Chapter One
Kitty
I usually work until four in the morning on weekends, but things had been slow, so I’d left a little before three with Dementor’s blessing.
I’d come home and crashed, and then my inner cat woke me twenty minutes later — we both heard and smelled the humans in our lair. I looked at the gun on my side table, but I didn’t want to use it. I’d shot people during the riots, and it made a horrible, bloody mess. I slid jeans on and clipped the holster onto my belt though. Just in case. I’ll never be anyone’s victim again.
I’d been naked in bed, and now I had on jeans, a holster, and a gun. No panties. No bra. No shirt. I didn’t care, at the time. Wolves don’t usually care much about nudity because they spend time naked before and after their change. It’s a group activity for them. Not so much for tigers. We’re solitary. Or, we’re supposed to be. My family isn’t, but we still don’t all change at the same time.
It’s true I take my clothes off on stage for a living, but I’m still not comfortable running around naked when I’m not working. I didn’t even think about it on this night, though. I needed to get to the bad guys before they realized I was awake. I put the jeans on because I needed them to hold my holster and weapon, so I could shoot the bastards if it was my only option, but I was hoping to get rid of them without bloodshed. I didn’t want to have to replace the flooring and carpet to get the smell of blood out of my apartment.
The first room you walk into in my apartment is a giant living room/eating area, with a galley kitchen partially hidden by a wall. I stepped into the hidden portion of the kitchen, looked around, and grabbed my cast iron skillet. Blunt force trauma to the head should kill them without bloodshed. Right?
I peeked around the corner and saw two men. One was unplugging my gaming consoles and putting them into a little cloth wagon, the other had my big-screen TV off the wall. I waited for him to set it on the floor by the door before I acted — I didn’t want him to drop it. He propped it against the wall and turned towards my kitchen — probably to steal my microwave. This was the bigger of the two men, and since he was coming towards me, I figured he won the toss-up on who I hit first. I waited until he was close before I stepped into his view, leapt towards him, swung, and hit him so hard the cast iron skillet rang like a bell.
The asshole went down like a lead balloon, but I didn’t stop to check on him. I could see the other man reaching toward his waist, so I propelled myself to him and swung again. He had his gun out and was in the process of aiming when the skillet made contact with his skull. I’d hit him much harder and I was pretty sure I’d cracked or broken something important.
I stopped and listened. The asshole in the kitchen’s pulse was strong and racing, but the smaller man’s pulse was thready and weak. He’d also pissed himself. So much for not making a mess.
I have a box of disposable gloves in my bathroom because I have to dye my hair every time I change. I walked back there, put some on, went to my kitchen for garbage bags, and realized these assholes weren’t going to fit into a regular kitchen-sized bag. I grabbed two of them anyway, and put one under the pants-wetter’s butt to try to keep the piss from soaking even more into my carpet. His heartbeat told me he’d likely be dead in the next few minutes, so I went to the other man. I didn’t think he’d wake up anytime soon, but I also wasn’t sure he was going to die from the head wound. I put the other garbage bag over his head and down around his arms. The bag inflated and deflated a little as he breathed. Too much air was moving for it to asphyxiate him. I grabbed a third bag out of the box and used it as a rope around his throat.
He started thrashing around, trying to breathe, and I worried he was waking up. I grabbed the skillet and hit him in the head again. And again. And again. I smelled blood, but it was in the garbage bag, so that was okay. It didn’t smell like a lot of blood, so I wasn’t worried about it leaking out.
I looked at the time on my microwave — 4:17 — and stood and listened to his heart. Still strong, and much too fast. The rotten, putrid scent of fear permeated my apartment, along with the sharp tang of the other man’s piss. The man in the living area’s heart had stopped beating, so I didn’t worry about keeping an eye on him.
My focus was entirely on the asshole in the kitchen, who was still trying to breathe. I watched the bag suck in and out over his mouth and nose. Thankfully, the asshole never regained consciousness, so I stood and watched until he ran out of air in the bag and finally died.
His heart stopped beating at 4:23. My first thought was to wrap the men up in something and toss them in the dumpster, but I’d recently been questioned by the police about a dead body found in the dumpster. I’d had an alibi for that one, but I wouldn’t have an alibi this time.
I took the garbage bag off the throat of the man in my kitchen and put his legs into it. He was tall, and two bags weren’t enough to fully cover him. I took the box into the living room and used two garbage bags to contain the man in there as well. He was shorter, so I could tie the two drawstrings together and he was mostly contained.
I needed help. Bobcat had been clear that I was to call the MC if I was ever in trouble. He’d tried to get me to move out of this apartment and into one he deemed safer, but this was my home and I’d be damned if anyone would chase me out of it. The rent was cheap, it wasn’t far from work, and all my stuff was here.
With Bobcat away, I should call Dementor, but I hadn’t been around him enough to trust him.
I blew out a breath, went to my bedroom for my phone, pulled up the app Squatch had put on my phone a few days after I was hired, and called the giant werewolf. Well, he’s a giant in human form. I’d never actually seen him in wolf form, but I assumed he’d be big as a wolf, too.
“Yo.” His deep, growly voice always went straight to my clit, but I couldn’t let that sidetrack me.
“I have a situation.”
He didn’t say anything for a few beats. It sounded like he was walking into another room.
“You okay?”
“Physically? Yeah, but I’m going to need help to keep it that way.”
“Looks like you’re at your apartment. You just need me, or is this going to take more of us?”
He didn’t ask me why I needed him, he only asked how many people to bring. My eyes teared up a little, but I pushed my emotions down. I worked for them and they protected their people. That was all this was.
“I’m not sure. The emergency is over though, so you can figure that out once you’re here.” I blew out a breath. “We probably need a truck. Something that can be cleaned after we move something. Possibly large garbage bags, if you have them. My kitchen-sized bags aren’t enough.”
“How many somethings are we dealing with?”
“Two.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
Chapter Two
Squatch
My inner wolf was thrilled she’d called me when she needed help.
We aren’t supposed to fall for our employees — especially not the strippers and working girls. The MC doesn’t have rules against it, but we’re all advised to keep emotional distance with them. We pay them if we want to fuck them, and we don’t get involved. Simple.