To Hiss or to Kiss (11 page)

He shifts his glass to his left hand, so his right can rest on my thigh. We sip the scotch for a while, both of us clearly enjoying the richness.

I can hardly believe that I’m sitting here like this, barely panicking at all. I decide not to examine it too closely. I don’t want to break this spell I’ve fallen under.

I turn my attention back to Jorge, letting myself connect with the current of his emotions. Underneath the pleasure of the scotch and sitting next to me—at least, I hope that’s a reason—I can feel his growing anxiety.

When he starts tapping his fingers on my thigh, I lose patience. “Out with it.”

He looks at me, then awareness of our bond shines in his eyes and he smiles. “No hiding, I see.” He taps his head.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me. Plus,” I add, gesturing at his hand, “you were about to start transmitting Morse code through my leg with all your tapping.”

“Sorry.” He gives me a slow, chagrined smile. “But I can’t complain about being stuck with you.” Lazy cat laces his voice as he reaches out to stroke the side of my face.

“Yes, I’m aware of your charms.” I smile. “And I’m already on to your attempts to divert my inquiries. Out with it.” When he leans toward me, I add for good measure, holding up a hand, “And no kissing me to shut me up!”

He sighs, withdrawing his hand to run it through his hair. “Fine. I didn’t think that trick would work in real life anyway.” It comes out sullenly, and I fight the urge to giggle, instead giving him my best I-mean-it stare. After a pause, he turns serious, the anxiety now clear on his face. “I think we need to rethink our plan.”

“Oh, if you want me to leave, you could just say it!” I lash out, thinking he means this relationship, but I begin to blush as I realize he’s probably talking about the dogs. I look down, going painfully silent
.
Stupid moron. Why don’t I just lay out all my insecurities like a buffet for him to see?

He lets me sweat it a few seconds. Bastard. But I’m still relieved when it becomes clear he is definitely talking about the dogs.

“I think we need to work with the authorities.”

I look up to protest, but he continues, “It isn’t safe for us to just go in there. Not to mention it’s illegal. And I’m not sure it’s safe for the dogs.”

I channel all lingering embarrassment into anger. “Not safe for the dogs? Like leaving them there is safe.”

“I didn’t say it was. But we’re not really equipped to do this. And I don’t want us to mess up an investigation.”

“I can’t just leave them, though. What if there is another fight?”

“I know. I’m concerned for them, too, but I’m also concerned for your safety, for our safety. How about you talk with the humane society and see where they’re at, at least? I assume you have someone you can trust there who might be able to use the info we’ve gathered.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I like this rational side of you.”

“One of us has to be.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t a compliment.”

“It’s not
not
one.”

Oh, he’s definitely in a hole now. I just stare at him with stony silence.

Finally, he shrugs. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He looks like he wants to say more, probably reminding me that I almost got myself caught on security cameras, but then he thinks better of it.

I take that moment to calm myself. “Fine. I’ll call Barb tomorrow to see what’s going on.”

“Thank you.” It comes out with such sincerity that I can’t be angry. Part of me even feels a little giddy that he cares about me so much.

We fall back into a contemplative silence, sipping our whisky. Rationally I do know he’s right. I have to at least give the authorities a chance. But I can’t leave things be. I’m too tied to Gracie to just walk away if she needs me. If anything happened to her and I did nothing, well, I don’t think I could live with myself.

Anxiety still rolls off Jorge in waves, even though there is a hint of relief that I acquiesced to talk to Barb. It’s unsettling. Before I dissolve into a full-fledged panic, I finish off my scotch and rise, putting some distance between us. “I think I should head home soon. I need to check on my cats.”

He nods. “May I pick you up tomorrow? What time do you get off work?”

A part of me wants to be angry that he seems to assume a yes to the first question, but I bite my tongue. He is so beautiful that I want to stroke him. This thing between us is so beautiful I want to hold it close. And yet I don’t entirely trust it or him.

But he is right; I’m going to say yes.

“I should be at my house by five thirty. Do you have something I can write the address on?”

He nods, walking into the kitchen. He returns with a pad of paper and a pen.

I write out my address and hand it to him; our fingers linger as he takes it from me. “I’ll see you then.”

“Until then.” He kisses me lightly, and I squeeze his hand before turning to head out the door.

I am inexplicably sad to be leaving even though my head has been telling me that that is exactly what I should do for the better part of my time here. Maybe my head’s coming around to the whole idea of a relationship, even though I am doing a bit of fleeing. I do really need to check on my cats, though.

Justifier
, my heart accuses.

Chapter Eight

Later that evening, after I get the cats squared away and spend a couple of hours catching up on TV episodes in my Internet queue, Naomi calls me.

“Hey, what’s up?” Naomi says when I pick up.

“Just catching up on TV.”

“Sounds fascinating.” Her voice indicates she is rolling her eyes. “So you doing OK?”

“Am I finally pathetic enough you have to regularly check in on me?” I tease, but I am glad to know that she cares. I don’t have too many people who do. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t let many people care.

“You’ve always been pathetic, my dear Chloe. No checking in on needed for that.”

“Ha-ha.”

“But really, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine? Because you have the I’m-hiding-from-making-some-sort-of-decision voice.”

“Why do you know me so well?”

“I’m magic…So what’s up this time? Thinking of giving Mr. Jaguar-man another shot?”

“Uh, it’s kind of late for that.”

“No forgiveness?” She sounds surprised, then after a pause she’s back to her I-know-you’re-hiding-something voice. “Oh wait, something happened. You better spill right now or I’m coming over there.”

“I may have gone back out to make contact with the dogs and run into a certain someone.”

“Run into?” I picture Naomi raising an eyebrow like Jorge does when he uses that questioning tone.

“OK, maybe it was more like I was met at my car by a certain someone who may have apologized for his previous night’s behavior. And then that certain someone might have kissed me—”

Naomi squeals with delight. “I like this story so far.”

“Well, there’s more. I may not have gotten home until a few hours ago.”

“Ooh, the plot thickens. Please tell me this story involves hot, sweaty sex.” Her shamelessness is one of the many reasons I love her.

“You’re in luck there. It does. Twice. With breakfast, lunch, and scotch mixed in.”

“Please tell me you didn’t cook.” Naomi groans.

“I didn’t cook. At all.” We both laugh. “And we only argued a little.”

Naomi leaves a pregnant pause before she blows out her breath. “Wow, Chlo, this is serious, isn’t it?”

There’s a quiver in my voice. “Yeah. It is. And I’m freaking out even while I’m excited. It feels so right, but I barely know him.”

“And you’ve already slept with him twice, you ho. But seriously, this is a good thing, right?”

“Yes, I think so. I’m just so scared.”

“Of course it’s scary. All the important stuff is. But you can’t let that stop you.”

I’m glad she knows just what to say to make me feel ashamed of giving in to cowardice. “Yeah, all that better to have loved and lost stuff.” I sigh.

“Who says you’re going to lose? I’m betting on you.”

Her confidence in me tips the scale for the side of hope. “You’re right. No one.”

“You deserve to be loved.” She lightens her tone. “When do I get to meet this future husband of my best friend?”

“Soon. I’ll have to talk to Jorge to see where he stands on the whole thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you can get him wherever you want. He’s a guy, and this early in a relationship he’ll be thinking with his genitalia.” Her certainty makes me laugh. Then she’s back to being dead serious. “Don’t be afraid to let go, Chloe. I’ll be here if you fall, but I’ve got a feeling you won’t.”

“Thanks.” I almost believe she could pull me through the heartache. Here’s hoping she doesn’t have to.

“I’m glad things are looking up for you, kiddo. Now tell me about this man.”

“Oh, where to begin.” I start to describe his looks, his mercurial nature, his expertise at stealth and other things.

“Damn, girl. The sexual prowess alone makes him worth keeping. You sure he’s not a player?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t trust people much, what with the shape-shifting. Not exactly something you can advertise with just anyone.”

“Yes, and I suppose you’re no amateur when it comes to sex, Miss One Night Stand.”

“Hey, it hasn’t been
that
many men.”

Naomi laughs. “Yeah, yeah, you tell yourself that. But seriously, I’m just looking out for you—making sure you’re thinking with your brain and not your clit. So what’s up with the shape-shifting? Are there lots of shape-shifters hiding around the world? Are they all jaguars? Can I see Jorge as a jaguar? Because that would be so cool.”

“Whoa, slow down. I don’t know that much yet. He told me not all his family can shift. I don’t know about other types of animals. And you’ll have to ask Jorge if you can see him as a jaguar.”

“OK, I’ll have patience. It’s not like you had a lot of time to talk yet, what with all the
sex
.”

“You’re just jealous. And if you’re so curious, why don’t you just e-mail a list of questions?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I’m firing up my laptop right now.”

“I was kidding.”

“So? A good idea is a good idea.” Her enthusiasm elicits an eye roll. “I know you’re rolling your eyes at me, missy. But I expect answers to my questions. When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow, after work.” I find myself blushing to admit that.

“Awesome. I’m happy for you, Chlo. You deserve this.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for checking in on me.”

“No problem. Someone has to keep you in line.” She laughs. “Call me if you need anything else, OK? And sometime soon we need to get together. We need to discuss what kind of wedding I’ll be helping you plan.”

I roll my eyes but try to keep sarcasm from lacing my voice. “I will. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone. Bolstered by Naomi’s pep talk about love, I decide to go all in with Jorge. She’s right that I deserve my fairy tale, and Jorge might just be the person who makes going for it worth it.

No, I know he is. I smile and hug myself as I walk into my room. Sashi gives me her You-are-such-a-weird-human look from her spot on my bed before closing her eyes to return to her nap.

I pull an overnight bag from my closet. I know he only invited me for dinner, but I decide to prepare for an overnight stay anyway. After all, he did ask me to stay after our first encounter. The memory makes me swoon a little. I feel all twitterpated and giddy again. My brain is a bit disgusted with me, but I pointedly ignore it. I barely even hear it swearing at me.

While I’m digging through my wardrobe to find the perfect outfit to pack, I also set aside a stealthy all-black outfit perfect for breaking and entering to release the dogs. Just in case. I mostly followed and understood Jorge’s plans and the gadgets he showed me. I could totally pull this off, though I probably won’t need to.

My guilt assuaged, I head to the bathroom to pack my toiletries.

* * *

At my morning break at work on Monday, I place a call to Barb, determined to keep my word to Jorge. Plus, I do need to know what’s going on and see if my intel can help. “Hey, Barb. This is Chloe,” I say when she answers.

“Hi, Chloe. How are you? You feeling better?”

“Yes, I’m doing fine.” I’m only slightly embarrassed that the last time we conversed I was texting her that I had a hangover.

“Glad to hear it. What can I do for you today?”

“Just wondering if you know what’s going on with the dogfighting case.”

“I don’t know details, but Mike told me they didn’t get anything conclusive off the surveillance photos, so they put in for a warrant to search the property. Not sure if it will go through or not.”

“Really? That’s too bad.” Disappointment colors my voice, but if anyone is on my side in that sentiment, it’s Barb.

“Did you have anything you want me to try to slip to Mike?” Barb astutely asks.

I appreciate her directness. “There are five dogs. One’s a female, probably used as a baiter. She’s the only one who talked. The others just radiate a mix of anger, distrust, and fear. They’re in the basement. The men bring them up the stairs into a kitchen, then out the back door. The whole place is alarmed, and there are security cameras surveying all but one window in the back, off a utility room.”

“Wow, that’s a lot. You get that all from the dog?”

“Mostly. Also did some intel work.” I am hesitant to bring Jorge into this any further than he already is as a tipster. Not that he couldn’t handle it, but I feel protective. And, if I’m honest, I want this to be my deal. I want to save them.

“Chloe, you went out there on your own? You should know better.”

“I know, but I had to be close enough to make contact and then I couldn’t resist looking around.”

“I know you’ve got a big heart, Chloe, but you shouldn’t take too many risks with yourself.” Barb pauses with a sigh, then her voice turns suspicious. “How do you know all that about the video cameras? Doesn’t seem a dog would know that, and I didn’t realize you had that kind of security knowledge.”