When the most horrendous growl Mike had ever heard from a living creature came from behind the towel, Lauren looked up at him and shrugged. He tried not to notice that her top pulled down and displayed almost enough cleavage. Completely enough would be if that top accidentally shredded and floated away.
Aaaaand she was on her knees in front of him. He cleared his throat and squatted next to her.
“She’s a little grumpy by nature,” Lauren told him. “Actually…it might be good that you stopped by. She doesn’t like most people, but she seems to hate men less. Maybe you can hold her while I give her the pill.”
“Why is she behind a towel? Is she shy or something?” Or was the cat hiding a brick of illegal drugs?
“Or something. She just seems to like being in the dark.” Lauren pulled the towel aside, and Mike came face-to-face with the biggest, ugliest orange cat he’d ever seen. But no Devil’s Dust, unless the beast was responsible for creating it from the bowels of hell. Its eyes didn’t quite glow with demon fire, but…
“Holy shit,” he said.
The cat hissed.
“Now, Miss Posy, come on. It’s time for your goody.” Lauren turned away to open the pill container, taking one out and wrapping it in a piece of something soft and squishy. She looked at Mike. “If she sees me open the container, she won’t come out at all.”
She turned back around and showed the glob to the cat. “Lookie here! Treats!”
Mike was charmed in spite of himself.
“Okay, I’ll open the cage, you reach in and grab her.”
“Are you sure she won’t scratch my eyes out?”
Lauren smiled at him. “Nope. But you’re the Possum Wrangler, right? You’re probably braver than the Crocodile Hunter. I’m pretty sure you can take on one little old lady.”
“Elderly human ladies are my specialty.” Mike thought about his grandma and how he’d always managed to convince her to slip him an extra cookie after dinner, and her old friend Miss Emmie, who seemed to have a soft spot for him. “Not so sure about old cats.”
But he reached into the cage anyway and took out the giant cat. Its hair was matted in some places and missing in others. He held her around the middle, legs splayed, facing Lauren, who shook her head. Guess she was serious about him holding the cat. He tucked the beast against his chest. The damned thing started growling again.
“She likes you!”
“She’s growling at me.”
“That’s purring.” Lauren expertly pried the cat’s mouth open and shoved in the pill. Her head was inches from his face, and he breathed in lemons and flowers.
Mike cautiously shoved the thing back into its cage, where it turned and glared at him.
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it much longer.” She looked like she might cry.
“Why? You’re giving her medicine.”
“Yes, but she’s got a nervous condition, which seems to be made worse by being here at the shelter. She doesn’t get along with the other animals. She scratches at herself constantly and keeps getting abscesses. If we can’t get her adopted, I’m afraid we’ll have to have her put to sleep.”
“Why don’t you take her home?” he asked. Lauren seemed like the type who would take in ugly strays on a regular basis. Hell, she was being nice to him.
“Kevin doesn’t like her.”
“You’re married?” Aw, hell. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He didn’t care if she was involved with someone or not. Well, maybe he did. But not because he was interested in her. If she was involved with someone, he needed to know if they were part of whatever was going on with the disappearance of the drugs from her lab.
She laughed. “Kevin’s my cat. I took Miss Posy home overnight once, and it got bloody. No, I’m single. Um…” She shook her head, and Mike detected a faint blush. “Do you want to see the dogs? We’ve got an awesome lab mix. He’s perfect for a guy. He loves to play catch.”
Playing catch sounded do-able.
However, fifteen minutes later, he was the shell-shocked foster dad of a cat. Not an energetic, mixed-breed dog who would play catch and be a girl-magnet, but one very ugly, very neurotic cat. Lauren had convinced him that, even though the damned thing needed medicine twice a day, it would be lower maintenance than a dog, and fit into his and Dylan’s irregularly scheduled lifestyles better. The way she looked at him, like he was some kind of a hero, made it almost worthwhile. He was only keeping it until they found another home for it, though.
“Your name’s not staying Miss Posy,” he told the thing as it dug its claws into the upholstery of his truck. It glared and snarled. He slammed the door, which bounced open again. He grabbed the cat before she made a break for it and repeated the process. On the third try, the door stayed shut. He turned to find Lauren had followed him out of the building.
“What are you going to call her?” she asked.
“Possum.”
She grinned, but then her expression grew into a hot stare that traveled from his eyes to the vicinity of his mouth. His own gaze moved along a similar path over her face, but he didn’t stop at her mouth. He went as far as to see the blush that stained her upper chest and the slight rise of hard nipples behind bra and sweater.
Okay, he admitted it. He wanted her. Shit, he’d just named his fucking cat after the very moment they’d met, a whopping twelve hours ago.
Her chest rose and fell. He looked back at her face, and he realized that she realized he’d been staring at her breasts. And was smiling shyly instead of looking offended. He needed to get out of there before he kissed her. Hell, he already needed to adjust his jeans.
He stepped away and shoved a hand through his hair. He hadn’t found anything fishy at the shelter, in spite of asking every question he could think of to get her to show him the facility. There was no mysterious room full of Bunsen burners and barrels of chemicals or anything, no boxes filled with empty drug vials, waiting to be filled.
He couldn’t think of another reason to stick around. Not one that didn’t involve pressing Lauren up against the side of his truck and kissing the hell out of her. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
She nodded, then licked her lips and said, “Um, yeah. Okay. If you—” She gestured to the newly christened and howling Possum. “If you need any help, advice or anything, let me know.”
He waited while she started her car before he started his truck and pulled onto the road.
Shit.
He didn’t know any more about the Devil’s Dust situation than he had when he got here. He’d thought the drug was probably being cooked in some basement somewhere, but after hearing about Lauren’s research, he wasn’t so sure. But there was no way she was a drug dealer—neurotic cats aside—was there? But what about that bag of pellets she’d carried out of the building earlier? He was going to have to manage to spend more time with her to find out what she was up to.
Chapter Five
Possum The Cranky Cat spent the ride from the shelter tucked beneath Mike’s legs, which made lifting his foot from gas to brake pedal a painstaking operation—but they made it to the local Food Giant without too much arguing. Until he came out of the store, that is, arms laden with litter box, litter, food, and toys—and found the upholstery shredded.
“I was only gone for ten minutes!” he told the cat when he opened the door. She hissed at him, then jumped into the passenger seat and started licking her paw. “Seriously? The seats are the only part of this truck that aren’t messed up. At least they were.”
He climbed in and started the engine, waving at old Miss Emmaline Tucker as she crept across the parking lot. The woman’s frail appearance belied her powerful position in the community as the brains behind Kentucky Jelly and the Tucker Foundation. He sighed when she waved at him to open his window. How she could see him, as bent over as she was, was beyond him. She’d been one of his grandmother’s best friends, so he couldn’t pretend he didn’t see her.
“Hi, Miss
Emmie.”
“Hi yourself. I see you’ve moved back to town.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“That’s good. Your grandma would be happy to see that you’re in her old house instead of selling it. Happier if you’d done it before she went to her great reward, but still. She’s probably up there smiling on you now.”
Mike doubted that, given the mess he’d made of his life so far, but he nodded and said, “Thank you. I like to think so.”
“Do you like working with my son-in-law?”
Mike’s boss Jason was married to Miss Emmie’s daughter Louella. Jason referred to himself and his bride as the divine debutante and the dumbass, but they seemed to be as much in love now as any two people could be.
“Jason’s a good guy,” Mike said.
“Of course he is. And how are you doing with Dylan?”
Leave it to Miss Emmie to cut to the chase. “We’re holding it together,” he lied.
She glared at him. “Bullshit. I bet you fight like cats and dogs.” She shook her head. “I know you promised your grandma before she died that you’d look after him, and you’re probably doing a better job than you think, especially after that little fuck up in Cincinnati.”
Mike barked out a laugh at the language that came out of the prim little old lady. “Which fuck up are you referring to? Mine or his?”
“Watch your language,” she snapped, but then smacked him on the shoulder with a gnarled hand and gave him a sly smile. “You met any hot chicks since you moved back to town?”
He thought of Lauren, but said only, “No, ma’am, I’m staying out of the dating business. I don’t seem to be much good at choosing nice girls. Unless you’re available?”
She snorted but smiled anyway, then patted him on the arm and said, “You take care, now. And don’t be afraid to step out and meet somebody. I hear that there’s a pretty lady scientist over on the campus who might be single. Not too many girls as smart as me in the department these days.”
How did she know Lauren? Miss Emmaline had probably run across her at some sort of fancy University event. Emmie was a huge donor to the various charities on campus. “Well, if I change my mind, I’ll certainly ask for an introduction.”
“Ha. Unlikely. You aren’t known for your willingness to ask for help.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know people who could have fixed that mess you got yourself into a few months ago.”
What Mike knew was that if he’d called Miss Emmie for help, she would have pulled strings and covered up the whole thing, and he also knew that secrets like that required bribes and almost never remained buried. No way was he going to try to make two wrongs into a right.
Mike said goodbye and tried again to call Dylan. Either his brother was ignoring him, or he had lost his phone again. He really needed to find out what Dylan knew about Lauren’s missing drug, and if there was any way that it could be Devil’s Dust. Given his past history with the Devil’s Rangers, it seemed more and more likely that the kid was up to his neck in trouble—again.
The house was quiet when he got home, and he left the cat in the truck for a few minutes while he took his supplies inside. He looked at the corner of the laundry room where Dylan’s skateboard rested next to a baseball bat and glove that were dustier than Grandma’s Hummel collection. He thought about pitching them but was a little nostalgic for the days when they’d stayed with Grandma when they were younger, and he and Evan had played catch with the much younger Dylan—though he’d have his fingernails pulled out with hot tweezers before he let anyone know what a sap he was. Instead, he shoved the stuff in the hall closet and made a kitty latrine.
By the time he got the litter box set up and convinced Possum to leave her new favorite scratching post—his truck—it was fully dark.
“Come on,” he told her while she transferred her claws to his shirt. “You know, if I have to get clawed, I’d rather it be by my own species.” Lauren’s elegant fingers came to mind, and then her long, trim body. He thought about her digging her nails into him as he went into her. The cat growled and fought to escape his hold, breaking his fantasy. Just as well. He had some internet research to do before turning in for the night, and he needed to get his mind back into the head on his shoulders.
Behind him, he heard the familiar screech of brakes on Dylan’s bike. Mike turned, and for once, Dylan’s face wasn’t folded into a sneer or, worse, flatly expressionless.
After dismounting, Dylan hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and stared at the near-bald yowling ball of nasty in Mike’s arms. “What’s that?”
“I adopted a cat. Or signed up to be a foster person.”
“That’s cool.”
As his brother got closer, Mike was assaulted with an overwhelming wave of— “Dude, did you get a new cologne?”
“Yeah. You like it?”
For an instant, the cool bravado that Dylan wore like armor slipped, and Mike masked his reaction to the god-awful scent. “Um—”
Possum yowled. Saved by the cat.
Dylan reached a hand toward Possum, who hissed and took a swipe at him. He jerked back and laughed, a sound nearly foreign to Mike’s ears. “Okay. I’ll let you get settled. What’s his name?”
Seeing the smile on the kid’s face made Mike doubt his suspicion that Dylan was in trouble.
“Her name is Possum.” At Dylan’s raised eyebrows, Mike said, “Long story.” Dylan followed him up the sidewalk and into the house.
“What did you do with my shit?” Dylan asked, scowling at the space currently filled with a litter box.
Of course he’d immediately focus on how this cat would inconvenience him, even though the stuff Mike had moved hadn’t been used in years, as far as he could tell. “It’s safe, don’t panic. I put it in the closet.”
“I wasn’t panicking, I just asked a question. Christ.”
“Don’t swear. And don’t be so defensive.” Mike realized as soon as it came out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have said that last part.
“Okay, Mom,” Dylan said. “I just asked a question. You’re so worried about everything I say and how I say it.”
“You don’t want to go there,” Mike said. Less than two minutes together and they were already at each other’s throats. He might not trust his brother, but he’d promised their grandmother—on her deathbed—that he’d look out for his siblings. Evan hadn’t needed Mike in a long time, but Dylan had, and Mike had failed him—miserably. He sighed. “Look. I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“Whatever.” Dylan opened the refrigerator, and then closed it again. “We need groceries.”
“We always need groceries.”
“Why didn’t you get food when you picked up the cat supplies?”
“I didn’t want to leave her alone in the car for too long. Do you want to order a pizza?”
Dylan walked to the freezer and opened it, displaying a half dozen frozen pizzas.
“I bet Evan’s got roast beef and fresh organic green beans tonight, or eggplant parmesan and tofu muffins. You could call him.” Mike tried to keep the defensive tone out of his own voice.
A reluctant smile crossed Dylan’s face. “Yeah, but then I’d have to listen to a lecture on the decay of modern society as a result of poor hygiene and video game-induced ADHD.”
“True that. See how lucky you are to be stuck with me?”
Dylan shook his head. “As long as I can keep ignoring you, and you keep ignoring me, we’ll probably be okay.”
Mike started to speak, then thought better of it and said instead, “Speaking of ignoring you, where were you tonight?”
Taking a gallon of milk from the fridge, Dylan removed the lid and sniffed. He shrugged, then turned to get a glass. He poured his drink, then lied straight to Mike’s face. “I was helping my boss, Dr. Kane, at her lab.”
His boss, Dr. Kane, who had been with Mike at the animal shelter. How fucking dumb did Dylan think he was? And whose ass was he trying to cover—his own, or someone else�
�s?
Chapter Six
Why did mornings have to be so damned bright? Couldn’t one just ease into the day with gradually increasing light? Oh yeah. One could. If one got up before the sun. But Lauren had experienced her dawn’s early light for the year yesterday.
She slammed the door of her aging Ford Explorer and heard something crunch inside the panel. She looked, but didn’t see any stray car bits laying around the parking space. Hopefully, whatever it was wouldn’t wind up costing too much to fix. If she were really lucky, it would be a random gremlin noise and not even be anything that needed fixing. Until proven otherwise, she was going with that hypothesis. She was pretty good at ignoring problems unless they interrupted her workflow. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she walked toward the Bio building.
The trash can serving as a possum home rattled, and she dropped in a handful of dry cat food as she passed.
Lauren pulled open the door to the building, annoyed with herself for looking to see if Mike was anywhere nearby. She paused, taking a moment to appreciate the ancient part of the building, and breathed deep, the scents of old wood, a little mildew, strong coffee, and the faintest undertone of sweat socks filling her lungs. The coffee scent was pleasant—the sweat socks, not so much—but it was all part of her home turf, and she loved it.
She mounted the worn marble steps to the second floor and pushed through a set of double fire doors to the new wing, where her lab sat behind a steel door, in sterile brightness, between other clean, shiny labs.
She needed to focus on her presentation to the Pemberton people—the one where she explained about her study and begged for funding—but after her interesting run-in with Mike The Hot Maintenance Man the night before, funding wasn’t front and center in her mind—Mike was. Something told her he hadn’t stopped by intending to adopt a pet. Had he gone there because he was interested in her? Maybe? She was pretty sure she’d caught him checking out her boobs. And he’d gotten that look on his face that sometimes meant a guy was about to kiss her. Except the usual guy who wanted to kiss her wasn’t generally someone she wanted to kiss back—so she could be very wrong about that body language. There was certainly nothing usual about Mike Gibson.
Deadly Chemistry (Entangled Ignite) Page 4