by Holley Trent
Even with her sharp vision and suspended disbelief, Dana could hardly believe what she was seeing.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered as the Cats in the group stood around them, murmuring and watching as the boys were dragged away.
“I think that’s what got me last night,” Patrick said.
At the sound of a gun magazine snapping into place, they all turned and looked at Sarah.
She nodded toward the woods. “Those kids may be dumb as fuck, but they don’t deserve to be eaten alive by those things.” She took off, a near-blur in all black with her dark ponytail bobbing behind her.
The look Patrick gave Dana said, “Do not,” but she would. Maybe it was the cop in her.
Maybe it was her mother hen instincts, and not just for her reckless shrew, but for those idiots kids.
She pulled Patrick’s Ruger from her waistband, handed to him, and set off after Sarah with her semi-automatic loaded and ready to kill.
The last thing she heard was, “Patrick, you better stay. If they see you, you’re gonna be the next one with a target.”
Dana hoped he’d stay, too. Fighting would be easier without a dirty cat distraction.
___
“I’m a fucking idiot,” Dana said as she and Sarah crouched low in the brush, waiting for a chance to strike.
The Bears had shifted back into human forms, but were tired for it. Apparently, their bodies weren’t meant to shift so frequently outside their normal moon phases, and they were forced to rest.
Dana didn’t know what they planned to do to the young Cats, but they had left them tied to a couple of trees while they lounged nearby. One Bear had even started a fire. Whether it was for warmth or cooking, Dana couldn’t say. Her gut said it wasn’t there for marshmallow roasting.
“You’re not an idiot,” Sarah whispered back. “You’re in love. Maybe that’s the same thing, though, given what we’ve been through.”
“I’m not in love. I’ve only known the guy for a day.”
“You’re in love. That guy’s so needy he should have his own charity and fundraising telethon. If the potential for love wasn’t there, you would have went home yesterday and left a bill for all your trouble.”
Burn.
No one could have pegged her like Sarah.
“Maybe you’re right, but it’s not going to work.”
Sarah craned her head and they watched as one of the young men tried to wriggle free. If he kept it up, he’d arouse the attention of the Bears, and that would make the Shrews’ rescue attempt all the more unpredictable. “Stay still, you little motherfucker,” Sarah murmured before stooping low again. “Why not? Serious question.”
“Because…”
Hell, Dana couldn’t say why. It wasn’t something she could easily articulate.
She fondled the handle of her gun like a worry stone and fixed her gaze on the smallest Were-bear of the bunch. For some reason, he seemed to be transmitting leadership vibes. He was so small compared to the rest, though. Certainly he wouldn’t be any good in a fight, so why was he coming across as the one for her? Maybe it was that damn gut of hers on the fritz.
“Do you want me to tell you to do it? Is that what you’re waiting for?” Sarah asked.
“Do what?”
“Have a go with Mr. O’Dwyer.”
“I don’t need that.”
The skinny man stood and poked the fire. Then he placed his hands on his hips and nodded to a heavyset woman who’d come through the woods with some burlaps sacks. She dropped the bags and left. He bent over the bags, rooting through them. He must have pulled something out which Dana couldn’t see, because one of the boys let out a long, undulating scream, and his eyes went huge and round.
“He must have some kind of weapon,” Sarah said.
She raised her gun and Dana pushed down her hands. “Wait. You can’t get a clean shot.”
The man stood and the thing that had given the boy such a fright was a Bowie knife—the kind hunters used to skin their game. He held it flush against the young man’s naked chest and milked a scream from him. When he drew back, there was a blade-shaped brand on boy’s skin.
The little man laughed.
“Silver,” Sarah whispered.
“Think so. I wonder what else is in that bag.”
Leaves rustled behind them and they both startled, aiming their guns into the woods only to find a large, golden mountain lion with gray eyes, stalking close with its distended belly to the ground. Dana put her body in front of Sarah and hissed, “Get back!” keeping her gun poised on the beast.
The cat crept closer and another, sleeker with yellow-gray eyes emerged from the dark foliage. The larger cat stayed put, breathing heavily through its open mouth and baring its teeth, while the other came closer—slowly—keeping its eyes trained on the barrel of Dana’s gun.
Both women crept back.
The cat advanced, lowering his head in a submissive gesture, but walking with confidence.
Oh.
When he was close enough to bite, he swatted a paw at her leg playfully and sat his rump on the ground next to them.
“I thought you were supposed to stay in the clearing.”
He gave his silky head a shake. Apparently, the kitty cat learning curve was short for Patrick if he was in control of his beast already.
Maybe that’ll keep him from chasing furry tail.
She scoffed even thinking it. I’m a jealous stereotype. That’s fucking awesome.
“You’re going to be in deep shit.” She nudged Cat-Patrick.
Both cats nodded.
There was another scream, this time from the other young man.
One of the Were-bears had set a large cooking pot over the fire and stared across the licking flames at the young man, laughing, while the small Were-bear teased his skin with his knife.
“Playing with their food. Savages,” Sarah said. Her voice was tinged with unvarnished disgust.
Dana gave her dirty cat another nudge. “Shouldn’t they have shifted by now?”
Billy, nearby, shook his head. He could provide no follow-up in his current form, so she didn’t push for clarification.
“What’s the plan, boss lady?” Sarah whispered.
“Shoot to scare, not kill. This is about rescue. We don’t want to be seen. We don’t want to make enemies. Paddy, you and Billy stay back. If you insist on getting into this—”
The first boy screamed again, and at the end of it his voice changed from man to beast. He squirmed against the trunk, his body writhing with pain as his skin stretched over elongating bones. His face widened and teeth sharpened. He growled loud, his pain evident as his body contorted within its bindings.
As if the first boy’s suffering had triggered something in the second, now he started to scream and writhe as well.
The Were-bear clapped and laughed at the display.
No time to make a plan.
Dana turned to the cats and whispered. “If you’re going to get in, don’t let them see you. Let me and Sarah take the brunt of this.”
Patrick shook his head.
“This is my job. I’ve had enough people fucking doubting me. Are you doubting me, too?”
He abased himself, but she got a sneaking suspicion he was going to make her pay for it later.
“Stealth, Sarah,” Dana said.
“Mm-hmm.” Sarah was already screwing on her silencer.
Yeah, she’s so getting a raise.
CHAPTER TEN
Fuck, why is he still here?
Dana locked up a gun case and tried to ignore the clumsy presence in the cabin’s doorway.
Billy just stood there watching as Dana and Sarah packed up their gear and Patrick showered.
The fact neither Shrew had grabbed him by the neck and shaken him until he saw stars was a true testament to their maturity.
“Sorry about knocking you over, Miss,” Billy said for the fourth time to Sarah.
She rubbed her sore s
houlder and rolled her eyes, mumbling to herself about how a perfectly smooth operation had gone pear-shaped because of an overzealous furball.
“Y’all coming back next month? Startin’ to warm up. We might get a pig and roast it.”
“You’re kidding me, right? All this shit up in the air, and you’re talking cookouts?”
Water stopped pounding against the tub floor.
Dana put up her hands in a calming gesture. “Look, Billy, I think we’re both turned off the idea of roasted meat for a while, but thanks.”
Growling, Sarah slipped around the naked old man with her duffel and portfolio and mumbled some more as she passed. “I’m out. Gotta return that truck and get off the ground before that storm moves in. I’ll see you back in Durham, Dana,” she called out when she was safely down the porch stairs.
“Call me when you land.”
Patrick came out a moment later, his hair dark hair slicked back, and his body’s bottom half wrapped in a white towel.
She tried not to fixate on that bottom half, knowing just how magical it was. His top half wasn’t bad, either.
No. Patrick O’Dwyer was all good.
He was the worst kind of distraction, and she needed to get away from him. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, and was terrified that whatever it was, she couldn’t give it to him.
She’d fail at something, and it wouldn’t be the kind of something she could give herself a try-try again pep talk over. Her job may have been to find a missing man, but more and more, she felt like she was the one who needed finding.
She didn’t understand her feelings, much less what to do with them. He deserved better than that.
“I just stuck around long enough to get Sarah packed up. I’m out,” Dana said, her hand already on her bag. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, turned his head toward Billy.
Billy put up his hands, turned, and bounded down the porch stairs.
Patrick went to the door and closed it. “What’s the hurry, sweetheart?”
“Are you kidding me? You were there. We just had a fire fight with a Were-bear with a Napoleon complex, two expert knife-throwers, apparently—welcome to the goddamned mountains—and a bunch of flunkies and lackeys that came out of nowhere, and you’re asking me what the hurry is? Paddy, Paddy, Paddy. Those motherfuckers saw me. They saw Sarah. They saw both of us put bullet holes in a few of them. Now, they may have run away, but I get the feeling they’ll fight another day and soon. Just give them some time to get patched up. If I see those two Cats of yours—”
“No, no, no.” Patrick shook his head, and a dark glint took over his green eyes. “Not my Cats, remember? Those are the same idiot kids that turned me? Who thought they’d rob me and leave me in tatters? And I’m not even talking about the cats. I’m talking about you.”
Me? She looked at her feet. “Uh, what are you going to do? Turn them over your knees and spank them?”
He blew out a breath. “For fuck’s sake. Avoiding the issue, are ya? Well, I dunno. Honestly, the only reason I went out there to fetch the idiots is because I didn’t want you getting hurt. It wasn’t your fight. No matter. I’m going back to Durham to see what’s left of my pub. See what kind of mess it’s in on my namesake holiday.”
“And then next month, what?”
“I guess I’ll be back here.”
“Now that you have a target on your ass from the bears, right? I thought you said your sense of self-preservation was higher than that.”
He pushed away from the door and grabbed the front of her waistband in a flash, drawing her close so her chest ground against his.
Instinctively, her body melted into his, but then her brain got in the way.
She pressed her hands to his chest.
His eyes narrowed. “Look, I helped escalate the mess, so I can’t leave these people on the lurch. Someone has to clean it up.” He stroked her chin with the back of his hand, and she wondered how dare he be so charming, so beautiful when she was so pissed.
“Why does it have to be you? Why can’t you leave them to take care of their own shit? You can lock down next month. Go somewhere safe near home if you’re worried you’ll get out and hurt someone.”
He shook his head and looked at her tenderly before grazing his soft lips across her forehead.
God, he’s going to undo me.
“I’m not the kind of man who takes the easy way out.”
He felt so good, and smelled so nice and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and smothered in his hot kisses for the day…but that would give her hope for something that wasn’t possible.
She pressed her palms against his naked chest yet again, and gave him a small push.
He eyed her curiously, but took a step back, respecting her space.
She walked to the door, heaving her bags up to her shoulders, and gave him one last look over her shoulder. Can’t do this. “See ya, dirty cat.”
Shaking his head, he turned. “Bye, shrew.”
___
Patrick had expected his pub to be a mess upon his return, but it was surprisingly tidy.
He wondered what had gotten into his staff—and whether it was something that could be bottled—as he made his way through the dense crowd. Some 5K runners were still dressed in their excessively festive Saint Patrick’s Day getups and running shoes. They laughed and draped over the bar with their green drinks, filling up their tanks with empty calories.
His gaze landed on the busty blonde stranger behind the bar, barking orders in an accent he couldn’t quite decipher, and the bar’s organization suddenly made sense.
That wasn’t just a shrew, but a Shrew. Had to be.
Maybe there was another nearby—one who hadn’t been taking his calls.
He stopped in the kitchen and found Uncle Simon patting hamburgers into shape.
He dropped the ground beef and made a beeline for Patrick. “Where were ya? I was worried sick. Your dad always handled the business stuff at the old place. I didn’t know what to do. I even hired a woman to—”
“Hey.” Patrick gave Uncle Simon’s shoulders a squeeze. “It’s all right. I had some personal stuff to take care of. I’ll be gone again next month and the month after. Ongoing. We’ll have to put some sort of system in place for my absences. So, who’s the woman behind the bar?”
“She works for Miss Slade. She must have thought we’d need the help today.”
Knew it.
“She’s handy. Strong, too. Already thrown one guy out on his arse.”
“I bet it was quite a show.”
Having seen a couple of Shrews in action, he didn’t doubt it.
He gave his uncle a slap on the back and continued to his office. “I’ll be out in an hour. Need to catch up.”
“Right-o.”
Before proceeding down the hall, he grabbed a stout from the kitchen fridge. He sipped it as he approached the office, and paused with his hand on the knob.
There was breathing inside. No…breathing in chorus.
Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed the door in, hoping to take whomever it was inside off-guard, but they hardly jumped.
There were four women inside. Two he recognized. The other two were unfamiliar.
Grinning, he approached the one leaning onto the edge of his desk holding a glass of green wine. Before greeting her, however, he nodded at the woman perched on his credenza.
“Hello, Sarah.”
She nodded back. “Mr. O’Dwyer.”
He shoved his hands into pockets and shifted his gaze to the woman on his desk. “Hello, shrew.”
Dana let a little smirk quirk her lips up. “Hey, dirty cat.”
“Let’s keep that on the down-low, shall we?” He winked. “Lovely to see you. What’s with the audience?”
“Oh, I thought we should take you up on your offer for drinks.”
He hoped his raised eyebrow conve
yed the degree of suspicion he was feeling. “Really, now. Today? On the busiest day of the year? I thought you wanted privacy for your revelry.”
“Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, though. Mr. Drake has got us all set.” She pointed to the six bottles of green wine uncorked on his desk and the six-pack of stout Sarah was indulging in.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a bit more space? I can open the private dining room.”
She shook her head, and her coy smirk sagged a bit. “Good to know you have one, but booze isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“No?” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her thoroughly, and drape her over his desk, but he could do none of those things with the six extra eyes on him, watching his every move. Here they were, having a conversation as if they hadn’t been intimate two days ago—as if she hadn’t seen him at his absolute worst. As if his cat hadn’t taken a knife in the leg for her.
His thigh tingled where the silver blade had grazed even thinking about it.
“No. Sorry, we’re going to have to pull Tamara off the bar. We need to be in DC tonight.”
“DC?”
She cleared her throat and looked at Sarah. “Got referred for a government contract. We’re going to have to shut down the agency for a few days.”
“Oh.”
She stared down at her hands and he knew, even without catching her scent or feeling the beat of her heart, that she was nervous. The little hellcat, nervous.
Shit.
He reached across the desktop and picked up his phone. He stabbed an internal extension. “It’s Pat. Can you pack the ladies some dinners to go? Something that won’t sweat in Styrofoam. Thanks.” He hung up and looked at Dana. “Give him ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“Hey, ladies. Why don’t we go keep Mr. Drake company in the kitchen?” Sarah suggested. I think Dana needs to settle the bill.”
She scooped up the bottles and winked at him as she backed out. The other two ladies followed her, eyeing him warily and wearing scowls on their lovely faces.
“They’ll kill me if I hurt you, won’t they?” he whispered.
“In your sleep, probably. Cleaner that way.” Her voice was flat, serious, but she managed a grin, and that made him laugh.
He placed a hand at either side of her thighs and leaned in close so their noses touched.