by Kathy Lyon
It was a long shot, but all she had. She held the weapon in shaking hands. It charged with a satisfying crackle, but damn she had no idea if it would take down someone as big as him.
“Vic, you bastard, turn your hairy ass around!”
Nothing. Her brother was still ripping in fury at the tattered remains of his jeans. Then the last seam gave way, and she knew she had seconds before he turned on Simon. Good. She was ready.
Except the minute Vic looked up, Simon tackled him. He sprang forward from the crushed cot and knocked Vic backward. They landed in a crash against the side of the cage, but this was exactly what Vic had wanted. He loved to wrestle and he gripped Simon like the man was a stubborn tick.
“Do it!” Simon bellowed. “Now!”
“Do what?” Run in there? Vic was on the bottom, Simon on top. No way was she going to be able to get through to her brother. And with the way they were fighting, rolling against the side of the cage, she’d be lucky if she wasn’t flattened.
Except now Vic was digging in, his claws ripping into Simon’s back. And as much as Simon fought, throwing punches like a madman, there was no room and no leverage.
“The cage!”
Shoot the cage? Oh duh! It was metal and Vic was plastered hard against it. Sure she’d get Simon, but Vic would take the worst of it.
Without overthinking, she dashed to the side of the cage where Vic’s back was pressed hard against it. That’s what Simon was doing. Pinning the larger creature against the metal. She couldn’t be a 100 percent sure she’d get the prongs into her brother, but she sure as hell would electrify the cage.
“Get clear!” she screamed.
Not possible. He was gripping hard and now she smelled blood. And then the monster opened his mouth to bite. She saw sharp white teeth in a long jaw. No way could she let that happen.
She slammed the Taser against the metal and let it crackle.
Vic roared as his back arched. His arms flew open—or maybe Simon just sprang free—and then Simon began to punch Vic in the face. Over and over.
It was awful. The Taser just kept going. Vic kept roaring, his massive body jerking in spastic contortions. And Simon didn’t stop. He slammed his fists into Vic’s jaw over and over. Too fast for much current to get him, but he screamed with every blow as if it were painful. Or he was furious. Or insane.
She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. And maybe she was screaming and crying, too, as blood and spittle flew.
The Taser cut out and she dropped limply to the ground, her entire body shaking. Simon was standing and his blows kept coming. Over and over, the beat unrelenting. The monster stopped bellowing. His arms had dropped to the ground and his shoulders moved only in time with every blow.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
The sound was wet with every impact, and Simon grunted with every blow.
“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop.” She hadn’t the breath to scream it.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
“He’s down,” Malik said from beside her, his voice a thousand times stronger than hers. “Stop. He’s down.”
Wham. Wham. Wham.
Simon didn’t hear them and one look at his face showed a monster in human form. His jaw was tight, his brows narrowed, and his nostrils flared. There was fury in every moment and the blood came from his hands as much as Vic’s face.
“Simon!” she cried. “Stop!”
Wham. Wham. Wham.
She rolled forward, gripped the side of the cage and screamed as loud as she could.
“Simon!”
His head snapped up, and his fist froze midair. He stood there, his breath coming in heaving pants and his body taut with sweat, blood, and raw fury.
“Stop!”
No movement. Just his breath and his eyes burning into hers. Dark green, red flushing through the white. And his breath as rhythmic as his blows had been. Harsh sounds, but with a regular beat. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
“Simon,” she said, her voice no longer a scream. Now she spoke with the bite of command. “Come out of there now.”
Would he respond to the command? Did she want him to? If he did, then he’d be on the outside with her. Vic would be safe, but would she?
She shoved that thought away. Her brother was the monster. Simon had been protecting her.
She softened her tone again until it was almost conversational. “You need to come out so we can lock him in.”
She didn’t know if he could understand her. He was still poised there with his fist raised. But after two full breaths, he slowly lowered it. His hands went to his sides and his shoulders dropped down as he straightened to his full height. It took him a moment to twist and walk in a stiff gait out the cage door. Then he stepped aside as she closed and locked it. The door was bent, the entire chain-link fencing was twisted, but she managed to get the thing shut and the padlock in place.
And all the while, Simon stood beside her, his breath harsh, still at that steady beat. It was Malik who broke the silence. Malik the scrawny kid who was a dead shot and had been no help whatsoever. At least he hadn’t vomited.
Hell. She’d had the thought too soon. The moment the padlock clanged in place, Malik stumbled to the side. He rushed to the garbage can and lost the contents of his stomach. She could hardly blame him. The stench in here was awful. And yet she did. She’d hired him to protect her and her business, but he’d been useless. What good was a dead shot when she’d told him not to do it? Which made it her fault, not his.
Simon had saved her. But what had he done to her brother? The monster was immobile, its face bloody and body collapsed like a discarded rag doll. A huge, furry, disgusting rag doll.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“He’s breathing,” Simon said, his tone flat. “He’ll probably heal when he reverts to human.”
She spun to look at him. “He’s a shifter, then. He was right.”
“No.” Simon’s dark green eyes burned into hers. “He’s a monster.” Then he turned and walked to the stairs.
She was going to call him back. She was going to demand he explain what he meant. Her brother might look like a monster, but he was sick. And Simon was here to fix that. Vic was an irresponsible doofus who was just starting to get his act together. Simon had to save him.
Except the gouges of dark red on Simon’s back told a different story. Her brother had done that with massive claws. And had his nose been a snout? And he’d been about to bite Simon with a mouth filled with cutting teeth. Not a molar in there as far as she could remember. She didn’t want to look back to see.
So she focused on Simon. She had to say something to him. She had to get him to help fix this. He was their Hail Mary pass and he was leaving.
“Help us,” she said. Not a command. Not even a prayer. Just a simple plea from the heart.
He paused with a foot on the stairs. “I can’t,” he said. Then he left.
Chapter 7
Simon walked steadily outside. He needed fresh air on his face and the smell of trees. He needed clean water gurgling nearby. But most of all, he needed away from Alyssa with her chocolate-brown eyes and her tight jaw. Her shoulders were broad for a woman, but they fit her perfectly as she Tasered her brother in one breath and then begged him for help in the next. No frail flower her, but also not a woman filled with pride. She would do whatever was needed to save her brother.
He admired her for that. But that didn’t mean he could help her.
He stopped walking in the parking lot. The air here wasn’t remotely clean and the stagnant pools of water nearby smelled of urban waste. How did people live like this? Fortunately, the pollution did have one good side effect. His grizzly that had been clawing to spring free, now quieted with a nauseated grumble. It didn’t want out in this urban wasteland. It needed the silence in the UP and the cool darkness of a sky lit only by stars. Here, every neon light, every honking horn reminded him that being a man was not so great a thing.
Unfortunately, he d
idn’t have a choice. He had no way to get back to the UP just yet. At least not until he remembered how to access his money without being able to read. Or failing that, jack a car and drive.
So he stood in the middle of the parking lot and glared at the nearby stop sign. He knew what it was by shape and placement. Knew, too, that it read “stop.” But the shifting white lines made no sense to him unless it was the bend and curve of a very white, very strange plant. Which, of course, it wasn’t.
“Thinking about walking back to the UP?” Alyssa asked.
He hadn’t heard her come outside and her voice should have startled him. Instead, it helped him breathe. He could understand her words and when her scent hit him, he inhaled deeply.
“I have money. I could get a flight home.” It was a lie. His bear was too close to the surface to subject it to the inside of a small plane. What if it went berserk and tore out the side?
She sighed. A quick tight sound that was as much animal as human. It was the sound of a creature changing direction. And when he turned to look at her, she offered him a can of beer.
“Here,” she said. “It’s Vic’s, but no way am I letting him have this right now.”
“Alcohol would be bad for him in his condition.” Whatever monster was inside Vic, it was stirred by fury. Anything that dropped his inhibitions would be like adding fuel to the fire. “It is also prohibited for me in this protocol.”
She cocked her head to the side like a bird inspecting a possible meal. “Awful big words there, Corporal Gold. You could just say you don’t like the brand.” She set the can on the trunk of her car.
“I don’t remember if I like that kind of beer. I do remember that I have things that I must do before it is safe for anyone to be around me.”
She nodded. “Things like remember how to read?”
“Yes. Also, I must sleep and wake as a man.” He looked out past her car to the steady march of houses, some in disrepair, some sporting flowers and fresh paint. This neighborhood wasn’t thriving, but it wasn’t lost yet. “You know what I am, but you don’t understand what it means. You don’t know that I walk a razor-thin line between beast and man.” He gestured to the landscape. “If I become a bear here, how will I survive? And who will I hurt in the process?”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed. Then with a shaking hand, she grabbed the can of beer and popped the top, grimacing as she took a slug. “Vic has shit taste in beer,” she said after a moment.
Simon felt his lips lift into a smile. “That is something I remember.” He looked closer at the brand name on the can. “Vic likes his beer cheap.”
“And plentiful.” She drank some more. He found himself fascinated by the curve of her neck and the steady bob of her Adam’s apple. Female necks were not alluring to him. They were simply the column on which the head was placed. And yet, watching hers held distinct appeal. He could not figure out what he liked the most. The delicate curve, the swanlike stretch, or perhaps it was the smooth landscape of skin broken by a mole just under her jawline. It all interested him.
And then she stopped drinking. He was saddened by that until she thumbed on her phone and spoke into the receiver. “It’s me. I’m outside. Bring me some brownies.”
Her face was animated as she spoke and he was man enough now to appreciate the fullness of her lips and the crinkle beside her eyes when she smiled. She set down her phone then returned his gaze. The arch of her brow lifted her expression into quizzical and his smile widened. But when he spoke, he kept his tone neutral.
“Alcohol is not allowed in this protocol,” he said. “Cannabis is equally prohibited.”
“You’re not the only one standing here, Simon.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, but she waved the gesture aside.
“Besides, these are my brownies. Just sugar, flour, butter, and five times the normal amount of chocolate.”
He arched his brows. “That is a lot of chocolate.”
“Desperate times, desperate measures.”
They stood in silence while Malik brought out a plate of brownies. He set it down on the hood of the trunk with jittery movements and a nervous manner. As if he wasn’t sure who to be more worried about: his boss Alyssa or the monster caged downstairs. She didn’t help him. Just watched the boy with steady eyes as he delivered the dessert, seemed like he wanted to talk, but then thought better of it. A moment later, he nodded to them and went back inside.
Alyssa didn’t speak until the door had shut behind him.
“You can’t help Vic,” she said. Her tone was flat but he didn’t detect any acrimony in it. Just a statement of fact.
“I have never seen or heard of anything like what happened in there.” Just the memory of it made his bear shudder in horror. “I have no answers for you.”
“But you knew about the smell. Back in the car, you asked about the smell.”
He had. But he still couldn’t place that memory. And he sure as hell had never smelled something like that. “I have no answers,” he repeated.
She nodded as she reached for a brownie. “Know anyone who would?”
“I can ask my alpha, but he is in Gladwin and our clan has a policy of staying far away from the Detroit bears.” He shrugged half in apology. “Most believe urban shifters are crazy, bears even more so. At least dogs and cats can exist in a city. Grizzlies cannot.”
She sighed, though it might have been because she was taking a bite of her brownie. There had been a definite note of delight in the sound. A moment later, she proved that her mind was quick in picking up the ramifications of what he’d said.
“So there are cat-, dog-, and bear-shifters. You’re a bear and you’re tied to the Gladwins. There are other shifters—bears included—here in Detroit, you’re just not friendly with them.”
He nodded. Then at her gesture, he took hold of a brownie. It was cool to the touch as if it had been in the refrigerator, but the way it smelled was pure human delight. “Vic was turning into a bear,” he said, his mind cataloging the clues. “I’m sure of it. There was no part of him that looked lupine or feline.”
She stared at him a moment, her expression vaguely horrified. But she didn’t speak. Instead, she took another large bite of her brownie. He mirrored her motions, putting sugar and chocolate in his mouth as if it were a sacred act. Perhaps she had the right of it, he thought, as the taste exploded on his tongue. Rich chocolate and sugar had his human body clicking into focus. He remembered other tastes, other delights, all of them unique to man.
“This is good,” he said as he took another bite. “Perhaps I will add it to the protocol.”
She looked at him with an amused smirk. “I’m honored. My humble brownies in the mighty protocol.”
He frowned, running over her words in his head. He heard the sarcasm, but it wasn’t heavy. More like a wry comment as if to say, “So long as there’s a silver lining.”
Such practicality threw him, and he examined her even closer. She was busy licking brownie bits off her fingers and finishing off her beer. Normal actions, and yet in this situation, it seemed very strange to him.
“Why aren’t you hysterical?” he asked.
She set down her beer, her expression steady. “Would hysterics help?”
“Of course not. They never help. But they would be a normal reaction to”—he gestured toward the basement and her brother—“the situation.”
She shook her head. “If it’s not useful, then I don’t do it. But if you want to melt down, be my guest.”
He leaned against her car and folded his arms as he faced her. She was watching him with a studied casualness. As if she couldn’t care less what he was about to say and yet the animal in him recognized the taut attention she gave him. Everything might look smooth and friendly on the outside, but inside she was as focused as any predator in the animal kingdom. And that made his bear sit up and take note.
“When I left the army, I was an angry mess,” he said. “I knew it was time, but I was still
furious.”
She arched a brow. Obviously, this was not what she expected him to say. “So?” she prompted when he went silent. “What happened?”
“I fought my alpha, stayed drunk, and lashed out at anyone who came close. Eventually I went to the UP where I turned into a bear and stayed that way for ten months until a pushy woman shot me and dragged me to Detroit.”
Her eyes widened but her mouth stayed stubbornly closed.
“And now, I am struggling to remember the basics of being a man. How to act, how to move, how to fucking read.” The curse slipped out and it told him how close to the ragged edge he was. His mind might be in control, but the beast—and all his fury—were frighteningly close to the surface.
He slammed his jaw shut and glared at her. This was her fault. He’d been happy as a bear. And failing that, he’d have been content in his cabin as he waited for his human side to recall the details of human survival. Here in Detroit, he was completely lost. And totally vulnerable.
“You’re getting it,” she said. “You’ve got your protocol and everything. It’ll just take time.”
He snorted. She did not understand his point, so he decided to make it excruciatingly clear. “Don’t you think that one of us should be modeling normal human behavior?”
She grimaced. “There’s nothing normal about this situation. So why should I react in a normal way?”
Because it was human? Because she was his touchstone right now and if she acted bizarrely, then how would he know how to act? Because he wanted her to be normal so he could understand her, and right now she was more mysterious to him than the stop sign he couldn’t read and the brother he couldn’t save.
And while he struggled with his thoughts, she reached out a hand. It was small and feminine, the nails close cut and without polish. When she touched his arm, he felt it all the way through to his spine. Warmth. Comfort. Human connection. It rocked him back on his heels with how wonderful it felt.
“We just need to help Vic. Then I’ll take you back to the UP. I swear.”