Claws Bared: Blood of the Pride, #2
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About this ebook
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.
As her investigation unfolds, she's met with grudging cooperation and half-truths. Does the Pride want her to find justice, or help them hide a killer? Frustrated and unable to shake the sexy local shifter who says he's on her side, Rebecca can't seem to scratch out the truth—at least not on her own. But when Brandon shows up, is he there to help or to mark his territory?
Sheryl Nantus
Sheryl Nantus is an award-winning romance writer published by Entangled, St. Martin's, Samhain, and Harlequin's Carina Press. When she's not writing about hunky heroes, she is sipping tea, playing board games and writing haiku. A total fangirl at heart, she met her husband through an online fanfiction community and currently lives in Pennsylvania.
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Blood of the Pride: Blood of the Pride, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsClaws Bared: Blood of the Pride, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFamily Pride: Blood of the Pride, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBattle Scars: Blood of the Pride, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Claws Bared - Sheryl Nantus
Chapter One
I hadn’t ordered any airline tickets.
I looked inside the open envelope with a mixture of surprise, dismay and confusion.
The bike courier let out a loud cough, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. I paused for a second trying to figure out what he wanted. I'd already signed his clipboard and accepted delivery, expecting to find a court subpoena—I was used to having to testify on the stand both for and against my clients. Being a private investigator meant doing almost as much court time as investigating—the movies tend to leave that less glamorous part out.
Airline tickets weren't even on my radar.
He coughed again and wriggled his fingers. I caught on before he had to explain his chronic illness.
I dug in my pocket and found enough spare change to not embarrass myself. Handing it to the courier, I turned my attention back to the envelope.
The young man stuffed the coins into his pocket and threw me a jaunty salute before sprinting off through my small yard. He yanked his bike away from the rose bushes lining the front and jumped back out into traffic, the tires leaping in the air like some warped, rearing horse.
I grimaced at the sound of screaming brakes coming from around the corner. Not hearing anyone calling for an ambulance, I closed the door and headed for my work desk. Running your business out of your home had certain advantages—like not having to worry about getting fully dressed for work. I wriggled my bare toes and sat down.
The drab brown envelope from a local travel agency held tickets from Toronto, Ontario to Pittsburgh, PA. Open return, one person in my name. Leaving that evening. I sat down at my desk and scowled at the elderly white cat sprawled over the file folders.
This is your doing, isn’t it? Revenge because I wouldn’t let you be a little piglet and give you that whole can of tuna.
Jazz turned her steady gaze on me for another few seconds before licking her paws.
I turned my attention to the envelope. Standard brown envelope with nothing inside other than the travel agency’s business card. No mention of who had sent it or who had paid for it.
But I had a pretty good idea, given recent events.
I lifted the envelope to my nose and inhaled. Human scent, nothing out of the ordinary. Multiple humans including my stinky messenger and a woman who wore way too much perfume.
The phone rang.
I snatched up the receiver, blowing away a wayward tuft of white cat fur. Jazz gave a short trill of approval.
Reb.
I clenched my fist at the low voice purring my name. Glad to see you're home.
Hi, Jess. Yes, just in time to receive the plane tickets.
I waved the envelope in the air. I assume you’ve got something to do with this.
Maybe.
So why shouldn’t I drop this envelope into my shredder and forget all about it?
I snapped, harsher than I’d intended.
I was missing Bran something awful.
Jazz dropped from the desk and trotted out of the room, picking up on my mood.
Reb, is that any way to talk to a Board member? We raised you better than that.
The snarl in her voice sent phantom pains over my scarred back.
I wasn't backing down, not today. Is that any way to talk to an outcast? I do you one favor and suddenly I'm on your mailing list? I'm not part of the Pride and I don't have to answer to you.
I kept my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. You declared me outcast twenty years ago and threw me into foster care, banished me. I haven't forgotten that.
Or forgiven. The scars throbbed, reminders of the thrashing I'd gotten at Jess's claws in a final test of my ability to Change.
I'd failed. Spectacularly.
Oh, snap. Is that the way it’s going to be, then?
The jovial tone didn’t trick me. Jess hadn’t earned and kept her position without having invisible wheels turning in a thousand different directions. Do I have to thank you again for helping us find out who killed Janey Winters?
It wouldn't hurt.
My eyes flickered to my checkbook sitting nearby. I'd burned through the Pride's appreciation
check in a few weeks, thanks to some overdue bills. Now I was broke again, with no work in sight.
Whatever she was offering, I had to take it.
But I wasn't going down easy.
I can’t go to the United States.
I waved the tickets in the air. I don’t have a passport.
It should be there within the hour. Took a bit longer to get it approved than usual. You know these paper pushers, always making sure the t’s are crossed and the i’s dotted.
I never applied for one.
I ground my teeth together. I’d forgotten the extent of the family’s reach.
You mean you just forgot.
Each word dragged fingernails over a mental blackboard. Understandable, given that you’re coming up on your three-month anniversary of dating that human.
The throbbing behind my left eye started. His name is Brandon Hanover and yes, we’re still together.
I rubbed my face with one palm, resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room. Jess, why are you bothering me? I’ve got work to do.
No, you don’t.
The invisible claws came out, ready to sink into my hide. You’ve got nothing on your schedule at present and you need work. Coincidentally, we need someone.
I didn’t have to ask who we
were.
And if I say no?
You say no and we're done.
I heard the shrug over the phone line. But I thought you liked seeing justice done. And we'll pay.
I scowled at the stack of unpaid bills on the desk.
Okay, give me the details.
I grabbed up a pencil and a yellow legal pad.
Small town about two hours south of Pittsburgh, name of Penscotta. You’re going down to see Police Chief Carson. Dax Carson.
I chuckled. Nice name. Sounds like a science-fiction hero.
Jesse’s tone didn’t shift. He’s on the Board of the nearby Pride and he has a problem.
Something they can't handle on their own?
I kept the surprise out of my voice. If I recalled correctly, it took a major event for one Pride to ask for help from another. We tended to keep as much as we could in-house for the sake of secrecy.
This had to be bad. Really, really, bad.
They have a dead human on their hands.
The slight scorn vibrated through the lines. They want a neutral investigator because it’s likely one of their own who did the killing. This way, there's no chance of politics entering into the case.
Her tone changed. The Grand Council’s been alerted and they're watching too.
I frowned. The Grand Council helped develop and direct policy for all the Prides, deciding what was best for the Felis as an entire species and leaving the local decisions to the individual Boards. Recently the Council had been alerted to the existence of half-breeds, thanks to my work, and it was a good bet they were still discussing how to deal with them. The biggest worry was, as with the Winters case, of an orphaned or abandoned Felis half-breed running free without any restraints or concerns about exposing the family to public scrutiny.
This incident, however, pushed that issue into the background.
Killing a human was rare in the Felis world. We avoided fighting with anyone other than other Felis on principle, our inherent feline skills giving us an edge few humans could match. Most of the time a Felis would walk away and risk being called cowards rather than take the chance of losing control and killing a human.
It wasn't a case of being the better fighter—on a good day, with a lot of luck and the right weapons, a human could take a Felis. But unarmed, it'd go the other way, and a Felis killing a human would expose our existence to the world, violating one of our prime directives, drummed into us from birth. Even if the Felis in question used a weapon, keeping his or her claws hidden and didn't Change, the investigation and intense scrutiny by the authorities could break the invisible wall put up decades ago, protecting Felis and human alike. It wasn't worth the danger.
Now someone had lost control and we could all end up paying the price.
Speaking of…
I rubbed the tip of my nose. How much are you paying me? International travel, expenses…
Send me an email with your terms. We’ll extract the money from the other Pride when it's all over.
I couldn’t suppress a grin. So confident I’m not going to rip you off?
I know you, Reb. Better than you know yourself. Chief Carson will meet you at the airport.
The line went dead.
I dropped the handset back into the cradle. Jazz hopped up onto the table and strode across the envelope to headbutt me, forehead to forehead. My little sister always had a way of helping me feel better.
Yeah. This is going to suck.
It took me a few minutes to start the kettle boiling for a fresh pot of tea, during which I went over my options.
I could shred the ticket. I had no obligation to the Pride that had thrown me out like trash so many years ago. Jess had no way of making me take this case; there was nothing she could offer me or threaten me with. Odds were that I'd be able to scrape up a job somewhere, keep the bills at bay.
But a man was dead.
If I didn’t try to find the killer, no one else would. Carson might be a good cop but he was both Felis and a Board member. If it got too close to someone important in his Pride, the Chief might consider throwing some unlucky human under the wheels to close the case. That’s why the Grand Council wanted a neutral observer, someone without a stake in the hunt. Someone who wasn’t afraid to drag one of our own into the light, no matter how blazing hot it could get.
That would be me.
I tossed the two teabags into the new Brown Betty, a replacement for the one I’d lost recently during a home invasion. Jazz trilled from below, winding through my feet.
I know.
I tossed her a handful of cat treats, the hard nuggets bouncing across the floor. Don’t say a word.
The kettle whistled and I filled the teapot, killing a few more seconds.
I went to my desk and settled in front of my laptop, calling up some general information.
Penscotta, Pennsylvania was a little town sitting on the Monongahela River, an hour south of Pittsburgh. Built on the coal mining industry, it’d been socked with the same economic depression slamming into most of the state in the past few decades, pushing the town into survival mode. People bought cheap houses and commuted elsewhere to shop and work. High unemployment, medium crime and a lot of unhappiness. It was a common story in a lot of small towns, sad to say.
Despite the economic woes, Penscotta had a population of about ten thousand, enough to not only keep a police chief and his force busy but also to contain and nurture a Felis Pride.
I didn’t bother trying to dig further about Carson. The information I needed wasn’t going to be found online. The family kept secrets better than, well, the other
family.
I strode back to the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the pile in the sink to wash out. I felt wrong, out of sorts. It was like having an itch I couldn’t reach but I wasn’t sure if I wanted it scratched at all —once I started I just might not stop.
Grabbing a ginger snap cookie from the bag on the counter helped settle me for a minute. I jammed it into my mouth while waiting for the tap water to move from arctic cold to tepid warm.
The truth was, I just couldn’t get used to not being single. I hadn’t been a social butterfly before, leaping from bed to bed, but the last few months with Bran had settled me and… unsettled me. Having to share my life with someone was a strange experience, something I hadn’t ever prepared for.
When I left the farm, thrust into the foster care system, I’d been alone. I’d built my life as an outcast, romance novels and the occasional one-night stand my only release for any pent-up sexual tension. I didn’t need anyone and didn’t necessarily want anyone in my life.
Now I had Bran. He’d muscled his way into my world and didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.
It was strange to not be alone. And frightening.
I grabbed another ginger snap before I wiped the mug dry and filled it with hot tea and a dash of milk.
Jazz let out another merp as I carried the warm white ceramic mug to my desk and settled into the wooden chair.
The doorbell rang.
I headed for the front door, sure I’d find another messenger there with a brand new Canadian passport. My right hand dug into the front pocket of my jeans and toyed with a two-dollar coin for a tip.
I swung the door open and held out the coin, the gold and silver disk shining in the morning light.
Ooh.
Brandon Hanover reached out and plucked the coin from my fingers. I don’t usually charge by the minute but in your case I could make an exception.
He held up a thick padded envelope. And I intercepted this in the front yard.
I scowled, letting him walk past me into the house. I thought I had to sign for that. It’s a damned passport. They’re not supposed to give those away to anyone in the area.
I have my ways. She was in a hurry.
He dropped his satchel and leather duster on the couch. Jazz immediately jumped up and curled into a white ball on the soft black jacket. So what do you need a passport for?
Jess wants me to go down to Pennsylvania and help out a police chief with a murder investigation.
I pointed at the envelope on my desk. Plane tickets, and you’ve got my freshly-printed passport.
He tilted his head at me and shot a grin at me, the red hair and obvious Irish heritage threatening to take me down without so much as a move on his part. Now you’re their lapdog?
The hairs on the back of my neck snapped to attention. Not.
I nodded toward my desk and the stack of pills. It's a paying job. And I’m not in a position to blow off work, even coming from them.
Point taken.
He shook his head. Sorry. I know you wouldn't work for them unless you had to.
Brandon smiled and moved towards me. And not even a kiss for me being away on assignment for so long?
His white dress shirt had mustard stains dotting down the front like an avant-garde tie.
You were gone for two weeks,
I grumbled.
A lifetime for some people.
His hand cupped my chin, pulling me up to look at him. I missed you.
A flash of panic ran through me when I realized how much I’d missed him. Two weeks of moping around the suddenly-too large house. I’d refused to wash the sheets, not wanting to wipe his scent away.
I had it bad.
I turned my face away, hoping he hadn’t seen the shock on my face. Still not forgiven for the lapdog crack.
Ah, well. Your loss.
He released me and then looked down at Jazz. Let me try my charm out on you. You been behaving yourself?
I let out a snort. She threw up twice on the kitchen floor. Hairballs the size of a streetcar.
Bran bent down and stroked her thick, bushy fur, encouraging the old girl to roll onto her back and demand a tummy rub. She let out a trill and curved into a half-circle.
I see I’ll have to work a bit harder for your mistress’s affections.
He dug into his satchel. How about some authentic, fresh-off-the-plane Montreal smoked meat?
The man knew my weaknesses.
My nose twitched, seeking out the rich smoked spices.
I swallowed when he flipped open the bag and pulled out a small insulated pouch. Sure, I could buy some from my local grocery store but nothing like the real thing, fresh and ready to be slapped on rye with a splash of mustard.
Straight from the deli on Saint-Laurent Boulevard.
He held the foil package over his head, a devilish smile spreading on his face. Forgiven?
Maybe.
My mouth started watering, betraying me. Gimme.
He raised one eyebrow. Forgiven?
I crossed my arms and pouted.
Don’t do that.
He laughed and handed it to me. Surprised you didn’t smell me a mile away with this, wrapped up or not.
I pulled the pouch open and inhaled deeply. I was busy being Jess’s lapdog.
Bran wrinkled his nose. I’m not sure I’m happy with you taking work from them.
Anger spiked in my gut, spilling over into my words. I’m not sure I’m happy with the way you just said that.
I didn’t bare my teeth. I didn’t have to.
His eyes went wide. Bran took a step back and lifted his hands in surrender. He looked over at my mug. Tea still hot?
Help yourself. You know where the mugs are.
I followed him into the kitchen and put the smoked meat into the near-empty refrigerator. The flash of annoyance vanished, replaced by embarrassment.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t snap like this before.
I drew a deep breath, trying to center myself.
I didn’t know who I was anymore.
It took only a few minutes for him to make up his own cup, adding a squeeze of honey from the bottle on the counter and passing on the milk.
I leaned back on the counter and watched him, letting my temper settle.
The white dress shirt worked to escape his jeans on one side, tempting me to grab the loose fabric and do something with it.
I licked my lips. It’d been a long two weeks.
Quiet workday?
Bran studied me over the top of his mug. His brown eyes caught mine. It wasn’t a retreat; it was a move-and-regroup before the next attack.
Quiet enough that I have to take Jess’s job offer.
I glanced at the dishes in the sink, suddenly feeling guilty they were there.
I can spot you some cash, if you’d like.
He added more milk to the half-empty mug. If you really don’t want to take the job, I’ll carry you until something comes up.
I shook my head. A man’s dead. If I don’t check it out, nothing’s probably going to be done about it. I can’t let that happen.
I rubbed the back of my neck, pushing down the thin hairs. Don't need or want your money, anyway.
It came out sharper than I’d intended, slicing the air between us.
I wasn’t offering to support you for the rest of your life.
He stared at the floor. This isn’t exactly the entrance I’d planned after being away for two weeks.
I’m sorry.
I rubbed my eyes. I’m just, I’m still getting used to us being… us.
He took a sip of hot tea and placed the mug on the counter. Us?
This. You, me, together.
I flapped my hands in the air. I’m just not used to having someone in my life.
He crossed his arms, a confused look on his face. Don’t you want me here?
Yes, God yes,
I said. I just don’t… I just don’t play well with others.
I sighed. Does that make sense?
Yes and no.
A mischievous look came into his eyes. But now that you’ve mentioned playing, why don’t we discuss this in a more appropriate location?
Without warning, he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up over his shoulder, his hands tight on the backs of my legs. Let’s see if I can apologize better in bed.
I have work to do, research needed for the job,
I weakly protested. I’ve got a flight to pack for. It leaves in three hours.
Then I’ll be fast.
The muffled reply against my thigh was accentuated by a slap. Now let me grovel like a good little boy on my hands and knees.
Chapter Two
An hour later, Jazz padded her way across the bed, making sure to step on every soft spot and joint on both of us before settling up by my head in a purring ball of fur.
Ugh.
Bran rolled over to face the ceiling. That’s getting old.
I patted the elderly cat and sat up. She’s an old gal. She gets to do what she wants.
Okay, but the first time she stomps on my ‘special bits’ I reserve the right to scream like a girl and ban her from the bed.
I rolled my eyes as I swung my feet off the mattress, leaving the sheet behind. She’s not likely to hit such a small target.
Bran mimicked an arrow thudding into his chest.
Drama queen.
I jerked a thumb towards the bathroom. Sit here and pout or help me pack.
I waited a minute for dramatic effect. After I shower.
He sprung to his feet, tossing the sheets everywhere. Jazz let out an annoyed trill when the mattress rocked under her.
I couldn’t help admiring his sleek form as he grinned at me, his hands on his hips without an ounce of awkwardness at his nudity. His red hair stood up in peaks, giving him a punk look.
I assume I’m forgiven.
For now.
I headed for the shower. I still have to figure out what I’m going down to Pennsylvania for.
For?
Nothing is ever what it seems where the Felis are involved. Wheels within wheels.
You think the cops are dirty?
Brandon strode into the shower stall and reached for the hot water tap. He twisted it hard, sending steamy tentacles all around the small bathroom.
Maybe not, but definitely plagued by divided loyalties. If he’s the chief for the town and a Board member, that’s got to be a handful and a half when it comes to keeping peace on both sides of the line.
I sighed, exhausted at the mere thought of traveling. I’ll need you to take care of Jazz.
I stepped under the hot spray and reached for the bar of soap. I don’t mind leaving barrels of food out for her but I’d like someone to check in and make sure she hasn’t run out of water, or knocked something over and caused a mess.
The hand brushing against the small of my back stilled. Do you want me to come along? To Pennsylvania?
I turned, suddenly feeling very much crowded in the stall. "I