Battle Scars (9 page)

I wasn’t above calling 911 if it got nasty.

She growled something back and he released her with a laugh, stepping away with his hands raised.

I listened, trying to pick up the speech. It was hard to make out over the thumping and vibrating notes but I got something.

“You don’t deserve more than ten percent.” This from the drummer, crouched over his bongos. “You just got here.”

“But I’m good. All you do is bash away.” The guitar player stood up from tinkering with his acoustic guitar, allowing me a clear view of his face. “I pull in the people. You can’t deny that.”

Evan Chandler. Looking a bit rough around the edges, dark circles under his eyes and a definite strain in his voice. But he was alive and healthy and obviously adapting to his new life.

All good. Now I had to get to him and explain that I wasn’t the police, not his enemy and we needed to talk about Lisa and his future plans.

Evan froze in place and turned in a slow circle, taking short puffs.

“What’s up?” This from the flute player. “You okay?”

I held my breath instinctively even though it wouldn’t make a difference. The wind whipped around us, twisted and warped through the concrete pillars. If I could scent him he sure as hell could scent me.

He snatched up his guitar and bolted, leaping over the low wall dividing the parking lot from the library. He wasn’t taking any chances. I was too close to him, too close for comfort.

“Shit.” I charged between the cars, not caring if anyone saw me or not. “Evan. Evan!”

The kids scattered as I approached, grabbing their instruments and sprinting out in all directions. I ignored them and focused in on Evan.

I hopped over the barrier and hit the thin line of grass in a crouch, ready to pursue. All I needed to do is get a few minutes with him and I’d be able to—

Something slammed into my right side, a meat wall propelling me into the concrete beside me, the bricks not giving an inch as my head bounced. The freshly-healed skin on my left arm screamed on impact and threatened to split open like an over-ripe peach.

Another Felis scent filled my nose, thick and musky as I fell to the ground.

The fuzzy image flashed over me before disappearing from sight.

Not Evan Chandler.

I hiccupped once before the world went black.

Chapter Five

I ran through the forest, the full moon sending down a distorted light to show me the path. It was an unfamiliar area and I chose my steps carefully.

The rising and falling howls behind me said it all.

I was being hunted.

I leaped over the fallen log blocking the path. It slowed me down a fraction of a second but it was enough for my pursuers to gain ground.

The shout came from my left, a flanker keeping me on the trail. It was answered by a trio of growls from behind.

A tree root caught my foot and tripped me. I tumbled head over heels, twisting to the right and finding a hill there eager to accelerate my fall.

I landed a few inches from a deep hole. Scrambling to my feet I assessed the size of the pit.

Too deep to jump across.

I couldn’t see the bottom.

It spread out to each side, the edges out of sight or obscured by deep brush.

I couldn’t get around it.

The roaring behind me intensified. They were going to be on me in seconds.

I took a deep breath and jumped into the darkness.

* * *

“I’m sorry about the inconvenience.” The angel’s voice chirped behind my eyes. “You were listed as her emergency contact.”

“That’s all right.” A familiar voice growled somewhere down around my feet, pushing away the darkness. “Damned woman’s pretty high-maintenance. I’ll send the bill to her sweetheart.”

My nostrils were stinging from the acrid smell, prompting a throbbing behind my eyes that jutted down through my veins and into every part of my body.

In short, I felt like hell.

I wrestled my eyes open to see Hank Attersley watching me.

The middle-aged cop grunted as he got out of the hospital-issue chair and walked to the top of the bed. “’Bout time you woke up.”

“What—” I licked bone-dry lips. “What happened?”

“You got smacked in the head.” He pointed to the left side of his balding skull. “Always thought you had a hard head but you didn’t need to prove it to me.”

I lifted myself up a few inches. The hospital gown fluttered around my shoulders, the thin cloth ties barely holding on.

Hank paused, waiting for me to either give him a free show or settle down.

I stopped moving.

Hank looked relieved. “You were out for a bit. They did a MRI, made sure you didn’t crack that eggshell. Nothing there but they’re keeping you overnight to make sure there’s nothing major wrong.”

I lifted my left hand, seeing the thin needle and transparent tube leading back up to the intravenous drip. “Fuck.”

Hank wagged a finger at me. “Language, language. Don’t be hurting my virgin ears.”

I smiled despite the pain. “That might be the only part of you that’s left, smart ass.”

The detective mimed an arrow hitting his heart. “Such disrespect. I came as soon as they called, left a pile of paperwork on my desk for this.” The relief was evident on his face. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I figured your luck had finally run out when they told me you’d gotten smacked in the head. A lot of people don’t do well after that sort of injury.”

I struggled to sit up again, succeeding this time. “I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

He grunted again and touched the controls on the edge of the bed, raising the mattress behind me to support my back.

Our relationship had been rocked in the last few weeks by my involvement in a murder and kidnapping. We hadn’t been on opposite sides but it’d been rough, with me falling back on a family lawyer to stay out of jail, putting Hank and me at odds for the first time.

“You feel good enough for a sip?” He poured out a glass of water before I could answer. “Doctor said to take it easy, you got banged up nice. I probably shouldn’t even give you this but you look parched.”

I leaned in and sipped through the straw sticking out of the Styrofoam cup. The cool water washed down my dry throat.

“Thanks.” I licked my lips, relishing the mouthful of water. Concussions weren’t anything to play with and while we Felis were built tough I didn’t want to worry about pissing off the medical staff. “Where am I?”

“St. Joe’s. And don’t worry, your boyfriend’s on the way.” A scowl appeared on his face. “Bastard’s hard to get hold of. Called his cell phone, went to voice mail. Idiot called back an hour ago blasting my eardrums.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bran had probably gone silent to keep from being interrupted on his one-man hunt and it’d cost him. “What time is it?”

“Just coming up on three o’clock in the afternoon.” Hank moved back to his chair. “You remember anything ’bout what happened?” His tone shifted from friendly to official. “Let me find the guy who did this to you. Kick this mugger’s ass into next Tuesday and then some.”

I went to shake my head but the little miners inside with their pickaxes decided otherwise. “No. I mean, I hit a wall and—” The fuzzy memory of being attacked by another Felis fought through to the surface. “I got mugged?”

“You got banged up,” Hank started, “And got lucky. Bunch of street kids saw you go down and came over to help, called 911 and scared the fellow off before he grabbed your wallet or anything else.” He smiled. “Guess that horseshoe up your ass is still working.”

“Ow.” I drew in a deep breath as I sorted through memories. “I think I remember the ambulance arriving.”

I wasn’t sure if I was remembering the actual events or a movie.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve taken worse.” He rapped on his head with his knuckles, making a popping noise with his mouth. “You kept drifting in and out, babbling something about kittens.”

I flinched inside.

He looked at me with a cop’s curiosity. “What were you doing running down there in a parking garage?”

“Got a job.”

“I figured that.” Hank’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Care to share?”

I weighed the pros and cons of letting him in.

“I’m tracking a pair of runaways.” I figured I had nothing to lose. And if it helped heal the rift between us I was all for it. “I was hired by the parents to find them. Romeo and Juliet story, you know the tune.”

“Think it was one of them that slugged you?” Hank asked.

I paused, weighing the odds. Evan Chandler had enough of a lead that he could have looped back around to clock me. But the fuzzy silhouette and the scent told me otherwise.

Of course I couldn’t tell Hank this.

“I’m not sure. I do know they don’t want to be found.” I touched the side of my head, finding a golf ball-sized lump. “Ooh. That’s not nice.”

“Do you have any pictures?” Hank pressed onward, ever the policeman. “Let me put out the word to the street cops. If they’re under-age—”

I wouldn’t have considered pulling in the police before now but this had taken a twist and not for the better. There was another player in the game, someone who didn’t mind beating me like a piñata to get me out of the way.

“They are. At least for a week or so.” I pointed at the storage locker in the corner. “There should be a manila envelope in my personal effects bag, next to my clothing. Got pictures of the two of them inside.”

I wetted my lips again, taking stock of my body as Hank went to the locker. Toes, good. Ankles, good. Knees, old and aching. Hips sore and I knew if I looked under the sheet and generic hospital gown I’d see bruises that probably matched those on my left shoulder.

In other words, I was a mess.

At least the bullet scar on my arm hadn’t re-opened. Logically it was practically impossible for it to have pulled open but emotionally I was always going down the darker path.

“All of your clothing’s here, just so you know. Doesn’t look like you trashed anything and they didn’t have to cut anything off so when you leave don’t worry about having to steal any hospital scrubs.” Hank put the pictures against the wall, one by one, and took shots with his phone. “I’ll send these to the boys and have them distributed to the street cops.” His fingers flew over the tiny keyboard. “If we see them we’ll take them off the streets.” He paused. “I can’t promise anything.”

“I know. Plenty of other crimes out there, bagging runaways isn’t high on the list.” I gave him a smile. “But I appreciate it.” I fluffed the thin sheets and poked my bare feet out at the bottom. “Feels strange wearing just a hospital gown and having this conversation.”

Hank huffed as he put the envelope back in my locker, a light blush on his cheeks. “The doctors might let you go home but not unless you have someone holding your hand for the night. And my wife’s got a firm policy against me bringing home strays.”

As if on cue the door flew open.

Wide-eyed and panting, Bran looked like something the cat dragged in. His reddened face matched his hair, plastered to his forehead with sweat.

He ignored Hank. “Are you okay?”

Before I could answer he’d stripped off his coat and tossed it over the chair Hank had previously occupied. “What do they have you hooked up to? What’s in this?”

Hank put up a hand as Bran came to my side and inspected the IV pole. “It’s just fluids. Standard procedure to keep her hydrated. As far as I know no antibiotics, no need for them.” He grinned at me. “I’m gonna leave now that your playmate’s here. I’ll call if we find them.”

Bran nodded at the detective, the two men locking eyes for a brief challenging moment. They hadn’t seen each other since Hank had dragged the entire Hanover family down to the police station a few weeks ago.

The stalemate broke without incident.

Hank chuckled and walked out the door with a wave. “She’s all yours. Might be time to put her on a leash.”

My lips drew back in an instinctive snarl at the mental image. I flipped my middle finger up at the closing door.

Bran laughed and bent down for a kiss. “Glad to see you’re well enough to be pissy.” He played with the transparent tube coming from my arm. “Let’s get this out of you and get you into bed.”

“I am in bed.” I patted the thin mattress. “And, frankly, I’d expected a bit more seduction from you. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean you don’t have to work for it.” The last few words came out a little harsher than I’d intended.

He dropped his chin down, looking like I’d smacked him on the nose with a rolled newspaper. “God, Reb—I’m so sorry I didn’t get here faster.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I turned the phone off ’cause I was trucking with some kids and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

I didn’t say anything.

Bran gave me a weary smile. “And you know I was with Angie because you can smell her on me.” He rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand. “Damn it’s hard to hide anything from you Felis.”

My hand wrapped around the back of his neck as I pulled him close enough for me to whisper into his ear.

“Let me tell you a secret.”

He drew in a deep breath and held it.

I murmured. “I didn’t know until you told me just now.”

He made a noise, something between a sigh and a gasp.

I continued. “You might have been in the same room as her, I can believe that. But I don’t scent her all over you like before. She kept her distance, kept her hands off of you.” I’d caught a whiff of her hair conditioner, the same gloppy fruity smell but if I hadn’t smelled it earlier I wouldn’t know or care whose it was. It was also mixed in with a hundred other scents, the usual street traffic picked up from being out in public.

Bran didn’t move but I felt the tension ease out of his neck and shoulder muscles. The poor bastard had been terrified to come to me, expecting a tongue lashing.

I felt even worse than before. Bran must have run into Angie after she and I had talked.

She’d kept up her part of the deal. She’d left him alone.

He drew back. “I ran into her while tracking a group of artists. They went to the outreach center for lunch and I went along with them. She didn’t do anything, didn’t try anything. I left as soon as I confirmed the kids weren’t there. I swear.” He put his first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead. “Scout’s honor.”

“I doubt you were ever a Scout.” I kissed his forehead. “We’re good.” I shifted my weight, feeling the bony outlines of the steel frame bed under me. “Why don’t you go get me checked out? I’d like to go home to our own bed.”

Bran stood up. “I’ll get the doctor. Don’t see a problem with you signing yourself out as long as you don’t do anything silly.” He picked up his coat and left before I could answer.

“Men,” I whispered to the empty room before closing my eyes. All I wanted right then was my own bed and a cuppa tea.

I drifted, half-awake and wondering what to do about my Felis attacker. There was an outside chance, a thin chance it had nothing to do with my case. Most Felis stayed on the straight and narrow but there could be someone out there who walked on the other side and it’d just been bad luck.

Really bad luck.

I made a mental note to call Jess and see if we had any miscreant relatives on file.

“You’re a tough one.” The strange voice hit my ears at the same time as the rich earthy Felis scent invaded my nostrils.

Male. Alpha.

Here.

I resisted the urge to open my eyes right away, hoping he’d think I was sleeping. With a tube in my arm and still weak from the concussion I wasn’t in any state to jump up and start fighting.

The pounding in my ears increased as I realized Bran could be back any second, with or without other humans.

“I know you’re awake. Don’t worry, I’m here to talk.” A low chuckle followed. “Unlike my associate, I don’t knock women around.”

I couldn’t resist. I opened my eyes.

The large man sat at the bottom of my bed, his bulk filling the hospital-issue chair and then some, muscles spilling over the side. His bare arms were covered with tattoos—lions, tigers and other felines.

Definitely family.

He looked like an ex-boxer, his warped nose barely able to draw a straight line. Short-cropped black hair over dark brown eyes that studied me with the intensity of a hunter. Dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and leather jacket he waited for me to finish studying him.

“Family,” I said.

He nodded.

“Jess?” I tried not to sound too hopeful. I was in no condition to turn down help if Jess sent it.