Lion And The Falcon (Furry United Coalition) (13 page)

“
I thought pregnancy would slow her down,” Chase admitted mournfully as he sat in a chair and reached for a honey-glazed donut that wisely, no one contested.

“Oh pl
—l—l—ease. I’ve never felt more energetic,” Miranda drawled holding up the larger half of the pastry she’d won.

“I’ve noticed.”

“How come no one’s killed her yet?” Clarice whispered to Nolan. “This much cheerfulness is not normal.”

“Believe me, lots have tried.”

“I sense a
but
.”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say, Miranda’s a lot tougher than she looks.”

Carrot muffins demolished, Danishes conquered, and yogurt inhaled, the pregnant bunny patted her rotund belly. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“You are going to stay out of trouble,” her husband warned.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Miranda didn’t take offense. Did anything penetrate her cheerful veneer? “Of course I am. I was asking them what their plan was. I know I can’t fight any bad guys until the baby is born.”

“I don’t actually know
what the plan is,” Nolan replied. “We had a late night and just got up.”

“I do,” his mother said. “He’s coming with me and letting the pride protect him as my only male heir.”

“Pussy,” Chase coughed into his hand and Clarice snickered. Nolan did not look pleased.

“I am not going with you,
Mother.”

“What’s ASS girl over here planning?” Miranda asked
, nibbling on some fruit.

Take offense or not? Deciding it was too early in the day to pick a fight with a pregnant rabbit, Clarice let it slide.
“I’m going to check out some other crime scenes.”

“
Hey, that sounds like fun. Mind if I come along?” Nolan perked up.

Her first impulse was to say no, but then she caught sight of his mother violently shaking her head and the fledgling inside her
, who enjoyed irritating her elders, spoke before she could stop herself. “Sure, but only if I get to drive again.”

“Again?” His mother’s eyes almost fell out of her head. “You let her drive your car
?”

“Twice. It’s a sweet ride.” She didn’t feel a need to mention that the first time he did so unconscious in the back with his hands tied
, or that during the second trip, he snored in her lap. Didn’t matter, his mother appeared even more shocked than when she walked in and found Clarice standing in her underwear in the middle of the living room pointing a gun.

“Thanks a lot,” Nolan muttered under his breath, which wasn’t what brought a pink stain to her cheek. The squeeze to her thigh under the table managed that.

Clarice pinched him as Nolan’s mother launched into another tirade, abetted by Clarice who couldn’t help but taking the opposite stance of whatever she said, compounded by Miranda, who insisted on also taking Nolan’s side, while Chase and the damned lion in question closed their eyes and napped.

In the end, Clarice won
; Brenda, the pride matriarch, stormed out; Miranda, nose-twitching and eyes twinkling with mischief dragged away a half-awake bear with threats of shopping for a crib, and left her alone with a snoring Nolan.

“You can stop faking it, they’re gone,” she announced.

He cracked open an eye. “Thank God. I thought they’d never leave.”

“Is it always this chaotic in the morning at your place?”

“Not usually. Mother pops in whenever she likes, but I tend not to have female guests over. I don’t share the bed well.”

“Says the man who kept offering me half of it last night.”

“I would have made an exception for you.”

“Lucky me.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t just let anyone sleep over.”

“
And yet, from the sounds of it, you entertain the ladies quite often. So what’s the deal? You do them, then kick them to the curb?” Somehow, she didn’t take him for the a-hole type. But apparently, she was wrong.

“No.
That would be rude. I thank them very nicely for the evening, put them in cab—which I pay for—and have them text me when they get home safe.”

“That sounds kind of cold.”

“Hey, I’m not the one seeking these women out. They’re the ones who come after me. I just give them what they want.”

“
It still makes you a slut.”

“I prefer the term dutiful son.”

“If you’re so dutiful, how come you haven’t popped out any babies yet for your mother to corrupt? Shooting blanks?”

He snorted. “
No. I’m a big believer in covering my soldier.”

“Soldier?”

“He conquers only when covered in armor. Extra-large armor, I might add.” With a sinful smile and a waggle of his brows, Nolan rose from the table, and with his hips swinging his ass in a way she found much too riveting, left the room—but not her mind.

Heart aflutter, probably from all the cholesterol she in
haled for breakfast, Clarice couldn’t help but watch. Despite her decision to dislike him, the cat was getting under her feathers. Stupid her, though, she’d finagled a day spent in his presence. Maybe she’d get lucky and Kloe would get her out of it. She called her boss while the water ran in the bathroom.

“ASS Agent Tertius reporting,” she announced when Kloe, who refused to respond to a proper title, answered.

“Ah, Clarice. I wondered when you’d call. I take it you got my messages.”

“Messages? What messages?” Pulling her cell from her ear
, she peeked at the screen and noted the voicemail icon lit up. She must have missed the calls during the brawl with his mother.

“Doesn’t matter now that I have you on the line. I know your plan was to check out some of the locations where we’ve had reports of sightings.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Kloe.”

She held in a sigh. “Yes, Kloe. I’m hoping to find some clues as to where the killers are hiding.”

“I pray you have luck. We need to stop them before there
are any more fatalities, or worse, the wrong people notice them. We’re extending all of our resources trying to keep this under wraps. I fear it blowing up in our face if we don’t find them soon.”

“I’m on it.” Or would be as soon as she got off the phone and finished dressing.

“Now, usually, I would never do this, but I’m finding myself in a quandary with all of our current FUC agents scattered around the city on assignments of their own, which is why we want you to take Dr. Nolan with you. We know he’s not the ideal partner for a hunt of this kind, given his medical training, but we don’t want you investigating alone.”

Not ideal was an understatement. “Too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means I already told him he could come,” she admitted
, if begrudgingly.

“Oh how excellent. I am glad to hear you’re getting along so well, that makes my next request easier. Given again the whole tapped resources thing, we’ll need you to remain glued by his side until the missing patients are caught.”

“What?” Never mind she’d antagonized his mother claiming she planned to stick to him, she’d never actually meant it. “I thought you were going to try and have me replaced with someone else.”

“Unfortunately
, we have no one else. Or no one with enough skill to actually protect him.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.
”

“No one is asking you to be one. We simply want an extra set of eyes and defense in case someone comes after him. Since you’re already working together and I can’t spare anyone else, then I see no reason to change thi
ngs up, unless there’s a problem?”

A problem, like the fact she wanted to peck his eyes out half the time and the other half she wanted to molt in his arm
s? She gritted her teeth. “No problem. I’ll keep the furball out of trouble.”

“Excellent. Well, then, I guess I should let you go. If I’m not mistaken
, I hear my next appointment.” Judging by the roar Clarice faintly heard through the receiver, she could guess who it might be.
At least I won’t be the only one dealing with an annoying pussy today.

Hanging up, she dug through the bag Miranda brought and pulled out some clothes.
Dressed, she paced the sunshine-filled living room, forced to wait while Nolan did God knew what in his bedroom. Whatever it was, it involved a long shower, some blow drying, and whistling. By the time he emerged, she was ready to pluck his hair out one strand at a time.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready for over half an hour,” she snapped.

“
Well, excuse me. I had business to tend to.”

“I don’t call blow drying and
hair conditioning business.”

“Says the woman with split ends.” His rueful
headshake did nothing to improve her mood, but she also couldn’t help sneaking a peek at the ends of her hair as she followed him out of the apartment.

Down the elevator they rode, her in simmering silence, him with a half
-smile on his lips as he hummed.

When they entered the parking garage, she noted a gorgeous Goldwing parked alongside his
Audi. Her eyes lit up with avarice. Sure, she loved a sport bike with its speed and sleekness, but compared to the behemoth before her with its eighteen hundred horsepower and all the bells and whistles? It was the Cadillac of bikes when it came to comfort and power.

“Like it?”
Nolan purred from behind her.

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Good. It’s ours for as long as we need it.”

She whirled. “Seriously? But why? How?”

He shrugged. “I felt kind of bad you lost your motorcycle yesterday. I made a few calls to some friends of mine at the precinct, but according to them, it’s probably already being shipped overseas or in pieces being sold for parts. So I called a buddy of mine at a dealership and had him send this over.”

“This is what you were doing
while I was waiting?”

“In between blow drying and curling? Yes.” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “I need
ed the extra hair care given what the wind and helmet will probably do to my golden locks.”

No, she wouldn’t melt. Wouldn’t melt. Wouldn’t…ah
, damn it all. He made it hard to remain angry, especially when sinful temptation sat waiting for her. “I’m driving,” she stated.

“You know, traditionally, the woman sits on the back.”
He laughed at the dark glare she shot him. “But I guess there’s nothing traditional about the pair of us. So long as you don’t mind if I have a nap, then she’s all yours.”

All hers. Hmmm, funny how when he said that
, it wasn’t the bike she pictured, but him, between her thighs, two hundred plus pounds of pulsing power… She shook her head and grabbed the helmet hanging off the handlebars. She jammed it on her head, but ignored the goggles. No need for those.

Nolan wrinkled his nose before gingerly placing his own
headgear atop his pride and joy. Add a pair of aviator glasses and the lion looked hot. Real hot.

She turned her back to him and straddle
d the bike, heaving it upright. “Get on,” she ordered. The beauty of a Goldwing all decked out? It was a bike designed for two.

Despite having his own seat and armrests,
Nolan still placed his hands on her waist, making her all too aware of him behind her. He leaned against her back and purred. “I’m ready to ride.”

Mmm, judging by the moist heat between her thighs, so was she. She kicked the stand up and cranked the throttle. Then
, on two wheels, away they flew.

Better than sex and almost better than flight, Clarice reveled in the wind blowing in her face, the power between her legs, the male wrapped around her back. He leaned into her, probably napping again
, which was why she didn’t make an issue of the hands that slid from her waist to thighs.

Using the most amazing
GPS system built into the Goldwing’s dash, they easily made it to the overpass Jessie advised them to check out first. Close to some of the sightings, and a popular gathering spot for transients, it seemed a likely hidey-hole for some of their escapees. Gliding to a stop, she took a moment to examine the scene.

Immediately
, her sixth sense kicked in and warned her of danger. Her rapier gaze took in the deserted campsite made up of forlorn tents, boxes, and mussed sleeping bags, but no signs of life.

Nolan growled softly. “I smell blood.”

“Awake, Sylvester?”

“Who says I napped?” The hands on her thighs squeezed
, shooting a spurt of warmth to her mound.

“Oh yeah, if you were so awake, then what’s the drool on my back from?”

Flicking the kickstand in place, she slid out of his grasp off the bike as he sputtered, “I do not drool.”

“
If you say so. Come on, helmet hair, I want to get a closer peek.” She grinned as he cursed. Too easy. Striding closer to the abandoned transient village, her gaze zeroed in on the brownish stains dotting the ground. She dropped to her knees and touched them. Mostly dry, which made them several hours old at the very least. “These aren’t fresh, but I wouldn’t peg them as older than a day. Can you smell anything?”