Freakn' Cougar (18 page)

But before she could announce her decision, Ricky said, “About time you lazy asses got out of bed.”

“Not my fault someone worked us over hard,” Stu teased.

To her shock, she actually blushed which of course made them both chuckle. Ducking her head, she plopped her butt down on a chair and eyed the scratched surface of the table, ignoring them. Not an easy task given the intimate setting and the fact their scent curled around her, wrapping her in yummy testosterone. The guys each took a seat, flanking her, pressing their thighs against hers. Making her so aware. So—

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the erotic thoughts filling it. Surely she had more control than this. She tilted her chin at a stubborn angle and ignored them as she piled food on to her plate. Four fluffy pancakes, drowned in syrup, a few crispy strips of bacon and a tall glass of orange juice. The perfect meal to replenish her energy after a night of decadence. The perfect meal to give her the calories needed for a morning of strenuous exercise. The quicker the better. She fell on the scrumptious breakfast with gusto ignoring their amused looks.

“Hungry?” Ricky asked unable to completely mask his mirth.

“Starving,” she purred, flicking him a coy look. Syrup coated her lips and she licked them. She didn’t miss either of the smoldering looks aimed her way.

“Before we indulge in that
hunger
,” Ricky said with a wink. “First we need to refuel. Bellies and the woodstove. One of us needs to get more wood. We’re getting low.”

“No problem. Since you cooked, I’ll get more logs for the fire,” Stu offered, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing. A shame, she would have loved to lick the stickiness from his lips. “Where is the wood pile?”

“Around the back of the cabin, there’s a lean-to. It’s under the tarp.” Despite only making it to the cabin sporadically, Patricia paid a guy in the little town at the bottom of the mountain to keep the cabin stocked with split logs. The weather this high up could prove unpredictable, and only an idiot would stay somewhere without a decent supply. Despite being surrounded by a forest, only chopped and cured lumber really worked well for burning. Everything else was too damp and produced more smoke than heat.

“Back in a jiffy.” Wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans and boots with no socks, Stu exited the cabin, leaving her alone with Ricky.

It seemed her decision to have her guys claim her would have to wait a little while longer.
I wonder if I can fit them both in the shower with me and bite them first?

Mmm. Just the thought of the water sluicing over their bodies, slipping and sliding over hers while her mouth chose a decadent spot for a nibble sent a quiver through her frame.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ricky offered as he cleared the table.

Rising from her seat, she grabbed the empty plates and brought them to the sink. “Why so cheap?”

“I have a feeling I already know what you’re thinking, which means I need to save every dime I have for the future.”

“And why do you think you’re going to require a large sum? Planning something, are you?”

“You tell me.” He turned so he leaned against the woodblock countertop, his shirtless torso a distracting temptation.

She held him off but couldn’t stop a coy grin. “We should wait for Stu to return. He’ll probably want to hear this—”

Bang
!

The sharp crack of a gun saw them both moving; Ricky for the front door, her for the service revolver, which she kept in its holster hanging on the coat rack. Her mind whirled with possible scenarios. Hunters? Rare in this area but possible. Of more concern, had the lone shot hit Stu? She hadn’t heard him cry out, but was that because he wasn’t hurt or because he’d gone down?

A blast of icy air hit her as Ricky raced out into the chill morning while she pulled her gun free. A second then a third shot fired, the last one aimed straight through the open door and embedding itself in the log wall by her head and sending out a splatter of splinters.

Well, that answered one question.
Someone is trying to kill us.
Whoever wielded the weapon did so intentionally. Ducking down, she crab-walked over to the window in a wide berth that kept her out of sight of the open front door. Revolver gripped tight, she eased herself high enough to peer over the window ledge. The brilliance of the sun reflecting on snow initially blinded her, and she blinked several times to dissipate the glare.

When she could finally see, she couldn’t help her gasp of dismay. Face down in the snow, a snow tainted with red, laid Ricky. He didn’t move, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to tamp down her initial impulse to run out and check on him.

She’d do neither of them any good if she got herself shot. Turning her focus away from him, she scanned the perimeter of the yard, paying special attention to the tree line and the hiding spaces within. At first, she saw nothing. Then, there behind a snowy bush, a hint of movement. She held her breath and watched.

The rustle came again, dislodging some of the snow from the bush’s limbs, and part of a body dressed in a white snowsuit leaned into view. The face, obscured by a white ski mask and goggles, peeked out, along with the edge of a rifle.

Someone had come prepared. Ricky chose that moment to move, rolling over onto his back with a loud groan. Blood streaked his skin, making it hard to see where his injury was. Didn’t matter though. Anger burned in Patricia. How dare someone shoot him on her turf? Just when she’d decided to let herself care. Just when she’d finally found happiness.

And it seemed the attacker wasn’t content to just injure. Out he strode from the cover of the trees, rifle aimed at her defenseless lover. Ready to finish him off.

Like freakn’ hell.

Snarling on the inside, but stone cold deadly on the outside, Patricia let her law enforcement training take over. She dove and rolled for the front door, aiming as she landed.

Crack
!

The single shot hit its mark, and red blossomed on the chest of the attacker. Given the situation, Patricia hadn’t aimed to wound. She’d been in too many life-or-death situations to make that mistake. A wounded perp was the most dangerous, an armed and hurting one even worse. She shot to kill, and her training didn’t forsake her. With a cold detachment earned from years of missions, both for humans and shifters, she watched the results of her handiwork.

For a moment, the figure stood, a statue all in white except for the blossoming stain of red, it’s brightness a deadly unfurling flower. In spite of the mask over the eyes, she could almost see the moment the realization of their mortality hit. The surprise. The disbelief. The fear.

The gun dropped from suddenly numb fingers. The attacker sank to his knees. For a moment he wavered, mouth opening and shutting without emitting a sound. Death arrived on silent wings, and the gunman pitched forward into the snow.

Then, and only then, did Patricia race out to check on Ricky.

And she almost lost her life.

Whistling and on top the world, Stu had exited the cabin, feeling like the world’s luckiest wolf. As he trudged around the cabin in fluffy snow, he couldn’t help but grin in remembrance of the previous night.

What a night. Patricia might not have claimed him or Ricky as mates yet, but she was close. So close.

As a matter of fact, given the way she’d eyed them both over breakfast—like juicy steaks she couldn’t wait to take a bite from—Stu had to wonder if by lunchtime today he wouldn’t be a mated man. Hot damn, he hoped so.

Forget the single life. He was ready to start something new. Leave the den he’d grown up in and share his future with the hottest cougar around. Heck, he’d even come to enjoy the company of the mangy cat he’d have to share her with. His computer programming business could be done from anywhere. So moving out wouldn’t prove a chore, although, if her apartment was small, they might have to get a bigger—

His wolf growled inside his head, and he paused in stacking the wood in his arms.
Never ignore the instincts of your beast.
His dad’s advice, repeated over the years, had him listening to the silence.

Shit. He hit the ground a moment before the whistle of a bullet whizzed past his head and embedded itself in the woodpile behind him.

Forests were never quiet, even in the winter, unless something disturbed its denizens. And someone with a gun definitely counted as disturbing. What didn’t make sense though was them shooting at Stu. It wasn’t as if he wore his wolf. So who the heck had followed them out here intent on taking potshots?

Sharp on the heels of that observation was an urge to call out to Patricia and tell her to take cover because, knowing her, she’d heard the gunfire and would come to his rescue. But shouting would reveal his location to the gunman and the fact he’d missed. Then, again, he probably already knew that if he watched.

Dilemma. Reassure Patricia and give away his status and position or stay silent and risk her putting herself in harm’s way? The decision was taken from him.

A second shot echoed in the air, and his heart missed a beat, especially once he realized it came from a second source.

Damn it. There are two of them!

What to do. Pinned as he was, and weaponless, what could he do to help? A third shot rang out, again from the front of the cottage, and he saw movement in the woods as a figure dressed in all white darted from the cover of a white birch tree to the wider concealing hideout of an evergreen. It seemed his assailant was making their way around to the front.

It took only a second to shed his pants and boots and assume his wolf’s shape. Stronger, faster, and definitely more deadly, Stu bounded out across the snow in a diagonal that left him open to the gunman but would hopefully draw attention away from Patricia and Ricky if they were in trouble.

Bang
! The rumble of the missile fired didn’t match the previous ones. Was Patricia returning fire?
Gotta love a woman with a gun.
So long as it wasn’t aimed at him.

From behind the wide boughs of the evergreen, Stu’s shooter stepped out. They raised their rifle. Not in Stu’s direction, which could only mean … Pouring every ounce of adrenaline and strength he owned into the muscles of his legs, Stu bunched and leapt.

He wasn’t in time to stop the gun from firing. Mid leap, he heard Patricia’s gasp, and then he couldn’t think, not when fury and fear took over. He hit the gunman, a figure slighter than expected, and together they landed in the snow, him atop, lips pulled back over his gums to display his teeth in a snarl.

In that moment, the wind blew past his nose, and the coppery scent of blood hit him. It didn’t matter whose. A howl burst free from his throat, and he lunged, ready to kill. Gloved hands rose to block him. He snapped and strained, dodged the flailing fist, and would have darted in for a crushing bite—

“Stu! It’s okay. I’m all right.” Patricia’s voice stayed him.

He swung his shaggy head and saw her jogging toward him in her slippers, her flannel pajamas a bright contrast to the snow. She appeared alarmed but unharmed. She dropped to her knees beside him. “It’s okay, Stu. I’m not hurt. Ricky’s been hit hard in the shoulder, a through and through shot, but he’ll live too.”

“And what of my brother?” a hostile, very much feminine voice demanded.

Both he and Patricia turned their gazes to the figure he still straddled.

His mate reached out a hand and removed the goggles to reveal a pair of very feminine eyes narrowed in hate, which, along with the taut lips, spoke of a person with some major anger issues. Of course, the whole gun/shooting thing might have aided in his psyche assessment. It wasn’t hard to recognize the killer they’d caught once before. A killer who’d tracked them down to finish the job.

“You,” Patricia snarled. “I was hoping I’d find you.”

“You didn’t try too hard. Good thing I was the one who came looking. And I asked you a question, animal. What happened to my brother?”

A cold grin the likes Stu hoped never to see turned his way graced Patricia’s lips. “If you mean the other shooter dressed as your clone, then he’s dead.”

“Dead? You killed him?” The shriek almost made Stu wince.

“What did you expect?” Patricia spat, giving the female no quarter. “He shot my mate. Just like you were shooting at us too. I did what I had to in order to protect myself and Ricky.”

“Filthy beast.” The stupid female didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. Insults weren’t likely to help her argument or cause.

“Says the woman who has been travelling from prison to prison murdering my kind.”

“It’s not murder to kill wild animals. But you will pay for killing my brother.”

“I highly doubt that.” Patricia sighed as she leaned back on her haunches. “I’m sorry for your loss, but despite your obvious hatred of our kind, I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

“Of course you don’t. How can an animal understand what it’s like to be human?” She sneered the reply, and Stu backed off her prone body, less some of her craziness infect him.

Patricia cocked her head and eyed the insane killer quizzically. “Why do you hate us? It’s obvious you have some knowledge of what we are. But what could we have possibly done to make you hate us so much? Why the vendetta?”

“Because you’re all beasts. Vile. Raping. Violent beasts. All I wanted was to do my job at the prison and get married. I was living a perfect life until the full moon when that monster came after me in the infirmary I was hired to clean. He snapped his cuffs like they were just paper and attacked me.”

A shadow crossed Patricia’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. That’s not normal behavior for our kind.”

“Normal?” The girl cackled. “How dare you use that word? You are all abominations that shouldn’t exist. Because of that monster I lost everything. My job. My home. My mind.” She emitted a high-pitched giggle. “It was my brother who devised the plan to get revenge. To cleanse the world of you
things.
How easy it was to spot you once I figured out what to look for.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Short of seeing us shift, we are undetectable.”