Battle Scars (20 page)

Chapter Sixteen

I awoke to hear Jazz hissing in my ear.

In all the years I’d had Jazz as a roommate I’d never heard her hiss. Yawn, fart and trill—yes.

Never hiss.

She screamed again and launched herself into the air at something, someone standing at the bottom of the bed, the shadowy silhouette a fuzzy imprint on my mind. Stunned and still half-asleep from our lovemaking, I didn’t understand what was going on until Bran leaped from the bed with a yell.

The thick masculine smell stung my nostrils as I rolled to the side and hit the floor, dropping the sheets and now as naked as the day I was born.

Nathan McCallister.

Changed and flailing around, fangs bared and screeching as he clawed at the cat attached to his shoulder.

Jazz yowled and dug her nails farther into the right side of his face, a white-hot furball of fury.

She screeched again as McCallister pulled her free and tossed her at the wall. She smashed into the pale green drywall and slid down to the floor.

Jazz didn’t move.

Bran launched himself at the Felis enforcer, the brief delay from her attack giving him a momentary advantage. He sidestepped McCallister’s weak swing and laid down a series of jabs into the man’s right side, slamming his fist into the dark sweater like a jackhammer.

I jumped across the edge of the bed at McCallister’s left, snarling as I smashed my right hand into his face.

With claws.

Unbidden, they’d sprung out and now ripped at his already-scratched skin, slicing across his face from right to left, across his nose and barely missing his eyes.

It wasn’t for a lack of targeting.

He roared and moved back a step into the doorway, giving ground. Jazz’s attack had given us the edge but if we flinched or fell back we could still lose.

McCallister was a Felis, an enforcer trained to fight.

We weren’t.

McCallister screamed again and swung his left hand upward, his claws narrowly missing Bran’s vital parts. The sharp edges scored Bran’s torso, dragging upwards toward his face.

Bran leaped back as I moved in, following up my facial attack with a jab at McCallister’s belly.

My claws caught on the thin black T-shirt he wore, tugging on the fabric before coming free—just long enough to let McCallister counterattack with his right.

His claws skidded across my ribs, breaking the skin. I gasped at the pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch but at least he hadn’t disemboweled me.

Yet.

Bran grabbed the comforter from the floor and tossed it over the enraged man’s face. As McCallister flailed for a second Bran charged, shoulder out and head down, slamming into McCallister’s left side and sending him back out into the hall.

Dangerously close to the stairs.

I followed close behind just in time to see the quilt explode in flying strips of shredded fabric, McCallister’s claws making swift work of the distraction. The cheap, white stuffing whirled around us as Bran grabbed McCallister’s wrists and yanked up. Bran’s right knee shot up and nailed him in the balls, a straight-on crash that would have brought lesser men to their knees.

McCallister let out a yell but he didn’t crumple. His hands twisted around to break free of Bran’s, seizing Bran’s wrists in a reverse grab for domination.

I skidded to a stop as McCallister wobbled on the top step, his sneakered feet trying to keep purchase on the varnished floor. He snarled as he fell backward, keeping his death grip on Bran.

I’d rolled down these steps once before in a fight with a Felis, a rogue half-breed male who had tossed my world upside down.

Now my world was about to be twisted bass-ackward once again.

I grabbed for Bran as he arched away from me, trapped in McCallister’s grip and falling down the stairs, tumbling head-over-heels to the bottom floor.

The sickening thud spun my stomach into knots, the sight of the two unmoving men sending my pulse into overdrive.

I scampered down the stairs, bracing my hands on the walls for support. The remains of the comforter fluttered down around us like a white tickertape parade. The two bodies lay on the floor, motionless in the faint light drifting in through the windows.

“Bran.” I kneeled down by him, panting for air. My claws had vanished, retreating back into my hands and leaving behind bloody gashes between my knuckles.

He lay on his stomach atop McCallister, his bare back covered with fresh scratches from our recent lovemaking. His hands, now free, were pressed to the ground as if trying to break his fall.

I couldn’t see his face.

I could see McCallister.

His face was contorted in pain, blood streaming from his nose and from the nasty gouges courtesy of the double attacks from Jazz and me. He’d Changed back sometime during the fall and now looked like a slimy burglar.

One who’d just fallen down the stairs and broken something.

Bran let out a gasp and levered himself off the semi-conscious man’s body with a grunt.

“Damn. I was too tall to ride that ride.” He scowled as he got to his feet, still naked. Fresh blood stained the side of his head and I mentally freaked for a second before placing it as McCallister’s.

“Are you okay?” I took hold of his forearms and steadied him as he wobbled for a second. “Are you hurt?”

He sucked in his breath. “A bit dizzy. Been a long time since I did a somersault. Like, decades.” He shook his head. “Wow.”

“Can you stand?” I lessened my grip.

“Yeah. Go.” He waved me off, a slight wheeze in his words. “Get help.” Bran looked down at the unconscious man. “Damn.”

I hit the main set of lights and grabbed up the phone. It took a second to dial 911, my heart still racing. I stammered out the details. Intruder and ambulance needed. I hung up before the operator could ask more—I knew what they needed and I didn’t want to get caught flatfooted chatting on the phone if there were more attackers on the way.

Felis tended to travel in packs.

“Get up there and get dressed. Toss something down the stairs for me.” I glanced around the ground floor. “Bastard might have brought friends.”

For all I knew we were about to be under siege.

Bran dashed out of sight as I put one hand to my forehead, trying to push away the start of a migraine.

Felis didn’t kill Felis.

I had no idea what was going on and I didn’t like it.

McCallister moaned and twisted his head to one side, letting the blood trickle down his clean cheek onto the floor. I headed for the desk and grabbed the taser out of the bottom drawer. Without my claws I had nothing. Unless the sight of my naked ta-tas would strike him blind, and I really didn’t want to count on that.

Bran thundered down the steps wearing only gray sweat pants, leaping the last few feet to land beside me. He tossed me a matching pair of pants and a red T-shirt before kneeling by McCallister.

“You,” Bran wheezed, “better be alone. If not I’m going to bring your entire Felis world down around your ears for pulling this stunt.”

McCallister didn’t say anything, blowing out bloody bubbles through his nose and mouth.

Tugging on the shirt I drew in deep breaths—both to settle my pulse and do a quick search for more Felis.

Nothing.

No one but McCallister.

Sirens split the air as I walked over to stand by the enforcer, holding the stun gun at my side. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, ideal to sneak around in.

The jimmied front door told the story. He’d forced his way in and come upstairs to kill us. And in my exhausted state I’d slept right through his initial approach, letting him get close enough to take us both out in our sleep if we hadn’t woken in time.

“Jazz,” I gasped. I tossed the taser at Bran and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I skidded into the bedroom, tears blurring my vision.

The old white cat lay on the floor where she’d fallen, eyes closed.

I fell to my knees, unsure what to do. What I knew about cats could be put on a business card in Times New Roman 20 pt font.

I reached out with a trembling hand and stroked her back, watching her belly for movement.

“Jazz,” I whispered. “Jazz.”

Her eyelids fluttered for a second before opening. She blinked and started up a gravelly purr that sounded like an engine in dire need of a tuneup.

“Oh sweetie,” I whispered. “Thank you so much.”

I could hear voices downstairs, a familiar one rising over the others.

Hank.

Bastard probably had a special alert set up to inform him every time an emergency call came in from my address.

I wasn’t going to complain. Right now I needed all the friends I could get.

Jazz got to her feet, wobbling like she’d been on a day-long catnip binge. I picked her up gingerly, watching for any sign she was in pain. She curled up in my arms and kept purring as I descended the stairs.

Bran looked up from where the paramedics were working on McCallister, discarded white wrappings from their treatments spread across the floor. His gaze settled on Jazz.

“Good kitty,” he whispered, choking up.

McCallister glared at me with bleary eyes as they maneuvered him onto a backboard. The two men working on him muttered to each other and to the uniformed cop standing nearby, too low for most people to hear.

For humans to hear. As a Felis I could hear it just fine.

Back injury...he can’t feel his legs...possible paralysis...

I didn’t flinch, returning McCallister’s glare with interest. He’d come here to kill us and would have done so if Jazz hadn’t attacked, giving us time to respond.

Hank came to my side, face flushed with worry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I nudged Jazz. “She woke us up in time.”

“Who is he?” Hank looked toward McCallister, who was being carefully bundled onto a stretcher. “Is he part of that runaway case?”

“Yes.” There was no way to keep this separate. “He’s a friend of the mother of the young man. I found him and he went home, had a fight with mom. Guess her boyfriend didn’t like the way things turned out.”

That was an understatement.

Hank shook his head. “According to the medics the bastard might never walk again. We’ll run him through the system but he’s going down for assault, breaking and entering and whatever else I can think of between here and booking.” He glanced toward the front door. “You’ll need a new lock.”

“What else is new?” I replied.

Hank handed me a business card. “He’ll give you a discount if you mention me. Does a lot of work for the police.”

“Thanks. Do you know a good vet?” I lifted Jazz, still purring like an engine on overdrive. “I need her checked out.”

A familiar voice broke in. “I’ll take care of that.”

Jess walked in the open door, waving away the uniform on guard. “I know a local who’ll take good care of her. Family friend.”

Hank’s eyebrows rose. “You again.” There was a hint of a smile. He’d first met Jess here in my living room during the Hanover case and I knew he was curious as all get-out about her friendship with me.

“Me again.” Jess came to my side and spread her hands. “I was in the area and heard the ruckus on the police scanner. Thought I’d come by and see if you needed any help.”

Protecting the Pride, the underlying message said. Protecting my own.

I leveraged Jazz into her arms, the old cat not resisting. She licked Jess’s hand once before settling down in her arms, still purring.

“I’ll call Amy from the car, take her right over. She’s got a clinic not far from here.” Jess looked over at Bran. “I’ll see you both at the hospital.”

“St. Joe’s.” Hank offered, being helpful.

“We’re not—” That was as far as I got before withering under Jess’s lethal glare.

Hank nodded his approval. “Tumble down the stairs like that’s not good for anyone, much less someone who got bashed about not so long ago.”

“I agree. Get checked out. Both of you.” She watched McCallister being wheeled by. “I’ll meet you there to see how things are turning out.”

McCallister didn’t say anything and Jess didn’t offer. This was a clusterfuck of the first degree, a direct attack of Felis on Felis.

This was not going to end well for McCallister, paralysis or not.

“She sure did a job on his face. Damned impressive work.” Hank gestured toward the cat.

Jess chuckled and rocked the white cat gently. “She’s a fighter.”

Hank looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “She sure is.”

I cleared my throat before addressing Jess. “Thanks for the help.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Jess gave Hank a polite nod before retreating, the white cat still purring in her arms.

Hank let out a sigh. “You’ve got the most interesting friends, Reb.”

I smiled, feeling the first bruises start to rise on my skin. “Tell me about it.”

* * *

We rode in a separate ambulance than McCallister, Hank assuring me that he’d leave a uniform at the front door until we returned. The paramedics were impressed that Bran’d survived a tumble down the stairs with nothing more than what appeared to be a concussion, given McCallister’s injuries.

“Cushioned my fall,” Bran deadpanned as the emergency room doctor flashed a light into his eyes. “No regrets on my end. You come into our house and attack us, you take the consequences.”

The doctor hummed and continued his examination.

I paced the length of the hospital room, my mind spinning through various scenarios. Had Mary Chandler been behind this? Had she taken control back from Evan and now declared a feud with me, with Bran? Or had McCallister gone out on his own, upset that he’d been dethroned as an enforcer and following a private grudge against us.

I rubbed the tip of my nose. This was far beyond anything I could deal with. I hoped Jess would have some answers.

“Looks good.” The doctor scribbled on his clipboard. “Let me just get some paperwork done and we’ll get you two out of here and home in time for breakfast.” He gave me a sly wink. “I bet you’d rather be home in your own bed than hanging around here waiting for cold oatmeal.”

I nodded with as thankful a smile as I could muster, given the circumstances.