“It’s vinyl. You do realize it just wipes off.”
“No. Eating,” his dad emphasized.
“Fine. No food. I’ll pack it with a few things, and we’ll get going before four.”
“Are you insane? You need a little more time to prep.”
“It will take me literally five minutes to put a bag together.”
“For you?” his father argued. “Your lady friend needs clothes.”
“She’s wearing clothes,” Zach stated.
“Even foot sweaters,” she said, holding out her foot where it dangled loosely.
“She looks ridiculous,” Joe hissed.
No, she didn’t. She glanced at her bold red shirt with slashes of white with buttons, and her green pants. “I like it.”
“See, she likes it,” Zach parroted.
Joe shook his head. “Idiot. If Nora or any of the biatches find out you didn’t get her stuff, then you’ll go missing. When that happens, I am turning your bedroom into an office.”
“You don’t even own a computer, old man.”
“Don’t sass me, boy, or I will get the belt.”
“You’ve never owned a belt.”
“Because suspenders are a man’s best friend.” Joe snapped a strap.
“You’re always arguing. This is why I moved out. Forget staying here. We’re leaving, Fluffy. I’ll call the Pride for a ride.”
“Leave because you can’t handle the truth,” Joe hotly declared.
They fought because of her. She put her hand on Zach’s arm. He froze.
“Stay. I’ll go find the box.” He didn’t need to help her.
Both men snorted.
“As if you’re going alone,” Zach stated with a roll of his eyes.
“Your lady friend needs to work on her sense of humor because that wasn’t even close to funny. I’ll get some food together for you to take.”
“And we’ll hit the thrift shop and get her outfitted. Happy?”
“Very.” Joe smiled.
And she was confused. What happened to their battle?
Suddenly, they were the staunchest allies. She narrowed her gaze. Had they just fooled her?
Zach insisted that she wear shoes. The things for her feet were uncomfortable, a wedge of plastic between her toes, keeping it on her foot. It slapped loudly every time she took a step.
“Good thing it’s almost spring,” he said as they headed out for the store.
“It’s hot,” she complained at the bright sky.
“It’s thirty degrees Fahrenheit. Hardly.”
“Bah,” she grumbled, shrugging off the heavy coat he’d told her to wear.
Only because people kept staring did she put it back on and move closer to Zach. In the Arctic, she was an apex predator. But out here, outnumbered with the humans and all their knowledge, she was out of her element.
Entering the store, an impression of too much stuff closing in the space almost sent her running. But then she saw a pretty color.
The pale pink belonged to shoes—pretty ones with a heel and a bow.
She turned to Zach and knew with every ounce of her being, “I need those shoes.”
Chapter Nine
She said, “I need,” and Zach bought her the most impractical shoes ever. A few reasons for that, the top-most being that he couldn’t say no to those big eyes.
Damnit.
It didn’t help that the heels looked damned good on her feet. Strangest thing, though? She could actually walk in them. She strutted as they headed back for the house, each of them carrying a bag in one hand, the others linked. He could argue that it was so he didn’t lose her, but the truth was, he kind of enjoyed it—which he didn’t care to analyze. Probably fatigue and residual effects of the drugs. He’d decided to give them the rest of today to fuel up and rest before they took off. He needed to be alert while on the road.
Only it didn’t look like he’d get his nap.
As they neared his dad’s place, he saw the car parked across the end of the driveway, blocking the Impala—which his dad had pulled out of the garage and freed of its dust wrap. Dad babied the Monica.
“Something is wrong,” he said, driving past without slowing down.
She craned to look behind them. “Joe.” With one word, she pinpointed his worry.
“Yeah. Joe.” He sighed as he parked the car at the corner. “Stay here?” It came out as a question because he already had a feeling he knew her reply.
She grinned and shook her head. “I can help.”
She possibly could. Or she could get shot or taken, and he’d be in trouble. But what about his dad?
“We’re just going to check things out. Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.” The question being: Go in on the sly, or boldly?
“Joe’s in danger.” And, apparently, that was a big deal to her. She bolted for the door, slamming it open and yelling, “Joe!”
He could go in behind her, or… He ran down the side of the house, vaulted the chain-link fence, and landed within a step of the side door. So old that even when locked, a hard yank would open it.
Except for today. A second too late, he noticed the gleam of new metal.
Dad had changed it?
The new lock clicked, and the door opened, the muzzle of a gun aimed at his face. The guy holding it had pockmarked skin, his hair cut military-short. “Get inside. We have some questions for you and the woman.”
Questions? Sounded better than dying now.
He followed, but upon entering the kitchen, a nasally voice demanded, “Check him for weapons.”
A human, notable for his peach fuzz growing in patches, ran his hands over Zach’s body. While that happened, Zach took in the situation. Dad sat in a kitchen chair, a gun held to the back of his head, swelling making his left eye shut. His nose showed signs of earlier bleeding.
Fuckers.
His dad had fought. Zach saw the scuff marks on all of the home invaders’ bodies. Pockmark, Fuzz, plus two more henchmen he mentally nicknamed Bandanna, and the Fonz.
Fluffs stood by the hall entrance, arms held high given the guy holding a gun on her. She hadn’t shifted or done anything crazy. Not yet. But he could see the look in her eyes.
Four humans against three shifters.
He liked those odds, except for the guns. These didn’t look loaded with tranquilizers.
“For fuck’s sake, Dad. I left you alone for an hour. ‘I can handle it,’ he said, ‘I’m not too old.’” Zach started complaining and caught his father’s eye.
“Ungrateful whelp, bringing trouble home all the time. How many times must I clean up your messes?”
“My messes?” Zach didn’t have to pretend as this argument was an old and familiar one.
To add to the bizarre argument, Fluffy chose to suddenly shake her shopping bag, suspended from her fist as she announced, “I have tiny undergarments now.”
The Fonz muttered something along the lines of, “Nobody wants to see that.”
Not true. Zach did.
“Shut it. All of you,” Pockmark yelled.
“Or what?” Zach cajoled.
Bandanna was the one to shout, “Or the cat gets it.” His foot rattled a lidded bin sitting on the floor. Zach heard an angry yowl.