For a moment, I simply replay her words as my brain struggles to catch up. "Did you say wolf pack?"
"Oui. I'm sorry, I never told you, Minette. I am a shifter-a cat. Your mother, too."
I've had too many surprises today to take it all in. My hand drops limp at my side. "Wh-what?"
"Where are you, Minette?"
Minette. The French word for puss. She's always called me little cat because... she's a cat. My mind topples ass over tea kettle down a slope of dawning. "My mom?" I croak.
"Yes, your maman, too. This is why this wolf is attracted to you. Where are you, my sweet?"
"Not far from downtown. Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I was hurt, but I will be better soon."
My engines finally start firing. "We need to leave town right away." I stand and pick up my leather backpack purse.
"Are you sure?" There's something coaxing in Mémé's voice, but I can't decipher it. "Your wolf was just here. He said he's sorry and wants to help."
The tightness in my chest gives way to relief, followed quickly by anger. A wedge of stubbornness rises in me. He doesn't get to flip-flop so quickly. I flip him a mental bird. He's not my knight in shining armor. I'm the one saving his ass. I'm going to stick to my plan of reversing the money trail and refunding the millions in transactions and getting the hell out of Dodge.
If Jackson wants to beg for my forgiveness when that's all complete, I might consider it. We'll see.
"Give me the address where to find you, Mémé."
She must hand the phone back to its owner because the young man returns and rattles off the address of one of the few Tucson high-rise apartments downtown. He clears his throat. "Your grandmother needs some fresh clothes when you come, too."
I hate the icy spines that needle up my arms at hearing that. "I'll get her some clothes," I promise.
I consider my options. I'm without a vehicle, since I already ditched Sam's motorcycle. I could wait for a cab. I could hack Uber and set up with a credit card with one of my new ID names. But, for some reason, I want to do this without breaking the law. I don't know, maybe I need to prove I'm not the criminal the entire world thinks I am.
My house is a few miles away. Mémé's clothes are right inside. The FBI will be watching. What about the supposed Mr. X? Probably.
Damn. I have a bag packed on my bed already. It'd be so great to run in and grab it and some things for Mémé. Maybe what I need is a diversion.
I call for a cab and wait for it to arrive. Then I call in a violent robbery in progress at the house across the street from mine.
I lose the cab a block away from my place and head through the back alley, sticking to the shadows in the cover of night. Sirens screech in from several directions at my neighbor's house. I creep up my back steps and use the key hidden in the mouth of a ceramic frog in the garden.
Inside, the house feels wrong. People have been inside. I don't know how I can tell, but I know it without a doubt. But that's no surprise. Surely the police have already searched the place. I move through the dark without turning on any lights. I grab my suitcase and move to my grandmother's room. I hear the gun cock just before a hand claps over my mouth and hard metal prods the back of my head.
~.~
Jackson
I've never felt so impotent in my life. I fucked up with Kylie, my company's in the gutter, and I'm pacing my office after midnight, unable to come up with a strategy to fix things.
I told Special Agent Douglas about my suspicions of Stu, although I didn't want to tell him about the meeting with Kylie. I couldn't very well tell him about Kylie's grandmother, either. Somehow I doubt, "I saw the old lady, but it turns out she's a shifter so the bullets didn't hurt her a bit," would fly.
My cell phone rings.
Garrett.
I take the call, biting out, "This is King."
"Jacqueline expected her granddaughter to pick her up here hours ago. The old cat thinks something happened."
Ice washes over me, and I curse loud enough to shake the windows.
"I know, bro."
"Where was she coming from? What was the plan?" I demand.
"She didn't say where she was. I've tried the number she called from, but it just rings and disconnects. She said she was on her way over and asked for the address. I told her to bring some clothes for Jaqueline because hers were ruined with blood. That was around seven p. m."
I partially transform, my wolf wanting out to kill. I fight to bring my human side back, but my voice comes out pure growl. "I'm going to sniff around her house. Keep in touch." I hang up without waiting for his response.
I curse my office building for being so far from Kylie's house. I want to shift immediately and run there, but I dare not waste precious time. I drive, hands nearly tearing the steering wheel in pieces. Two feds are sitting across the street in a van, staking out the house. I knock on the door of the van as I go by and walk up to the front door. I catch a variety of scents, human males. Nothing fresh. I walk around the house, wishing to fates I could shift, but I don't dare. It's okay. My human nose still works better than most other humans' olfactory senses. I catch a whiff of Kylie at the back door. Her fresh scent. I try the handle and find it open.