My Twin Trouble (Middlemarch Shifters Book 15)

by Shelley Munro

  “Too late to flee, babe.”

  “Joe, the last thing I want to do is run.” Kiera turned and kissed him, a tender joining of lips that reverberated inside him. Kiera Pascoe was the dangerous one. He had no idea how he’d let her go when the time came. Hell, he didn’t want to let her go at all.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks later

  They were letting him out.

  Sly didn’t understand what was going on or why they’d decided to release him, but he wasn’t about to ask them to check their paperwork. A shudder of anticipation rocked his feline. Neither of them liked staring at the four walls of a cell day after day.

  Fresh air. The heat of sunshine on his naked skin. His fur. The ability to wander anywhere he wanted without needing to watch his back for danger.

  God, if this was a dream, please don’t let him wake.

  “You need to sign this.”

  Sly eyed the man sitting across the desk from him. John Wroxham. A lawyer. Short and snappily dressed in a designer suit, he radiated self-importance, except he wasn’t happy about being here. His displeasure shone in his clipped words. He was abrupt and sharp, and his impatience to get this over with writhed inside the private room like an invisible beast. Only the presence of the security guard kept the lawyer close to professional.

  The lawyer’s discomfort and the hour of the night told Sly something else. Someone didn’t want gossip.

  Sly pushed the paper back at him without glancing at the official statement. “What does it say?” No point reading the document carefully if he didn’t like the contents.

  “You will leave tonight and will not speak to reporters or members of the press about your early release.” The man seared him with a hard scowl. It probably scared the crap out of most of his clients, but not Sly. Not any longer. He didn’t trust these legal types.

  “And?”

  “You will not approach Maggie Charles at any time. You will not phone her, write to her, email or text her. You will not communicate with Mrs. Charles or anyone in her family. Is that clear?”

  “Now that’s a real easy promise to give,” Sly drawled. The woman was poison. He’d cheerfully wring her neck and smile while doing it, except murder might land him back in here. “Done.”

  “And talking to the press?”

  “I’m not interested in speaking with reporters.” Sly snorted inwardly. If only the lawyer knew. Sly had an excellent reason to avoid publicity. The taste of incarceration he’d experienced to date told him he’d never survive in a lab with scientists poking and prodding him.

  The lawyer shoved the paper across the desk again and tossed a pen on top. “Sign the paper and you can leave. You’ll find a gray car parked outside. The driver will take you home. All you need to do is sign the paper and we can both leave.”

  Lawyers. Sly didn’t trust them, but maybe he was telling the truth.

  After a brief hesitation, he scooted his chair closer to the edge of the desk and picked up the pen. He read the document through twice. It stated exactly what the lawyer had indicated.

  All he needed to do was sign the paper, agreeing to the terms of his release, and they’d release him.

  “What happens if I get out and the press gets word of my release?”

  “Tell them no comment or, better yet, go on holiday somewhere quiet until the fuss dies down.”

  Doable. If he kept his head down, he might avoid publicity. It wasn’t as if he wanted his face on television or in the papers and magazines. “And if I sign this paper and go back on my word?”

  The lawyer met his gaze squarely and didn’t pull punches. “You can expect to return here for the full term of your sentence.” Truth colored his words. Yep, he meant his threat.

  Sly read through the document again, not understanding his sudden good fortune. There must be a catch somewhere.

  “I don’t have all night,” the lawyer snarled.

  The lawyer didn’t like hanging around with him. Sly bit back his amusement. He wondered if he should take it personally. “What’s the catch?”

  “There is no catch.”

  Sly stared at the lawyer without blinking. The man held his gaze for a brief moment before he became uncomfortable. “If you were my lawyer, would you take the deal?”

  “Anything is better than this place. I hear you’ve spent most of the time in solitary confinement. That can’t be pleasant.”

  “Why isn’t my lawyer here?” Sly asked, his attention still focused on the lawyer. He wanted to snigger when beads of sweat formed on the man’s forehead. “This entire setup smells like fish.”

  “The fewer people who learn about this deal the better. We’d prefer word doesn’t get out and cause curiosity.”

  In other words, someone wanted their butt covered. Sly came to a decision. He scrawled his signature on the line at the bottom of the page and set down the pen.

  The lawyer picked up the paper and tucked it into his briefcase. “I’ll mail you a copy. Will the Middlemarch address work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait here,” the lawyer said. “Someone will come for you. In half an hour you’ll be on your way home.”

  He left the room. The security guard also departed to take up a position outside the door. Sly didn’t move from his chair, scarcely believing what the lawyer had told him. On his way home within half an hour. Fuck, how had this happened?

  If Saber or Emily had managed the miracle, surely they would’ve mentioned it to him during their visit yesterday. Nah, someone else had pulled the strings to secure him an early release.

  True to the lawyer’s word, Sly strode out of the main prison gates twenty minutes later, his scant possessions hurriedly tossed in a plastic bag. Cool, fresh air ruffled his shaggy hair. Above him, the night sky twinkled with a blanket of stars. A car engine fired to life and the prison gates clanged shut behind him. Gravel crunched under the car’s tires as it crawled across the parking lot to come to a stop in front of him. The passenger window whirred down.

  “Sly Mitchell?”

  “Yeah.” Sly bent over to get a better look at the driver. The man was a stranger.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Middlemarch.” The situation held a dreamlike quality and Sly intended to proceed with caution. Any minute now he might wake up.

  “Middlemarch it is. Hop in and we’ll get going.”

  Sly opened the door to the passenger side and the driver headed out. Country music played on the radio, the lyrics about cheatin’ lovers and broken hearts scraping his nerves raw. He didn’t need deceitful lovers rammed down his throat. “Okay if I switch that off?”

  The driver barked out a laugh. “Not a country fan?”

  “No.”

  “No problem. I’ll change it.” He stabbed a button and pop burst through the speakers. “Better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Sly leaned back and closed his eyes. His brain tore around like the workings of a pinball machine. He wanted to understand why. The need to know ate at him, but did he want to fuck up the deal he’d signed with the lawyer? Probably not.

  The last thing he wanted was for them to throw him back in that hellhole. He didn’t like the helpless, out-of-control sensation or being told what to do and when. He hated the way his feline constantly fought for control. It took everything in him to resist the urge to fight the other prisoners. At first they’d picked on him. After a couple of fights that had landed him in solitary, the other prisoners called him crazy and steered clear.

  “You awake, mate?”

  “Yeah.” Sly glanced out the window. With his feline so edgy, his eyes would probably glow weirdly. He didn’t want any questions. Familiar Middlemarch scenery brought a knot to his throat.

  “Where do you want me to drop you? You’ll need to give me directions.”

  “Take a left on the other side of the town then the first right.” Sly feasted his gaze on the flat paddocks and the rolling hills with shadowed piles of schist rock. His f
eline shifted under his skin and he curled his hands to fists. He wanted to crack the window open but worried the stimulus of fresh air and familiar scents would push him over the edge. Hold your shit together until the driver drops you off. Once the man left, he could safely fling off his clothes and give his feline freedom.

  Unable to resist temptation, he cracked the window open and inhaled the fresh, green scents. His feline shoved harder, claws starting to push above his fingernails. He swallowed, fighting the force and focusing on retaining his human form.

  Thankfully, the driver didn’t notice his inner battle, continuing to follow Sly’s terse instructions and peering intently at the slash of the vehicle headlights on the road.

  “There’s a white mailbox coming up on your left,” Sly said. “Take the first driveway past that and keep following it until you reach a hayshed. You can let me off there.”

  “No problem.”

  Sly shot the driver a quick look. The man didn’t seem curious. Sly wasn’t sure he’d manage the same casual tranquility given the same circumstances.

  The driver took the turn and five minutes later, he pulled up outside a hayshed. “You sure you want to get out here, mate?”

  “This is fine,” Sly said.

  The driver waited while Sly grabbed his bag of possessions and climbed out of the car.

  “Thanks.”

  “Good night.” The driver backed up his vehicle and drove off.

  Sly watched until the taillights disappeared from sight and the rumble of the engine merged with the night. Alone, he dropped his possessions and tore off his clothes and footwear with scant regard for their condition. He savored the bite of the night air on his naked skin, the familiar scents.

  Sly quivered and sucked in a lungful of country. It was quiet. Still. It was home and he never wanted to leave again.

  After another deep breath, he released his feline, openly embracing his other self by picturing a black leopard in his mind. His feline tore at his control, the swift transformation from human to feline painful in its intensity. Agony ripped through him and he cried out when his muscles went into spasms. His bones cracked and reshaped so rapidly the shift stole his breath. He crumpled, the ground rushing up to meet him, a sob of distress escaping. Fur raced across his skin and finally the change ended, pain still radiating along his neural paths. Son of a bitch.

  He breathed cautiously, cataloguing where it hurt most. His muscles. They felt tight as if he’d suffered a cramp. Panting, he rose from the ungainly heap he’d curled into to test his limbs. They worked but aches reverberated through him. Sly sniffed the air and when nothing alarmed him, he dragged his tortured body into the open.

  Gradually the twists in his muscles and the pain receded. He increased his speed to a lope and headed into the open paddocks. Sly ran faster and faster until the scenery blurred, glorying in the simple pleasure of embracing his cat. He sped across the night landscape, wind resistance rippling his black fur. He continued until his muscles burned with fatigue and his breath sawed in and out of his lungs.

  Finally, at the top of the highest hill on their farm, he halted to survey his kingdom. When he and Joe first visited this farm, they’d known it was right for them. They’d climbed to the top of this hill and scanned the wide valley below to the distant town of Middlemarch.

  Home.

  God, he was truly home.

  Sly peered through the darkness. The view wasn’t great at this time of the night, but he could imagine the landmarks and that made the difference.

  Time passed—Sly wasn’t sure how long—but suddenly he was eager to see Joe. His lip curled up. Joe mightn’t want his presence after the way he’d behaved. He padded down the hillside, traveling easily through the familiar terrain. When he neared the farmhouse, a muffled cough brought him to an abrupt halt. Low voices. Male voices.

  Instinct told him to remain hidden and he obeyed his gut, slinking through the shadows, his fur blending with the background.

  “How the hell are we meant to grab her? She’s never alone.”

  Sly halted. The voices weren’t familiar. Who were they talking about?

  “We’ll need to keep watch until we learn her schedule.”

  Sly hesitated, unsure about what to do next. The men solved his dilemma by deciding to leave. He waited until he could no longer hear them before rising from his crouch.

  When they’d purchased the property, they’d installed a feline-friendly door handle. Sly rose on his hind legs, directed his weight down on the handle and pushed at the same time. The door opened with only a faint protest. Luckily for him, Joe hadn’t started locking his doors, although with strangers skulking in the night, perhaps it was time they reassessed the security situation.

  A few steps inside, he came to an abrupt halt. The house smelled different. Wrinkling his nose, he continued into the kitchen, his sharp eyesight taking in the changes. The place looked homey, with bowls of fruit, herbs and the lingering aroma of food.

  He caught Joe’s scent and a sweeter womanly one. He’d known about the woman, sensed Joe’s lightening mood when Sly allowed himself to trespass in his twin’s mind. But the intensity of the scent and the way it interwove with Joe’s told Sly much more. The woman lived here with his twin.

  Each room smelled the same and bore feminine stuff. A filmy scarf. A pair of earrings. The stack of motoring magazines in the den brought a frown. An unfamiliar painting on the wall. The stack of blue overalls sitting on a chair in the kitchen confused him since they held the womanly scent. Several photos of Joe with a woman and a couple of group shots of her, Joe plus Jake, Hari and Ambar sat on the mantle. Joe bore a wide smile, his arms wrapped around a dark-haired woman with bright blue eyes.

  A sliver of jealousy wormed into Sly. He batted it away, but the envy returned and took root. They’d always done everything together, yet Joe had moved on without him, changing his life to fit in with a woman. Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he prowled down the passage to the bedrooms.

  The door to Joe’s bedroom was open and Sly made out two closely entwined forms on the bed. Greedily, he breathed in his brother’s scent. He’d missed him—the talking and joking, the way they discussed anything and everything. Hell, he’d even missed the hard grind of working their farm at his brother’s side.

  Curious about the woman who’d invaded his brother’s life and their home, he padded around the bed to get a closer look. Long, curly strands of black hair covered the pillow. Joe curled against her back, his arm around her waist even in sleep.

  Sly inhaled.

  Feline. He caught the faint scent of sex. Not surprising given his brother’s possessive hold on the woman.

  Sly moved nearer, emotions battling inside him. If Joe had been alone, he might’ve woken him, but right now he felt like an intruder. He felt like an outsider—a kid with his nose pressed against the window of a candy store.

  He and Joe always did everything together. Once he’d intended to settle with Maggie and have children. His lip curled as betrayal gripped him. That little happy scenario would never eventuate.

  Sly continued to watch the woman, curious despite himself. His tongue darted out to test her skin, her flavor on the back of her hand. Without warning, her eyes popped open. She stared at him, her lips curling into a sleepy smile.

  “Joe?”

  “Yeah,” Joe murmured.

  The woman’s eyes widened. Her loud scream echoed through the bedroom, and Sly jumped back with a hiss of fright.

  Chapter Eight

  “What the fuck?” Joe’s voice. “Kiera, what’s wrong?”

  “There’s a leopard in the room.”

  The light flicked on and they stared at one another.

  “That one,” the woman said.

  Sly ignored the woman to stare at his twin. To maintain his sanity, he’d forced Joe from his mind and placed an abstract wall between him and his twin. But until now, he hadn’t realized how empty he’d felt without his brother.

  �
��Sly?” The color fled from Joe’s cheeks. “Fuck, bro. What are you doing here?” He slid from bed and rounded the end to approach him.

  Sly couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Instead he stared at his brother, his heart pounding. Happy to be home yet fearful too. He hunkered down, his belly hitting the carpet. Change wasn’t always bad.

  “Shift,” Joe snapped, starting to sound pissed now.

  Sly glanced at the woman and back at Joe.

  “I’ll make coffee.” The woman scrambled from the bed and yanked a T-shirt over her head, covering beautiful breasts. She pulled jeans up her long legs, screening the last of her nakedness.

  “Enough with the staring.” Joe slapped him on the shoulder, jerking Sly’s attention back to him. “Shift and talk to me. Fuck, you’d better not have done anything stupid.”

  After months of staying in his human body, his feline part didn’t want to transform to two legs again. He opened his mind. Joe.

  Joe cuffed him again and glared. “Shift. I’m going to ring Saber.” He stomped out of the bedroom and down the passage to the kitchen, heedless of his nudity.

  Sly stared after him, loneliness flooding him. He’d assumed he’d feel better once he arrived home, but the isolation crowded in on him, leaving him more alone than ever. He padded from Joe’s bedroom and entered his own. Concentrating fiercely, he managed to bring his human form to mind and grudgingly, his body transformed.

  All his possessions were exactly where he’d left them. A thin film of dust covered the furniture but he found clean underwear and a pair of jeans. He trudged to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to stare at the bottles of girly potions standing alongside his brother’s aftershave and deodorant stick.

  She was everywhere.

  Sly turned on the shower and found a clean towel. The nubby fabric bore the subtle perfume of flowers. Even the shower bore evidence of her presence. Sly picked up the bar of soap and sniffed cautiously. Not too bad. At least he wouldn’t smell like a floral bouquet.

  He stepped under the water, groaning at the sheer pleasure of hot water. The water in the jail was always tepid at best. His eyes slid shut as the water poured over his face. Privacy was such a luxury. Even when they’d transferred him to solitary, there was always someone watching him, either in person or via a security camera.