by Gem Sivad
She could have saved him the trouble of checking the bike, since she could see nobody had messed with it. Her ward was in place and the Harley was just fine. So was Thomas’ ass and she looked her fill as he leaned over.
“Next stop?” she asked, ready to brave the streets of DC again.
He turned, winked at her and straddled her bike, his strong thighs framing the leather seat she mounted in front of him. Heat pulsed between them and she wanted to turn around and kiss him. Miz blinked at that idea. Thought about it. And then did it.
She was still licking her lips and smiling when she followed his directions to the park. The trees were thick and lush and it almost felt like home. He motioned her toward the fish pond. It wasn’t much water by West Virginia standards, but she let it slide when he called it a lake. She parked her motorcycle under a tree close by.
Thomas dismounted, took off his headgear and said, “Walk with me. We’ll talk while I show you the spot where it happened.”
“What were you and Shep doing here?”
“Running,” he said grimly.
“As in jogging?”
“As in letting our animals out to play. Shep stood watch as the rest of us took to the woods and trees. It was right after I’d come back from West Virginia. I was tense. The cat needed exercise.”
He looked so somber Miz patted his arm and zapped him with good will. A smile curved his mouth and his eyes were rich chocolate brown as the guilt left his expression.
“So Shep was standing around waiting for the cats and dogs to get their exercise when he was attacked.”
“Basically,” Thomas nodded.
They weren’t far from the bike, so Miz said, “Let’s walk over there and sit down while you show me what happened. Maybe you saw something you’re not remembering.”
He took her hand and she felt the connection between them snap into place. He’d been lurking at the edge of her mind for a while, but when he merged completely, the power of their link shocked her.
They leaned against the tree and held hands. It was cool. Miz grinned as she looked around. She was in DC with her—boyfriend? She reminded herself she was supposed to be consulting and focused.
Thomas showed her the night of the attack and it was like watching a TV show. Sometimes she murmured a request to slow it down or repeat. He did. It was the smoothest transfer of information she’d ever experienced. She was so deep in his head and he in hers, they almost got themselves killed.
Thank God the bozo shooting couldn’t aim worth shit. Nothing but a ping sounded before the earth next to Thomas kicked up dirt. A second zap plowed a furrow close to where she sat.
She dropped his hand. He shook his head, confused for a moment. It was up to her to protect them while he recovered. It had been stupid for her to take his senses and lower his defenses in the open this way.
“Go,” Thomas said, shoving her toward her bike. “Keep low, ride out. I’ll take to the trees and get him.”
Chapter Six
Miz nodded, mounted, revved the motor and disobeyed. She headed in the direction of the shooter instead of out of the park. Like she’d told Thomas before, she didn’t take orders well.
She hunched over the Harley’s handlebars and aimed her bike. Sunny was in charge and God help the shooter if Miz didn’t get to him first. She caught a glimpse of golden fur and heard a roar that should have scared the bejesus out of the assassin.
Evidently it did. Mr. Hit Man was bookety-booking for his car. He’d dropped the rifle he’d been using and Miz rode past the weapon, scooping it off the ground. The next minute two things happened. The shooter got his car door open and jumped inside. He’d left his engine idling and shoved the gear stick from park to drive as the big cat pounced on the top of the sedan.
Metal screeched as claws ripped at the slick surface for purchase. Miz watched in horror as the cat slid sideways. Thomas was going to fall.
Hell no, the jaguar clung to the moving vehicle and separated the roof from the windshield as easily as if it were a banana he was peeling. Sunny was going for the kill.
As Miz watched, the cat gripped the man by the back of his shirt and hauled him through the hole in the roof. The jaguar tossed the wannabe assassin to the ground and jumped down beside him.
The sedan rolled forward slowly and Miz figured she’d better stop it before it hit something and got more attention than they needed. She snorted. Like a jaguar mauling a man in the park is something no one will notice.
She looked around. Nope. It didn’t appear they had an audience. She parked her bike and strode to the car. After she got it stopped, she walked over to where the big cat slavered in the face of the man.
It was interesting. She’d seen men scared before, lots of them. But damn, this one looked as if he was going to cry. He was whimpering like a baby. Miz smiled. Sunny snarled.
Thomas. Miz slammed him mentally. Get a grip. I can’t question a dead man. It was like trying to reason with a stone wall.
If you bite that man’s head off I’m going to be sick. Miz wasn’t sure what the appropriate words were to calm the beast but she gave it her best shot. He didn’t budge. Strings of saliva dripped from his mouth and spattered on the hit man’s face.
“Help me,” the killer whispered.
“I might,” she said.
He tried to move. Sunny pinned him with his stare. Hmmm. Maybe we’re doing the good cop/bad cop thing.
“I think you’ve got some explaining to do.” Miz held up the rifle, sighted through it and aimed at the downed man. “Nod your head if you agree.”
His head wobbled up and down.
Thomas, I’ve got him covered. Release. The jaguar sneezed, sat back on his haunches and made a chuffing noise as if he was disgusted.
Miz didn’t know whether to pat him on the head and say “good boy” or laugh. She settled for a grin as the cat stood up and retreated to the woods. Guess Thomas knew she had things under control.
As soon as Sunny disappeared, the thug decided he’d leave too. Big mistake.
“Wouldn’t want to do that, mister,” Miz told him. “We’ve not had our talk yet.”
“Listen, you crazy bitch. Let me go before that cat comes back and kills us both.” He was wearing a nice-looking blue serge jacket, which spelled money. It was torn at the neck a little but, if he survived today, he could get it fixed.
Guess killing people pays well. “Just lift that toy on out and let’s see what you’re hiding in there.” From the way the man was fumbling in his suit pocket, Miz assumed he had another gun there. He did.
Evidently she didn’t scare him the same way Sunny did. Another clue he wasn’t all that smart. When he pulled it out, she kicked it from his hand and then put her foot on his chest.
“We can be civilized and I’ll let you sit up and tell me your story, or…” She applied enough pressure to make his breath wheeze but not enough to break his ribs.
Dressed and in control, Thomas joined her. She handed him the rifle, removed her foot from the perp’s ribs and picked up the gun she’d kicked aside. A look inside showed her regular bullets, no silver, just a lethal dose of lead.
“He wasn’t shooting at me, Miz. He was after you,” Thomas muttered, his voice pitched so low it thundered fury.
“Well, I feel real special,” she drawled. She wondered if she might need to tranquilize Thomas. She’d never considered him scary, but the way he was viewing their prisoner, he looked like he might tear the miscreant apart—without the help of the cat.
“Get up,” he ordered the hit man.
The man scrambled to his feet, staring fearfully at the trees. Miz realized he didn’t have any idea that Mr. Big Cat was standing in front of him.
None too gently, Thomas guided him to an oak and told him to sit down. Miz waited until her would-be killer was settled, then she squatted next to him and picked up his hand.
“Tell me…”
He was a fountain of information that was mostly useless. He d
idn’t know who’d hired him and he didn’t want to know. He and his partner used the internet to conduct business. They’d had an exclusive. He seemed real proud of that.
They’d been paid to dart Shep Buchanan and take him out of action.
“What happened to your partner?”
“The client sent us a pouch. We were supposed to immobilize Buchanan, dust him with the stuff inside the pouch and get out. I did the shooting, Chuck did the dusting. He wasn’t so lucky.” He looked queasy, remembering. “That big cat got him.”
Guess Sunny and I were after polecats in the park when we went hunting in my nightmare.
“I didn’t know what to do. I contacted the client and said I’d delivered and told him that Chuck was dead and to send the money. He stonewalled for weeks. Then the s.o.b. emailed back that I had to shoot you before I could collect.”
He hadn’t asked why she had to be killed. It didn’t matter. He’d been paid ten thousand dollars up front and promised another ten grand when he finished the job. He got Chuck’s share and new instructions in another special delivery.
“The guy really wants you dead,” he said and beamed happily at Miz, showing her the picture he’d received. There she was cheesing at the camera, holding her helmet in her hand and sitting on her Harley in front of the Hands-On Massage Parlor.
“Thomas,” she muttered, “I think this has a lot more to do with back home than agency business.” The thought stabbed at her. Shit. Someone hated her enough to hire a hit man. And she was pretty damn sure she knew who.
Thomas wanted to kill the goon. She could see it in his face. She laid her hand on his arm and said, “Naw, not necessary. Watch me turn this jackass into a productive citizen.”
Right now, their prisoner was in happy land. She placed her hands on either side of his skull and closed her eyes, reading the convoluted meanderings of his mind. Then she touched a spot on his forehead and gave him his future.
“You’ve always wanted to do it. Go for it. You’ve been saving your money. Now you’ve won the lottery. You’re going to take your winnings and move to South Myrtle where you’ll buy that charter boat you’ve dreamed about. You made it to retirement alive. That problem of your spastic bowel will flare up anytime you think about old business. You’re all set. Good luck.”
“Dammit, he’s a killer, Miz. He would murder you right now if he could.”
“Well, he can’t and he won’t.” She released her grip on the cretin’s head and pulled him to his feet. He looked around with a fuddled expression. Miz followed his glance to the gaping hole in his roof. She touched his forehead again for an addendum.
“You drove too close to the trees and a low limb ripped a hole in the roof. Fix it out of your own money. It was your fault. Oh, and pay your taxes.”
When she stepped away, he smiled and nodded. “Taxes. I drove too damned close to the trees. I’ll pay for it myself.”
Thomas was very unhappy when she tucked Mr. Bad Guy into his car and sent him on his way.
“I’m a healer, Thomas.” It was pure truth. The one time in her life she’d nearly killed something the whammy had been so bad it had near killed her too. She’d been attacked by a wolf and she’d taken it to the ground, sizzling it with her power. Then her healing gift had kicked in and she’d had to resurrect it, worrying the whole time that as it got stronger, the damn wolf would remember she was its intended prey.
Of course, as it turned out, the wolf had gotten even. It grew up to be Hank Wyatt and he’d made her life hell. Miz sighed. She couldn’t win for losing.
Most people at home gave her a wide berth and left her alone. Animals weren’t so reasonable, so she kept her distance from them.
“It’s just the way I am,” she told Thomas. “If you hurt something, I’d probably have to fix it. So you might as well just not go there to begin with.”
Before he could begin his lecture, she tossed the rifle and gun into the lake and walked to their ride.
“Better get a move on, Sunny. We’ve got lots to do and only a little time to do it in.” Thomas was unusually quiet. Maybe she was too weird for him. She shrugged. Tough. At least she didn’t purr.
I’m a healer, Thomas. Her words sounded a death knell in his heart. He killed people from time to time. Pragmatically, Thomas considered it part of his job. That useless scrap of humanity Miz had just saved was a waste of space.
But he didn’t say so. Even his jaguar was quiet, cautioned by her words. He was absolutely sure she was his mate. Cat and man agreed on little, but in this one thing they were of one accord. Miz was theirs.
But…but…
She motioned him onto her motorcycle and, docile as a housecat, he obeyed, wrapping his arms around her middle and hanging on.
“Where to?” Miz asked him over her shoulder. She amazed Thomas. Nothing seemed to ruffle her calm. He hugged her closer, hoping some of her serenity would rub off on him. Shit, she’d scared him to death riding full throttle at the guy instead of away. But he kept his lip zipped on that subject too.
“We need to check on Shep.”
Thomas surrounded Miz protectively, shielding her body with his as she drove back to the agency med center. Even alert and ready for trouble, he had plenty of time to think.
He didn’t doubt that her magic would hold strong. He’d seen her reprogram Milo Griggs during the summer. Thomas hadn’t believed her whammy would stick longer than it took for the guy to sell up and run for the border.
He’d visited Milo’s Bar in Myrtle Beach, prepared to quietly eliminate the problem. But dammit, the bastard had greeted him like a long-lost friend, talked about fly-fishing, mentioned Miz as a buddy, and didn’t remember a thing about werewolves or why he’d moved.
Thomas could smell a lie and as far as Milo knew, everything he burbled on about was true. He was happier than most people and packed his bar with transplanted West Virginians. His life was good and his trade better.
Thomas knew Miz had just worked the same magic. He would have killed the assassin to remove the problem. She’d scrambled his brain instead. Scary shit.
Miz parked the bike in the underground garage and appeared ready for more action.
“So you think you can fix Shep?” He looked at her hopefully as she frowned.
“This isn’t really my area of expertise.” Miz pulled out her cell phone and made a call.
“Rhee, it’s Miz. I have a question for you.” Miz rolled her eyes at him. Dumb bitch. She mouthed the words and pointed at the phone. My cousin.
His beast ears came in handy. Thomas had no trouble hearing both sides of the conversation. It sounded like Miz’s cousin was chewing gum. Then he knew she was when she popped a bubble producing a loud cracking noise that made Miz wince.
Miz explained about the pouch of dust and the other girl interrupted her.
“He got hit with a hex sachet,” Rhee informed Miz in a superior tone. Then she asked about Shep’s symptoms.
Miz explained and asked for an opinion.
“It’ll cost you.” The chewing stopped. Thomas could hear the sound of Rhee’s breathing. She sounded excited.
“How much?” Miz flexed her fingers indicating she’d like to strangle her cousin.
“Who’s it for?”
“My neighbor.”
Thomas had thought he heard Rhee filing her nails, but when Miz said neighbor, the scraping sound ended and Rhee came to full attention.
“Is that Shep Buchanan you’re talking about? The good old boy from redneck holler? Your neighbor who’s six foot six and looks like a Viking?”
“Yes.”
“I’d better do it. You’ll screw it up. Are you at his place or yours? I’m on my way. Is he still rich?”
Thomas couldn’t keep up with the barrage of questions spilling from Miz’s mercenary cousin.
“We’re bringing him home. We’re in DC.”
“What?” Rhee squawked in what sounded like real horror. “You can’t leave the house.”
“I’ve got…” Miz raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas and he flashed five digits on one hand three times. Fifteen hours.
Miz grinned diabolically. “Rhee, I’ve got limited hours to get back. Might be best if you beat me there, considering the house situation.”
“No way in hell, Miz.”
Thomas didn’t have a clue what the house thing was all about. If it had two Hess women concerned, he was sure it wasn’t something simple. Rhee’s next warning wiped the look of smug satisfaction from Miz’s face.
“You might have limited hours. But if it’s a snake-eyes spell someone’s hexed Shep with, his are really limited. I’m surprised he’s not already dead if it happened three weeks ago. It wears the spirit down until all the threads holding it in the body just go poof. And then he’s dead, or soon to be dead.”
“So what do I do?” Miz listened intently as Rhee gave her instructions. She repeated the procedure, made a list of the ingredients they needed to pick up, said thank you and started to hang up.
“Wait,” Rhee said. “If you’re boomeranging that spell, I hope you don’t like who sent it. It’ll rebound with ten times the force.”
“I sure hope so,” Miz said and nodded, her expression grim.
“Well, even if you do that, Shep’s going to need my attention.”
It seemed to Thomas that for someone who didn’t want to come to West Virginia, Rhee sure wanted to know Buchanan up close and personal.
“Well, first I’ve got to save Shep’s sorry hide and get him home. I probably won’t need your help.” Miz crossed her eyes at Thomas and grinned.
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t.” Miz said a fast thanks, hanging up without answering the babble chirping in her ear.
Thomas understood the parameters of the world included paranormal beasts because he was one. But he’d never really believed in witches or the other claptrap people scared themselves with at Halloween. Since meeting Miz, he’d adjusted his thinking a lot.
“I guess your cousin’s a witch like you?”
“No,” Miz snapped. “Not like me at all.”