The Cougar's Bargain (15 page)

“And?”

“I don't want to leave them my number.”

“You didn't think before then that you'd have to give it to them?”

“Honestly, no. I don't tend to think in fine details, especially since my number comes up as private. I don't usually have to worry about things like caller I.D.”

The people she knew personally who tended to screen their calls—Miles and Ellery—preferred she'd just send a text message rather than phoning them. Her parents answered all calls from all numbers. There was an obvious generational divide.

She popped her phone into her jeans pocket and gestured to the bike. “I need to get something pre-paid and disposable. Something I don't have to link personal accounts or information to.”

“You're assuming these people have the capability to do a very vigorous reverse trace on you.”

“I'd be stupid not to. The guys my father works with get access to information in some questionably legal ways, and my dad turns a blind eye to it because it suits him.”

Sean entwined his fingers and raised the other eyebrow, too.

“Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All …
skeptical
. I know you born Cougars have to work very hard at facial expressions, so you're
intending
for me to see it.”

“There's nothing wrong with a little healthy skepticism, blondie.”

“Hey, you don't have to go along with the plan. Just because I had to bring you along doesn't mean you need to participate in it.”

“There is no plan, as far as I can tell. And you tell your inner cougar to tell my inner cougar that I don't have to be here. I'm following you 'cause the cat says you're gonna get yourself hurt, then the cat's gonna be pissed at man-me for not stopping it, and then Mason's gonna be pissed at me, too, because he's ultimately responsible for your wellbeing as far as Cougar business is concerned. Oh, and let's not forget that both Ellery and Miles are going to make my life a living hell if anything else happens to you. You know, I have to live next door to them. I don't know about Miles, but I can imagine Ellery doing everything she could to make sure I live a very uncomfortable existence. Miles would probably just give me the cold shoulder, which is bad enough coming from her seeing as how she gets along with every-fuckin'-body.”

“Why would your inner cat be pissed?”

“Of everything I just said, you're most concerned with
him
? You should worry more about your alpha.”

“I—” She clamped her lips on the word and batted her braid over her shoulder. Her alpha wasn't who she was most worried about. She respected him as much as any other woman in the glaring did, which admittedly wasn't saying much. It seemed Cougar women were naturally repelled by men in authority roles. That was why Ellery tended to act as Mason's go-between and bridged him with the women in the glaring, and Miles did the same thing for Hank. Glenda had probably done the same thing for her husband when he'd been alive without having a specific title. But Hannah wasn't anyone's go-between. She was working on her own accord, and Sean was a hitchhiker on her mission. One who'd bought her cupcakes and had managed to ferret secrets out of her that few other people knew.

Of course she cared about his stinkin' inner cougar's concern. As long as the beast was paying attention, so was the man. And dammit, she wanted him to pay attention, and not just because she needed to catalogue his quirks for some other woman's edification.

She actually liked the guy.

Huh.
She gave her braid a yank.
What am I supposed to do now?

Sean batted his eyelashes at her. “Not gonna answer? You wound me, Avenger.”

“Whatever. As if your Foye feelings are so easily bruised.”

“Are you admitting that I have some?”

“I'm not admitting anything. You're trying to talk me into circles.”

“To what end?”

“You probably want to squeeze a few more illicit secrets out of me.”

“Oh, honey, I want to squeeze every tawdry detail out of you just so I can see your cheeks turn red, but I'm not trying to talk you in circles. I'm usually being straightforward, even if I'm wearing a smirk.”

And he was wearing one at the moment.

That smirk was, surprisingly, starting to grow on her. With him, it seemed if he
wasn't
smirking, something was wrong.

“I think I'll hold on to any other secrets for a while, thanks.” She cleared her throat and started at the buzz of her phone in her pants.

Her heart felt like it'd stopped as she pressed her hands over her pocket.

“It can't be them calling back.” His voice was too reasonable. His logic too sound.

Damn him.

“You can't be a super-heroine if you're afraid of your own phone ringing.”

“I'm not a super-heroine. I'm just a deranged Were-cougar sent on a mission by an ancient goddess to root out some misbehaving shifters.”

It rang again and she pulled the phone out only to see
2 Missed Calls
pop up on the screen as soon as she did.

She'd somehow managed to miss the first one from a number she now recognized—thanks to Sean—as from Glenda's cell. As far as Sean could discern, nothing pressing was happening at home. If she were looking for a status report on Sean, Hannah could give it to her later.

The other call had been from her brother Steven.
What the hell could he possibly want?

“You could totally be a super-heroine.” Sean rubbed his chin and eyed her critically from neck to ankles in an assessing way that made her face burn hot.

Does he like what he sees?

“You need to wear a little more Lycra, though. And maybe a gun,” he said conclusively, and met her gaze.

She cleared her throat and stared down at her quiet phone. “Fat chance on the Lycra,” she said. “I've got the gun, though.” She gave the backpack on the ground next to the bike a little tap with her foot.

“Are you licensed?”

“Yep.”

“For fuck's sake. Which of my brothers can I blame for giving that back to you?”

“Hank.”

“Remind me to thank him.”

“Guns are weapons of last resort. I take mine with me when I'm camping because …
well
…”

“Because of the bear thing. Right. Are you actually a decent shot?”

“Are
you
? Have you ever fired a gun?”

He straightened up from the bike and sidled around to the other side to stand toe-to-toe with her.

So hot out here all of a sudden
. A nervous laugh reached her ears and it took a few seconds for her to realize it was hers.

“Are you challenging me, blondie?”

“Uh-huh.”

He clucked his tongue, shook his head, and gave her braid a flick. “I think you should start with smaller challenges like rock, paper, scissors.”

“Afraid to get whipped by a girl?”

“Nope. I'm confident, but if you want gender equity, we could let Belle stand in for me. She's about as good with a gun as I am.”

“And you're so sure that you're better than me?”

“Of course. You're a suburban princess who's probably gotten all her shots in at gun ranges. I grew up in the middle of nowhere and have supernaturally acute vision. Normal cats may not see very well at a distance, but
we
can.” He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “I tell you what. I'll give you a handicap of about ten yards and I'll let you win if you hit anywhere close to the target.”

“No thanks. I don't need you to let me win.” He was right, though. She was a good shot, but most of her gun handling had been on ranges and in war game simulations. Still, she liked a challenge. And more than that, she liked the idea of the smirking jackass being strapped. There was something so sexy about a man who knew how to handle a weapon, whatever it was.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. It didn't matter what
she
thought. She needed to concern herself with how marketable he'd be to
other
women—women who were actually normal in more ways than Hannah was.

“Hmm.” Sean narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “Are you sure you can even hold a shotgun? They've got a nasty kick.”

“Don't you worry about me. I can use your shoulder to prop it up, if need be. I hope you have good ear protection.”

“Vicious.”

“Yeah. So I've been told.”

“I'm sure you deserve the reputation.”

She stuffed her hands into her pockets and shrugged.

She didn't like the reputation, because people couldn't see through it to understand there were nuances. She was excessively practical at times, sure, but no one cared why. They didn't ask, they just assumed she was flawed instead of layered.

And of course, once people picked on her for it, she wasn't so inclined to show them
what else
she was. Most of the time, she wasn't even sure if she was allowed to cry, which was so silly. Of course she could. Just not around anyone who knew her.

“I think I like
Brunhilde
better than
blondie
, you terrifying Viking, you
.
” Sean gave her braid a little flick.

“I'm not terrifying,” she whispered.

His smirk shifted to something …
softer
. Less mocking, and she stared.

Right there, so close, and she wished for once that she were more of a tease. She could kiss him and walk away and pretend it meant nothing, that she wasn't curious about him at all, but it'd be a lie.

She was curious, and not for anyone else's benefit, either.

Maybe—

Her phone rang again.

“Fuck.” She rolled her eyes, and he moved away, chuckling.

She hit the
Answer
button and snarled out a “
Hello
?” to her brother Steven.

“Jesus Christ, Hannah, you've got Mom stuck in some kind of weird, circular rant about you. Oh. Happy birthday, by the way.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
At least he tried.
“Look, I said what I had to, and she didn't want to hear it. I imagine the same holds true for Dad.”

“Ah,” Sean whispered. He started to move away from the bike, but Hannah grabbed his elbow and mouthed, “Don't go.” Having him around made her feel less outnumbered. It was silly, but true.

Sean nodded and leaned against the bike.

“You know how Dad is,” Steven said. “He's like rubber. Stuff bounces off of him and he conveniently forgets why a person would be so curt when talking to him.”

Hannah was so taken aback at her brother's observation that she very nearly let the phone slide out of her sweaty hand. “You see how he is, and yet the way he acts doesn't bother you?”

“I never said it didn't bother me. I just deal with it differently than you do.”

“Meaning what?”

“Eighty percent of the time, I ignore him. I learned to do that when I was fourteen and figured out that he's usually talking out of his ass and Mom goes along with him because that's how she was raised, bless her heart. Where are you? I gave up on trying to make sense of what Mom was rambling about.”

“I'm just exploring.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“Try another lie. You don't explore. You don't window-shop. You don't visit museums or aquariums. You don't do
idle
things, so try again. Where are you?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yeah. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, though, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't be surprised at this point if we haven't
trained
you to lie because we might act in a way you don't like if you tell the truth, but you know you can tell me stuff, right?”

She scoffed.

“Okay, that's fair. Maybe you don't know, and that's my fault. Still, you need to throw Dad a bone. You know how he is. He may not be suspicious right now, but all he needs is one little seed. If he gets bored and curious, he'll start looking under rocks and snooping for clues to see where you are. He might even try to track your phone.”

“He can't access my account.”

Steven chuckled low. “Stop thinking about what's legal for him to do and think more of what's actually
possible
for him to do. Hell, for all you know, he's already set the wheel in motion and has someone digging into your account to see where your last GPS signal was from.”

“Fuck you, Steven.”

“I'm serious. You'd better make up a good excuse now.”

“Why, because
you're
going to plant the seed and start him on his dogged pursuit of me?”

“I
could
.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“So, you care now?”

“I've always cared.”

She scoffed again.

Sean mouthed, “What?”

She muted her phone's mic. “He's blackmailing me to find out where I am. He's a little obsessive and can't let things drop.”

“I see. Well, I've always found that the best way to throw people off the trail is to tell them the truth.” His lips quirked up into that damn smirk, and she wondered which flavor of it he was giving her at the moment. Charming goofball? Deceptively harmless joker? Wickedly sexy tactician?

Definitely sexy, but the rest of that …

He pushed up an eyebrow, and whispered, “Well?”

“Huh?”
Frickin' cat distractibility.

“Hannah, are you still there?” Steven asked.

She cleared her throat and unmuted the phone.
Truth … truth. Which truth?
“Uh … okay. If you want it, you've got it. I'm out west.”

“West? Why?”

“I'm working.” It wasn't quite a lie.