Someone threatened his baby?
“Don’t worry, Neffi. Daddy’s here,” Zach cooed then glared at the home invaders. “I’m going to give you three seconds to get out before I make your mother wish she’d been on a protein diet and swallowed.”
“Do anything, and the cat gets it.” Bandanna lifted the lid on the bin and aimed his weapon. Rowr. Neffi hissed and swiped.
Fluffy dropped her bag. “Don’t hurt the kitty.” She shook her finger.
“Tell us where the box is, and we won’t,” Pockmark said.
“Over there.” She pointed right away.
Pockmark glanced as if he could see and then frowned. “There, where? I need a place.”
“She can’t give you one,” Zach interjected.
“Liar. Our boss said you and your little friend know exactly where it’s gone.”
“Who is your boss?” Zach asked because they’d yet to figure out who was in charge of the never-ending stream of human mercenaries—although these were less professional than expected. More small-time thug.
“Our boss is none of your fucking business. Tell us where it is.”
“I don’t know.”
Whereas Fluffy yelled, “Vancouver.”
He glared at her. Was it in Vancouver? The Rockies were close by.
She shrugged as she crossed her arms over her new shirt, printed with the skyline of a west coast city.
“So, you do know where it is.” Pockmark shook his gun at them, and Zach was annoyed.
He’d also given them way more than the promised three seconds. “Time’s up.”
Zach saved Neffi first, tackling Bandanna around the knees. They hit the floor, hard enough that Bandanna yelped and began rolling, holding himself.
Zach popped to his feet, ducked a wild blow from Fuzz, and snapped a few quick jabs at Fuzz’s face until his eyes rolled back.
Bandanna took that time to recover and went to charge Zach, only to scream as he clapped his hands over Bandanna’s ears. That took him down for the count.
Turning around, it was to see Pockmark gaping, probably because Dad had gone all lion and slobbered on him.
As for Fluffy, she remained humanish and had her attacker on the floor, pinned by the neck, her calf arching nicely in her new shoes.
Trust his dad to notice and ogle.
In less time than it took for his dad to get some coffee going along with a heated plate of cookies, they had their assailants tied to chairs.
Four of them, and the Pride sending a team to pick them up for questioning.
Fluffs grumbled. “Maybe they wouldn’t keep attacking if we chewed on a few on them.”
“Send a message. I like it,” his dad said, serving the cat some flaky tuna from the fridge.
“People kind of frown on that,” Zach reminded.
“Meat is meat. You got no problem buying a steak and eating it,” his dad argued.
“Different.”
“How?”
“Food doesn’t talk,” Zach explained, not for the first time.
“Mine sometimes does,” Fluffs added to the conversation.
“You know talking fish.”
“Is a walrus considered a fish? And I only ate him because he wouldn’t leave me alone. Seemed a shame to let him go to waste.”
“You ate a walrus shifter?” Walrus as in a big seal-like dude. He rubbed his face. “Nope. Not ready for that.”
“How many are the Pride sending?” Joe asked. “Doesn’t matter. I better make more coffee.” His dad limped off, but Fluffy stayed behind. Neffi chose that moment to show she’d finally noticed his arrival. She arrived to twine around his ankles. He gathered her in his arms and drew her to his chest for a snuggle that had her purring.
“That’s my sweet baby.” He nuzzled his suddenly very loving cat.
It ended the second Fluffy put her hand on his arm.
Neffi swiped and hissed.
Fluffy hissed right back. With a glare, Neffi dug in her claws and leapt from his arms.
“I promise I’ll make this up to you,” he hollered after his retreating cat.
“Are you sure it’s not food?” she asked.
“We don’t eat pets.”
“Not my pet.” If she’d not grinned, he might not have caught the jest.
“Bad Fluffy.” He smiled too, lest she think it a rebuke.
“When do we go?” she asked. She knew the attack had moved up their timeline. They couldn’t wait until morning now.
“Just waiting for someone to grab my dad and Neffi.” He wasn’t about to leave them unprotected. “So, not long.” It would depend on how fast a team travelled, or if they could find someone local who might arrive shortly.
“Bad.” She glanced at the tied men, none of them dead. Although the guy who got the heel in his throat? He might find talking difficult for a while. Eating, too.
“Yeah. Bad. I didn’t expect them to strike that quickly.” Almost as if they had somehow known his movements. Impossible, unless…he fired a message off to tech support. Possibly being followed. Hacked? Going off-grid.
He destroyed his phone and anyone’s ability to track him. It only took one person to betray, much as he hated to think it.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“Don’t. It’s not your fault. We knew they might come after you. We’ll lose them once we hit the road.”
“I’m ready,” she announced, both her shopping bags in hand.
“I have a box packed in the fridge,” his dad said, returning to the kitchen and heading for it.
It was only because he tracked his dad’s path that Zach’s gaze happened past the kitchen window, just in time to catch the rock as it hit the pane and shattered the glass.
“Son of a gun,” his father exclaimed. “Wait until I get my hands on them.” His father whirled and headed for the side door, but Zach was still watching and yelled, “Fire!” Because a flaming bottle soared for that open hole.
He reached for his dad and yanked him out of harm’s way, shoving Fluffy ahead of him into the hall. He heard rather than saw the whoosh as glass shattered, spreading flaming alcohol.
His father yanked free. “My kitchen!”
Zach turned to see it already engulfed. The men tied to the chairs were its first victims, although he wasn’t sure how much they felt given they all foamed at the mouth.
Why was someone so psycho about making sure they couldn’t be questioned?
The fire alarm went off, and Zach knew they didn’t have much time.
“We have to go, Dad.”
“Go?” His father appeared to not comprehend as he stared at the spreading flames.
“It’s bug-out time,” he said.
The familiar words said often to Zach growing up, wiped the confusion from his father’s eyes.
“We better grab the bags.” Zach knew better than to argue about snaring the bug-out bag his dad kept in case of the apocalypse. He grabbed the army green camo one from the front hall, along with the gray tone version kept packed for Zach. He noticed a third one in there, bright pink with a sparkly crown. Neffi now had her own.
Fluffy had a tight grip on her bags as she sailed out the door, and his cat followed on her heels.
“Where’re the keys?” he asked his father as they raced for the car.