by Jane Jamison
Tigers of Twisted, Texas 2
Growl for Her
Reporter Kristal Mosley is hunting a story that will catapult her career into the Big Time. When a strange man gives her a video of a white tiger changing into a man, she figures the man’s crazy. Still, a white tiger roaming the plains of Texas? How cool is that?
When the sexy Kristal shows up in Twisted, weretiger brothers David and Darion Conroy get an immediate connection with their intended mate. After showing them the tiger video, they recognize one of their weretiger mates and know she’s headed for trouble.
Keeping the headstrong reporter safe is tough when she won’t listen to reason. They do their best to convince her to forget the story by using every human and beast skill they have. But sex, even wild sex, can only do so much.
Kristal soon learns that the real story is skin deep. But is the truth too much to handle? Will she expose the Conroy men?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 40,652 words
GROWL FOR HER
Tigers of Twisted, Texas 2
Jane Jamison
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
GROWL FOR HER
Copyright © 2015 by Jane Jamison
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-309-2
First E-book Publication: May 2015
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
Dear Reader,
Every book I write is special to me. The stories are fictional, of course, but each book still contains a little bit of me. Yet instead of taking something away from me, the book ends up adding to my life. I hope this book adds something to your life.
Thanks for reading,
Jane Jamison
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
GROWL FOR HER
Tigers of Twisted, Texas 2
JANE JAMISON
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Kristal Mosley cringed at the monitor. She’d never liked watching herself on television, but it came with the job. As a news reporter-slash-on-air personality for a small cable television station in Dallas, Texas, she was often in front of the camera doing short news pieces while the “desk jockey” celebrities smiled and read from a teleprompter. Not that she wanted to simply report the news, but if she had to do another “fluff” piece, she was going to hurl.
“Stop it.” Reggie was her best friend and assistant to the head of operations. At times, she thought he knew her better than she knew herself. He took one look at her and understood what she was thinking. “You look terrific.”
“I guess you’d know,” she joked. “Who better than a gay guy to say who looks good?” It was an old joke, poking at the stereotype of homosexual men and fashion.
Reggie flicked a hand at her, waving her off. “Don’t you know it, bee-atch,” he countered, using a high pitch voice. Reggie played along with the game, but he was not effeminate at all. He was built like a brick wall with a beard and a mass of unruly hair. His favorite outfit was an old pair of sweats and a torn University of Alabama T-shirt. He would’ve worn his stained outfit to work if he thought their boss, Harold Gisk, wouldn’t have gone ballistic.
The filmed piece they were previewing was of her standing in front of a historic building in Ft. Worth. The big news story? Whether the city should fund the money to plant new bushes. Yeah, like it would cost more to dig a few holes for shrubs than it did to pay for the police chief’s new squad car. So much for the hard-hitting reporting she’d dreamed of doing when she’d graduated with a degree in journalism from the University of Texas.
As usual, Reggie picked up on her thoughts. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there. You’re still paying your dues. I bet Old Harold will give you the next big story.”
“I hope so.” It didn’t matter if he was right. She should’ve gotten further in her career after three years at the station. Although she’d managed to remain patient, covering stories of kittens being rescued from storm drains and the scores from the local kids’ baseball tournaments were wearing her down.
“How about getting together for a drink later?”
If anyone could cheer her up, it was Reggie. “Sure, but you’re buying this time.”
“Then I’m picking the place.”
“Urgh, Reg. Please don’t make it another sports bar, okay? I don’t think I can handle all the shouting. I mean, come on, it’s only a game.”
He pretended to be horrified. “Only a game? It’s a religion.”
“Don’t give me that. It’s baseball season. Even I know football’s king in Texas.”
“Well, at least you’re learning something.”
“I am, but not tonight. No sports bar.”
>
“Okay. No problem.” He swiveled his chair toward the monitor. “So is this ready to air?”
Not if she had a say. Unfortunately, she didn’t. There was only so much pizazz she could add to make the story interesting. “Yeah, it’s ready.” She picked up her tablet and slid her palm along Reggie’s arm. “Check you later.”
She headed down the hall to her tiny office. Maybe it was time to make a change. She’d had a couple of online news sites contact her, offering her the chance to be her own boss and choose her assignments, but going freelance was a tough way to make a living. Even if the stories she covered were boring, a regular paycheck was a necessity.
“Ms. Mosley?”
The large man behind her was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, presenting an image of normality, but he had an air about him that was anything but normal. He was so tense he made the word tense seem inaccurate.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She glanced behind him, thinking he had to be with someone to have gotten into the office area of the station.
“I’ve got a story for you.” He spoke in a harsh whisper and glanced over his shoulder.
You, my mother, and a ton of friends. All of them with stories that were either mind-numbingly boring or had been done to death by countless other reporters around the country. She launched into her practiced speech. “I see. And I’d love to talk to you about it, but the station has guidelines. The usual channel for submitting news stories is—”
“No, no. I want you to have it.”
Shit. I’ve got a crazy one.
“What’s your name?” She’d need it for the restraining order.
“Henry.”
“Why give the story to me, Mr.…?”
The wild gleam in his eye didn’t make her feel any better. Would security hear her if she screamed? Or were they talking and hanging out in the lounge like they did almost every day?
He didn’t fall for her trick to get him to tell her his last name. “You did the story on the white tigers at the zoo last year.”
Great. He’s a fan. “I did.” She forced a pleasant smile, but was ready to run as soon as he took another step toward her.
He took a quick look around. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true. Still, you’ve got to believe me.”
She hated it when someone said she had to believe them. Usually that meant they were either lying or delusional. “I’ll do my best.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I saw a man change into a white tiger.”
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner! Crazy is as crazy talks. Still, at least he’s sane enough to know he sounds off his rocker.
She tried not to dismiss him too quickly. After all, why make him angry? “You’re saying a man turned into a tiger. Like a man changing into a wolf? Like in the movies?”
He pointed at her, accusing her. “You don’t believe me. I can see it in your eyes. But it happened. I saw him.”
Time to get the hell out of here.
She began working her way down the hall backward. No way would she take her eyes off him. “Look, Henry, if you’ll go to the lobby, I’ll have someone talk to you.” If she could get him there, she could get to a phone and call for help.
“No! Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m insane.”
She shook her head, fighting the rise of panic constricting her throat. “No, no. I don’t think that at all. It’s just that I’m not the one—”
“See for yourself.” He thrust out his arm at her.
She jumped then settled down when she realized he held a phone and not a weapon. “Sir, please don’t make any more sudden moves, okay? I’ll tell you what. If you’ll stay back, I’ll take a look.”
He immediately stepped back, bending forward and putting his head down. But he kept his arm outstretched.
Now would be a good time to haul ass.
She didn’t intend on checking his phone, but when she caught a glimpse of the screen, she froze, her escape plan forgotten. Narrowing her eyes, she took the phone and stared at it. Then stared again. And again.
No way. It’s got to be a fake. Photoshopped or something.
A large, beautiful white tiger loped along the flat land filled with scrub brushes and a few groves of trees in the background. “Where was this taken?”
As soon as she’d asked, a street sign flashed across the screen. She hit the pause button, and then reversed the video. She thumbed the stop button.
Holy hell.
The state road sign was as readable as if she was standing directly in front of it.
Twisted, Texas
10 Miles
The video was definitely taken in Texas. The land was too familiar for it to be anywhere else. She’d never heard of Twisted before, but then again, Texas was filled with dozens of small towns. Some were so small they weren’t listed on any map. “Where’s Twisted? Is that where you’re from?”
Was there a small private zoo in the area? Or had someone thought it was a great idea to take a wild animal into their home and raise it as a pet? Had the animal escaped? Or had its owner decided it was too large to handle and had let it go? Whatever the reason, it was a bigger story than a dog biting a mailman.
“Keep watching.”
She started the video again. The tiger moved gracefully, apparently unaware anyone was around. “What’s going to happen?”
“You’ll see.”
She watched again, noting how much of the video was left to view. When the big cat slowed to a stop, she was ready to see it turn and attack whoever was watching. Instead, the image of the animal blurred, obscuring its form.
“What’s wrong with the picture?”
“Nothing.”
Although the image was blurred, she could see the outline of the cat change. The tail disappeared and the color got darker, more like tanned skin than white fur. She tried to make out more detail, but it was impossible.
At last, the blur dissipated. She stared as a new image came into view.
A man? Where the hell did he come from?
“You saw it, didn’t you? You saw the tiger change into a man?”
Had she? Her eyes had told her one thing, but her mind was shouting at her to be rational. The video had to be a fake. A really good one, but a fake nonetheless.
“Can you take me to where you shot this?”
Fear radiated through him. He stepped back again, almost cowering. “No, no. I won’t. You have to do it.”
“But why?”
“I’m not going back there.” He nodded toward the phone. “You keep the phone. Study the video. You’ll see it’s not faked.”
“Come with me. I want you to talk to my boss. You can show him the video.”
He shook his head, still backing up. “No. I don’t want any part of it.”
Before she could stop him, he whirled around and dashed down the hall. “Henry, wait. Come back. We need to talk. At least let me give you my contact info.”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow his pace. With one last worried look at her, he skidded around the corner and was gone.
Reggie came out of the control room. “Hey, what’s going on? Who are you calling to?”
“Henry.”
“Who’s Henry?”
“The man who gave me my next story.” She didn’t mention he was delusional. Maybe his mental illness would turn out to be the real story. After all, a tiger running loose was one thing, but a tiger turning into a man? The idea was ridiculous. Still, the tiger had seemed real enough.
No damn kitten trapped in a storm drain this time. This time I’m going after bigger game.
* * * *
David pulled his horse out of a gallop. Riding was almost as good as shifting and running under a bright moon. He drew in a deep breath, loving the smell of the pasture.
“How’s it feel to be a year older?”
His brother, Darion, loved to razz him about his age. He was only two years older, but that was enough.
“I f
eel the same as I did the day before. And I don’t get the senior discount yet, if that’s where you’re headed with this.” At thirty-two, he was hardly ready to be put out to pasture. Truth was, he was in better shape than he’d ever been.
He tipped his cowboy hat back. His brother copied the gesture, imitating him like he’d done when they were younger. Sometimes David didn’t think Darion was aware of what he was doing. It was a habit Darion had picked up while being a pest of a little brother and had unconsciously continued.
But Darion was his own man. He definitely had a style and personality that was different from his. His brother was a charmer and made everyone feel at ease. He often sat back and let Darion carry the conversation. Darion was a smooth-talker, a man who could tell someone to go to hell and have them smiling the entire time.
Still, they were alike in other ways. They both had thick brown hair, blue eyes, and were the same six-feet, one-inch height. He weighed more than Darion, but it was all muscle, even if his brother joked that his muscles were actually hard fat. His eyes were a slightly lighter blue, but once they shifted, the amber was the same. Their biggest difference was how he’d never really liked being a shifter. Darion loved shifting, enjoyed his power, and his ultra-sensitive senses. Those things were fine as far as he was concerned, but there were drawbacks to the whole shifter existence.
Their parents were both white weretigers, but as soon as David had realized most people in the world weren’t shape-shifters, he’d often wished he’d been born completely human. Normal. Just like most men. He wasn’t ashamed of being a weretiger. Maybe it was the old “the grass is always greener” thing, but he wondered what it would be like to not worry about being seen in his tiger form. How much easier would life be if he didn’t have the animal inside him scratching and biting to get free?