Battle Scars (21 page)

“Bastard,” Bran said seconds after the doctor left. “He would have killed us where we slept. Trash the house, make it look like druggies knifed us up looking for cash. With your neighborhood’s rep it’d get by the cops without too much noise.” He went to scratch his bandaged torso and stopped, holding himself back. “Maybe a rumbling or two, courtesy of Hank, but it’d go under as a cold case soon enough with the way they keep secrets.”

“They” being the Felis.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in the shivering.

I was getting too old for this crap.

“Think Jazz is okay?” Bran asked.

I shrugged. “She’s a tough old broad. Hopefully she just got rattled by the entire thing.”

He chuckled. “Did a good job on his face. Wonder how many stitches he’ll need for that.”

I gestured at the thin scratches on his torso. “Not enough for doing that to you.”

We’d both accepted antiseptic ointment and bandages on our wounds.

Bran poked at them again, drawing his fingers over the itchy skin. “More love scars. At this rate I’m going to look like Frankenstein if we make it to old age.” He reached out and took my hand. “That wasn’t all Jazz’s claws on his face, if I recall correctly.” His fingertips traced my knuckles and he grinned. “You brought it, girl.”

“Damned unreliable.” I flexed my fingers, feeling the already-healing skin twitch with pain. “Damned freak.”

“Don’t say that.” Bran hopped off the examination table and pulled me into a hug. “Jazz might have started it but you finished it and saved us both. If you hadn’t clawed him he wouldn’t have stepped back and fallen.”

I tucked my head under his chin with a weary sigh. “I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s fine.” Jess said from the doorway.

Bran rolled his eyes. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” She strolled in. “Jazz is out in the car, safe and sound. Amy gave her a clean bill of health but says she should take it easy for a few days.”

I snorted as I pulled away from Bran. “Be lazier? That’s not going to be possible.”

Jess smiled. “Tough little kitty.” Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the fresh bandages through Bran’s half-open shirt. “McCallister do that?”

“Yep.” Bran fastened the buttons. “Told them McCallister scratched us with his fingernails, psycho attacker. Figure it’s as good as anything else to put on the report.”

“Well done.” Jess turned to me. “This is one hell of a mess.”

“Is Evan okay?” I asked.

“He’s fine. Pissed off to the max, but fine. Everyone’s pissed off.” Jess shook her head. “McCallister was acting on his own, so he says. Mary’s denying everything and there’s no way to prove she put him up to it.”

I thought about asking how Jess’d managed to talk to McCallister, considering he was supposedly under arrest and isolated from everyone.

I reconsidered when I heard the anger in her words. Jess had her ways with humans and Felis alike—she got what she wanted.

“What was ‘it,’ actually?” Bran asked.

“Kill you, kill Rebecca and then burn the house down to hide the trail. Straight-out revenge for Mary losing leadership of her family and his demotion.”

“Bad ass.” Bran let out a low whistle. “What happens now?”

“Prelim report says he’s got a broken back, possible paralysis. There’ll be discussions on farther medical treatment but I think he’s paid a pretty price up front for trying to take you both out.”

Bran shifted from one foot to the other. “Going to be a hard life for him. Wasn’t what I wanted to happen.”

Jess fixed her one good eye on him. “From what I understand he dragged you down the stairs after him, seconds after he tried to kill both of you in bed. I wouldn’t spare any tears for the bastard.”

“I wasn’t,” Bran said. “Just don’t like it being my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jess replied. “It was his for being a fool. Killing you and Reb would start a shitstorm and he was okay taking that road. His choice, his results.” She turned back to me. “I can take the two of you home if you’d like. Save the cost of a cab.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I’m not sure what I’d like right now.”

Bran took charge. “That’d be nice, thanks.” He tilted his chin toward Jess with the right amount of submission.

She eyed him. “You’re getting quite the rep, kit. Taking out Carson and now McCallister.” There was a twinkle in her eye. “You sure there isn’t any Felis blood in your family line?”

Bran grinned. “Nope. Just good old red-blooded human male. You’d be surprised at how much we can do once we put our mind to it.”

She arched one eyebrow, raking him with her gaze. “I’ll make a note.”

I took Bran’s arm. “Enough. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Jazz was lying on the passenger seat as I opened the door. She merped as I got into the front seat and climbed into my lap with a slow weariness I could sympathize with. Bran sat in the back and said nothing.

The sun was breaking over the horizon, dodging between the houses as we drove. Jess said nothing until she stopped behind the police car sitting in front of my house.

I waved at the uniform, who seemed grateful to be released from guard duty. He pulled away from the curb at a fast clip, leaving Jess’s car alone on the street.

Bran inspected the broken lock.

“Idiot didn’t even try to pick it.” He ran his finger over the shattered wood. “Dug in with something and pulled it out.”

“His claws,” Jess offered. “Had the gall to stand out here and dig the lock out with his claws.” She sighed. “If he weren’t hurt enough already I’d challenge him. This is beyond stupid.”

I walked in, carrying Jazz in my arms. “Do you want to stay for tea and toast? I don’t think I’ll be able to call the locksmith before eight and—”

Jess put up her hand. “I’ve got work to do, least of which is making sure Mary Chandler and Nathan McCallister are held responsible for their actions.”

I put Jazz down and watched her limp toward her food dish in the kitchen.

“What can you do?” Bran followed her, kneeling down and adding a handful of soft cat treats to Jazz’s bowl. “Carson got away with killing Hancock and you did nothing. What can you do to them for trying to kill us?”

Jess’s lips pressed together into a tight line and I knew Bran was walking the tightrope.

I didn’t care.

I lowered myself onto the couch with a grunt, feeling my muscles ache with the effort. The last few days had pushed me to my limits mentally and physically.

“When family is the most important thing in your life it’s also your biggest vulnerability.” Jess crossed her arms, waiting for Bran’s response. “You should know that.”

His eyebrow rose but he stayed silent.

“They’ll be dealt with,” Jess said. “That’s all you need for now.”

Bran nodded. It wasn’t a promise but it’d have to do.

I sighed, glad he’d chosen not to pursue the argument. I wasn’t in any shape to deal with it and I suspected he was just as tired.

Time to shift things elsewhere.

“Thanks for the referrals but I think I’ll try to stick to non-Felis clients in the future.” I blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. “There’s got to be other family members who can handle these things. Lawyers, cops, other investigators looking for work.”

Jess walked to the door and paused.

“There are.”

“Then why me?”

She glanced at Bran, a knowing smile on her lips. “Because you’ve got a strong family here. And I wouldn’t put my faith in anyone else to get the job done and done right with honesty and pride.”

Then she was gone, sweeping out into the early morning light before I could respond.

Bran sat down beside me, rubbing his head in a mixture of exhaustion and confusion. “I’m too worn out to think that one over. Can we just barricade the door and snuggle here on the couch until things get real again?”

I yawned and tugged on a yellow and brown afghan lying on the back of the couch. “Definitely.”

Bran pushed a table in front of the smashed door and returned to the sofa. He pulled me into his arms and I laid back, thoughts flitting through my mind like hummingbirds.

Jazz padded over to sit in front of us. She tilted her head to one side and let out a pathetic meow.

Bran scooped her up with one hand and laid her on my front where she spread out like a long white furry blanket, her rumbling purr vibrating through me and by default, through him.

“Damn we’re a strange bunch,” I murmured, feeling myself slipping into sleep.

“Yeah.” Bran’s arms tightened around me as Jazz purred even louder. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * * * *

The adventure begins with the first three books in
the
Blood of the Pride series, available now!

Blood of the Pride

When a severed rabbit’s paw is delivered to her office, outcast
cat shifter Rebecca Desjardin recognizes the summons home. One of their own has
been murdered—and a shocking photo published in a local tabloid—and her Pride
needs Rebecca, now a private investigator, to track down the killer.

Investigative reporter Brandon Hanover wants to find out who
slipped the photo of the half-shifted cat-woman under his door, marking him as a
suspect in her death. Determined to stay one step ahead of the sexy journalist,
Rebecca reluctantly agrees to partner with him to find the real murderer. But as
their mutual attraction heats up, Rebecca finds it harder and harder to keep
Brandon from discovering the existence of the shifter society—and her own true
nature.

Claws Bared

Rebecca Desjardin, a P.I. and cat shifter, doesn’t normally
find herself in strip clubs. But a popular male dancer has been murdered in
Pennsylvania, and it looks like the work of a shifter from the local Pride.
Rebecca has a duty to help protect her kind—and she needs to find justice for
the dead.

Her impromptu trip leaves her boyfriend, reporter Brandon
Hanover, unhappy. He’s only just come to terms with the fact that she’s a Felis,
and their relationship is still so new... Rebecca is determined to deal with the
murder first, then deal with their future.

Family Pride

Rebecca Desjardin isn’t exactly looking forward to meeting
Brandon’s parents. The wealthy Hanovers won’t approve of Rebecca’s blue-collar
P.I. lifestyle—and they certainly wouldn’t approve if they knew she was a cat
shifter.

Rebecca’s Felis senses go on high alert when Michael, Brandon’s
father, strong-arms her into taking a quick job for one of his employees. If she
doesn’t agree, Michael will dig into Rebecca’s past to prove she’s not fit for
his son.

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About the Author

Sheryl Nantus was born in Montreal, Canada, and grew up in Toronto, Canada. A rabid reader almost from birth, she attended Sheridan College in Oakville, graduating in 1984 with a diploma in media arts writing. She met Martin Nantus in 1993 through the online fanfiction community and moved to the United States in 2000 in order to marry.

She loves to play board games and write haiku, although not usually at the same time. She also spent more than fifteen years in private security, working at hospitals and high-security sites.

A firm believer in the healing properties of peppermint and chai, she continues to search for the perfect cuppa.

In 2011 she won two second-place Prism Awards from the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter of RWA.