SixBarkPackTabooMobi (2 page)

Her abrupt departure turned the place into a brawl. Tom tossed cash on the bar on his way out, watching his brother’s back. They dumped her in the backseat and headed home.

“He’s gonna pop a gasket if you tell him,” Tom said, glancing in the rear view mirror. Bouncers were tossing people out the door. He adjusted the mirror so he could keep an eye on Letha. Biting on her lower lip, she worked toward pleasuring herself. “Forget that. If he sees her--”

She moaned.

Leo turned around to look, growled again, “Knock that off, Letha. Fuck.” To Tom, he asked, “What the hell is she on?”

Tom shrugged. “Probably a combo,” readjusting his mirror.

Neither of them wanted to watch her do
that
. Or hear her.

Both Leo and Tommy cursed under their breath, and silently wished they’d told her their secret. Then, maybe, they could’ve relieved some of their aching. She pushed their restraints to the limit with some louder “ahs.”

“Don’t go home. Take her to your studio. We need time to sober her up.” Leo pulled out his cell phone.

Tom held up a hand, staying Leo from calling. “Before you do that, what are you thinking?”

“Relieve his mind. Let him know we’ve got her. Then get her straightened up, maybe dye her hair back to a normal color before he sees her.”

“Right. Good idea.”

Dreamy sounding, Letha huskily taunted them on a little laugh, “How high can you count?”

She always did that.
Count
how many men she’d managed in the time she was free.

Leo rolled over the seat, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up so he could look her in the eye. “I don’t wanna know.”

She squeaked, stopped her laughing, and told him seriously, “Eight.”

He stared into her green eyes for a minute, judging the truth, then dropped her abruptly and turned to stare out the windshield. A little relieved that she’d only done the guards on video. Those would be easy to track down.

They were probably already running, though.

She murmured, “Only eight.” Sighing, “I promised myself nine, you know.”

The brothers looked at one another, then shook their heads and looked away.

Repeating Leo’s words, Tom groaned at her, “Le. We don’t wanna know.”

They didn’t have to ask. Letha ticked her lovers by name, counting on her fingers.

Leo committed them to memory. Saved him from having to watch the videos first. Men who would be dead by morning. And he said, “I hate you, Letha. I hate what you make me.”

She just giggled, close to his ear. “Liar.” Then she flopped back in the seat. “You are who you are. I have nothing to do with that.” She moaned, a sexually appealing sound, doing herself again. “How’s Daddy tonight?”

Tom grunted. “Having a heart attack.” He pulled into the parking lot of his studio.

They had to carry her in. Once they had her stretched out on the bed pallet, and covered up, Tom checked her vitals, looked at her pupils. “She is totally fucked.”

She was out.

Leo made the call. “We’ve got her. No. We’re at the studio. We’ll bring her home later.” He hung up before an argument was possible. “You got her?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Bring back some hair dye.”

Stepping closer, feeling her cheek with the back of his hand, Leo said, “Don’t leave her alone.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “She’s too fucked to move, Leo. Relax. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Right. Don’t take your eyes off of her.” He smoothed her hair back with great gentleness. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

All of us.
Waving an arm in the air, Tom said, “Just go. We’re good.” He sat down in a chair, propped himself forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, staring straight at Letha. “I won’t move.”

That was just after midnight. Somewhere before five, he drifted off. When Leo showed back up at a quarter to six, she was gone.

They did not go home. They did not call the compound. They went looking for her.

* * * * * *

Leo noted the police cars out front as he went past, heading back toward the studio apartment. An alarm went off in his head. He checked the package in the seat beside him. He’d picked up the dye before he did his business; eight less men on the planet for Letha to screw.

He knew when he pulled up that she was gone. The door was ajar.

The night had a deadly stillness to it, no breeze whatsoever.

Slinking in, he saw Tom asleep in the chair, in the same position he’d left him in. Leo tapped him on the shoulder.

Tommy leaped, instantly ready to kill something, grabbing for the gun that he holstered over his shoulder. It, of course, was gone. “Fuck! I must’ve drifted off.”

They ran to the door. Leo said, “Cops at the pharmacy. I’ll bet she hit that.”

Letha had a history of armed robbery, although the police never nabbed her. Videos were always destroyed. Witnesses mysteriously disappeared. The Felinis took care of their own.

A minute later, her brothers were in the car, scanning the streets. More sirens could be heard--coming to investigate the traumatic scene at the pharmacy, where officers had gone down with shots fired. Leo’s gun.

The surveillance video on the seat between them, swiping blood as they drove away, “She can’t have gotten far.” He didn’t have to say he was sorry. It was written all over his face, and evident in the muttered curses and fist slamming he did. “I’m gonna kill her. She took my son-of-a-bitching gun.”

“Let’s just find her first. Hand me that.” Leo snatched the wet wipes and cleaned his face, peering out the window the whole time, just in case she was running down the street or hiding behind a tree.

“Why does she do this?”

Street after street, in an ever-widening circle, they debated what prompted her to the self-destructive, family-destructive behavior she committed regularly. In the end, they concluded that she simply had a screw loose.

That didn’t mean they didn’t love her. Or that they’d ever stop looking for her. Or they wouldn’t kill anyone that had helped her along the way.

Chapter One

I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, but I knew one thing--I had to hide. But I knew from experience, that the best place to hide is right under someone’s nose. So the first thing I did was hit a pharmacy and held it up for the cash in the drawer, hair dye--in three different colors--some sweats, striped toe socks, flip flops, a can of juice and a candy bar...with Tom’s gun.

I took my booty back to the studio, waited in the bushes for Tommy and Leo to leave, then snuck back in. I looked at it this way...if by chance they came back and found me, they’d be happy I showed up.

It was all a matter of time anyway. They always came and got me. Didn’t matter where I ran off to.

And if they didn’t?

To tell the truth, I didn’t think that far ahead. I knew Tom would kill me if I took off with his gun. That was really the only other idea in my head.

Checking the safety, I set it on the counter, the minute I walked in. In plain view.

It wasn’t like I’d shot it or anything. Just waved it around a little.

I adjusted it two or three times, saw a smudge on it, picked it up and rubbed it across the lacy part of my bra. Damn greasy fingerprint. Had to be Tommy’s. I blew on it, rubbed it again my chest.

“Hm.” Wasn’t coming off. I put my tongue to it, then tried again. Got it.

The gun had a nice feel. Weighted real sweet. Perfect for me. Not too short, or too long. Rounded edges, velvety blue finish. I had to admire it. I mean, it felt great in my hands, smooth. The safety was clean, easy. Checked that one more time. I liked the no cock bullshit. Semi-automatic 38 special. Easy trigger release. Shot off without any effort, in repeated succession. What’s not to like?

I’d told Tommy that before.

He told me to keep my hands off his gun. Snicker. I just batted my eyes at him, because really, it sounded a little too...what? I lifted my eyebrows at him, grinned, said, “Okay, Tommy. Sure.”

Not gonna happen.

That was like saying, “Le, here’s the forbidden fruit.”

I slipped the mag out of the gun, checked the chamber, then did the unthinkable. The thing that would have made Tommy insane, if he knew about it. My secret.

Kissed it, ran it across my lips, down my throat. Envisioned Tommy doing that to me, running his piece down my skin.

Oh, I know he’s not my brother. Do they think I’m blind? There is no bagheera in me.

Talk about a sad wake-up--back at school when I shared my family pictures. It hurt so much.

I’m over that now, I think. Grin. Figured out how to handle it. They should have told me, before someone else did. Can’t blame me if I make them sorry for it, can you?

I mean, that hurt.

“Aaah.” Tommy’s gun is slick, glides over me, cool--like he is. Way too cool.

Between my legs.

Closing my eyes, I picture him, think of him doing that to me. I’d love to see him intense, rubbing me with it.

It doesn’t take long to get to an orgasm like that. In fact, three times in a row came real easy. Roofies from the night before didn’t hurt.

I wish he’d come back to see me in the middle of that.

Fuck my
brothers.
Where could they be?

Shots. Sirens. That explains that.

Magazine back in. Safety checked one more time. Third time’s the charm. I left the gun on the counter.

Then I went into the bathroom and washed the temporary dye out of my hair. Just leaned over the side of the tub, didn’t take a shower or anything. Probably should have.

Call me crazy. I was only up to eight, and I’d promised myself nine. That’s the perfect number of the universe, you know. A multiple of three, and I like the number three. Go figure that one.

Daddy, Leo, Tommy.

Couldn’t decide on the color to go with. Black, for Daddy. Auburn, for Leo. Electric blue...Guess.

Had to pluck the G out of my ass crack more than once. Sometimes they just climb.

In the end, I poured them all out, and left the empties in the trash. You know, leave them guessing as to which color I used. I spilled some, but wiping it with the towel didn’t seem to be helping the mess, so I gave up on it.

I knew Tommy’d have a cow. He’s such a neat freak. Always cleaning up our messes. It’s what he lives for.

You gotta know, I looked back three times before finally shrugging, saying, “Sorry, Tommy. Give ya something to do when you get home--besides think of killing me.” It was kind of funny.

Oh. Jokes--

Felini trivia: What’s the most common phrase in the compound? I’m gonna kill Letha. Snicker. Or is that...fuck Le?

Felini truth: Anybody even really considered it--dead man walking. No. That’s not really funny. Is it?

Just try and appreciate the facts...and try not to judge.

Tommy’s got a full pharmacy in his lavatory. I rummaged through it, popped a few uppers--three--considered swiping a couple painkillers for later. Grabbed some. Took a Valium. Then put two more by the sink with the PKs--to take with me. Might come in handy. Ya never know.

I shut the mirrored door before any more looked good to me. Three bottles. I was good.

Through bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils, I had to ask myself, “What were you thinking?” Hair that had been long, straight, silky now looked like sticks of straw. My own Daddy wouldn’t recognize me. I fingered through it, flicked it up and out so it looked haphazard.

My hair is blonde. Makes it real easy to color. It’s fun, for a night. Pisses Daddy off. Don’t know why. Tommy and Leo don’t like it much, either.

Don’t know why I do it. Just seems like the thing when I get out. Ya know? Made me roll my eyes, blackened around the edges with kohl. How funny.

That shit had to go. A warm, soapy washcloth made quick work of it, but had my eyes stinging. That could have been worse because of the stuff that was still running through my veins, trying to get out in the blood vessels of my eyes.

So it wasn’t funny for long. And I knew Daddy wouldn’t think it was humorous at all. He’d disapprove. He’d look sick.

He loved my hair and my eyes. So much like my mother’s.

Curse her dying ass for leaving me with Daddy, Leo and Tommy. No wonder she took off. Tight ass bastards. Probably lied to her, too.

But she got out, didn’t she?

They kept telling me I was just like her, and I kept trying to prove them right. She was an alley cat, and I was no better. They needed to get over it. I had. You can’t fight who you are. Wish I could get that through their heads.

It’s fun watching them try, though.

Two more times, I fished through my hair. There was no fixing it. I was ashamed to go home with it looking like that, and I vowed that I wouldn’t until it had grown out enough to be respectable. Not that I had a big urge to be respectable at that point. It was just another excuse not to stick around, not to go home.

It didn’t take me long to find Tommy’s stash. He’s loaded. Always taking care of contingencies. I found it taped under a drawer.

A quick count told me there was about fifteen hundred dollars. I stuffed it in my g-string, pulled my sweat pants on and up over it and chewed my lip, looking around. What else would I need?

Oh yeah. Shirt, socks, and shoes. And my meds.

I couldn’t think of another thing, so I left, swigging the juice and munching the candy bar. What’s the point of taking them if you’re not gonna enjoy. Right?

Went by the bus that crept the city streets. Dropped the wrapper before I got on. Leo needed
something
to go by. Got off as far away from Tommy’s as I could get. Left the crushed can on the floorboard. Give something for Tommy to complain about. Ya know?

Draw a triangle on a map. Put the compound at one dot. Tommy’s on another, then look at the bus schedule. Easy. Not like I was pulling an Einstein. Three dots on a map. How hard was that? It wouldn’t take them too long to track me. I hoped they showed up before I got bored. I only had one more to do.

* * * * * *

It was like stepping out in wonderland. I went from golf courses and upscale gentlemen’s clubs to, well, neon grunge city. It never occurred to me to leave town altogether. After all, it’s easy enough to get lost in a crowd in your own backyard. Why work too hard?

Really
leaving would have totally pissed Leo off. I didn’t want him furious. Just...frustrated with me, if that makes sense.

Everything smelled different there. That’s the first thing I noticed.

I didn’t have the sense to be afraid, or to think about the fact that I was bastet--one of the cat people--and I’d gotten off the bus in garou-ville. Where the dog people live. Geography had never been a strong point for me, and it’s not like it’s labeled on the street signs.

Since it was public domain, they were all in human form. I figured it worked like our side of town. You know, low profile in the streets so the average mortals never knew what they were surrounded by. We try to get by without too much fuss.

Anyhow, knowing it existed, it had always intrigued me, but I can honestly say I didn’t go there on purpose. I just took the long ride and when the driver said, “This is it,” I hopped out.