The Mane Attraction

  “Sissy. Tell me what happened.”

  “We were standing at the window, talking. And then I heard pop sounds, and he went down.” She closed her eyes as the recent memory washed over her. “He moved, Mace. At the last second he moved, and if he hadn’t—” The words stopped as an image of Mitch’s brains covering Ronnie’s nice white sweats nearly choked Sissy to death. Lord, she was barely holding it together.

  “He’s one of us, Sissy.” Mace stroked her back. “And God knows he’s tougher than most.”

  “I know.”

  “Now what about Smitty?”

  Sissy blinked and looked up at Mace. “What about him?”

  “We need to let him know.”

  “He’s already on a plane. They left before the sun rose. Besides, what’s he gonna do except worry and drive you insane?”

  “You’ve got a point,” Mace grumbled.

  “No. We leave him out of it for now.”

  Ronnie tugged on her shirt. “I got you clean clothes.”

  “Thanks.” Sissy looked back down at herself. “I’ll need to clean up first.”

  But before she could escape to a bathroom, Té appeared in the doorway. The She-bear almost had to duck to walk in. “We lost him.”

  Sissy could see Mace getting that look on his face. This was why the staff liked dealing with Bobby Ray instead of Mace. Mace had a very low threshold for failure. Even failure that couldn’t be avoided.

  “Any sign of where they were?” Sissy knew that this third-floor room had been chosen specifically for Mitch because of its location and his need for additional safety. No trees for anyone to hide in right outside the window and no buildings remotely close. And he was surrounded by shifters, so no one would be sneaking in.

  “No. But we’re still looking.” Té leaned to the side, trying to see into the bedroom. “How is he?”

  “Alive.”

  Té’s brown eyes closely examined the bloodstains on Sissy’s clothes. “Okay.”

  “So what now?” Mace asked. “What’s the best thing we can do for him?”

  Brendon walked into the room—Sissy got the feeling Roxy had thrown him out—and said, “I can take him to Philly on the family plane.”

  “And we can give you protection for as long as you need it.”

  Sissy shook her head. “You can’t take him to Philly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone who wants him dead is there.”

  “But we’re not there now. We’re in fuckin’ Long Island. And he wasn’t safe here.”

  “She’s right.” Roxy walked in, wiping blood off her hands with a hotel towel. “He shouldn’t go back to Philly. Not yet. Not until he at least has his full strength back.”

  “So then where?”

  Mace rested his butt against the back of the couch. “Will Witness Protection take him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Forget it. I won’t have my son trapped with some useless full-humans when he’s still too weak to protect himself. Even if they are armed. He’ll stay with his Pride if he has to go back.”

  Brendon’s barely held patience snapped, and he stepped into Roxy, shocking Mace and Sissy—but not Roxy.

  “Look, I won’t leave him vulnerable in the middle of Philly with a bunch of uncaring females.”

  “We can’t do any worse job than you and that father of yours.”

  Sissy let out a breath. She wasn’t in the mood for this. And her usual patience was currently nonexistent.

  “Stop it. Both of you.” She didn’t raise her voice or even rush her words. At the moment, she sounded more like Bobby Ray or her daddy. Still, they both pulled back and looked at her. “How long for him to be ready to travel?” she asked Roxy.

  “We’ve stopped the bleeding, and I’ve dealt with his wounds. Gwen’s cleaning him up now.”

  “Get him ready, get his stuff together. He’s coming with me.”

  Brendon frowned. “Coming with you where?”

  “Home.” She looked at Ronnie, and her friend’s eyes grew wide when she realized which home Sissy meant. “I’m taking him to Smithtown.”

  The last thing Mitch really remembered was ... being on top of Sissy. He’d had a split second of thinking, “Wow. This feels really good.” Then everything else went kind of hazy.

  Opening his eyes, he looked around, and that’s when he saw Sissy sitting on the floor opposite where he was lying. She had her head bowed while her legs were raised and her elbows rested on her knees.

  “Sissy?”

  She lifted her head and smiled, but he could see how tired she was simply by looking at her face. Exhausted even.

  “Hi,” she said, and she looked relieved.

  “Hi.” Mitch blinked and looked around again. They were in a plane. His brother’s plane based on the level of luxury. A hell of a lot better than coach on one of the airlines.

  “We’re going home, right?” he asked Sissy, worried about her. She shouldn’t have come with him. And where was everyone else? Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t focus enough to figure out what.

  “Yeah, darlin’. We’re going home. Now go back to sleep.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Her smile grew, but he didn’t know why. “Yeah, Mitch. I’m fine.”

  “Oh. Good.” He started to drift off, but he jerked awake again. “But—”

  “Sssh.” And good thing she cut him off because he really didn’t remember what he’d been about to say. “Sleep. Everything’s okay.” Something soft brushed against his forehead, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear Sissy had just kissed him.

  He grinned as he started to drift off again. “Dirty She-wolf. Trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state.”

  She gave a soft laugh and whispered, “Bonehead.”

  “Sassy pants,” he shot back.

  He heard Sissy chuckle again before he fell completely asleep. The sound soothed him and made him feel safer than he had in a very long time.

  Chapter 4

  Mitch jerked awake when he heard a door slam and raised voices. He looked around the room he was in. In the bright light of morning coming through the window, he knew he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He didn’t recognize anything. The smells, the sounds—nothing.

  He wasn’t dead, and if O’Farrell’s guys had caught up with him, he’d be dead. Guys like that didn’t waste time with hostages unless they had a use for them. Besides, he didn’t think any of the guys who worked for O’Farrell were big Marlon Brando fans from his A Streetcar Named Desire days. Maybe when he was in The Godfather ...

  Slowly, Mitch looked away from the Marlon poster hanging over the bed and glanced around the room. NASCAR posters and muscle car pictures torn out of magazines practically covered all the wall space. NASCAR toy cars were lined up on a desk that looked seriously unused. There were few books except for those on car repair and car building. A stack of car magazines was piled in one corner, and another corner had a little shrine to NASCAR racer Dale Earnhardt, Sr.

  Mitch smiled even while he was annoyed. This had to be Sissy Mae’s room. Although he’d never known she was that big a car fan.

  Still, she hadn’t sent him back to Philly like he’d told her to. One simple thing, and she went another way—just like always.

  Trying to turn his head, Mitch immediately regretted it. Because it hurt like all hell.

  Not surprising. He could actually feel things repairing themselves inside his body. Bones knitting back together without any help except his accelerated metabolism and the gift given to him by his pagan Irish ancestors.

  As long as he didn’t do anything stupid or get shot again, he should live. But still ... his wounds would hurt like hell for a few more days. He wasn’t looking forward to that. So really, he should just relax back and let his body heal before he worried about ...

  Mitch jerked again, then again wished he hadn’t when he heard another bang and voices shouting.

  Worried about Sissy, M
itch slowly and carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, using only his left arm for leverage. Then with another grunt, Mitch slid his legs off the bed, took another breath, and pushed himself to his feet. He made a mad grab for the headboard and forced his body to remain steady. When the wave of pain and nausea passed, Mitch looked around, and he smiled when he saw his .45 next to the pillow his head had been on.

  Picking up the weapon, Mitch slowly walked to the bedroom door, opened it, and went down the hallway. He silently groaned when he saw a long set of steps leading downstairs, but the yelling and slamming sounds were getting nastier.

  Determined, Mitch moved down the stairs. He rested his left shoulder against the wall and used it to rest his weight against. He also had his weapon in his left hand since his right was currently useless.

  He wasn’t the best shot with his left, but he could do enough damage for Sissy to get out if she needed to.

  Relieved to finally see the bottom of the stairs, Mitch carefully managed those last few steps, stopping on the last one. The stairs led to a hallway. If he turned left from there, he’d be in what looked like the family room. If he turned right, he’d be in the living room. He assumed it was the living room because it was absolutely spotless and unused, the other room ... not so much. And if he went straight, he’d go right into the kitchen.

  And that’s where Sissy was. Mitch had never seen her that angry. She had a finger-pointing thing going on with another male who Mitch didn’t recognize. The only thing that prevented them from slamming those fingers into each other was the second male who stood between them, trying to calm everybody down.

  Shaking his head and unbelievably exhausted, Mitch sat down hard on the steps. “Family,” he said to no one in particular. He knew from experience that only family could make someone that insane.

  “Don’t think for a second, Jackie Ray Smith, that you can bring that fat ass of yours in here and tell me what I can or cannot do!” The wolf did have wide hips for a man.

  “If I remember correctly, Sissy, this ain’t your Pack anymore. You’re here only as a guest.”

  “That isn’t true,” the other male said, pushing his brother back. This one looked so much like Smitty, it was kind of weird. “Sissy is family and will always belong here.”

  “Sissy is a whore, bringing some—” He didn’t get to finish that statement as the Smitty look-alike slammed his fist into the other one’s mouth. Good thing, too, otherwise Mitch would have had to do it himself because that had just been a damn rude thing to say.

  “Get out,” the wolf told Jackie with deadly calm. “Get out right now.” Mitch knew who’d win a fight between these two. And apparently, so did Jackie.

  “This ain’t over,” Jackie warned, inching toward the door.

  “It amazes me you have a college degree.” Sissy waved him off. “Go on. Go run over and tell Travis like the big, fat baby you are.”

  He slinked out. If he’d had a tail, it would definitely be tucked between his legs.

  Once the door closed, the wolf turned back to his sister. “You all right, darlin’?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  The big wolf wrapped his arms around Sissy, burying her head against his chest. “If it helps any, I’m glad you’re home.”

  She laughed. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

  “You’re going to have to talk to Travis at some point. With Daddy out of town—”

  “Yeah, I know.” Sissy’s head suddenly lifted from the wolf’s chest, and she sniffed the air. She looked at Mitch and blinked in surprise. “Mitch? What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

  He didn’t have it in him to yell that answer across the room, so he waited until Sissy stood in front of him, the big wolf behind her. “I heard a fight,” he explained. “Thought you were in trouble.”

  “And you were gonna help?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t even stand.”

  “I brought a gun.”

  “You shoot with your right.” She took the gun from his hand and tucked it into the back of her denim shorts. They were tiny little shorts, too, and looked so amazingly good on her.

  “You should have called for me,” she chastised.

  “Why? Since you seem to have such a problem doing what I tell you to?”

  Sissy’s head tilted to the side, and she stared at him. “What does that mean?”

  “I told you to do one thing. One. Take me to Philly.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Sissy—”

  “You said to take you home. So I did.”

  Mitch glanced around again, staring through the stairway banister into the family room. It was a small house but cozy. Worn furniture that had taken a lot of abuse over the years but had held up well because it had been quality when purchased or made. There were dozens of pictures, some with humans and canines and some with canines only. A giant TV took up a good portion of the far wall. The kitchen wasn’t that big, either. It had a Formica table with eight matching chairs around it. But the unused living room was nice, yet still homey. Then he thought about Sissy’s room—that was not the room of an adult Sissy.

  Taking a deep breath, Mitch picked up two important scents ... canine and fresh air, and it all fell into place.

  His eyes locking with Sissy’s, he barked, “I’m in Tennessee ?”

  “Well, where did you expect me to take you?”

  “I expected you to take me to Brendon’s plane, and I expected the captain to take me to Philadelphia. I’m not sure why that was so hard for you to understand!”

  Sissy’s jaw worked. “Stop roaring at me, Mitchell Shaw. I did what I thought was best.”

  “If that’s your best, I’d really hate to see your worst.”

  Hands fisted at her side, Sissy stepped back. “You wanna go to Philly, hoss? There’s the damn door.” She pointed toward the door in the living room, but each room had a door leading outside. “Have at it.”

  “Fine. I will.”

  “Fine!” She turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

  Mitch pushed himself to his feet, stood there for a second, and then his whole body sort of quit on him.

  Sammy Ray Smith stared down at the two hundred and ... what?—fifty, sixty pounds of naked cat passed out in his arms. Simply put, this was one of those great things he’d get to tell his mate when they met for dinner later because it would make her laugh so hard.

  Glancing over his shoulder at his baby sister, “Uh ... Sissy?”

  She barely spared either male a glance. “Oh, leave him there. Let him rot on those stairs for all I give a damn.”

  Oh, Lord. Nothing he hated more than a pouty, unreasonable Sissy. That Sissy didn’t make an appearance often, but when she did, she could be the biggest pain in the ass.

  As soon as he’d heard Sissy had come back to town, Sammy had come straight over here, missing the morning rush at his diner. But he’d known with both his parents out of town, Travis, Jackie, and Donnie would start on Sissy. Their baby sister annoyed them because she didn’t back down. If you wanted a fight, she’d give it to you. If you were rude, she’d tell you so and act accordingly. She never averted her gaze; she never let anyone pin her down.

  Unlike Sammy, who knew and accepted what he was, Sissy would never bend to anyone’s will but her own. She was an Alpha through and through. And that made her a problem for Travis, who wanted his mate to be the next Alpha Female when he took over for their daddy. Shame Patty Rose was nowhere near as strong as Sissy. And in the end, that’s what it came down to. Not mere physical strength either, although that helped, but strength of will. Sissy didn’t back off until she got what she wanted, no matter the consequences.

  “Why don’t I take this big buck upstairs, and you make him something to eat? I’m sure he’s starving.”

  “Let him starve.”

  Sammy shook his head and let out a sigh. “Sissy, just make the man some soup. Please.”

>   She stood in the middle of the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, one bare foot tapping against the linoleum floor. Yup. She was pissed.

  “Do you have any idea how bad cats smell after they die? The whole house will be funky, and then you’ll have to answer to Daddy.”

  She rolled her eyes even as her mouth twitched.

  “He’ll come in complaining about a ‘cat funk.’ And I won’t take the blame for it.”

  “All right, all right.” She waved him off. “Take the big idiot upstairs, and I’ll make him soup or something.”

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He lifted the man over his shoulder and carried him back to the second floor. Sammy started into Sissy’s room, but he really didn’t like the idea of some guy being in there. This was his baby sister, after all. So he went down a few doors to Bobby Ray’s old room. He dumped the cat on the bed and stared down at him.

  After a few moments, he slapped him on the forehead. “You awake?” When he didn’t get an answer, he slapped him again. Harder.

  “Huh? What?” Gold eyes opened. “Smitty?”

  “Don’t insult me, son.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the cat. “Name’s Sammy Ray Smith. I’m Sissy’s older brother. Now, she’s gonna take care of you while you get better. And I know how you cats get when you’re sick. You snarl and snap and are basically unpleasant. But if you don’t want me coming over and peeling off big portions of your skin while you scream and cry for help, you’ll be nice to her. You’ll treat her with respect, and you’ll keep your dirty cat paws off her. Understand me, hoss?”

  Those gold eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re not Smitty?”

  That made Sammy laugh. “Nope. Not Smitty. But I’m not surprised he’d tell you the same thing. And probably has. Now Sissy will be up here in a bit with some soup for you.”

  “Soup? What am I? An eight-year-old with the flu?”

  “Now see, that’s what I mean. That’s not nice and respectful. That’s rude and unpleasant. Nice and respectful will keep you covered in the skin God gave ya as opposed to donor flesh. Understand me, hoss?”

  He knew the cat wanted to snap and snarl again, but he probably also knew he wasn’t strong enough to take on Sammy Ray’s youngest daughter, much less Sammy himself. “Yeah,” he finally grumbled out.