Tigre Read online

  “Oh my God!” She pressed a hand to her throat. “They could come here?”

  “It’s very, very slim. Chameleon, who is a Xeno—but one of the good ones—did everything he could to cover our tracks. You’re more likely to be struck by lightning than Earth is to be destroyed in a firestorm.”

  “But people do get struck by lightning.” It wasn’t common, but it happened.

  “Hence our contingency planning, spearheaded by Edwin Mysk. Because of the jump space time warp, he landed on Earth fifty years before we castaways did, so he’s had five decades to plan. He’s been working on a weapons system.”

  “That’s what he’s building in the factory you toured in Vegas?” she recalled.

  “Yes. Mysk, who is unmated, intends to leave Earth, reunite and mobilize the ’Topian diaspora, and mete out justice to the Xenos.”

  “That sounds like a tall order.” And dangerous. They were going to take on beings who’d had the power to destroy their planet.

  “It is. Which is why we’re getting our chickens in a row first.”

  “You mean ducks?”

  “I mean we’re getting everything ready before we act.”

  “That’s called getting one’s ducks in a row.”

  “It matters what kind of fowl? Your Earthisms elude me.” He shook his head. “Anyway, before ’Topia got bombarded, Chameleon evacuated several thousand people to haven planets. The locations are secret, like ours, but their risk of discovery is the same also. The galaxy is vast, but the Xeno Consortium’s reach is extensive. If they happened to stumble upon a settlement, which is not impossible, given their patrols, they’ll begin a targeted search, and they won’t rest until they eliminate every single ’Topian.

  “With the right weaponry, the element of surprise, and the manpower of the diaspora, we’ll defeat the Xenos.”

  His lips twisted into a satisfied smile. “The Xenos are going to discover the meaning of self-fulfilling prophecy. To use another of your Earthisms, karma is a bitch. Fearing our advancement would lead us to rise against them, the Xenos attempted to destroy us. Now we are going to rise against them. They caused what they feared.”

  He’d said his friend Mysk had planned to track down the Xenos; the castaways were just…consultants. But his gaze lit with zeal, and he kept saying, we, we, we. “We…as in…you?” Panic flared in her chest. He wouldn’t go himself, would he? He could be killed! You can’t go, we’re married! It was a fake marriage, barely legal, but it was a bond. Would he up and leave her? Like her father had done with her mother?

  “I had considered it but not anymore. Not since I found you. However, my brothers and I support Mysk’s mission 100 percent, and we’ll do whatever we can from Earth—but we’re staying here.”

  Relieved, she hugged him tight. His arms came around her, and that familiar heat snapped and curled in her belly and lower. She needed him again, needed the skin-to-skin reassurance of his presence. She lifted her head.

  His topaz eyes sparked with desire. “Again?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have a booster.”

  He flashed his fangs in a sexy grin then lowered his head and kissed her.

  Chapter Nine

  Basking in the post-coital glow, they were curled up, lazing together when Kat catapulted out of bed. “Amanda Blake!” she cried. “You have to take me home.”

  “Who’s Amanda Blake?”

  “My cat.” She pulled on her underwear, pants, and Tigre’s shirt. She motioned. “Get dressed—or not. You can ride the hover scooter naked, but I need to go.”

  “You need to get home to a cat?” He rated second to an animal? Insecurity reared its ugly head, but he slid out of bed and pulled on his boxers.

  “I didn’t go home last night! She hasn’t been fed since yesterday morning. If I’d guessed I’d be spending the night with you, I would have left her dry food, but she’s had nothing.”

  Well, okay. Of course the cat needed to be fed. He hurried and finished dressing. “How did you come up with the name Amanda Blake?” He hadn’t known anybody who’d given an animal a first and last name.

  “Amanda Blake was an actress in an old TV Western called Gunsmoke. She played a saloon owner called Miss Kitty. She had a birthmark on her cheek. My cat is solid white, except for one tiny black spot on her face.” Kat touched her cheek.

  “So why not call her Miss Kitty?”

  She shrugged. “Miss Kitty seemed too conventional.”

  After some hurried goodbyes, he drove her to the lavender farm gift shop. As she slid off the scooter, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’ll, uh, call you…or you call me?”

  Disappointment settled over him like a wet blanket. He’d hoped to spend the day with her. “How about we have dinner tomorrow night? We could grab a pizza at the Whitetail? I’ll pick you up.”

  She smiled. “Sounds good. I’m off at five; I need time to get home and shower, so 6:30 p.m.?”

  “It’s a date!” He wasn’t sure what was typical for humans, but it seemed odd to date one’s genmate and wife, but she remained uncertain about their relationship. Hence, he would do whatever necessary to cement their bond.

  “Great!” She leaned in to give him a peck on the lips, but he pulled her in close and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth in a lingering caress. She wound her arms around his neck and melted against him. Mating glands released the pheromone, and, when they parted, her eyes were glazed with desire, his cock was hard, and the feral fever surged through his blood again. By tomorrow, they’d both be in a frenzy again.

  “Go feed Amanda Blake while I can still let you.” He gave her a gentle push toward her car.

  The conflict in her expression warmed his heart, alleviating some of his insecurity.

  Tigre waited until she drove out of sight before heading home. He should focus on the positives instead of the disappointments. They had incredible physical chemistry, and they were getting along outside of bed. She’d smiled with affection instead of glowering with animosity or hurling insults at him. Unlike their mating in Las Vegas, she hadn’t shrieked and run away after awakening the next morning—although she still had left.

  The cat needed to be fed, but couldn’t Kat have invited him over? That she hadn’t suggested they spend the rest of the day together proved what he’d suspected—she was still building barriers to a full commitment.

  His reservations had evaporated. Awakening with Kat in his bed, he’d realized he’d couldn’t imagine being with anyone but her. Happy, lustful, angry, scornful, bossy—she was the perfect woman for him. He just had to convince her.

  Stay positive. Focus on the progress.

  If they danced two steps forward, one step back, they were still moving forward. All he had to do was give it time, and everything would work out. What could go wrong now?

  * * * *

  Amanda Blake greeted Kat with a loud complaint.

  “Are you hungry? I’m so sorry! I’m a bad cat mother!” Kat scooped her pet up and carried her to the kitchen, dismayed at how she’d forgotten she had a helpless cat at home! After working at the lavender farm all day, she’d gone to Tigre’s place, the feral fever consumed them, and she never gave another thought to her poor kitty.

  Then when she’d remembered, in her guilt and worry about Amanda Blake, she’d neglected to invite Tigre over! She could have fed the cat, and then she and Tigre could have spent the day together—what was left of it. She glanced at the clock over the stove. It was already midafternoon.

  The fact he had immediately suggested they meet tomorrow implied he wished to have the afternoon and evening to himself. That stung a little, but she tried to be reasonable and not read anything into it. As snippy and rude as she’d been, she was lucky he liked her at all.

  She opened a can of tuna feast, Amanda Blake’s favorite, and gave her an apologetic extra ration. Leaving the cat to eat, Kat went into the bedroom. After changing into comfy yoga
pants and her own top, she pressed Tigre’s shirt to her face. His sexy musk clinging to the fabric evoked memories of their passionate night. With a sigh, she dropped the shirt on the mattress and groped around for her flip-flops.

  She hadn’t planned anything for today, having anticipated she’d feel fatigued after the Lavender Fest. Given the stress and intensity of police work, she usually looked forward to downtime. But today, solitude felt…lonely.

  Tigre was probably having a great time with his family.

  Tail held high like a flag, Amanda Blake marched in and leaped onto the bed, then froze at the sight of Tigre’s shirt. She crept toward it and sniffed. Then she hissed and arched, her fur standing on end. Growling, the cat attacked the shirt, biting, kicking, and scratching like she was possessed by a demon.

  “What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?” She tried to pull the shirt away without getting bitten or scratched, but the cat’s claws were hooked into the fabric. “Stop it!” She swatted the animal with a bed pillow, but the cat seemed to become even more ferocious in her attack on the shirt.

  Kat ran to the kitchen for the spray bottle of water she used when Amanda Blake scratched the sofa or the drapes and dashed back to the bedroom. Taking aim, she squirted the cat. It took several squirts before the cat vaulted into the air and ran away.

  Long gashes rent the cotton, and there were multiple holes from claws and teeth. What the hell was that all about? Amanda Blake had never reacted like that before. She inspected anything new brought into the house, but she’d never freaked out.

  There seemed little practical purpose to launder a throwaway rag, but it would be adding insult to injury to hand him a tattered shirt also covered in cat hair. She grabbed a few other items from her clothes hamper and dumped them with Tigre’s shirt into the washing machine tucked into the hall closet. Then she hunted down Amanda Blake.

  She sat on her scratch post, licking her paws and washing her face, innocent as could be.

  Hands on her hips, Kat demanded, “What got into you?” She’d seen the cat’s eyes go wild before she sprinted around the house for no apparent reason, but she’d never gone feral.

  Amanda Blake blinked and stretched out her neck, angling for attention.

  “You’re going to act like nothing happened?” With a huff, she gave in and petted the cat. “Were you upset I left you alone overnight and forgot to feed you?” She hadn’t acted this way when Kat had returned from Vegas. Of course, Verna from next door had checked in on her and fed her.

  Amanda Blake nudged Kat’s hand.

  She stroked the cat’s head. “Don’t do that again, okay? That was weird and scary.”

  * * * *

  Kat pinned a photo of the latest burglarized house on the bulletin board. Another country home had been hit over the weekend. The MO followed the same pattern—remote location, owners gone for the day, entry by breaking a rear window, vandalism inside. She glanced at her team, consisting of Matt, Deputy Donovan Dewey who often worked burglary, and rookie Corey Masters who would help track evidence, make phone calls, and do a lot of the routine legwork.

  “We should spread the word to the press that this is happening so people will take some precautions,” Matt suggested.

  “It’s been on the local TV news, in the Spokesman Review and the Coeur d’Alene Press,” the rookie pointed out.

  “As unrelated, individual burglaries,” Kat said. “Matt is right. We need to alert the public these crimes aren’t random but part of an organized effort. I’ll get approval from brass to make that announcement. Maybe call a press conference. The best way to prevent crime is for citizens to be alert.”

  She crossed her arms and studied the data on the board. A picture of Kevanne and Cam’s place was tacked up there. “Ordinarily, I’d advise people to invest in a security system, but where these folks live, it wouldn’t make a difference. The alarm could ring like crazy and, by the time somebody could get out to the location, the perps would be long gone.”

  “What they need is a dog. A big one,” quipped Donovan. “Nobody breaks into a house with a Rottweiler.”

  Kat chuckled and then narrowed her eyes as an idea formed. Fashioning her finger and thumb into a gun, she pointed at Donovan. “You might be onto something—” she said, and then checked with Corey. “None of the victims had dogs, right?”

  “Let me look.” The rookie powered up his networked laptop and opened a file. “It doesn’t appear so. I don’t see anything in the reports, but I doubt anybody asked the vics that question.”

  “Then we need to ask it. Contact the victims and find out if they had dogs.”

  “What are you thinking?” Matt looked at her.

  “That we might be able to predict who they’ll hit next.”

  “How?”

  “Through the dogs—or lack thereof. I’ll bet you a box of donuts most people who live in the boonies have animals, specifically dogs. All residences hit were outside city limits. There can’t be more than several thousand homes in the unincorporated areas of the county.”

  “That’s still thousands of homes!” the rookie exclaimed.

  “Yes, but if we pull a list of licensed dog addresses and cross reference those to the homes in unincorporated areas, that will leave a much smaller fraction. We can then guesstimate where the perps might strike next and maybe catch them in the act.”

  “It could be a coincidence none of the people had dogs,” Matt said.

  “True,” she admitted. “But right now, this is our only lead. So, first, let’s verify none of the existing victims owned dogs or had them at home when they got burglarized. Then let’s obtain a list from animal control, eliminate the dog owners, and go from there.”

  Chapter Ten

  A neighbor’s dog barked as Tigre strode up the walk to Kat’s house. Wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. The curtains parted in the window next door, and a face peered out. He waved, recognizing Meadow’s boss from the antique store. In a town as small as Argent, everybody knew everybody—or close enough.

  Kat lived in a charming wooden bungalow typical of the homes in Argent. He stepped onto the covered porch spanning the front and rang her bell.

  Dum, da dum dum. Dum da dum dum, dum!

  She opened the door, and his mouth dried as his temperature spiked. For a moment, he was rendered tongue-tied. “That’s an unusual musical sound,” he said for lack of anything better to say.

  “It’s the theme from Dragnet.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s an ancient TV cop show.” She wore a bluish-green dress that molded her upper body while swirling around her shapely legs. The dress she’d worn in Las Vegas had been painted on, and, while this one didn’t cling as tightly, it suited her even better. Silver hoop earrings flashed from underneath glossy hair left loose to dust her shoulders.

  His gaze followed her curves downward to pink toenails peeking out of high-heeled strappy sandals. Even her feet were cute.

  When he met her eyes again, humor glinted on her face. “After that thorough scan, I’m sure you could give a detailed description to the police sketch artist.”

  “I didn’t want to miss anything.” He grinned. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Well, come on in. I’ll grab my purse and get your shirts.”

  He entered her home. “Shirts?” There’d only been the one.

  She slung a small handbag over her shoulder then grimaced as she handed him a plastic sack. “There was a little accident with your T-shirt, so I went shopping on my lunch hour and got you a replacement. I couldn’t get the exact same blue, but it’s close.”

  He’d destroyed her dress and purple security shirt with his claws and never thought to replace either of them. He was an oaf. He peered into the sack. “I should have replaced the dress I tore up. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I got this one instead.” She twirled. “I bought it today.”

  “I’ll pay you
for it.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She waved.

  He opened his mouth to object.

  She grinned. “Tell you what—you pay for dinner, and we’ll call it square.”

  It was the least he could do. He vowed to replace her dress anyway.

  A white cat with a black spot on its face leaped from a carpet-covered perch across the room and stalked toward them.

  Tigre dropped to his haunches. “This must be Amanda Blake—”

  The cat’s ears flattened, its back arched, and the animal hissed. Spitting and growling, it assumed attack mode.

  His own claws extended in reflexive self-defense, and he jumped to his feet before the animal could lunge at his face.

  “No! Amanda Blake, no!” Kat leaped between him and the cat. “Quick, let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the bungalow, slamming the door. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” She pressed her lips together. “My cat tore up your shirt; that’s why I replaced it. I’m so sorry.”

  The dog next door started barking again.

  “As long as you like me, that’s all that matters,” he said. Would the cat’s dislike affect Kat’s feelings? Would she judge him by her pet’s animosity? He’d been on shaky ground from the beginning.

  She touched his chest. “I do like you, and I’m sure Amanda Blake will like you, too, after she gets used to you.” She bit her lip. “Let’s go to dinner.”

  He heard Verna shushing the dog. “The canine doesn’t bother your cat?” He’d noticed a small flap in the rear door of her house, which he’d assumed allowed the cat to come and go.

  “No, they’re friends.”

  “So, it’s just me she doesn’t like.”

  “I don’t know why she’s behaving like that.” She grimaced and then waved at her friendly but nosy neighbor peering through the curtains. “Sorry about Verna. It will be all over town by tomorrow that we’ve gone out.”