Shifter (10 page)

Abby peers through the peephole to see that it is the redhead again and says, “This bitch is starting to get on my nerves.” She fishes her cell out of her pocket, punches in nine-one-one, and holds her finger over the green call button. Bracing herself for another round with Mave, she opens the door and asks, “What do you want now?”

“I want my cat.” Mave is standing there with her hands on her hips in the tightest black skirt and top I’ve ever seen a prostitute wear, not that I’ve seen many prostitutes, but you get the picture. She looks every bit the bitch she is. I hiss at her.

“I don’t have your cat. You know I don’t have your cat. Now leave.”

When Mave doesn’t move, Abby says, “No. Well then, I’m calling the police.”

She raises the phone, preparing to hit the call button when Mave steps forward, then stops before crossing the threshold with an angry look on her face. She looks as if she isn’t able to physically come into the house. The Angel’s charms worked.

“What’s the matter with you?” Abby asks, looking at the woman who is obviously struggling to move forward.

“I…can’t…move,” Mave stammers.

“What’s with the vampire routine? If you’re trying to scare me or something, it isn’t working. I don’t believe in that shit. Besides, its full daylight outside.”

Mave snarls like a rabid dog.

Abby rolls her eyes.

I’d laugh at the sight of her if I could.

I’ll get you, you stupid bastard
, she screams in her mind as she turns to me, and I hear her. The moment Abby opened the door, I entered Mave’s thoughts, but until then she hadn’t directed anything my way. She had been cocky at first until she hit the barrier. I mentally call her a bitch, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The cat equivalent of my laughter comes out in a hiss, and I swipe a claw at her.

“Just leave before I have you arrested,” Abby says, stepping back further into the house, preparing to close the door.

“This isn’t over.” Mave says this directly to me.

Abby looks from me to Mave and back again. “You’re insane,” Abby says a bit shaken by Mave’s behavior. “And yes, it is. Dr. Smith has your name and information. I can get a restraining order on you quick, and if you so much as lay a pinky finger on me I’ll press charges so fast your red hair really will look like flames whipping in the air. Now go.” She raises the phone again and starts to hit the button.

Mave whips around and marches down the driveway.

I watch her go, and watch Abby’s sister pull up with her kids. Great.

“That’s all I need is a house full of screaming kids.” This is the first time I’ve ever heard Abby speak of her nieces and nephews this way.

I think the arrival is perfect. I’m usually indifferent to the kids but their presence today will benefit me. I have been trying to think of a way to slip one of those toys onto Abby that way when she leaves the house she has protection. Dr. Smith hadn’t said it would work that way, but I’m praying it will.

Abby never un-does something the kids do. If they put a sticker on something, that sticker stays until it comes off on its own. If they hide a toy somewhere, even if it is in the freezer, it stays there until the next visit when one of them usually remembers it and removes it or she will remind them of where it is. Which is perfect. I can slip one in her purse or on her key chain and it will stay there for at least a few weeks.

Chapter
9

~~~Abby~~~

“Abby, is it not?” a voice behind me asks.

I jump and spin around fast nearly dropping the handful of junk mail I had pulled out of my mailbox. The voice is masculine, but I have been so on edge since the redhead that for one second I’m scared she has come back.

“Are you all right?” Devan asks, moving off the street that runs through the center of my neighborhood and onto the sidewalk. He comes to stand close to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m fine. I just…I just had a bit of a problem a few weeks back, and I thought you were my problem coming back. Sorry.”

“What kind of problem did you have?” he asked, sounding honestly worried for me.

“Some crazy woman lost her cat and even though neither of my cats look like hers, she is insisting that one of them is hers. I know I sound crazy, but it is a crazy situation. I can’t even believe I’m stuck in it. Some people truly need lives. And you know what the kicker is; the woman is beautiful, not at all the type you would picture as being one of those crazy cat people. I mean, she can have a different man every night of the week, why she is obsessed with a damn cat is beyond me. If I looked like that, I probably wouldn’t even own any cats. I wouldn’t be that lonely.” Shit. Shit. Why did I just say all of that? Because I’m stressed, scared, and rambling, that is why. I focus on his face to see if I have completely freaked him out, but he only smiles at me.

“You would be surprised by the many types of people who are lonely,” Devan says, giving me a look that I can’t believe. I can’t imagine that anyone who looks like him can be lonely. The look in his eyes, though, contradicts my assumption.

“No, a woman that beautiful is only lonely because she either A) chooses to be or B) knows she is that beautiful and instead of treating it as the gift it is, she is a bitch to everyone she knows. Gorgeous people don’t know how good they have it. Wait, look whom I’m talking to. You have no idea what it’s like on my side of the fence.” Damn it, I’m doing it again. Why can’t I shut the hell up? Why is it that when he’s around, my mouth runs ninety to nothing? Why would I say such things, when I can see the truth in him? Why do I always feel the need to attack?

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say, letting the guilt in my voice seep out. “I’ve been overly stressed about this and worrying about when she is going to show up next. I don’t normally ramble on like a self-pitting idiot.” I tuck my mail under my arm and take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. However, I nearly choke on it when he smiles his perfect mind-melting smile.

“It’s not a problem. And you don’t know how lovely you are,” he says, reaching up to tuck a bit of hair behind my ear. I step away as soon as the hair is in place, not giving him a chance to let his fingers linger anywhere.

“Sorry,” I say at his hurt look. “I’m all sweaty. I just finished working out, and figured I should do a little housework before I bathed, then I remember I hadn’t checked my box in over a week, and…”

His eyes look me up and down. The heated look in them makes my body flush an even darker red than it already is.

“Are you still searching for your brother?” I ask, nodding toward the house, indicating that he should follow me.

“I am. We’ve had a few other sightings of him in the area.”

“Really. Where?”

“One woman said she saw him in a car over on Davidson Ave, about two blocks from here.”

“I know where that is,” I say curiously.

“Another person said they saw him over by the animal shelter on Darby, walking down the street. They are kind of sketchy leads, but I have to check them out.”

“Huh.” Opening the front door, I reluctantly motion for him to enter. Inviting him into my house might be a big mistake, but he seems harmless. I also don’t want our conversation to end, but I don’t want to stand out here under the prying eyes of my neighbors. Although, having him come inside might stir up more gossip.

“What?” he asks, noticing the hesitation in my voice.

“I don’t know. I think it is odd for a person whose picture is plastered on every utility and phone pole for miles to be wandering around in broad daylight like that. He has to know you are looking for him. It would piss me off to know that my sister knew I was looking for her yet she doesn’t bother to at least call and say she is fine. I mean, it sounds to me like he left willingly. Not to be insensitive, but your brother sounds like an ass.”

“He can be,” he replies, smiling at my diatribe about a man I don’t even know. “I think something is going on. He wouldn’t up and leave, even though that is what it looks as if he has done. I think someone has done something to him.”

“Like what?” I ask and motion for him to take a seat on my sofa while I roll my desk chair around to face him.

“I don’t know, but if you are right and he is seeing the posters, than someone is keeping him from contacting us.”

“You mean you think someone has kidnapped him?” I ask, thinking it is a possibility, though highly doubtful.

“Yeah.”

“Who would kidnap a grown man? Why would someone kidnap a grown man?”

“People wanting money. My family isn’t poor,” he says, leaning forward.

“I know,” I unthinkingly reply before taking a drink from a bottle of water that is sitting on my desk.

“Excuse me,” he says, a look of accusation clouding his face.

“Sorry. I sort of Googled you after you left the last time you were here. I wanted see what kind of people your family are, and to see if I could get a better picture of your brother. All I found is your father’s business website, of course. Your family has quite an empire.” Shame filled me at having to reveal that I had researched him and his family.

He nods and visibly calms. “My father built it from the ground up. All of my brothers and I work there along with other family members.”

“I saw.”

He laughs and says, “I’m not lying when I say family is important to us. All of us. We try to be the best in our field so that everyone in the family has a place to work.”

“You seem to be holding your own quite well.”

“We do our best, but we have a lot of competition.”

“But not in this area. And that’s what I don’t get. Why would someone around here kidnap him? Your business isn’t threatening any of our local businesses.”

“That’s what I have been trying to figure out.” The defeat in his eyes and words make me feel for him, and I reach out to touch his hand. When I do, my Dimitri comes out of nowhere and jumps into my lap.

“Jealous much?” I say to him and scratch his head. “Have you gotten many of the neighbors to talk?” I ask, turning my attention back to Devan.

“Not really. Most won’t even come to the door. I know it’s because of me. I’ve been told I can be intimidating.”

“It’s because you’re big. I’m not saying you’re fat. That would be like the pot calling the kettle black. I just mean you’re extremely tall and well built. That intimidates most people. Wait here. Let me clean up a bit, and I will walk with you around the neighborhood. See if we can get a few people to talk to you.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, but I can see gratitude bursting from his eyes.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. If it were my sister out there somewhere, I would want as many people as possible helping me.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Just wait here in the living room. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

-----

We spent nearly two hours canvassing my street and those surrounding it. Because of the time of day, many people weren’t home. On the doors that no one answered, we left flyers stuck in the creases of the door and the frame. Those that were home were still reluctant to talk to us, but they opened their doors, smiled politely, and shook their heads, no, they hadn’t seen his brother or anyone matching his description around the neighborhood.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t very much help,” I say as we walk back up my driveway.

“It’s all right. You actually got more people to answer than I spoke with last time I came through.”

“Good. I can’t believe that with three different sightings of him no one we spoke to has seen him.”

“They’ve probably seen him; they just don’t remember seeing him.”

“Oh, they would remember him. He has a face that no one, especially a woman, can forget.” As I say this, I see a look of jealousy flash across his face. Knowing he didn’t need an ego-boost from someone like me I say, “All you Sullivan boys are big and handsome. There is no way on earth a straight woman or gay man would be able to walk by you and forget your face.”

At my front door, it takes everything I have not to touch him, not to pull him into my house and screw him on every surface I own. I can’t do it, though. I’m not that type of person, and I don’t want to have to suffer through his rejection. I’m sure he would let me down easy, but I still can’t handle it.

“Abby?” he asks timidly.

“Yes?” I answer, cursing the need in my voice.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” He asks the question with a straight face, but I don’t trust his words.

“Excuse me?”

“Dinner…tomorrow night. I don’t know what is good around here, but there’s bound to be some place nice we can go.”

“You don’t have to do this. I helped you out of the kindness of my heart. Not for…”

“I’m not asking you because you helped me. I’m asking you because I want to spend more time with you. I want to have dinner with you.” He steps a little too close to me.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”