Nischal [leopard spots 9] (13 page)

Nischal didn’t know about that, but somehow he doubted the truth of Preston’s claim. “Anyone can lie.”

Preston shot him a cute look. “But she didn’t. I saw you staring at my mouth. Why do you think I pouted in the first place? I don’t care about an ugly orange shirt even I wouldn’t wear. Why do you think I handed it to you?”

Nischal considered his mate with new eyes, unfettered by blinders of sweetness. “You’re devious.”

“Sometimes,” Preston admitted. “But you’ll find I’m harmless and mean well.”

“Right,” Nischal scoffed teasingly. “How can you ever have meant well by trying to get me into that fucking awful shirt?”

“Because it’d match your complexion better than mine.” Preston tapped his own cheek. “Ginger, remember? That orange with these freckles and my hair, oh man. I’d be a walking target for every joker in the world.”

Nischal had to admit the colour would have looked horrendous on Preston. “Why do you even have the shirt, then?”

“Won it when I went to this watermelon festival in a little town while I was following Suraj. I paid to spin a wheel for a chance at winning this really cool motorcycle, and all I got was that fugly shirt.”

“Fugly?” Nischal put two and two together quickly. “Fucking ugly. That’s an apt description. It would make a good rag for cleaning with.”

“True.” Preston pointed at a road sign. “There’s a rest area a mile up the road. I’m gonna stop and stretch my legs. You want to get out? Can we leave Sabin in the car? I can keep driving.”

“We can drape the blanket over him again.” Nischal twisted around and Sabin opened one eye to look at him. “We’re going to be stopping. Stay under the blanket.”

He covered Sabin up and Preston exited the road. The rest area was almost deserted, with only one big trailer-less rig in the parking lot. The hairs on Nischal’s nape stood up in silent warning. “Don’t park yet. Don’t shift gears or get into a slot you could get blocked into.”

“What’s wrong?” Preston asked, looking all around the place. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Me either, but something feels off.” Nischal saw no reason for his discomfort, though.

“We’ll just drive on,” Preston said. “Fuck this weird shit.”

Nischal bristled. “I’m sorry I’m weird—”

“Not you,” Preston said slowly, as if barely hanging onto his temper. “This, the weird feeling that even I can feel! Like someone is watching.”

Sabin rumbled and shook off the blanket.

Nischal turned and pointed at him. “No. We can’t let you out here. It’s broad daylight and that would put all of us at risk. Think, Sabin. Don’t let anger rule your mind.”

Sabin rolled his eyes, always odd to see him do as a leopard, then he plopped down again with a huff.

“Your bottom lip is out to there,” Preston teased. “Nisch’s gonna give you shit over it.”

“He’s not cute when he does it,” Nischal said, tipping his nose up at his brother before facing forward again.

“Uh.”

Nischal snapped his gaze to the direction Preston was staring in.

“Fuck. That’s the same man I saw at the vet clinic! Go, go, go!” he ordered.

“How the hell did he know where we’re going?” Preston snapped as he floored the gas.

The man watched them with a hard black gaze. He was taller than Nischal, and had to be at least twice his weight, with muscles piled on muscles. Thick black hair covered his head, and a matching beard hid most of his facial features. He stood still as a boulder, watching them. Power seemed to exude from his pores.

“He’s a shifter,” Nischal muttered, the realisation hitting him when he locked stares with the man. “Holy shit, that’s what he is!”

Preston didn’t even slow down. “That’s good. He creeps me the fuck out, so he can be a shifter all by his lonesome.”

“Why would he follow us?” Nischal asked. Sabin coughed and Nischal nodded. “Right. He didn’t follow us. He’s going back to Arizona. This was just a coincidence since we’re heading to Colorado through New Mexico. He’ll be going on after to Arizona. He didn’t follow us, we ran into him here.”

“Okay,” Preston drawled, “Then why was he staring at us like he wanted to kill us with his creepy glare?”

“Maybe because we were staring at him like he was a freak,” Nischal pointed out. “And you peeled out of there like he was contagious or something.”

“Creepiness might be contagious.” Preston sighed. “Fine, now I kind of feel like a jerk, but I still think something weird is going on. And you said he’s a shifter.”

“Maybe I’m wrong. I wouldn’t really know without smelling him.”

“So not happening,” Preston snapped. “I just had a visual of you sniffing his ass.”

Sabin made another coughing sound that turned into a scratchy yowl.

“You sound like me,” Preston said to Sabin. “Except worse.”

Sabin rumbled and Preston snickered.

“Do you need another dose of those pills?” Nischal asked.

“In a few hours. I’m good with—fucking hell,” Preston muttered, looking in the rear-view mirror. “Isn’t that the poor possibly-shifter who isn’t following us?”

Nischal looked in the passenger side mirror. “Get down in the floorboard, Sabin!”

Sabin growled. Nischal growled back. “You weren’t too sore to climb in this vehicle, so I know you’re just being stubborn. Get. Down!”

“We shouldn’t panic. You said yourself that the guy has to be going to Arizona. Our turn is in about twenty-five miles. If he goes the same way we do then, that’s when we panic.”

Preston’s logic couldn’t be faulted. Nischal glanced out of the back window. “He wouldn’t have recognised me anyway. He didn’t see me in human form that night.”

“Unless he’s a shifter, and he scented you.” Preston shot him a worried look. “He could do that, right?”

Nischal’s stomach dipped. “Yes, he could. If he has enhanced senses like we do, he could easily have smelt Sabin—”

Sabin hissed and swatted at Nischal.

“Cut it out,” Nischal warned. “You know it’s the truth. Leopards have a stronger odour than humans, a more…earthy scent. It’s not an insult.”

Had Sabin always been so sensitive? Nischal racked his mind thinking it over. He supposed part of it was Sabin’s frustration at still being unable to shift. That had been a stressor for Nischal.

Then again, he hadn’t seen Sabin even try to shift. “Can you shift?” Nischal asked his brother, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Preston muttered a curse word. “I really want to just haul ass and leave that guy behind. Why would he be driving a rig without a trailer if he’d come to get Sabin? Shouldn’t he have some kind of trailer suited to hauling large felines in?”

Nischal jerked his head up, glaring out of the window instead of glaring at his brother, who was ignoring him. “Good question. Come to think of it, that wasn’t a rig I heard pulling into the vet clinic parking lot, either. It was a regular vehicle, like a van maybe. Not anything diesel. Or huge.”

“This is all back to being fucking creepy.” Preston’s voice faded out and in as he spoke. He cleared his throat and Nischal turned just in time to see him wince.

“Your throat is still sore, more than you let on, isn’t it?” he asked.

Preston shrugged. “It isn’t as bad as—”

“Strep throat, yeah I know. Doesn’t mean it isn’t causing you pain.” He unbuckled and climbed into the back seat. From there he reached into the very back where the duffle bags were. He found the one that had the ibuprofen in it and got the medicine out for Preston. “Need a drink?”

“I still have some water in this bottle,” Preston told him.

Nischal glance again at the rig behind them. The man wasn’t riding their tail or anything, but Preston was right. The whole situation was creepy. “Maybe you should call that FBI agent sooner rather than later.”

“Not while I’m driving.” Preston took the pills Nischal handed him. “Thanks.” He popped them in his mouth then lifted his water from the drink holder and washed the medicine down.

Nischal stared at the man’s throat as he swallowed. Why he found the bob of Preston’s Adam’s apple so tempting, such a turn-on, was a mystery, but it was harmless. He’d love on that bump soon, once the bruising was gone and Nischal didn’t have to fear he’d be hurting Preston.

Preston cursed and lust spun from him into Nischal. “Are you trying to make me wreck, Nisch? Look how horny you—uh.” Preston’s entire face turned red as he shot a sideways glance to the back. “Shit.”

Sabin sniffed and Nischal tried not to grin. “Sabin was probably just waiting to hear the rest of that sentence.” Nischal sincerely doubted that Sabin had been sleeping through all of the sex noises Preston and he had made that morning.

“Oh God,” Preston squeaked. “Oh my God, he heard us?”

Apparently their mental link was working full-on. “Maybe?”

Preston’s face went a shade darker, and the tips of his ears did too.

Nischal patted his thigh. “It’s fine. At least he wasn’t watching.”

Preston made a sound much like a mouse when it found itself pinned down by a big furry paw. Nischal turned back to Sabin. “Answer me. Can you shift? Have you tried lately?”

Sabin blinked his pale green eyes at Nischal, then gave a short shake of his head.

Nischal exhaled gustily and rubbed his brother’s silky fur. “You can’t stay hidden in your leopard form forever, Sabin. What if you have a mate, a human one? You can’t expect him to understand why he’d have a desire for a leopard. He’d think he was truly demented.”

Sabin snuffled and closed his eyes as he rested his chin on his paws. Obviously their discussion was over.

“I’m going to turn in at this gas station,” Preston said a moment later. “I think the road we’re taking a few miles up is more isolated than the highway, and I want to see if that creeper follows us or not.”

“That’s a good idea.” Nischal pulled the blanket over Sabin. “Leave this on, Sabby. Don’t be difficult.”

Sabin looked puzzled and Nischal was pleased at throwing him off. “Preston says nicknames are common. He calls me Nisch sometimes, and I think I’ll start calling him Pres. I don’t like Sab much, though, so you get to be Sabby.”

Sabin purred and Nischal knew his brother liked being a part of their little circle. Sure, nicknames might be common, but they weren’t for him or Sabby. No one had ever bothered with such a thing for them before, and Suraj’s names for them counted for less than nothing.

“This place has a lot of knick-knacks if you want to go in and look.” Preston gestured to the building that had a brightly painted storefront. It had been designed to look like several stores in an old Western town, Nischal thought. The entire front of the building had only a single set of doors with painted outer walls. Every ten feet or so a different type of shop had been painted in a cartoon-ish manner. There was a dry goods store, a saloon, a hotel. It was different than any place Nischal had ever seen before.

“We could maybe get out and—shit, he went past.” Preston wiped his brow. “Whew. I was seriously going to freak out if he came this way.”

“But he didn’t, so maybe we were just being paranoid.” Nischal unbuckled. “Sabby, we’ll be back in a few. I want to see what this place has in it. If you were in human form, you could come too.” He waited until he was sure Sabin wasn’t going to try to shift, then he got out.

Preston was already waiting for him on the walkway. “After we look, I’m going to call Agent De la Garza.”

“Sounds good.” Nischal pushed his hair behind his ears. He didn’t bother with a ball cap now. He didn’t like wearing one. It made his head itch. Preston kept assuring him that he liked Nischal’s white hair, and Nischal was going to believe him.

They entered the store and were greeted by a friendly middle-aged woman behind a long glass counter. “Hi there, welcome to Miner’s Treasure. Take your time and look around, we got a little something for everyone.”

Nischal felt like a kid in a toy store. There was so much stuff to look at, he wasn’t sure where to start. Preston grinned at him and walked over to a wall with dozens of T-shirts hanging on it. “Look. Orange.” He pointed to one that was indeed awful.

Nischal’s gaze was drawn to a light blue one that had darker blue letters on it. He didn’t know what it said, but it was a pretty colour.

“That one’s pretty, too, and it’d be your first New Mexico souvenir. You’d know it was, too, since it says New Mexico right there.” Preston traced the letters with his fingers. “I think you need this one. Should we get Sabin a shirt too, in case he, you know, needs it?”

Nischal should have declined the shirt, but he’d never been given a gift before, and Preston was glowing with joy as he lifted the shirt off the metal rod it was hung on. It could have been that he was tired of seeing Nischal in ill-fitting clothes, but Nischal doubted that was it.

“Maybe if we got Sabby one that was pretty, too, he’d be tempted to try it on.” Preston took a red shirt with letters on it off a different rod. “Too much?”

At first Nischal thought Preston was asking him about the price, which he couldn’t read, then it dawned on him that Preston wanted to know if Sabby would hate the colour. “He used to love red flowers. We saw some, every now and then in the mountains, and they were his favourites.”

Preston’s eyes lit up. “Okay, so this colour red, or this one?” He held up the first one he’d grabbed for Sabby and a second, darker one that was more of a maroon colour.

“The first one.” It was almost the exact same shade of the flowers Sabby had loved.

“There are really flowers in the mountains?” Preston asked as he hung the darker shirt back up. “I’d have thought it was all snow, all the time.”

Nischal laughed and shook his head. “In places, sure. The flowers aren’t up in the mountains, but down at the base. We didn’t get to see them that often because the farther down the mountains you go, the more humans you risk running into.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“Can I hold those for ya?” the lady who greeted them asked as he approached them.

“Certainly. Thank you”—Preston handed the shirts over to her—“Linda.”

Linda.
Nischal saw that she had a name tag on. Linda beamed at Preston and left them to continue their shopping.

Nischal saw hundreds of things he’d have liked to have, but nothing he needed. Nothing he thought he needed, rather, because Preston added four pairs of shorts to their items, telling Nischal that he and Sabby should have some that fitted them better. Tennis shoes that Nischal hated but had to admit would come in handy were given over to Linda to be added to their bill.