The Problem with Paddy (Shrew & Company) (9 page)

He put an arm around her waist and pulled, ineffectually, then sighed. He sounded way too tired, given his occupation. He should have been raring to go for another few hours at least.

“All right. I’ll keep the bed warm.”

There was something in his voice she didn’t like. It was rough, and not from the sexy brogue that’d been making her private parts clench all evening, but as if he were in pain or had been drugged somehow.

She’d been told she was a good shag before, but not
that
good. But, he’d said he was all right, so she stood.

She slipped around the bed, patted the floor in search of clothing, and stood again with his shirt. She pulled it over her head and carefully made her way to the kitchen, somehow managing not to stub her toes in the dark before switching lights on.

Her phone was in her blazer pocket, and when she plucked it out, there was one missed call, one missed message.

She queued it up.

“
Hey, Boss lady. It’s Sarah checking in. Believe it or not, I’m at a payphone out in Macon County
.
Shit, hold on. Some guy is staring at me from his truck.
”

Dana looked at the clock. It was barely eleven and Sarah had left the message at ten. She must have ignored every single traffic law to get out there that fast. Or maybe…

“
Sorry about that. I’m back. Yeah, I took my dad’s plane. Don’t get mad. Flight instructor said I needed some night hours, so he came out with me. He has family in the area, and they loaned me a car. Listen, I’ve already picked up some leads and I’m going to go check them out. Give me a call and let me know where to meet you. I’m going to move out of this area and should have cellular connectivity again soon. If I don’t, I’ll find another payphone and check my messages that way. Bye.
”

Dana shook her head in awe. Leads already. When it came to picking up trails, even cold ones, Sarah was better than anyone…even Dana. She would have made a great cop, and it helped that she knew so many people, thanks to her last gig.

Dana dialed Sarah’s number and when the voicemail prompt ended, relayed directions to the cabin. She stood, and decided to keep her phone on her just in case.

There was cold water in the refrigerator, so she helped herself to a bottle, and on second thought returned to fetch a second. In the bedroom she patted the nightstand, found the lamp base, and eased her hand up until she found the switch. She clicked it.

“Patrick, I brought you some—” She dropped the bottles and climbed onto the bed, shaking him.

“Patrick!”

He’d thrown the covers aside and his naked skin had acquired a sheen of sweat in the few minutes she’d been away. Dark circles hung beneath his closed eyes and his cheeks, formerly pink and healthy now stretched drained and white over his bones.

He didn’t respond, only moaned.

She straddled him, clamping him by the shoulders and shaking hard. “Patrick O’Dwyer, you answer me,
now
.”

His skin was so hot to her touch. It was as if he’d been laying out in the sun for hours and his body was now reflecting all those rays back at her.

He opened his mouth, and a hiss of breath rattled through his lips. “God, you’re…a battleaxe,” he said, eyes still closed.

If he hadn’t have looked like so much shit, she might have slapped him for that retort, but the fact he was joking with her was a good sign. Right?

“What’s wrong, Patrick? You’re hot as hell.”

“Sexy.” A grin stretched his lips, and as if that’d been some sort of invitation, he grazed his hands up her naked backside and gave it a squeeze.

“Not what I meant.” She swatted his hands away and leaned over the bed’s edge. Somehow, she managed to reach one of the water bottles without tumbling off and taking Patrick with her. “Here, drink this.”

He forced his eyes open with a groan, blinking rapidly as if he was struggling to adjust to the light.

Startled, she backed off him, mouth open in shock, or…what? Fear?

Nah, not
Dana
.

But his eyes, formerly the lush green of an Irish summer, were now a cat-like yellow-gray—some indefinable hue that didn’t exist in humans. His pupils had elongated into long slits. “Shit, turn off the light, sweetheart.”

“Patrick…”

“What is it?”

“Not
it
. They. Your eyes.”

He managed to work himself up to lean on his elbows. “What about them?”

“They’re…they’re yellow.”

It was as if the truth had dawned on him all at once. He took whatever strength he had and forced his legs over the edge of the bed. “I gotta go.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know.” He stood, clenching his teeth in pain and rubbing the muscles of his thighs as if they were causing him considerable pain.

Then it dawned on
her
, too. She hurried around the bed and got in front of him, putting the flat of her palms on his chest and nudging him back. “Patrick, you can’t just go out there alone. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Gently, he gripped her wrists, kissed the backs of her hands, and let them fall. “Exactly. I don’t know. But it’s better for me to be out there than in here. I don’t know if I’ll be me or some beast who can’t rationalize. When I leave, you lock the door.”

“No, that’s ridiculous. I’m not going to let you—”

He kissed her. Shut her right up by delving his tongue into her mouth and stilling it. When he backed away, she was breathless and could hardly remember what objection she was going to make. With a groan, he stepped into his jeans, but didn’t bother buttoning them.

Her expression must have been so easy to read a blind man could have, because he said, “Dana, this is what I would have been doing even if you hadn’t come.”

“But, I’m here. Why would you want to do this alone?”

He scoffed, then cringed. “Shit, it’s starting, I can feel it. I don’t know what’s happening, but it hurts. Dana, just lock the doors, all right? If I get too close, you take that Ruger and you
shoot
. There’s silver in it.”

“S-
silver
?”

He shrugged. “Just a precaution. Please. I’ll be back at sunup, I guess, but you don’t have to wait around.” He grabbed her hand and walked her to the front door and pointed to the tree line in the distance. “Once I disappear into there, make a run for your car. Go meet up with your employee, and I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

“No.”

She watched a lump travel down his convulsing throat and his grip on her hand tightened. “This isn’t a great time to be difficult, shrew.”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Is it making you want to leave?”

Nothing would make her leave until she knew he was fine—that he’d come back whole and with his senses intact. The same Patrick—the man she wanted to take home.

“I never stop until I’ve solved my case, Paddy. I’m not done.”

They stared at each other for a long while, then he nodded. “Lock the doors.”

“Probably not necessary. Cats don’t have thumbs.”

He grinned, and she could see his teeth had elongated—his canines forming sharp points that looked vicious enough to pierce a car tire. “Humor me.”

Her turn to nod.

And he was gone, groaning as he descended the stairs and padded barefooted toward the woods.

She watched until his pale skin disappeared into the dense trees, perhaps five minutes, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She worried for him. He was going to be just like
she
had been when all her changes started. Alone with no concept of what was happening and when it’d end. But, he had one thing she hadn’t—someone to comfort him when he dragged himself home. If he did.

Sarah arrived half an hour later bearing a large portfolio and her usual duffel bag full of firearms.

Dana wanted to tell her she probably didn’t need them, but what did she know? For all she knew, an entire pack of man-sized catamounts could show up at the door, scratching to get in like zombies on the stalk for fresh brains.

She shuddered at the thought.

“You all right?” Sarah asked, unzipping the large, flat case on top of Patrick’s coffee table and giving her boss a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine. It’s been a crazy day.”

“I bet. Why’s your hair all messed up?”

“Huh?” Dana put a hand up to her hair and her eyes went wide when she realized what it must have looked like. She’d put her clothes and holster back on, but had forgotten to check her reflection. Between what she and Patrick had gotten into on the sofa and continued on the bed, it stuck up at odd angles on the sides and had matted a bit in the back.

She cleared her throat and quickly swatted it together, coiling it into a loose braid. “I had a little nap.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sarah hummed, her face a blank. The same kind of blank Dana was so masterful at. It must have been a shrew trait.

“What?”

“You don’t get involved with clients.”

“And I didn’t this time, either.”

Sarah’s jaw ground left to right, and still she stared.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No. You’re too damn honest, so when you lie, I know it. Don’t try to lie to me. It’s always going to be a mistake, boss lady. Ask anyone.”

“I’m not lying. He’s not a client. Not anymore, anyway.”

Sarah nodded, and pushed her lips into a smug little smirk. “Don’t worry. You know I don’t spread news. If you want to get yourself a little mountain man action, I won’t say anything to the folks back at home. You deserve a little R&R. Hell, we all do.”

Dana couldn’t dispute that last part, but she took offense to the “action” bit. That made it sound as if she hadn’t been careful. That she’d fallen for just anyone. Patrick O’Dwyer wasn’t just anyone. He was the man who didn’t even try to tame the shrew. He was the man who liked her in spite of her being one. Sarah didn’t know that, though. Didn’t know Patrick, so Dana held her tongue on that matter. Besides, she didn’t know what would happen when they all got home to Durham. Perhaps Patrick would change his mind and go about business as usual and she’d decide she wasn’t ready to open up to someone again.

She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat, studying the scads of photographs and maps Sarah had compiled. “Tell me what you found out.”

Sarah opened her mouth to start, but the sound of a large cat screaming in the distance made them both pause. Sarah’s skin, usually a dark honey color, paled on her face, but she quickly recovered.

Dana’s recovery wasn’t so quick. Was that Patrick? Some other beast?

“Jesus. I can’t get over the fact shit like this exists in real life. Comic book stuff, you know?” Sarah said.

Dana lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “The X-Men have nothing on us.”

“You’ve got that right. Anyway, I found out the were-cat group here is spread across three counties. It’s somewhat small, but apparently has a strong gene pool. They do have to bring in outsiders to mate with, though. Most people in it have two were-cat parents. Others had been infected.”

Infected? Dana felt like her heart had stopped. How exactly was the were-infection transmitted? She and Patrick had kissed. Bitten, though no skin was broken. Made love, though protected. Was she at risk?

“What’s that face for, boss lady?”

Dana pushed back her seat and walked to the kitchen with Sarah on her heels. She opened the refrigerator and wrapped her fingers around a water bottle first. She changed her mind and plucked out two of Patrick’s gross beers, instead.

Sarah accepted hers gleefully. “I love this shit!” As they strode back into the main room, she pulled her keys from her pants pocket and used the bottle opener she kept on the ring to pop the cap. “It’s hard to find, though. Glad I came.” She took a long sip and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Anyway, from what I’ve learned, you’ve got to be a victim of a pretty bad attack to get infected, and it’s far more likely if two or more carriers attack you at once. It’s like getting a cold, you know? You may be able to fight off one strain from the coworker that works in the cubicle next to you, but not the strain from the coworker on the other side. Double-bombardment.”