She stares at me, wide-eyed. "What are we going to do with him?"
Normally I'd make a few calls. But this job has morphed into something no one expected. "I'll figure it out. I'm going to make sure he's not a danger to us, and try to get some answers. Can you go into your room and work for a while?"
"Yeah. Um, Tank? Can I use your phone, to check my messages?"
"Sure, baby."
Once she's gone, I kneel down next to the thug. He has the look of an ex-fighter, rough hands, beefy strength, belly gone a little soft. A local muscle-for-hire. Not too bright. He should've come with backup. But he was thinking he'd shake down a small, unarmed woman. He didn't expect me.
I step into kitchen for a moment while my wolf rages.
Foxfire. Fuck. She could've been killed. Or-
"Tank!"
I spin around as she hustles toward me. Something's wrong. Her face is even paler than it was. Her eyes wide and frantic.
"I think I know who he is. We need to go, now." She whirls and starts for the door. I catch her, holding her still when she struggles.
"Tell me, baby. What's wrong?"
She holds up my phone. "My mom called. She's in trouble."
~.~
Foxfire
"Listen to this." I jab the phone at Tank.
"Foxfire?" My mom's voice comes over speaker. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I'm in a bit of trouble and had to throw away my phone. There might be some men who come asking after me. Just tell them I'll get the payment when I can. Stay safe, sweetie."
Tank plays the message again while I bite my lip. "Sounds like she owes the wrong people money."
"No shit, Sherlock," I hiss. His face turns to stone, and I remember how wolves don't like to be challenged. Well, tough. This is my mom we're talking about. "She left me a message last night, but I didn't get it because you killed my phone. Dammit! This is your fault!"
He rubs his jaw. "I'm sorry for that. I really am. And I get you're mad, but dial back the challenge, baby, or my wolf will feel like he has to remind you who's in charge here."
The very recent memory of what form that reminder will come in rises up, a shimmering temptation. But now is not the time. "Whatever." I fold my arms over my chest.
Yeah, he just gave me the best kiss of my life and punched out a gunman to save me.
Whatever. I'm still pissed.
"I need to go," I tell him.
"Go where?"
"Go help her! I need to fix this."
Tank looks from the thug lying at the floor to me. "And just how are you going to do that?"
"I'll figure it out."
He catches my arm. "You're not going anywhere, baby."
"Oh please. I'm hardly going to tell your little secret. I'm one of you, remember?"
"Hush." He pulls me into the kitchen. "You need to be quiet about that."
"Well, I am. One of your little gang now, right? The furries?"
"You can't just run off. It's not safe."
"Why not? You already took out the guy they sent after me. He's not a threat."
"I don't mean him. I mean other shifters."
"What?"
Tank curses, sticks his head in the other room to check on Mr. Unconscious, then returns and hauls me farther into the corner. "You're not pack. You have no protection. If you ran across a shifter's pack, they might come after you."
I blink. "What? Why? And how will they know?
"Your scent. It's getting stronger. Every time you shift, until other shifters will know exactly who and what you are. And you won't have any protection. You have no people. You're alone."
Jesus. Like I needed the story of my life spelled out once again. I shrug him off. "Well, whatever. I'm used to that."
He presses his lips together, studying me. I meet his gaze, raise my chin. I've always been an outsider, a freak. He knows me a day and thinks I'm going to fall apart facing my problems on my own?
Fuck him. I've always been on my own.
"I'm going." I start for the door.
"You are not," he growls, grabbing my wrist.
"You don't get a say."
"You shifted for the first time in front of me. That makes me responsible for you." He seems to have just made that decision. His words shock me into stillness. "You don't want to go out there alone. Trust me."
"Well, I'm not staying here. My mom is in trouble. The goon in the other room is proof of that."
"Another reason you shouldn't be alone. He came here thinking he was going to confront a five-foot, hundred-pound woman he could easily overpower. And he would've, if you'd been alone."
"Luckily, I wasn't. And I weigh a hundred and twenty pounds, thank you very much."
He shakes his head. "You're not going alone. It's not safe."
"Fine." I grin without mirth. "Then you come with me."
"I-" He stops. "Fuck." He looks down at his phone like it's an oracle with the answer.
"I'm going. You can either come with me or stay here with my unwanted guest." We both look at the still-unconscious thug. Werewolves hit hard.
"Or I could tie you to the bed."
I don't dignify this with a response. It's all fun and sex games until you get a visit from thug and a frantic call from your mom.
Tank reads this on my face and sighs. "Fine. But I'm in charge."
I blink. I never expected him to have my back. Relief rushes through me. "Okay, yeah. I'm getting used to that."
"Go pack." Tank jerks his head at my bedroom. "I'll take care of this guy."
"What are you going to do to him?"
"Wake him up and try to question him. I don't want you in here."
"Do you want me to get a tarp? In case there's blood."
"No. I-"