Ethan answered, after a quick glance around at his fellow enforcers. “It’s not that we’re doubting your skills or anything, Faythe, but we gotta know. Dad said you bit through some guy’s neck…” He paused for confirmation, and I nodded, thoroughly enjoying the look of admiration I got in return. “How the hell did you get him to come near you in cat form?”
I grinned, and took a swig from the can. They still didn’t know about the partial shift. “That’s a long story. When this is all over, remind me that I have something interesting to show you guys.”
Parker frowned, but the glimmer of curiosity in Ethan’s eyes only grew. I laughed and Ethan leaned back against a cabinet, waiting for someone to start talking. Owen cleared his throat, and I looked up to find everyone staring at me. Oh yeah, I thought, blushing. I’m supposed to do the talking.
Six pairs of eyes followed me as I stepped forward to begin my very first briefing. “I assume Daddy told you about my idea,” I said, speaking to the room in general.
Marc’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Well, he did mention something about you suffering delusions of competence and responsibility. His theory is that you took a pretty good hit on the head.”
I smiled at him gratefully, instantly at ease. “Ha-ha. You just don’t like the idea of me as your boss.”
“The way I heard it, we’re partners.” He leaned against the kitchen sink, crossing his arms over his chest in a familiar, cocky stance. He’d been standing just like that the first time he asked me out.
“Well, if you want to get technical…”
“I want to get out of here,” he quipped.
“Me, too.” I really wanted to hold his hand. “How soon do we need to be at the airport?”
“Our flight leaves at two-thirty,” Parker said. “It will take us at least half an hour to get to the airport, and we need to be an hour early to get through security.”
“Security. Shit.” I sank into a chair, already mourning the failure of my first assignment.
“What’s wrong?” Abby asked.
“I can’t fly. I don’t have any ID. Damn it!” I kicked an empty chair with my bare foot. It flew across the room and slammed into the wall, leaving a dent the size of a child’s fist. I might have been impressed with myself, if not for my throbbing big toe.
Marc knelt in front of me, his hands on my knees. “Tell me you love me.” His grin was irritatingly smug and cryptic.
I watched him through narrowed eyes, not bothering to hide suspicion. “Why?”
“Because it’s true.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
He pouted for show. “I’ve already come to your rescue. What could be better than that?”
“The way I remember it, I came to my rescue. I don’t see your bite marks on the dead guy in the basement.”
Ethan snickered, and Marc glared at him. I grabbed his chin and turned him back to face me. “If you have a point, make it.”
“Fine. But you’ll say it one of these days, and there just might be a witness around to keep you from denying it later.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I said it with a smile, but Marc still looked hurt. He reached into his back left pocket and pulled out my wallet. I took it with wide eyes. “Why do you have my wallet?”
Pain flashed in front of his eyes for an instant, then it was gone, and I knew that whatever he said would be only half the truth. “Because your father taught me years ago to prepare for every possible complication. Like an unexpected flight.”
That was exactly the kind of advanced planning I was going to have to master to enjoy any success at my new job. “Thank you.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember what I’d been saying.
“We need to leave around one this afternoon,” Parker said, bringing me back on track.
“One p.m. Right.” I glanced at the clock over the sink. “So that gives us just under three hours to get this place cleaned up. Let’s get going.” But they already were. And, really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Even if I was technically in charge, they all knew what needed to be done a lot better than I did.Owen knelt in front of the sink, searching for cleaning supplies. He came up with a roll of large black trash bags and nothing else. “Not so much as a Brillo pad. Someone will have to go shopping.”
“Fine.” I glanced down at my ruined clothes. “Parker, you go. Take Abby with you,” I added as an afterthought, hoping something as normal as a shopping trip might make her feel a little better. “There’s probably a drugstore nearby, or a Wal-Mart, if we’re lucky. Get what you need to clean, and get some fresh clothes for me and Abby. And toothbrushes, too,” I said, thinking of Eric’s tongue in my mouth. Marc wouldn’t mention it again, but I knew it bothered him. It bothered me, too.
“You want me to buy clothes?” Parker wrinkled his forehead in uncertainty.
“Unless you think I could make it through airport security drenched in blood.”
“I guess not,” he grumbled, glancing down at my shirt. “But, uh, what kind of clothes? And what size?”
“Come on, Parker, I know what to get.” Rolling her eyes, Abby grabbed his arm and tugged him out the front door and down the steps.
As my father’s van backed down the driveway, Ethan grabbed several trash bags and trailed the rest of the guys into the basement. “Time to shear the black sheep of the family,” he muttered, his usual smile grim and brittle. “What do you wanna bet momma’s boy’s less than happy to see us?”
“Go easy on him,” I said. “We’re not done with him yet.”
Ethan shrugged, noncommittal, and I started to follow him, but Marc pulled me aside. “Faythe, why don’t you let us handle the cleanup?”
“You? Clean?” I feigned shock, one hand over my heart. “Have you seen where you live?”
He laughed. “Just because I don’t dust compulsively doesn’t mean I don’t know how to deal with a corpse. This isn’t my first dead rogue, you know.”
I did know, but knowing something isn’t always the same as understanding it. I’d always known that being an enforcer sometimes meant getting your hands dirty, but I’d never thought about what that meant for Marc and the guys. Now I was seeing firsthand what all was involved in dealing with a rogue.
A rogue was any cat guilty of breaking Pride law, be he wild, stray, or Pride. Those terms denoted social status, but said nothing about the cats they labeled. There were honorable strays, like Marc. And there were criminals among the natural-born cats, like Eric. Miguel, Luiz, Eric and Sean were rogues because they’d kidnapped, raped, and killed. Ryan was a rogue too, strictly speaking, because he’d helped.
By necessity, rogues were dealt with quickly, in a manner harsh enough to discourage potential copycats. In our territory, and in some of the free zones, Marc was the one who dealt with rogues, though rarely alone.
Unless the offense was serious, like murder or Shifting in front of a human, Daddy usually settled for a warning: a deforming scar or handicap. But no one got more than one warning. If a rogue was stupid enough to mess up twice, Marc would take him out of the game. If he was lucky, it would be a snapped neck. However, if the crime was especially brutal, Marc might make an example of the doomed cat. That usually took a while. And it was usually messy.
“Yeah, I guess you probably know what you’re doing,” I conceded.
“Yeah, we do.” His smile faded into a serious look I didn’t quite care for. “Besides, you shouldn’t have to mess with this after what you’ve been through.” Marc stopped talking abruptly, but I knew he wasn’t done. He glanced down at the blood on my chest. “And you should probably take a shower. I guess I can forget about getting my shirt back, huh?”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged, handing me a trash bag from the pile on the table. “It was old anyway. Put your clothes in here when you take them off, and we’ll get rid of them with everything else.”
“Thanks.” I took the bag and turned toward the living room. Then, on second thought, I spun back to face him. “Hey, Marc?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget Daddy made a deal with Ryan.” He nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. “That means you can’t touch him. Promise me.”
“I swear on all nine of my lives.”
I laughed. No, we don’t really have nine lives. That would be cool, though. Especially in Miguel’s case. If he had nine lives, we could each take a turn killing him. Oh, well. We’d just have to settle for doing it right the first time.
Twenty-Eight
Parker and Abby weren’t back with the clothes yet when I got out of the shower, so I wrapped myself in a big white towel secured with a safety pin I found in the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my hair twisted up in a second towel. I’d avoided looking at myself so far, but finally had to admit that I was being a coward. After all, I’d earned my battle scars, and I might as well know what they looked like.
It wasn’t pretty. Beneath the towel, a carnation bloomed on the left side of my stomach, dark purple, with pink, knuckle-shaped petals. It was too tender to touch, as were the ribs on that side of my body. My left shoulder throbbed dully along with my pulse, and a chain of bruises adorned my wrist like a bracelet, the latest in fine jewelry for battered women.