Hour of the Lion by Cherise Sinclair (reading a book txt) 📕

badge, and she saw tattoos all over the back of his hand. "We‘re with the FBI, Miss. May we come in?"

The government. This was bad. And the rules set down by Uncle Alec were never to be broken. "My dad isn‘t here. I‘ll call him and you can—"

They pushed into the house, forcing her back. The tattooed one looked at her with cold eyes,

"Are you Jessica McGregor?"

What was she supposed to do? "Yes. I need to call—"

"Later." He pointed toward the office. "Perez, check out the place. I‘ll handle the girl."

"On it." The one called Perez disappeared into Daddy‘s den.

"Sit." His hand hurt her shoulder as he shoved her onto the couch. "I‘m looking for Victoria Waverly. She worked at your dad‘s tavern. Where is she?"

Involuntarily, Jamie glanced at the window. The mountains had disappeared in the snowfall.

He followed her gaze. "Is she in the forest? Where? A town?" He put his face too close to hers, his breath ugly with coffee and onion.

Go away! Jamie looked at the bedroom. Was Joe out of the bathroom? "Grandpa Joe!"

"Shit! Who else is here?" The man grabbed her wrist.

She saw a gun holstered on his belt, and her breath clogged in her throat.

The bedroom door opened, and Grandpa Joe appeared, holding his chest. "Jamie? What—"

He stopped. "Who the hell are you?"

"FBI. Stay put, and we‘ll get to you."

"In a pig‘s eye." Grandpa Joe came forward.

As the man turned to Joe, Jamie yanked free. Daddy needed to come now! Quiet as a mouse, like Alec had taught her, she snuck toward the phone in the corner.

"Give me your name. And your badge," Joe snapped.

"You‘re not Calum McGregor?" The man circled around Grandpa Joe like Daniel did when he was buying a cow. "Nah, you‘re too old. Nice scars you got on your arms there, dude."

As Joe‘s face darkened, Jamie picked up the phone. No dial tone. Her hands shook. She hit the OFF button. Then, TALK. Nothing. She repeated, over and over. The phone was dead.

Grandpa Joe glanced at her, and she shook her head „No," before setting the phone down. He jerked his head at the door and stepped in front of the man. "Listen, asshole—"

Heart pounding, Jamie darted across the room. She had the door halfway open when the guy slammed it shut and yanked her back by the hair.

Tears burst from her eyes at the pain. She screamed, but a hand over her mouth muffled it.

With an arm around her waist, he turned, dragging her with him.

The other man had jumped in front of Grandpa Joe, keeping him from Jamie. Growling, Joe hit him in the face and knocked him down.

As Jamie kicked harder, the one holding her gave a mean, horrible laugh. "Jesus, he‘s at least sixty, Perez. Finish it already..."

Head down, the Perez man lunged, hitting Joe in the stomach like a football tackle. Joe grunted and turned white.

That man hurt Grandpa. No. No no no. She struggled frantically, tearing at her captor‘s hands with her fingernails.

"Little wildcat, eh? I love ‘em young." He pushed his body closer, rubbing against her bottom, and her stomach cramped like she was going to throw up.

Instead of pulling away, she turned in his grip and kicked hard at his leg. Her foot slammed into his shin.

"Fucking bitch!" Letting go of her mouth, he yanked her back by her hair and slapped her.

Pain seared her cheek, and she yelled.

Grandpa Joe jerked around, and through the tears blurring her eyes, she saw Perez punch him. In the chest. He groaned and grabbed where his wound was, and red covered his hands. The man kicked him in the stomach. Joe fell back and the sound of his head hitting the coffee table was horrible. Blood pouring from his head, he didn‘t get up.

"Grandpa!" Jamie screamed.

He didn‘t move.

"Nooo," Jamie moaned, her legs crumpling beneath her. She held her hand against her burning cheek, choking on sobs. She tried to crawl to him, but the man grabbed her collar, shook her like an animal.

Like an animal.

She closed her eyes, and there it was, the door, glowing an angry mean red. Calling her. She yanked it open and stepped through...into wildness.

She was on her hands and feet—no, on her paws. The world looked different, and she screamed in terror, only it came out a snarl. Tipping her head up, she saw the men, backing away from her, and the scent of their fear made her want, need something. Her pants bound one leg and she bit at the cloth and ripped it free. Snarling, she stalked forward and slashed at the one who‘d hurt Grandpa Joe. She caught only his jeans, tearing them, but he jumped away from her grandfather.

The tattooed one grabbed for his gun. Fear. She charged at him, trying to get the gun. He screamed, jumping back. His shirt was in shreds, and blood started to pour from horrible slices on his stomach and chest. His face and arm were all scratched. The men bumped into each other as they ran out the door.

I bit that man? Clawed him? She hadn‘t even known she‘d moved. She‘d hurt him. I want to hurt him again. The fur on her back felt twitchy. Standing up. No, that was bad. Daddy. I need Daddy.

She padded over to Grandpa Joe and snuffled his face, but the smell of blood made her insides feel funny, and she backed away. She wasn‘t supposed to enter a house. Not as a cat. She needed to turn back to human.

But what if they came back?

The door was still open, and the wind swirled into the room. She took a step forward. In the distance, the mountain called to her, cried her name as clearly as Daddy would. She sprang out the door.

*

Alec walked out of the school, pissed off as any man could be. No bomb—which was a good thing, really—but there‘d been no damned bomb. He‘d bent over desks, looked into dusty storage rooms, and checked bathrooms where