Felicity’s heart rose for a moment. But she wasn’t buying it. “How can he be clan? The newspaper stories, the foster care, the human woman he was placed with—the clan should have come for him.”
Oscar raised his brows at her. “Should they indeed? I know nothing of bear politics. But from what I’ve learned, there could be no blood vendetta against either Mathilda Sommers or Baby Boy: Thorn.”
“There has to be. The bear who took out the mother, who tried to kill Thorn…” Oh, no.
The detective’s face went grim. “I see you are putting it together.”
“It can’t be.”
“Mm. But it must be. The attack on young Baby Boy Thorn and his mother was not directed at the mother, but at the child.”
“Infanticide,” Felicity breathed.
It was unheard of in this day and age, at least among shifters. In the animal kingdom, it happened all the time, but the human halves of shifters put a stop to the practice long ago. The predator was trying to kill the child to force the mother bear into estrus, to dominate her by grief, loss and instinct. It was a monstrous practice. “If it’s true, and frankly, it’s a little too horrible to contemplate, what would the killer gain from coming after Thorn now?”
“As I say, bear politics is a mystery. But given the byzantine nature of los osos’ holding company, and the simplicity of the deeds themselves, I would say this murderous bear would gain the property by some archaic clan law. Or perhaps, he would simply force your novio into signing them over.” Oscar shrugged expansively as the appetizer arrived.
Felicity suddenly felt ravenous. Her mind furiously worked all the angles. Not only could she solve her problem with the asshole investors, she could keep dumb shit Thorn from getting killed. Pissed off as Felicity was, she didn’t want that.
“From the way you are attacking the French onion soup, may I assume that my work is done?’
She nodded, not stopping the shoveling of food into her mouth.
“Excelente.” He shoved a file folder across the table. “Here is the information. My bill is on the last page. You have my number, should you ever come to your senses.”
Felicity ignored him, putting away the soup, the entrée, and even considering dessert. She was going to need energy to pull this off. She paid the check and headed out. Pierre stood near the front door. She addressed him in her best French.
“I apologize for my friend at brunch yesterday.”
“Not necessary. The gratuity he left was more than generous. Besides, we have a spare. This is not the first time a guest has dropped the restroom key in the toilet.”
She paused, making sure she understood the maître d’ correctly. “Really?”
“Indeed. As they say, merde happens.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I don’t understand any of this. It’s so confusing. So weird!” Sally sat in Thorn’s passenger seat pressed all the way against the door.
Welcome to my world, he didn’t put voice to the words. “I promise I’ll do what I can to help you. But I’m not too good at it myself. Just ask The Vet.”
“She’s so creepy. How does she know all this stuff? What is a supernaturalist, anyway?”
Thorn had no clue. He drove on, the glow of dawn visible in the east. He had work today, and he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Life had gotten too insane for sleep.
“I didn’t mean to mess things up between you and that woman.” Sally kept her eyes glued to the passenger window.
“Not your fault.” It wasn’t, no matter how squirmy and naked she was in front of Felicity. How the hell was he going to explain this? He felt his spirits sink lower and lower with each mile.
“Why is this other werebear after you?”
“Don’t say werebear, say bear shifter.” Thorn sighed. “No idea. Sybil says it’s because I’m a shitty apex predator. I’m supposed to be king of the woods, but I’m just a slacker.”
“So this other bear is going to fire you?”
Thorn was pretty sure the invading predator was going to do a lot worse. The dead animals, the vandalism, the damage done in town all pointed to this apex challenging Thorn to mortal combat. “Something like that.”
He pulled into the empty lot outside the Squirrels Nuts. Sally’s eyes were everywhere before she ran inside. Thorn tried not to catch sight of her ass as the shirt blew in the breeze. He did anyway. With the clock on his dash showing it was near seven, he barely had time to stop off at the trailer and grab his tools before work.
With no coffee, he headed toward Ripple. The Johnsons were adding an extension to the back of their house, but the trees too close. He pulled up to the job site late, and grabbed the chainsaw and climbing gear from the truck bed chest. A couple guys stood around looking up at the tree.
Thorn leaned on the trunk, stepping into a leather saddle and strapping spikes to his boots. “Anything special, or just take it down?”
“Just take it down. It’s too close to the addition we’re planning.” Steve Boyce was the general contractor Thorn worked for once in a while. Boyce was okay, and he paid in cash. Thorn liked that.
“You need the wood chopped and hauled?”
“Just chunked down and stacked in a cord. Bob here’ll use it for firewood next year.”
Bob Johnson was a little guy with big ears. “You ain’t gonna hurt my topiaries none?”
Thorn squinted at the shrubs inexpertly trimmed into crude animal shapes in every possible place to land parts of the dismantled tree. They were the trimmed shrub kind, not the ivy-growing-on-a-cage kind. “You don’t have to get rid of the topiaries to build the extension?”
“Nope. Just the tree.”
Shit. Thorn took in the yard, the tree. Up high, there were a few limbs that had to come down before chunking the trunk. The trunk stood only a few yards from the house, presumably in the way of a future exterior wall. He thought about running a zip line. The next closest trees were a hundred yards away on the other side of a fence. Thorn didn’t want to spend all day tying up a lowering system for five or six limbs.
He walked back to his truck, swung it around, and backed it into the side yard. He grabbed rope from the toolbox and tightly tied one end to his trailer hitch. The rest he carried in a loop on his belt opposite the chainsaw lanyard. It wasn’t the best idea, but neither was a topiary garden in a half-acre yard.
Thorn drew his strap around the trunk of the tree.
“You’re not gonna throw a rope up there?” Bob asked.
“Nope.” Pulling himself up with the strap, Thorn jabbed the spikes of his climbers deep into the wood and levered himself into the tree.
Bob gazed up at him. “Don’t seem safe without a rope.”
“I’m good.” Thorn did his best to climb out of earshot.
When he got a little more than halfway up, he tied the other end of his zip line around the trunk, hauling the carabiner tight. Limbs were just above them. He hooked up the first to the zip line, hauled the chainsaw from his saddle belt, and a wedge from the limb near the trunk.
He could’ve sent the limb sweeping a few feet from Bob and Steve, and watched them run screaming. Thorn’s heart just wasn’t in it. Felicity weighed heavily on his thoughts. It had only been a few hours, and he already missed her like crazy. How long before he saw her again? If ever?
Buzzing, the saw cut through the top of the limb, it was a clean cut. It swooshed down the zip line in an uninteresting way, crashing to the ground a few feet from his truck. He sighed. This was going to be boring.
Methodically, he tied each of the limbs to the zip line and cut them free. Zip, crash. Zip, crash. Yawn. How could he even get ahold of Felicity? He hadn’t gotten her phone number, and didn’t know where she lived, other than Portland. Portland was big. She was a cat, so he guessed she must live in one of the high rises downtown. Cats loved to be up high.
With his heightened senses, Thorn figured he could track her down eventually. It would take a lot of time. The city was a confusing me
ss of bridges, canyon-like streets, traffic and unfamiliar smells. There had to be a simpler way. He tied the last limb to the zip line and cut it free. There was now a big pile of leafy branches between him and the truck. He should probably take care of those first, but he didn’t want to spend all day up in this tree.
Estimating the distance from the secured line to the top of the tree and the distance between the slack in the line and the back of his truck, Thorn started chunking. He also had Sally to worry about. How could he be her mother? He wasn’t all that good at being a bear in the first place. Would she just inherit his bad habits?
Thorn cut a wedge in the trunk a foot above the line, connecting the trunk with a stout line wound around the stumps and small branches jutting from the bark. The bole was thick here, but not very far to the top. Thinking of Sally, he remembered she had Felicity’s card. He could call her at the office!
With that, he made a cut opposite the wedge. Hanging the saw, he gave the trunk a hard shove. Things got interesting. As the top let go, the part of the tree he was hanging on was plucked like the world’s largest guitar string. Thorn gripped the flat top of the cut with both hands to keep from getting vibrated to the ground.
When the tie to the zip line caught, what remained swayed back and forth. Grunting, he kept hold. The tree top hissed down the zip line like a rocket. The front of it swooped low, ripped through the fallen limbs before the back dug into the dirt. He heard the sound of metallic thunder.
Once Thorn felt he wasn’t going to fall to his death, he surveyed the damage. The top of the tree had plowed through his tailgate before denting in the toolbox and smashing the back window of the cab.
“Aw, man. Too tall.”
The job had become more interesting, but not in a positive way.
He spent the rest of the day on speaker phone with his insurance company in between sending smaller chunks of trunk down the zip line. Thorn then sawed the tree down to fireplace-sized pieces and stacked them near the house.
Near the end of the work day, Steve arrived on the site. He surveyed the folded tailgate and crumpled toolbox. “Well, at least you didn’t hurt the topiaries.”
With his cab full of leaves, branches and bark, the wind whistling through the broken back window, he drove off. When he speed dialed the Squirrels Nuts, Sally didn’t answer. While the bar was out of his way, he decided to swing by anyway. He could get the number off that card.
In the parking lot, he saw a sign hanging on the door: Closed due to illness. Sorry. Thorn knew she must be shaken up, because Monday Night Football was a big draw for the bar. He knocked for a while but got no answer.
Aw, man.
Now he had nothing to look forward to but a ride in his newly air conditioned truck to a busted-up trailer filled with debris and the stink of disinfectant. Slate-colored clouds filled the sky between the trees, and an annoying mist fell. Thorn’s mood turned surlier when he felt the light rain soak into the back of his shirt.
Thorn turned into his driveway, and nearly rear-ended the car parked there. An instant before pounding the steering wheel with one fist and the horn with the other, he recognized the vehicle. Felicity’s sporty little ride.
Unsure whether his day was about to get a whole lot better, or a whole lot worse, he parked on the street and jogged toward his house.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thorn burst in the front door, knocking it down. He frowned at the damaged hinges before facing her. “I fucking swear, I’m not boning Sally.” He then started and stared, as if he’d been slapped.
Felicity had planned this out. She sat on Thorn’s couch in her micro-mini skirt, stockings, and tight fitting T-top. Like a footrest, a case of beer sat under her high heels. For a moment, she thought Thorn’s eyes would pop out of his head and his jaw would fully unhinge like his busted front door.
“We’re going to table that for now.”
He kept staring. After a few heartbeats, he said, “Uh-huh.”
She patted the couch beside her with a manila folder. Obediently, Thorn strode over and sat. “I found out a few things about you, things you probably don’t know yourself.”
“Really, I am not boinking the bartender.”
Felicity frowned at him. Thorn shut up. She wanted to believe him so much, but her cat smelled Sally in the trailer. Hackles rose on her inner feline. Rationally, of course, the trailer should smell like Sally, because the little tramp was here not a few hours before. It still burned. Felicity had to remain focused.
“You weren’t turned.”
Thorn side-eyed her, but finally caught on that speaking was a bad idea.
“You’re clan, a born shifter. It’s where your land comes from. This invasive predator isn’t after you because you’re a shitty apex. He tried to kill you when you were a child, but your mother fought him off and died defending you. It’s something that bears do, and cats as well, but we don’t speak of it. Dominant males will often kill off another male’s offspring in order to mate with the female. In this case, this asshole would likely inherit your range.
“We—” She stopped herself. No reason to bring an old flame into this. The situation was complicated enough. “I can’t see any other reason that he would still be after you.”
A moment of silence passed. Thorn raised his hand, as if he were in school. Felicity rolled her eyes.
“So I’m not a shitty apex predator?”
She folded her arms. “I didn’t say that.”
He raised his brows and tilted his head in acceptance. “The Vet said he turned Sally because he wants a mate. He’s ready to take over.”
Her teeth clenched to the point of pain. If he said one more thing about that little hussy—
Felicity reined herself in. Taking a breath, she reached down and pulled a beer out of the case beneath her stilettos. Thorn took it carefully, his eyes on hers.
“I don’t know how bear shifters work things out. Cats arrange territories to avoid infanticide. We have for generations. Lands are kept for maturing shifters, in trusts, all over the world. We’ve understood human encroachment would make things difficult, unless we set this up. Despite our darkest instincts, we no longer kill our babies over mates and territory. I don’t know if bear shifters do the same, I’m not a bear.”
Thorn shrugged. “I’m a bear, and I don’t even know.”
Her eyes stole around the room. Items were broken, the coffee maker carafe, the microwave door, a crack snaked through the kitchen window, the fridge door was dented, the linoleum bore scores of claw marks. While she didn’t know what this dump looked like before, it had been trashed. She had no doubt Thorn was being called out. She pushed the folder over to him. He picked it up and read.
Felicity watched his feelings play over his handsome face. Tense, hot eyes followed by a pulling down of his features; then knitted brows. The file was thin, but it seemed to run Thorn through an emotional gamut.
“Why now?” he whispered, not looking at her. “After all this time.”
“How long did it take until those deeds caught up with you?” she asked. Felicity moved carefully, ready to set the hook. “How old were you when that lawyer showed up?”
Thorn closed his eyes. “About fourteen, I think.”
“So ten years after your mother died.”
“Maybe bears are just slow.”
“Maybe.”
She couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes remained closed. Her heart went out to him as she saw the boy who was left alone in the world. Her hand reached over and took his of its own accord. But no, stay steady, she told herself. She wasn’t here out of kindness or pity.
“He tried to kill me when I was just little,” Thorn said, sitting very still. “He wanted my mother, my range. He would kill a little kid for that? He still wants to kill me. What kind of motherfucker is this?”
Motherfucker. The word jolted Felicity a little with its offhanded accuracy. She didn’t know if the bear shifter would fly into a rage or break
down in tears. He surprised her by maintaining his stillness, except for opening his eyes and his beer. Long moments passed before he knocked it back.
That’s it, she thought, a little mental lubrication would make this go down easier.
Thorn crushed the can, tossed it across the trailer. It landed in the kitchen recycling can. She handed him another. He emptied it as quickly as the first.
“If it’s land he’s after, there’s an easy way to send him packing,” Felicity said quietly.
Thorn made another basket with the empty. His face went placid. “Yeah. The deeds are easily transferrable. I could just sign them over to someone.”
His words startled her. Thorn was definitely smarter than he let on. Hopefully not too much smarter. “That might be the easiest way, until you can sort this out.”
“If I signed them over to you, it might put your life in danger.”
Holy shit, was he actually offering the thing she came to trick him out of? “I would take that risk.”
“That just makes me feel all the worse for hurting you, even if it is this evil motherfucker’s fault.”
God, he sounded so sincere. Could it be true that he hadn’t boinked the bartender, to use his words? Either way, she had to stay the course. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
She handed him another beer. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak until the beer was gone.
“Will you let me sign over the deeds?” Thorn looked at the stains on his carpet. “I don’t have anyone else I trust.”
Ouch, that hit a little too close to home. No, he absolutely couldn’t trust her. “Yes.”
Her hand was still on his, and now she gripped. After all this time, he was still a little boy alone in the world. He had no one. A solitary life was etched in his posture, readable in his blank expression. Felicity considered herself a coldhearted businesswoman, took pride in this. Never had she felt such pity for another.
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