What bearcats really didn’t like was to be cuddled. But because they were so adorable, it was often the first thing people tried to do. In truth, that cuteness was a weapon—it suckered you in, made you move closer, made you think you were safe. But there would be no snugglefest from these cantankerous creatures who had uber-sharp teeth and a chomping power that could crush bone.
Honestly, Havana was no more a fan of cuddles than bearcats were … which was why she tended to snarl if anyone tried hugging her. She’d always been that way, according to her late mother.
Corbin folded his arms. “I was hoping to speak with the three of you.”
Feeling a lecture coming on, Havana asked, “About what?”
He tilted his head. “You really can’t guess?”
Aspen arched her brows. “We have to guess? Ooh, this could take a while.” She hummed. “You want to chew a chunk out of our asses for shoving dead sardines down the seat tube of Jackson’s bike? If so, I’m not apologizing. He totally deserved it for cheating on Bailey—and with Ginny, of all people.”
“Limped-dick motherfucker,” Bailey muttered.
“No, it’s not about that,” said Corbin. “I agree he had it coming, although the stench was disgusting, so I’d ask that you pick a different mode of revenge in future.”
“Okay, so what did you want to talk about?” Havana narrowed her eyes. “Is this about us putting Creepy Stan up for sale on Gregslist?”
Corbin shook his head. “No.”
“Trying to buy an otter when we were smashed?” asked Havana.
“No.”
Bailey clicked her fingers. “Ooh, baptizing Hoe Bag in the pool?”
His lips thinned. “Her name is Ginny. And I wouldn’t call holding her head under the water until she almost drowns a baptism.”
Bailey shrugged. “She was praying.”
Corbin sighed. “I don’t want to talk about her either.”
“Then what?” asked Havana.
He folded his arms. “Oh, maybe I was curious about the barfight you had with three jackals last weekend.”
“Ah,” was all Havana said.
He looked at Bailey. “I heard you drew first blood by slapping one of them so hard you split her lip.”
“I didn’t like the way she was looking at me,” said Bailey.
His eyes slid back to Havana. “You’re usually the voice of reason when Bailey tries to start shit. But instead of calming things down, you went head-to-head with the second jackal.”
Havana shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t like the way she spoke to me.”
His gaze moved to Aspen. “And you decided to go at the third jackal with a stiletto blade, despite her trying to break up the fight.”
“I didn’t like the way she smelled,” said Aspen.
Bailey nodded at Aspen. “She did smell weird, didn’t she? Like wet clothes that had been left in the washing machine too long. It was just … ew.”
Corbin rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know why I ever expect to hear rational answers from any of you.”
The door opened again. A tall, broad-shouldered figure of pure gorgeousness stalked inside. Camden. He and Aspen had been close friends since before Havana and Bailey arrived at the center. There were a lot of shadows in the tiger shifter’s eyes—eyes that often had a cold, reptilian quality to them that made her devil’s fur stand on end. Not that the animal feared him, she just sensed that there was something missing in him. Or perhaps it had just been snuffed out.
Whatever the case, he could be so emotionally unreactive that it was eerie. Havana had never heard him laugh. He rarely smiled, and it was even rarer that he raised his voice or lost his cool. But when it came to Aspen, well, he was different. He didn’t linger on the edge of her world as he did with others, he was smack bam in the middle of it.
At one time, he’d seemed to view Havana and Bailey as interlopers and hadn’t wanted them around. Havana had made it clear that she didn’t wish to take Aspen from him, she wanted him to be part of their unofficial clan. He’d settled on hearing that, but he’d never become a true part of it.
He treated Havana and Bailey like family, but in a distant-cousin-who-tolerates-you-as-best-he-can kind of way. The bearcat was probably the only living being he truly gave a shit about. Which was no doubt why his boyfriend didn’t much like her. In fact, none of the tiger’s past partners—male or female—had liked her, as if they felt threatened by their close friendship.
Sidling up to Aspen, he casually draped his arm over her shoulders. “Ready to go home yet?”
“Yes,” replied the bearcat. “I’m having a serious craving for mac and cheese right now.”
“I can accommodate that.” Camden looked at Corbin. “The fitness rooms are all locked up.”
Corbin gave a satisfied nod.
“I think we should order takeout, Havana,” said Bailey. “I’m not feeling in the mood to cook. Are you?”
Aspen frowned at the mamba. “You don’t cook, you nuke meals in your microwave.”
Bailey shrugged. “Same thing.”
“No, it really isn’t,” said Aspen. She slid her eyes to Corbin. “Just to let you know, a few of the kids are hoping you’ll organize another camping trip.”
“I don’t suppose you and Camden will help out again if I do, will you?” asked Corbin. “You’re both experienced campers. I heard you saw a bear last time.”
“We never actually saw it,” said Aspen. “We just heard it shuffling around outside the tent, making weird noises. For a moment there, I thought, ‘Well, the zombie apocalypse has officially started.’”
Corbin set his fists on his hips. “You heard movement outside your tent, and your first thought wasn’t, ‘Oh, must be an animal’? It was, ‘Shit, zombie’? Really?”
“Z-Day is coming. We have to be ready.”
Corbin sighed. “If you say so. Now let’s lock this place up.”
Bailey lifted her finger. “Gotta grab my stuff from my locker first.”
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” Havana told her.
Outside, Camden guided Aspen to his vehicle in the parking lot. Havana headed straight for her own car, flicking through the notifications on her cell phone. And she pretended she wasn’t hoping to see a message or missed call from Tate.
Nearing her car, she unlocked it with the key fob but didn’t hop in—she was busy deleting the shit-mail from the inbox of her email account. That done, she pocketed her phone and reached for the door handle. Feeling a sharp prick on her lower leg, she went to slap at the spot, hoping to squash the damn mosquito. But then there were two more sharp stings in quick succession—one on her thigh, and one on her arm. She glanced down and muttered a curse as she saw three darts. What in the everloving fuck?
Snapping her head up, she turned and—there. A mean-looking asshole was standing near a large van, holding a tranquilizer gun. He met her gaze, his mouth gaping open as he no doubt wondered why the darts were having no effect.
Anger washed through Havana and her devil, who let out a furious snarl. Havana charged at the bastard, sprinting across the lot. His eyes widened. He fired again, hitting her dead center in the chest, but she kept on coming. He bit out a loud curse.