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

Well, hell, they were more aggressive than off-duty soldiers in a bar.

"Speaking of fighting," Calum said, "I want to teach you two some techniques."

Hey. She was a damn good fighter. "And what exactly do you think I need to learn?"

"We‘ll start with how to use your hind claws to disembowel your opponent," Calum said in a dry voice and shifted.

Oookay. Vic closed her mouth and followed suit.

*

"It‘s Swane," came the voice on the phone.

Vidal had anxiously waited for word that they‘d captured the girl. He‘d told Swane he wanted to be there when they contacted the girl‘s werecat father. But all yesterday—nothing.

"Why the hell didn‘t you call?"

"It was a total cluster-fuck. The little bitch turned into a cougar. Clawed the shit out of me.

I‘m calling from the fucking hospital."

"Have you got her?"

"Hell no." Swane swore foully for a full minute. "She tore out of the house and ran into the forest. I was bleeding like a stuck pig, so I sent back-up and stayed with the van. Two of my men followed the cat up a trail."

"Well?"

"The cop showed up, then the kid‘s dad. They changed into fucking cougars. Both of them."

"What happened to your men?"

"Don‘t know. No arrests. Jail‘s empty. They haven‘t called in. I haven‘t seen them anywhere. I figure they‘re lion fodder."

Vidal dropped into the chair. He‘d known the shapeshifters were dangerous. But to have his hopes flattened so thoroughly. Depression rolled over him, blackening his thoughts. "It‘s hopeless."

"Those fucking creatures have killed my men," Swane snapped. "They‘re not going to get away with it, even if I have to take some explosives in there and flatten the town."

Chapter Twenty-one

"Vicki?" Her freckled face worried, Jamie looked up at Vic.

"What is it, munchkin?" Vic walked down the sidewalk, eyes alert for any problems.

Nothing. A few kids on their way to school. A man burning leaves. A fire salamander joyfully danced in the bonfire. "Is something wrong?"

"Not…exactly." Jamie chewed on her lower lip. "See, I owe you for saving me, and I‘m not sure how to repay you."

"Owe me?"

"Uh-huh. It‘s the Law of Reciprocity. Favor for favor, or favor for damage done. You know—to achieve balance between us?"

Seems like she‘d run into that rule of theirs before, and the baby was dead serious. Vic scratched her nose, stalling for time. She sure as hell wasn‘t going to put the kid in debt for being rescued. "Okay, here‘s the deal. My rules say that grown-ups protect kids."

Jamie nodded solemnly. "We have that too, but it‘s not a Rule."

"I was only doing my job." When Jamie opened her mouth to protest, Vic held up a finger.

"And it happens that I like to fight. So I think for our exchange, you should do something for me you like to do."

Jamie‘s face scrunched up, and then she nodded.

"Therefore," Vic tried to remember the words Calum and Thorson had used, "in balance, I figure you should make chocolate chip cookies, and I get as many as I want before Alec or your daddy have any."

"Or me." Jamie gave a little skip, then sobered. "The balance is fair. Accepted."

"Good deal." Relief that she‘d successfully navigated another strange shifter custom vied with sheer greed. Chocolate chip cookies all hers before the greedy bastards got to them. Score!

Grinning, Vic stopped at the entrance to the school yard. This would be the kid‘s first day back since the mess almost a week ago. Vic took her by the shoulders, studied her face. No fear, only a trace of anxiety. Okay, then. Ignoring the babble of children‘s voices, Vic ordered, "You‘re going to do fine."

"I know," Jamie said. Scowling, she kicked a lump of snow into the fence. "Only I‘ve got to make up a stupid biology project."

"You‘ll manage. I‘ll see you this afternoon." Vic watched as the kid trotted into the school yard, and her friends swamped her. Yes, the girl would manage. Smart, sociable, with a big heart, and a hell of a lot of courage. She‘d make a great Marine.

I was a great Marine. But that life had disappeared. No Marines, no Wells, and no CIA.

Firming her mouth, she turned away from the children‘s laughter and headed toward the Wild Hunt. She‘d report in to Calum who‘d had an unexpected delivery for the tavern. After letting him know his daughter had made it all right, maybe she‘d go see Thorson. Have some coffee or something.

It wasn‘t like she had anything better to do with her day. Or her life.

Dammit. Imitating Jamie, she kicked a chunk of snow, sending it flying into a nearby tree. A pixie clinging to a branch chattered angrily at her. Oops. She glanced up at the angry, tiny face.

"Sorry. I forgot about you guys."

After clicking its nails at Vic—was that the way a sprite flipped someone off?—it disappeared back into the branches. God, her world had gotten bizarre.

Vic walked slowly down the snow-patched sidewalks. Calum said she needed to stay in Cold Creek for at least six months, to learn shifter rules, how to control the trawsfurs, let her body adapt fully. What the hell was she going to do during that time, and even after that? Being a barmaid was fun, but not for a lifetime. It would be like surviving on cake instead of real food.

But she wasn‘t exactly trained for much. I"m a soldier, dammit!

Not any more. The gusting breeze tangled her hair, and she brushed it back impatiently. She needed to call Wells and tell him she wanted to muster out. The thought left an aching hollow in her gut. He‘d recruited her into his special undercover unit years ago, given her Special Forces training, CIA agent training. They spoke the same language of duty and honor and loyalty, and in typical Wells‘ fashion, he‘d known just what to say to get her on board. “I need you.”

Now she‘d lose him too.

Her throat somehow cut off her wind, and she stopped to breathe and look out at the snow-dusted mountains, soaring tall