Protect and Serve Don't Need A Hero (6 page)

The leader of the rats snatched off the silk sheet, exposing my naked body.

“Oh! Is that really necessary?” I pouted and pretended to be as brainless as I looked. Yeah, okay, so I use being pretty now and then. It’s one of my weapons.

The two behind the leader sidled up beside their boss and looked down hungrily at me. Their red eyes and greasy skin reflected the candlelight. “Yes.” Well, ask a stupid question…

I looked down at my exposed body. “Oh, crap. Did I shave my legs?”

Two of the idiots checked out my legs, like it really fucking mattered to them. Morons.

I yanked up one of the candle stands and swung it like I needed to get a cement wall down with a sledgehammer. It was awkward as hell, but I gave it a go. Really, I didn’t have a choice.

Green Teeth went down like a bag of rocks. No loss there.

Red Shirt took the remainder of the swing, but only ended up with maybe at most a broken left arm. He fell back, chittering, into the dark. A few seconds later, a small stream of blood seeped from the darkness.

The Leader jumped back. He was too smart to be taken in by my trick. He warily watched my arms with his narrowed, ratty little eyes. “Think you’re smart, eh, Kitty? Boss likes smart girlies. They cry best. Maybe you’ll make a good present.” He licked his lips and eyed my breasts.

Okay, that was enough. I’m no one’s fucking present. Don’t ask me how I flipped over onto my hands and knees with my back arched like I was already furry. Cats don’t know how they do that kind of acrobatics, and don’t give a damn if you want to know. “Dude, you just earned a thorough shredding.”

Leader laughed, and his sharp teeth showed yellow in the candlelight. “Pretty Kitty wants to get fucked, eh? I can mount you from behind before you can claw me. So you claw for pleasure, if you’re a good kitty.”

From the darkness behind Leader, two green-gold eyes glowed in the candlelight.

My best predator’s grin slowly crept up my face. Yeah, so I probably had that same intent look as a cat about to tease a lizard. “Who said I was gonna be the shredder, dumb shit?”

The double-snarl of a cougar -- er, Florida panther, my bad! -- was the last thing he heard. My big cop-cat dropped the rat’s lifeless body over the edge into the rusting hulk of an old Dumpster.

The other two bodies joined their leader before Apollo returned to human form. “Pete, you were magnificent. They never even noticed the bandages on your pretty foot.”

I purred and rubbed my head against his crotch, but even cops have limits on their energy. All I got was a twitch. “How’s about a shower or something? I got that baggie thing they provided to keep my dressing dry, and I really, really want a shower. Kitties shouldn’t have to take bird baths.”

“Yeah. I think you’re going to like my shower.” He scooped me up and started walking toward his bedroom.

“Stop! Stop!” I couldn’t believe what I saw. Okay, maybe I’d been more interested in getting laid than checking the décor, but I finally noticed pure heaven. Real wood. Curved Victorian antiques sitting side by side with Heywood-Wakefield blonde in the living room. Crane fixtures and apple green paint in a 1920s retro kitchen. Everything lovingly restored to the best standards. I saw Tiffany stained glass lamps right next to Art Deco. My jaw hit my chin. “Is that a Skyliner end table?” I didn’t even need to see his nod. “Can I touch it? Please?”

Chuckling, he swept me low enough to let my fingers brush the smooth, blonde wood. “Trust a finish carpenter to recognize wood design.” He yawned. “I’ll show you my workshop in the…” Another yawn punctuated his tired mumble. “Morning.”

Yawns are contagious. We both should have been revved on adrenaline, but all the energy drained out of me. “It’s already morning.” I pointed at the faint trace of light above the tree line across the river. “Screw the shower. Is your bed really a Lane Hemingway?”

Apollo turned and headed toward the bed. “Yeah. With a real featherbed on top.” He put me in the bed and let me sink. Did you know featherbeds ensure you have to cuddle? Oh, like that hurt me. The last thing I remember was both of us purring in unison with this warm, buttery-soft quilt on top.

I heard my security system answer the phone vaguely, but it was programmed to call screen. I cracked one eye in time to see Dustin Hardesty’s phone number on the ID screen and that we’d had only about six hours of sleep.

“Hey, mah man!” Tigs’ voice was entirely too cheerful. “Petey can come home. Newsies left this morning.”

Pete muttered a sleepy obscenity and burrowed under the quilt.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Dustin’s mate needed to go to hell.

Tigs sniggered. There was no other polite way to say it. “Bring her back when you’re done with her.”

Pete sat up, all pissed off kitten, and just as cute. “Sonovabitch! When the cop’s done with
me
? How about when I’m done with him?”

My cock really liked that plan. “Yeah, when we’re done with each other.”

One side of her mouth twitched upright, like she flicked her whiskers at me. She stuck her tongue out at the speaker embedded in my wall right next to the alarm above the nightstand. “See you in a thousand years,
mah man
!”

Chapter Eight

The cold wind bit right through my naked body. I tried to change back to cat, where at least my long cream-colored fur could keep me warm, but nothing happened. The setting sun shone through the bare trees, orange-bright but not warm. I craved warmth.

A large, brownish-gold lump of fur just ahead caught my eye. Beau! The golden retriever had always been good-natured about sharing a bit of rug, or even his bed. He wouldn’t begrudge me a cuddle now.

I ran for my pal where he lay on the white, crushed marble drive. The sharp stones were icy-cold, but the promise of Beau’s fur was worth the brief chill.

Ice! Beau’s body was ice-cold. The stench of unwashed dog and feces clogged my nose. Beau had never smelled so bad! Okay, so he was a dog, but this was worse than bad.

“Beau! Dude, you so need a bath.” I moved a little closer so I could grin down at my old friend. He always had a doggie-breath grin for me, and I was lonely and scared. I really, really needed a friend right now.

This time though, the grin was a skeletal parody of Beau’s happy face. A beetle crawled out of the visible eye socket. Beau was dead. Long dead. Even while I watched in horror, a bit of gold fur broke off and flew away on the autumn breeze.

As if to emphasize my terrified isolation, the sun slipped further down behind the horizon. Dark shadows with crooked talons crept closer. They’d rend me to pieces if they touched me!

I fled for the safety of the house. There would be my cozy bed beneath the piano, safe and sound. Perhaps there’d even be a new catnip toy to take my fears out upon.

The door did not open when I beat on it, but a window nearby had been broken. Sidelight. I knew that sort of window was a sidelight. How I knew this, I couldn’t say. All I knew was that my heart was beating so loudly in my chest, I thought I’d explode. I dove through the sidelight, praying I wouldn’t be cut, but too terrified for a more dignified and careful entrance.

The sting of several cuts yanked a hiss out of me when I hit the glass shards on the inside. Oh, the maid had just earned fur all over her black uniform for not cleaning up the mess quickly!

I picked the pieces of glass out of my foot and one hand and ignored the other minor injuries. I’d do a better job of cleanup when I got into my bed. The music room was to the left, and Mama often entertained guests in the evening there. Perhaps I’d convince someone to give me a shrimp from the sideboard. Or two. I could lose dignity for a few shrimp, and…

The room was empty. Not one stick or thread of furnishings remained. Not even my fuzzy white bed where the piano had been. The cold wind whistled through the broken glass.

I ignored the huge, dusty, cloth bundle in the middle of the hall and ran full-tilt into the kitchen to my food bowl. Or rather, where my food bowl had always been. Not even the mat remained.

The kitchen, normally bustling with activity until well into the evening, was dark and silent. No knives glistened on the magnetic strip near the prep island. The appliance garage’s doors were wide open like gaping mouths in a perpetual scream of horror. Even the refrigerator was gone.

My stomach growled audibly.

I glanced down, surprised at the sound I’d not heard in a very long time. A red rivulet of blood from a cut on my rib pooled in my navel before it slowly continued its descent into the short curls below.

What was I to do? I didn’t know how to do anything but be pretty! Where were all those that loved me? Had they left me? Was this what alone was? A dry sob wrenched from my soul.

Then, like a miracle, a warm arm wrapped around me. A warm breath purred in my ear. A masculine voice shushed and soothed me with all those nonsense words that mean more than intelligent conversation.

I turned toward the warmth and comfort of another feline’s vibrating body. For the first time ever, I felt more than merely admired for my beauty or needed for my skills. He just wanted me to be happy.

The dark room faded away, replaced by the light of a sunny morning in Apollo’s arms.

The cop pulled me even closer, until I had to wrap my sore foot over him, just in case he sleepily kicked it. He rubbed his face in my hair, ignoring the bad hair day I had going. He sighed contentedly around his rumbling masculine purr. “I didn’t know how lonely I was until I found you, Kitten. I missed you even before I knew you existed. Bad dream?”

It was like cuddling a diesel engine, and I let the vibes just wash over me. I’d heard riding one of the old motorcycles had made females orgasm just by sitting on the seat. Yeah, I could believe that. My scent was all over him, but I rubbed against his chest anyway. “Yeah. A bad memory. My human family left me and the family dog behind when they abandoned suburbia for the boonies. Beau -- the golden retriever -- died sitting in the driveway, waiting for those selfish bastards to come back for us. He fucking starved and died of loyalty.” I choked back a sniffle despite the anger I still felt. “Both of us were so clueless how to live without someone to take care of us. You’d have liked him. He was loyal, so trustworthy, friendly, and happy. Well, a dog. You know.”

“Sounds like a boy scout or hero.” Apollo grinned down at her. “Obviously, you survived. How?”

I buried my face in his chest. I didn’t want to remember those times when I’d have done anything -- anything -- for a morsel of food and a sheltered spot out of the cold. I shrugged like it didn’t matter. “A few squirrels and a shitload of rats made the ultimate sacrifice until Tigs and Rat found me in one of their construction sites.”

They’d found a half-starved ball of matted fur too weak to run. They’d had to clipper cut me bald to get me halfway cleaned up, and I’d just hung my head and hoped they’d kill me quickly. I’d eaten what they gave me for days before I recovered enough to be scared, and by then there was no need.

“They taught me how to shift, how to… live, I guess.” I tried the nonchalant shrug, but Apollo’s arms tightened around me anyway.

“Hm. I owe those guys big time. I take it they gave you a job?” His heart beat slowly and steadily against my ear. I could have listened to it for years.

I shut my eyes, full of contentment for the first time in my life. “Yuppers. Finish carpentry and millwork. I get a kick out of making things beautiful or restoring them to their former glory.” I reached around and grabbed me two handfuls of the city’s finest. “Did I mention you’ve got a great butt?”

Apollo had a strange look on his face. “Back at you, baby.” The answer was absent-minded, but I forgave him instantly when he asked, “If you’re a finish carpenter, how are you with chisels and inlays?”

“I’m no Sorrento, but I’m okay. Why?”

He waved vaguely down below our feet. “I’ve got this inlaid compass rose thing. It’s too complicated for me. Want to take a look?”

“Oh, hell, yeah!” I sat up, and we dressed hurriedly, like a pair of kids who’d been offered a day at an amusement park.

Apollo threw me one of his green T-shirts with the sheriff’s department logo. I hope he knows he’s not getting it back. How my bra ended up on top of a bookcase is still a mystery. If Apollo hadn’t spotted the one strap dangling over the edge, it might still be there. As soon as I’d wriggled my way into my jeans, the cop scooped me up. “You couldn’t negotiate the stairs, even with your crutches. This is easier.”

Yeah, I should have protested, but maybe I was enjoying the pampering. He carried me past a steel-reinforced security door, down a set of narrow stairs that probably had once been a fire escape or something, and into paradise.

The lower floor was a giant workshop containing a lathe, drill press, compound miter saw and even a room-sized paint cabinet. “Whoa! Is that a dip tank? Seriously?”

Everywhere was a project in various stages of completion. I tried not to drool at the Gilded Age armoire doors on the workbench. A fine set of Buck Brothers chisels in a custom display stand caused my fingers to itch. I ran my finger over the parquetry tabletop on a workbench I could reach. “Lemon wood, mother of pearl, and… um…”

“Yeah, that I figured. What’s the whitish-tan wood?” Apollo pointed to one of the smaller points of a Mariner’s Compass inlay.

“Boxwood. It starts white, but it turns tan as it ages.” I stuck out a finger and ran my hand gently over the blank spots where the inlaid pieces had come out.

“C’mon, there’s more to see.” He carried me to a hoard of treasures, stacked in a basement as big as a warehouse.

I yelled, “Stop,” and my jaw hit the floor. On the stand, displayed with LED lights focused on it, was a sculpture I knew well. My former owner and the one I’ve called “Mama” had made the three-foot tall column of trinkets embedded in polymer. The theme of that sculpture had been Beau. There were gold dogtags, bones of ceramic and tiny figures of golden retrievers. At one time there had been a matching one of me. I’d been so proud, I’d rubbed my scent all over the blue column.