligible to anyone scurrying by. Besides becoming victims of sudden blindness, most people also became deaf when they saw a guy in a wheelchair, especially a crazy vet. God forbid the poor soul would ask for money. They might actually have to dig in their wallets, and they couldn’t have that.
Talon hopped around on the limb as though he were ready to fly, and then he settled when Raptor put his ball cap back on his head. A few leaves drifted down around his chair, and his brother’s voice drifted along with them.
“Can I stop this ridiculous dancing now?”
Raptor waved his arms frantically above his head. “Away I say!” He then ducked in his chair as though cowering in the face of some horrible creature.
“Stop it,” Talon hissed. “You’re causing a scene.”
“Exactly, dear brother. I’m giving these people what they expect to see.”
He lifted his gaze, and it settled on his brother’s large, bulky form perched on the sturdiest branch. Even so, Talon looked anything but comfortable with his big naked body stuffed among the gnarled branches.
“Watch your dingdong there, Talon. Don’t want to peck your pecker.” He cackled with glee.
Talon returned his gaze, giving him that disgusted look only one eagle-shifter can give another. Or maybe only one brother could give another. Either way, it tickled Raptor to see his brother stuffed in a tree.
“Any success?” Talon asked. All business, his brother.
“Yep. I got it,” Raptor said.
Talon sighed, his heavy breath rustling the leaves around him. “Fu
cking A. Hand it over.”
“Not so fast.” Raptor let his gaze sweep over the crowd. “Did you talk to Santos?”
“Jesus, Rap, what difference would it make? We’re working on faith here. What choice do you have?”
“Maybe none, but I’ll feel better knowing what he said. Is he willing to give me the experimental drug?”
Raptor glanced up, trying for that look of rapture he used when he wanted people to think he saw angels. It worked very well at keeping people at bay because, whether they believed in angels or not, a man talking to angels added to the crazy. And most people didn’t think a poor guy in a wheelchair was worth a visit from an angel. Fuckwads.
“Knock it off,” Talon said. “No one’s paying attention.”
“Paraplegia does have its advantages at times,” Raptor said brightly. “So spill. Am I getting it? Can I trust him?”
“Trust him? Now that’s a questionable idea. Do you know any trustworthy snake-shifters?”
Another heavy sigh rustled the greenery. Damn, Raptor had forgotten how gloomy his brother was.
“Look,” Talon said, “if you managed to acquire that drop of his daughter’s blood he wants so desperately, I think we have a good chance. It’s a gamble, but what do we have to lose?”
“The use of my fucking arms?” Raptor said with a sneer. “Due to some bizarre twist of fate, every part of your body is still in working order. I, on the other hand—”
“You’ve sacrificed,” Talon snapped. “I get it.”
“Do you really? I seem to be the only one paying any price in this family. You actually got freaking bonuses working for that lunatic.”
Another heavy, really heavy, sigh spiraled out of the tree. “I’m doing everything I can, Rap.” Ah, his brother actually sounded sad. It was about fucking time he showed a little pity.
“Well, you know what they say you gotta have.” Raptor paused, and when he began to sing in his best George Michael impersonation, he realized he’d managed to annoy his brother again. What a great day it was.
“Jesus Christ,” Talon muttered. “Step into the twenty-first century, why don’t ya?”
Raptor chuckled. It was almost too easy to rile his twin up. He reached a clawlike hand into the wheel of his chair and extracted a miniscule vial with a needle attached to the end. He twisted the cap until the needle retracted inside the tube. With a careless toss of his hand, he flicked the vial in the air, and Talon snatched it up.
“That should do it,” Raptor said. “Santos provided me with the needle last time we spoke. Any idea why he wants Rosa’s blood?”
Talon nodded. “It seems there’s a compound in his children’s blood that can be used for making a powerful synthetic venom. It’s such an exotic poison the authorities can’t figure out its properties or components. That gives Santos a distinct advantage by prolonging the time he has to use it without anyone coming up with an antidote. Not that they could because it apparently mutates.”
“Well, brother, you’re sounding like a regular chemist and—” He yanked his cap off and waved it frantically above his head as a teenaged wolf-shifter prowled nearby. “Shoo, bird! Get out of my tree!”
The wolf-shifter cast him a rather troubled glance, frowned, and slunk a few feet to the right.
“Fucking wolves,” Talon muttered around the metal tube he’d stuck in his mouth.
“Fucking A,” Raptor said. “Move it or lose it, teenage wasteland.”
He let out a mad cackle and waved his cap in the air again. The teen wolf scampered away a bit faster.
“Later,” his brother muttered.
Raptor heard the rustle of the limbs above him as his twin shifted and lifted off his perch. A leafy shower fluttered around his wheelchair, and the musty, stale scent of Talon’s feathers filled the air around him. He lifted his gaze to the sky and watched as his brother’s shape grew smaller in the distance.
He sighed and started moving toward the street. “Time to blow this pop stand.”
Chapter 2
Flushed with the success of her students, Rosa said good-bye to the last child and made her way to the beverage tent. The day was shaping up to be hot, and Rosa was glad her part in the festivities had concluded so she could enjoy the rest of the day in this luxurious heat and see where it led.
She ordered a beer and turned to look at the crowd. Speaking of where the day could lead…Tomcat 6 and his son were sitting at a nearby table eating red-white-and-blue ice-cream cones. Bobby’s cone looked like it was on the verge of toppling over, and Rosa noted with amusement that Robb was keeping a safe distance from the oncoming disaster.
As if he felt her stare, Robb looked her way, his intense sapphire-blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. When he saw her, the hardness evaporated from his face, and he smiled. Rosa knew that, within that split second, he’d felt someone watching him and had shifted into defense mode. With one quick glance, he’d easily assessed the threat and dismissed it. The Tomcats were famous for both their quick wit and response time. To a man, or woman, they were the best of the best.
Rosa made her way to the table and sat down beside Bobby. “You sounded good on those drums,” she told him. She tilted her head and tapped her cheek. “I’m sensing rock star in your future.”
“He wishes,” Robb Jackson said with a smirk.
“Daaad,” Bobby said with a groan.
Bobby looked up at her with his liquid dark eyes, and his smile, even though ringed with purple from the blue and red ice cream, was a bit too wicked for such a young boy. His black mamba genes were showing. She could almost see the man he would become, and she knew, without a doubt, there were going to be plenty of broken hearts left in his wake. Young women had a tough time resisting the sultry sexiness of male panthers. Toss in black mamba and they were guaranteed to topple over in submission.
“You should be proud of yourself,” Robb said, looking over Bobby’s head. “The dancers were impressive.”
Rosa shrugged one shoulder, totally aware her loose halter would dip just a little lower over one breast with the gesture. She knew it was shameless behavior, particularly in full view of the town and a ten-year-old boy, but she had an agenda today. Besides, wasn’t her rather wanton behavior almost expected? She wasn’t quite like the other women in town.
As expected, Robb’s gaze immediately followed the soft fabric, dipping deep into the valley between her breasts. She waited patiently for his eyes to lift back to hers. She gave him a knowing look, and one of his brows rose shamelessly.
“They were just having fun, but sí, I’m proud of them. They all worked hard to be ready for today.” She looked down at Bobby again. “You should take a class. Tap dancing maybe?”
Bobby screwed up his face and shook his head. “No, I’m trying to start a band, and that takes up all my time, Miss Rosa.”
“Ah, of course. Just as I predicted.”
Rosa suppressed a smile. She’d once heard Robb mention the band to the other Tomcats. He’d seemed to be debating whether or not to build a soundproof studio for his son to practice in. Robb had told the other men he hated to invest the money if Bobby’s enthusiasm dried up and blew away soon, but he wasn’t sure he could take the noise if it was going to be long term. One of the older Tomcats reminded him Bobby would be a teenager soon. The soundproof room would make a great home theater for him, saving Robb the agony of listening to whatever the current generation thought of as music.
“Well, if you ever get tired of practicing, you can take a class. You’d meet lots of girls,” Rosa said with a wink. Bobby stared at her for a moment, seeming to file that bit of information in the back of his head, and Rosa bet he already had his eye on someone in her dance troupe—little cougar, Cynthia Fauve, for instance. Snake-shifter children were known to be precocious and ahead of their age group.
Bobby took another lick, and the ice cream cone couldn’t defy gravity any longer. It toppled to the grass, melting quickly in the rising heat. Bobby looked at the mess then u
p at his father. “I’m gonna go find my friends. Okay?”
Robb nodded. “Sure. Go on. Check back in once in a while. Got your phone?”
Bobby rolled his eyes as if his father had asked whether he planned to breathe that day. Robb pursed his lips as he waited for Bobby’s response, and Rosa couldn’t take her eyes off that luscious mouth. For a split second, she wondered what his lips would feel like pressing hot, slow kisses against her neck, dipping lower until they reached the swell of her breasts. She felt her body angling toward his, and she literally had to force herself back, shaking her head to clear it of those traitorous thoughts. Kisses along her neck? If that wasn’t submissive, she didn’t know what was. She chastised herself. Rosa Santos didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.
She’d obviously missed some of the conversation because Robb sounded a bit impatient when he said, “Well?”
Bobby patted his pocket. Robb gave him a nod, and the boy shot out of the tent, heading toward a group of kids near the games. Most seemed to be panther-shifters, but Rosa caught the scent of one cougar girl in the mix. She peered around a gang of slow-moving celebrators, and sure enough, she saw the girl was Cynthia Fauve, Lisa’s daughter, one of the older girls in Rosa’s young beginners’ class. She chuckled to herself. If any girl could handle herself with a bunch of panther boys, and Bobby in particular, it was Lisa Fauve’s daughter.
Robb watched Bobby and his friends scatter into the crowd, and then he settled back against the table. Rosa knew he felt certain the kids would be safe. There was enough security posted around that it would be next to impossible for anything to happen. Catamount was a close-knit community. Everyone knew each other’s families, and they watched out for one another, which brought her mind back to the strange veteran she’d met earlier in the day. She needed to have a chat with Cougar about him. She’d never seen him before. He’d seemed harmless enough, but with all the events of the last few months, they couldn’t be too careful.