Since he couldn’t exactly pull the door open and walk in—folks tended to get a little nervous when non-automatic doors opened and shut by themselves—he headed in that direction, then leaned against the wall and waited for another customer to come by. To pass the time, he listened, trying to hear if the collie was saying anything interesting. Maybe he could find out if it was a stray, lost or abandoned. If it was desperate to get back to its owner, maybe Hale could save Tracy some heartache.
He cocked his head, listening, but didn’t hear a thing. Odd. Most collies had a habit of talking to themselves; they were one of the more articulate breeds.
Not this collie. This dog was apparently the strong, silent type.
Perplexed, Hale moved closer. The dog was sitting right in front of the store, its rump planted on the concrete, as if Tracy were its master and always had been.
Talk about instant loyalty.
Then the dog yawned, its eyes closing and opening wide along with its mouth. Vivid green eyes. Eyes that seemed familiar. Eyes that he’d seen recently, at the coffee shop with Tracy.
Right then, Hale knew. Loyalty had nothing to do with it. This dog wasn’t there to help Tracy. This dog was there for the belt.
That damn collie was his cousin, Mordichai, again.
The whole situation stank of Hieronymous. And Hale intended to get to the bottom of it.
Without materializing, he headed toward the dog. As he got closer, Mordi’s little nose started twitching, and Hale knew he’d been found out.
The dog turned and gave a tiny little
art
, easily translatable as, “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me like that?”
Hale snorted. “Me? Sneaking up on you?” he whispered. “What in Hades are
you
doing snooping around Tracy?”
Don’t you mean snooping around the belt?
Hale stiffened, his fears confirmed—Mordi knew about the belt. He could best his cousin—easily—but he didn’t relish the thought. Especially since he’d hoped that the guy had decided to straighten up and fly right. Instead, it looked like genetics had won out. Mordi was here doing his dad’s dirty work.
“Go back and tell your dad I’ve got the belt under control. Hieronymous isn’t getting his hands on it.”
You really think that’s who I’m here for? Dad
? The plea in Mordi’s voice was clear.
Why would I risk my own powers by stealing the belt for him? Risk my Probation? Risk my future? Cousin, I thought you knew me better
.
“For years I thought I knew you. Recently, I learned I didn’t.” And just because Mordi had a few tick marks on the “good” side of the Scoreboard didn’t mean Hale was suddenly going to start trusting him.
I thought we got past that little error in judgment on my part.
“Let’s just say you’re on probation in my mind, too.”
Maybe I’m here to help.
“That’s why you’ve been following Tracy? To help?” Hale echoed, wondering if it could be true. “How?”
We Probationers have a lot of hoops to jump through. Maybe I’m here to help you.
Hale wanted to hit Mordi with a few more questions. Like why Zephron would fail to mention that Mordi would be assisting the mission. A suspicious little fact, that. But right then, Tracy slipped out the door, completely laden with shopping bags, and started heading toward Mordi.
“Laddie!”
Mordi—good little shapeshifter that he was—squirmed all over and generally gave the impression of a mutt thrilled to death to see his master.
She just loves me, he barked
.
Hale rolled his eyes, though no one could see it. “You stick around,” he hissed, his voice pitched only for a dog’s ears. “This isn’t over.”
But this time, Mordi didn’t answer. He just licked Tracy’s face and gave a pleased look clearly suggesting that, no matter what Hale wanted, at this particular moment, Mordichai was the one getting up close and personal with Tracy.
Well, damn.
“Tracy!”
The voice came from behind her, and Tracy spun around from where she was cuddling Laddie to try and locate the source.
“Tracy! Over here!”
Leon
. Rushing right toward her?
The last person in the world she wanted to see after the utter humiliation of last night.
“What do you want?” She stood up, wiping her hands on her dress. Hopefully, he wanted to jump off a bridge into traffic. But she doubted it.
She glanced behind her, hoping Deena and Lane were there for moral support, but they were still inside the store, giving their own credit cards a major workout. Only Laddie was around. His eyes were wide and earnest.
“You look beautiful.” Leon’s puppy-dog expression matched Laddie’s. Considering the hideous way he’d behaved at her house last night, she couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was schizo. Then she wondered how much
The National Enquirer
would pay for an article about how America’s latest heartthrob needed to be locked in a loony bin. Enough for her property taxes?
She imagined Leon in a straightjacket and a padded cell, and had to admit the thought was tempting. She’d never do it, of course, but she could cherish the image.
“Listen, Leon. I’m really not in the mood. I’m shopping with friends—”
“I’m a friend.”
“The hell you are.” It burst out of her on a spurt of anger. She considered taking it back, especially when she saw his puppy-dog eyes get all wounded, but the truth was the truth. “You’ve been a total jerk.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, real contrition in his voice. “It’s just that, well, you make me nervous.”
“I make
you
nervous?” The thought cheered her, and she wondered if she shouldn’t give him another shot.
No
. Shaking her head, she reached for common sense and held on tight. “Forget it, Leon. You already fooled me twice. I’m not getting up to the plate to strike out. It’s
not
going to happen.”
Beside her, Laddie growled and bared his teeth, his eyes focusing on Leon’s groin.
The blood drained from Leon’s face, and he took a step backward.
She patted Laddie’s head. “Good dog.”
“Can’t I even buy you a drink? A soda? A cookie?”
“No.” She was rapidly moving from angered humiliation to simple anger. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d just leave.”
“I can’t. I—”
Something rushed by him then, and Tracy thought the something would rush by her, too, until she felt extra-large hands gripping her around the waist and pulling her to the ground. A burly man with flaming red hair, a pockmarked face, and serious bad breath was just inches away.
“Gimme purse,” said a strangled, voice. It was somehow familiar. Like the guy who’d tried to mug her when she’d had the flat tire.
And what was even stranger was that he wasn’t reaching for her purse at all. Again, he was fumbling at her waist. What was with these guys?
“Pervert!” Tracy screamed and kicked and clawed, but the guy was persistent. Not to mention heavy, and it was all she could do to struggle beneath him. “Get away from me!” she cried. Nothing. The guy didn’t even budge. “Leon! Help!” She managed to turn her head, silently imploring the actor to be the hero he played on the television show.
But Leon didn’t move. Just stood there with his eyes wide. Some hero. Had she really considered having a fling with this guy?
The redheaded cretin made another tug for her belt, managing to grab part of her dress. The muggers in the parking lot, they’d been reaching for her waist, too. She’d thought it was the tire iron they wanted, but...
He fumbled at the clasp of her belt. “Itsa not coming off. Take off. Give to me.”
“Get off me!” Tracy yelled, in no mood to follow orders from a smelly mugger. She twisted out of his grasp, trying to pry his hands from the belt. No way was he getting her grandmother’s belt. It simply was
not
going to happen.
Laddie, bless him, must have agreed, and he lunged at her assailant, sinking his teeth into the back of the man’s thigh.
The mugger squealed and yanked once more at Tracy’s waist. Miraculously, the belt stayed on tight, despite the fact that the clasp had never seemed too sturdy. Thank goodness.
And then the mugger got in her face, snarled, and ripped her purse off her arm. The move surprised Tracy, since up until that point, he’d been totally uninterested in anything but the belt. Reacting immediately, she brought her knee up with every ounce of strength in her body, catching him right where it counts.
She bit back a satisfied, half-hysterical laugh, sure he’d grab his private parts, howl in pain, then keel over. But he didn’t. For that matter, the guy hardly seemed fazed at all.
What the ... ? She’d spent a hundred and fifty dollars and two weekends in a self-defense class for
that? This
guy was supposed to be out of commission. Instead, he was getting away.
And fast.
Already he’d managed to get off her and scurry a few yards away—her purse dangling from his arm—apparently totally unfazed by her oh-so-well-placed knee.
“No!” She was on her feet in an instant, running after him. Laddie was right beside her, yapping his head off.
The behemoth turned and snarled at her, and she knew—she just
knew
—she was going to have to let him get away. And there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it. But, right when she was sure all was lost, someone tall and dark streaked out of nowhere, knocking Super Creep to the ground. As the two went rolling end over end over, Laddie’s yaps transformed into full-fledged barks and Tracy yelled encouragement to the stranger.
They flipped over, and she saw only the creep. Then she blinked, and ... her dark-haired knight looked an awful lot like ... Hale?
She peered closer, trying to get a good look without getting kicked by the flailing limbs. “Hale?”
The tussle stopped for just an instant, and their eyes met.
She swallowed, surprised by the force of her reaction. Once again, her hero had come to her rescue. And damned if she didn’t like the feeling.
* * *
Bop! Ka-pow! Blam! Blooey!
Over and over Hale rolled with the mugger, his mind going a million miles a minute even as his fists were flying faster, each blow sinking into the Henchman’s squishy flesh.
Damn Hieronymous. He’d sent a little Henchman invasion to Los Angeles, and apparently it was Hale’s new job to stop them.
Fortunately, Henchmen might be known for being sneaky and slimy—under their human guise they looked a lot like walking squid—but good fighters, they weren’t. Hale had little nervousness about besting the critter. The trick would be to overpower it without hinting to Tracy that he was any stronger or faster than your average guy.
Bop
! Hale landed another wallop, the Henchman’s nose squishing under the blow.
Blam
! He got it in the gut, his hand sinking where it had no business sinking.
A quick glance behind him confirmed that Tracy was watching the whole thing eagerly, gnawing on her lip as she jumped up and down, yelling encouragement to him.
Pow! Pop
! A one-two punch, and the Henchman groaned. Hale assumed he’d hit him in some sensitive spot. Not that he could tell. The mugger might look human, but he felt like a glop of goo, and fighting goo wasn’t easy. Even for a superhero.
The creature kicked and flailed, but Hale dodged his blows, and with Tracy cheering him on, he reached out and grabbed her purse, not sure why a Henchman would want it. Perhaps it was similar to spoils of war—if the beast couldn’t take the belt to Hieronymous, he’d take the purse. The weird part was that Hale had no idea why the Henchman hadn’t managed to get the belt off Tracy’s waist. At the moment, though, he supposed it didn’t matter. The belt was safe and Hale needed to recover Tracy’s purse and snare the bad guy. Yet while he managed to close his fingers over the leather strap, the Henchman himself slipped from Hale’s grip. In no time at all, the monster was gone, jiggling away down the stairs at the back of the mall.
Hale considered running after him, then decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead, he’d corner Mordi and find out what exactly was going on. He glanced around for the dog, then sighed. Apparently, after sinking his teeth into the fight, Mordi had flown the coop, too.
Still, the fact that his cousin had helped Tracy at all gave Hale pause. Was Mordi really firmly entrenched in the Council now? Or was he still playing both sides of the fence?
He didn’t have time to ponder the question, because Tracy launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You did it!” she yelled.
Considering the outcome hadn’t ever really been up for debate, he felt a little hypocritical accepting her enthusiastic kisses. But not hypocritical enough to peel the girl off. If she wanted to thank him, who was he to say no? After all, Protectors protected. He’d just been doing his job.
AH in all, it felt pretty nice.
Her arms were still around his neck when Tracy stopped dusting his cheek with kisses. Leaning back, she looked him in the eye, her expression almost horrified. “I’m so sorry.” She let go, sliding off him and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean—”
Before he had time to reconsider, he took her hand, pulling her close until her breasts were pressed against him. “Are you telling me I have to give those kisses back?”
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, its tempo increasing.
“No.” A single, breathy word. “The kisses are yours to keep.”
Deena stepped out from the storefront where she and Lane had just appeared. “Do you want to tell us what’s going on?”
Hale shot them each a meaningful glance. “I’m going to take Tracy home. Whose car did you come in?”
“Tracy’s,” Lane said.
He turned to Tracy. “Give me your keys.”
For a second, he thought she was going to protest, but then she dug into her purse and tossed him a key ring.
“Can you get into your house?”
Tracy nodded. “I have a spare.”
“Here.” He stepped closer to Lane. “Drive Deena home. Then head on back to my sister’s. I’ll give you the full scoop in the morning.” When she nodded, he lowered his voice. “Tell Zoë what happened. Tell her the Henchmen aren’t just in the Valley anymore.”