“He doesn’t stay here all day. He likes getting out and going to see places around town,” Oliver explained, reading my expression. “He normally waits until you’ve left. You know, he acts weird with you.”
“He’s different with just you?”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, but whenever you’re around, he closes up a lot.”
“Ah.” I finished my coffee, which was cold. “Well, I should get out of your hair. If you need anything, you have my number. And if you go out, drive safe.”
“Okay!”
Standing to take my cup to the sink for Oliver, I felt movement through my magic. My wolves were moving. Landon and Heath were heading away from home, and since it was both of them, I had to assume Carey was with them.
They’re probably heading out to get lunch together. They don’t sit in their house all day, either.
After the morning with Heath, I felt strange about it, though. I waved to Oliver as I walked out. Getting in my car, I tracked the wolves as they turned. They were in a vehicle together, their signatures on my mental map nearly on top of each other, and their movement wasn’t organic. Normally, they sat in the back of my mind, their presence a part of my daily life and unbothersome. It had taken over a year, but my instincts had finally decided neither wolf was a threat to be attentive about.
But Heath had a meeting that had made him pale. Pale. There was something about it I couldn’t shake.
My phone went off as I turned the key to get the little Nissan Versa started. I checked it and cursed.
Landon: We’re heading over to Kick Shot. People want to meet you. They’re from Child Protective Services and the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs.
CPS and BSA? Jesus, Heath, you could have warned me shit was fucking going on. God damn it.
I peeled out of the driveway too fast and hit the gas. I would beat them to Kick Shot, but my mind was reeling. Was I dressed well enough to meet people from either organization? Was there anything in my house that could give me away as a supernatural? Or, worse, cause them to think Carey wasn’t safe?
I flew into my parking lot and started running for my house. Not that I wanted to bring them back here, but I would concede to it if it was necessary. They would wonder why I put it out in the woods with no proper trail, but that was something I would just have to take.
As I got into my house and started looking for things that were too dangerous to leave out, I kept mental track of Landon and Heath. They were getting closer, but were coming from Tyler and following the speed limit. I had time. Not a lot of time, but enough. I grabbed the sketchbook Jabari had given me over a year ago and shoved it into a drawer. There was no way I could leave a book full of runes of power out. I had started practicing them again after the incident with Lani and the other werecats; not that the runes could have helped me then.
Once the sketchbook was out of sight, I looked up, remembering there were some things I couldn’t hide. Jabari and I had carved runes into the very walls of the house. There were a few over my front door on the inside, and I could only hope no one noticed them or knew what they were. I checked for any mess, glad I didn’t keep anything stupid like pictures of my werecat family in public. I had a couple of me and Hasan tucked away in my master bedroom closet, but nothing else.
I looked out the window right as my phone buzzed. They were nearly at Kick Shot. I tried to fix my hair, tightening the ponytail holding my mass of reddish-brown hair. My clothes were clean, but the jeans had holes in the knees. It was Texas, and I owned a bar, so I hoped that would shield me. I didn’t have time to put on a pair of slacks or anything.
I checked my phone as I walked back through the woods.
Landon: We’re nearly there. The story is you and Father met after we moved here. Carey really liked you, and we needed a helping hand since we don’t have a pack anymore to support us, so you stepped up. You and Carey are very close. You’re human.
Well, no shit, of course I’m human, Landon. If they knew I was anything else, there would be hell to pay.
I wasn’t mad at Landon. I was worried because I had never had to play being a human like this before—not to government agents who were probably trained to find supernaturals. It didn’t help while werewolves had been out in the open for a couple of decades, werecats were very much still in hiding. Fae and witches were somewhat exposed, but really, everyone looked at the werewolves as the dose of supernatural they needed in their lives, and half the time, they didn’t even want the werewolves.
Humans could only handle so much, and no one wanted to push the luck the supernaturals had so far with being found out. We didn’t want to overdo it.
Chapter Three
I walked around the nearly finished new building for Kick Shot as they pulled into the parking lot. Leaning on the wall, I watched them park. There were three vehicles—Heath, Landon, and Carey in Heath’s truck; behind them a black SUV; then a small, kind of dinky sedan.
Werewolves, BSA, CPS…in that order.
My werewolves were a little stiff getting out of the truck, Landon especially, but it was the look on Heath’s face while the humans couldn’t see him that surprised me. He was pissed. Carey looked a little worried, but I watched her face brighten when she saw me.
“Jacky!” she called out, waving. Heath waved her to go, and I grabbed the thirteen-year-old as she launched herself into me for a hug.
“Hey, kid,” I said, running a hand over the top of her head. “Hope you’re having a good day.”
Her face screwed up as she turned to glare at the black SUV. I watched the same vehicle. No one from either agency had come out of their rides yet. I knew we were being watched.
They wanted to see before they jumped into questions.
Control yourself, Jacky. Now isn’t the time to be flashing gold cat eyes at people.
It took a moment, but Heath and Landon came to stand next to us, and the feds finally got out of their car, two self-assured men in navy-blue business suits and one woman in a navy-blue pencil skirt with a white blouse. Was navy-blue their work color? I purposefully ignored the BSA for my own self-preservation. Humans didn’t know much about the organization formed by the U.S. government, and too much knowledge on my part would be suspicious.
The woman from CPS was the most cautious, getting out even slower, but she followed the lead set by the feds. As they drew closer, she walked behind them. One of the men held back and stood at her side.
Ah, so they bring numbers in case werewolf parents get pissy about their kids possibly being taken away. I’ll bet my bar they’re all armed.
“Agents, this is Jacky Leon. She owns the bar currently being remodeled behind us,” Heath said, positioning himself in the middle of the pack. “Jacky, this is Agent Robinson, Agent Taylor, and Agent Smith from the BSA. Hiding in the back is Miss Davis from CPS.”
“We heard there was a bar fire down here a few months ago. Would that be this one?” the female agent asked, giving my bar the once over, then turning on me.
“Yeah, electrical issue,” I answered. “No one was in the building. It was closed for repairs and maintenance, anyway. It was a very old building, and the contractor I had previously hired missed a wiring issue.” That was the official story. It had cost me a pretty penny to bribe and rewrite the records. They had wanted it written up as arson and to go after whoever set it up in flames. I couldn’t tell them the person was already dead.
More specifically, I couldn’t have them look into her because I had killed her.
“Do you have a better contractor now?” she asked, a small smile forming.
“I would hope so. He’s a werewolf,” I said, tilting my head to the side to stare at her. Not just a friendly, human stare, but a real stare to make her uncomfortable. It was a ballsy thing to do, but she was asking stuff that wasn’t her business. I figured she had already made up her mind about me.
She turned to Heath, her eyes narrowing. While her attention was diverted, I took the liberty to look at the delicate silver necklace she wore. I knew it was silver because I could smell it. The reason for the metal choice was obvious, but the symbol wasn’t.
It was a rune of power. One I couldn’t identify off the top of my head. I tried to dedicate the shape of it to memory to look up later.
“You’re helping her rebuild her business?” Agent Robinson seemed curious. “That’s very kind of you. She watches your daughter, and you rebuild her entire business.” The way her gaze fell back on me made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’m a paying client,” I said tightly. I didn’t like what she was implying.
“Why don’t we see where you and Carey hang out?” Miss Davis asked politely. “We’re not here to get into anything but Carey’s wellbeing and safety, Agent Robinson.”
“Of course, my apologies.” There was nothing sorry about the agent, but the lip service would have to do. “Where do you live? Why did we meet you at the bar?” Those were once again directed at me.
“I live in the woods behind the bar. It’s a short walk, and the trail is well worn. Normally, I have a dirt bike to make the trip back and forth, but with so many of you, we’ll be walking.”
“You don’t have a driveway or a garage?” That made one of the male agents curious now. I made a mental note, it was Agent Smith.
“No, I use the bar for my car, the little Versa over there.” I pointed out my little blue car with a smile. “I like the seclusion, and when I had the house built, there wasn’t a reason for anything more. When Carey comes over, we walk it together. I’ve been considering putting down a concrete or stone path for the last few months, but I need to get Kick Shot back up and running.” Now I was paying lip service. I had no intention of putting a visible path through the woods that led directly to my house. People could walk.
“It’s a really pretty house,” Carey said, her voice soft. “Prettier than Dad’s.”
“Thanks. Let’s show them.” I chuckled, keeping an arm over her shoulder as we started walking. Heath and Landon fell in behind us and behind them, the agents.