Eye of Danger: Tiger's Eye Mysteries

by Alyssa Day

  Eye of Danger

  Tiger’s Eye Mysteries

  Alyssa Day

  Holliday Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Excerpt from DEAD EYE

  About the Author

  Books by Alyssa

  1

  Life tip 101: When anybody says to you: "We need to talk" …

  Run for the hills.

  Fast.

  (Unless you're already in the hills. Then run for the valleys. Or the beach. Just … run.)

  We were at the opening of the newly dedicated Dr. Linda Parrish and John Luke Arnold Museum of Pirate History when my uncle pulled me aside and said four terrifying words:

  "We need to talk."

  "Nothing good ever started with those four words," I said, my spirits plummeting. "Who died?"

  "Nobody died," Uncle Mike said, his face shadowed. "It's your father."

  My father had abandoned me— abandoned all of us—when my mother died.

  "What about him?"

  "He's on his way back to town, and he says he's in trouble."

  Jack—my friendly neighborhood private investigator, and maybe something more—tightened his hand around mine. "We'll handle it together. After witches, leprechauns, gators, and the Fae, how bad could it be?"

  I'd heard some of those gators had never been caught. Still …

  "You know what you should never, ever say? 'How bad could it be?'"

  Here we go again.

  "I need donuts."

  "Is there anything better than a sunny morning at Dead End's best pawnshop?" Eleanor practically sang out the words when I walked into work the next morning, worries about my long-lost father still hamster-wheeling around my brain.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Last I knew, we were Dead End's only pawnshop. Or is there something you want to tell me?"

  She shrugged. "Only. Best. Most awesome. All are true. And guess who brought in seven new items in pawn and rang up almost $500 in sales so far today?"

  "Nice! You are my favorite employee." I grinned at her while I walked over to put my bag in the drawer behind the counter. "Definitely my favorite employee."

  "I'm your only employee."

  "Only. Best. Most awesome. All true."

  She laughed and went back to filling out paperwork on the new intakes, and I took a moment to look around at what truly was the most awesome pawnshop in the world, at least in my somewhat biased opinion. Sparkling clean and neatly arranged, from the aisle of electronics to the magical potions counter, I loved every inch of it, even the walls, now that I'd finally sold the dreamcatcher that had an authentic nightmare trapped in its woven threads. It was a good business, and I got to meet interesting people and occasionally discover interesting artifacts, and it was even modestly profitable.

  And it was all mine.

  I'd never wanted to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a captain of industry. For a brief time, before the onset of my unique ability changed my life, I'd thought about studying art history. Maybe traveling the world to study ancient artwork in some kind of artist-meets-Indiana Jones job that probably only existed in my imagination. Instead, I'd become the manager, and then owner, of my very own pawnshop, in the same town where I'd been born and lived my entire life.

  And, I had to admit, I loved every minute of it. Well, except for the two times people had dumped dead bodies on my back porch, but I had to hope that would never happen again.

  "Seven items, huh? Does that include this? Again?" I eyed the stuffed Jackalope on the counter—a jackrabbit with antelope horns attached, taxidermied to look as if the creature had actually existed—and could feel my lips curl back. It wasn't even cute, and I had no idea why anybody would want to keep making the things.

  Then I blinked. Given the world we lived in today, with vampires and shifters and witches and Fae all walking around, right out of the pages of fairytales and into our neighborhoods and towns, maybe Jackalopes did exist.

  I took a closer look.

  Maybe?

  Nah. That had to be glue around the base of the horns. Anyway, we had to draw the line somewhere. I glanced up and noticed that Eleanor was pointedly not meeting my gaze.

  "I see Mr. Oliver was in again. How many times is he going to pawn this guy? Also, and not that I don't appreciate the business, but the man has a very successful plumbing company. Why does he need that fifty bucks so much every month? Does he have a deep, dark, gambling problem that nobody knows about?"

  Eleanor's pale cheeks—"a Southern lady always wears a hat to protect her skin, Tess"—turned pink, clashing with the pristine red Dead End Pawn polo shirt she wore with white capri pants and red sandals. "I'm sure that Bill, I mean, Mr. Oliver, has no such thing. He just, ah, I think, um, he …"

  The light finally dawned in my apparently clueless brain. "He keeps coming in here to see you, doesn't he?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Tess." She grabbed the paperwork and clutched it to her chest. "I'm going in the back and finishing this up, away from any distractions."

  I started laughing. "I'd think Bill would be more of a distraction than I am. Good for you, you man magnet, you."

  She shot me a Look, but her cheeks, flaming red by now, told me I'd been right. I just grinned but didn't tease her anymore. She was in her early sixties, and she'd been alone for a long time since her husband died. If she found romance with Mr. Oliver, who was a very nice man, then good for her. I was still smiling when I put the Jackalope back up on the shelf next to Fluffy, the ancient taxidermied alligator who served as our shop mascot.

  Thinking of romance made me think of other things, though, like dates, which made me think of a certain hot tiger shifter whose detective agency's office shared the building with my pawnshop. As if my thoughts had called to him, the connecting door he'd requested be built between our two establishments opened, and six feet, four inches of bronze-haired, hard-muscled deliciousness sauntered in, his summer-grass-green eyes sparkling in his gorgeous, tanned face.

  "Eleanor has a suitor?" Jack grinned at me. "I can almost feel sorry for the man. She'll have him wrapped around her finger just like she does with the customers who come in here. And if he gets out of line, she can always shoot him."

  "Hey! That was one time!"

  Eleanor was my secret weapon. She loved people and adored bargaining and negotiated great deals that made everyone happy. Repeat business is the heart and soul of a pawnshop's business, especially in a small town, and she was a great part of our team.

  I rolled my eyes. "Just because you have superior tiger hearing, that doesn't mean you need to weigh in on every conversation you eavesdrop on."

  "Hey, I came over to invite you to lunch. The eavesdropping was just a bonus."

  I glanced across at the antique cherrywood grandfather clock. "It's ten a.m."

  "Breakfast?"

  "You told me you ate a dozen donuts on the way to the opening!"

  "Exactly." He patted his unfairly flat abdomen. "I'm wasting away."

  "Maybe later. Like at noon. Eleanor has granola bars in the back, if you're dying."

  He grimaced. "I'd rather eat tree bark."

  I threw up my hands. "Then turn into a kitty and go catch some furry snacks. I have a business to run here
."

  The man who turned into a quarter-ton Bengal tiger raised an eyebrow. "A kitty?"

  He glanced pointedly around my empty shop. "And, yes. I can see how you're swamped."

  "Don't you have crimes to solve? More lost pets to find?"

  "Are you going to add the Jackalope to your mascot shelf with Fluffy?"

  I pinned him with my most commanding stare, and he blinked.

  "Tess, are you in pain?"

  "No. Argh. That was my commanding—never mind. Tell me, shifter boy, are Jackalopes real?"

  "Shifter boy?" His eyes lit up with wicked glee. "I'll be happy to demonstrate that I'm actually shifter man, if you like."

  "Right here?" I may have squeaked out the words, but I was proud that I didn't retreat when he took a step toward me. "No! I mean, whatever, just tell me about Jackalopes."

  He laughed but then shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I rode through a place out west once that had a giant statue of one in the middle of town. So, maybe?"

  I frowned at it. "I think I'll continue to believe that they're not, because it would be awful if they're a rare species, and the only known example is dead, stuffed, and playing matchmaking go-between in my pawnshop."

  Jack made a face. "Just promise me that you'll never take any stuffed tigers. That would run a little too close to home."

  "I can definitely promise you that." My heart gave a painful twinge at the idea of an animal as magnificent as a tiger stuffed and on display in a shop. "And this conversation just took a dark turn. Go away. I have work to do, counters to polish, money to count, world domination to plan. Go investigate something."

  "I might investigate if Mellie has anymore donuts."

  My stomach said yes, yes, but my jeans' tight waistband said no, no. I settled for moderation. "Save me one. Um, maybe two. But not the cream-filled."

  See? I can be reasonable. Practically a deprivation diet.

  He leaned on the counter and flashed a slow, sexy, smile at me. "My calendar is clear. So after I get donuts, I think I'll spend the day planning our date. Which day did you decide on?"

  Busted.

  I swallowed, hard, and grabbed for my phone, opening the calendar app and pretending to study it to buy myself time. "Um."

  "Tess." He sighed and gently took the phone out of my hands, his smile fading. "You've obviously changed your mind, and that's okay. I'd never pressure you. Let's just forget about it."

  The flash of hurt in his eyes was there and gone so fast that I almost didn't see it.

  Could have lied to myself that I didn't see it.

  I try really hard not to lie to myself, though.

  "Tess?"

  "This Saturday," I blurted out. "Let's do it this Saturday."

  His grin made me realize what I'd said, and I could feel the heat rush up my face. "Do it as in go out. On the date. Not do it, do it. I mean—"

  He put his hand on mine. "I get it. No doing it involved or expected. Just a simple date."

  I blew out a breath. "Nothing with you is ever simple. Now go away, so I can get to work."

  Before he could answer, the door to the back room smashed open, and Eleanor staggered out, her face drained of all color, holding her phone out toward us. "Dave. Dave. Help me! Jack …"

  Jack took one look at her and snapped into action, leaping toward her and catching her in one strong arm as she collapsed, taking the phone out of her hand and putting it to his ear. "Jack Shepherd here. What's happening?"

  As he listened, an expressionless mask snapped down onto his face, reminding me that this same man who teased me and joked with me had spent ten years as a rebel leader and soldier, fighting in the most dangerous situations possible.

  "Understood," he said. "On our way." He ended the call and speared me with a look. "We need to take Eleanor to the hospital. Can you close the shop?"

  I grabbed my purse. "Of course. What is it? What's wrong?"

  Eleanor's eyes popped open, and she cried out; a terrible, hoarse sound I never wanted to hear again. "It's Dave. My son. Dave's been shot."

  2

  Jack made the thirty-mile drive in less than twenty minutes, which would have terrified me if I hadn't been so busy comforting Eleanor and telling her over and over again that Dave was going to be just fine. The hospital was on the outskirts of Orlando, which is why the drive was so far. Dead End, population five thousand on a good day, was way too small for us to have our own hospital or even a good urgent-care clinic. For years, the only doctor we had also served as the county coroner, and he was a grouchy old man with the personality of a constipated gargoyle, so nobody went to him unless they were desperate.

  "He's in surgery," I reported, one hand holding Eleanor's and the other holding my phone. "I've got Julio Martinez on the line, and he says they took him into surgery."

  Eleanor clenched her jaw shut so tightly I could hear her teeth grinding. Then she took a deep breath and did what Southern women had been doing for hundreds of years— she stiffened her spine and shoved her fear and pain down deep, so she could take care of business.

  "Right. Tell him we'll be there in two minutes," she said, and Jack took the corner into the parking lot so fast it was a wonder his old truck didn't tip over.

  We parked and ran up to the surgical waiting area to find that it was chaos. The room was all white walls and orange plastic chairs, and it smelled of antiseptic and sweaty construction workers. Julio, Dave's right-hand man, and what looked like all the rest of Dave's employees, both the full-time people and the seasonal hires, crowded around the vending machine, wearing Wolf Construction shirts, jeans, work boots, and concerned expressions. They'd clearly walked off job sites to rush over to stand vigil for their boss, and August in Florida was what hell would be like if you added miserable humidity. So, it was a sweaty, dirty group, which didn't stop Eleanor for even a second from rushing over and straight into Julio's arms for a big hug.

  She wasn't just the boss's mom, after all. She knew all of these men and women. Knew their kids' names. Had baked them birthday cakes, wrapped holiday gifts, and taught them at Sunday School. She was one of the best people I knew, and everybody loved her.

  "She'll have plenty of support to get through this," Jack said, putting an arm around me. "Starting with you, me, and your family. It's going to be okay, Tess."

  I took a deep, shaky breath and only then realized that I was trembling. I'd known Dave since I was a little girl, and he was a good friend. I leaned against Jack's shoulder and then yanked my head back when I felt it vibrating.

  "Jack," I hissed. "You're growling."

  The lines of his face looked as if they'd been carved in granite, and his eyes glowed with hot amber flames. Dave had been one of Jack's best friends since he was a kid, too.

  Whoever had hurt Dave was going to be very, very sorry.

  The doors that led to the operating rooms whooshed open, and a tall woman with warm brown skin, who looked to be around my age and wore surgical scrubs, walked out and looked around. "Dave Wolf's family?"

  Eleanor looked at me, and I rushed over to her and took her hand in mine again. "We're his family," I told the doctor, when Eleanor didn't seem able to speak. "This is his mother, Eleanor Wolf."

  The doctor, compassion in her dark brown eyes, held out her hand to shake Eleanor's. "Mrs. Wolf, I'm Dr. Boston. First, let me reassure you. Dave is doing just fine."

  Eleanor's closed her eyes for a moment. "Praise God. Thank you so much, Doctor. What … what can you tell me?"

  She smiled. "Well, first off, if you're going to get shot, he picked a pretty good spot to get shot in."

  Julio started laughing. He stuffed a fist in his mouth to try to stifle it, but such an expression of sheer relief lit up his face that I couldn't even be annoyed with him.

  "What do you mean?" Jack demanded. I hadn't realized he was standing so close behind me until he spoke. "Where did he get shot?"

  "In the side of the ass, in technical medical terms," the doctor said,
one side of her mouth quirking up. "He said he turned and threw himself out the window, headfirst, when the man pulled the gun. The butt shot is the first piece of luck. The fact that the window was open at the time is the second."

  "He always was one to turn the other cheek," Jack murmured from behind me, and I had to bite my lip against the bubble of hysterical laughter that threatened to burst out of my mouth.

  Dr. Boston cast an amused glance at Jack, but then she turned serious. "The biggest piece of luck, I'm told, is that Mr. Martinez was pulling into the parking lot when it happened, and he pulled Dave into his truck and got out of there before anymore shooting occurred."

  "Who did this?" Jack demanded, but she shook her head.

  "That's not my department. The sheriff is on her way, I understand. The bullet will still be at the scene, since it went all the way through Mr. Wolf''s … ah … posterior. We cleaned the wounds and sutured, and he should be good to go soon, but I'd like to keep him overnight just to be safe, since you don't live within a ten-minute drive of the hospital."

  She smiled at Eleanor, who was still clutching her hand. "Mrs. Wolf, if you'll come with me, you can see Dave now." She glanced around at the crowd hanging on her every word. "The rest of you can see him soon, but only two at a time. We don't want to overwhelm the other patients."

  "Tell him we'll be right behind his mom," Jack murmured, and I threw him an elbow, which was like ramming my elbow into an iron door.

  Ouch.

  Julio finally let the laughter out, relief shining brightly in his eyes. "Yeah, and tell him we'll be sure to get to the bottom of this."

  Dr. Boston rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was trying not to smile. She took Eleanor back to see Dave, and I blew out the breath I'd been holding. When I glanced back at Jack, any trace of humor on his face had vanished, and his eyes were flashing amber fire again.