Tangling with the Tiger: Lone Pine Pride, Book 5 (3 page)

“Even if your rampage cost us valuable information that could ultimately have led to the destruction of the entire Organization?”

“You want to stop them. When they’re all dead, they’ll stop.”

“And if other shifters who are still in captivity are hurt because of what you did? If another child ends up on an autopsy table because you slowed down our efforts?” Her gaze was hard. “You aren’t the only one, Dominec. I know things were shit for you, but things were shit for a fucking
ton
of us and we’re trying to save as many shifters as possible. Once we have them out, if you want to go play genocide with the evil scientists, I’m down. But you can’t do that shit when you may be inhibiting our ability to get the fucking job done. Get it?”

He bared his teeth, the dominant predator inside him not taking kindly to being dressed down—even as the tiny little rational pebble in a corner of his brain acknowledged she might have a point.

“Just try to be good, okay?” she said, exasperated. “You’re on probation.”

“And what happens if I’m bad?”

He almost thought he saw regret in her eyes, but it must have been an illusion. “You know the answer to that.”

He did. Death sentence. The shifters had always been ruthless about protecting their secrets. If they thought he would expose them in his quest for vengeance, they wouldn’t hesitate to take him out. He wondered who would do it. The Hawk maybe? He was a trained sniper.

The injustice of it pressed against his brain, making his skull feel too small. But when had life ever been fair? In a perfect world, every Organization doctor would be dead.

And Micah would be alive.

“Why can’t I fucking go after them?” he growled. “Point me at them and let me pay them back for what they’ve done to all of us. We aren’t doing enough.”

“We’re being strategic. Not kamikaze. You can commit hari-kari when it doesn’t potentially impact the rest of the pride. Are we clear?”

He was snarling, but he managed to grit out the word. “Clear.”

He would play nice. For now. At least where she could see him.

Chapter Three

She was going to have to keep a close eye on the bastard.

Grace jogged down the steps of Dominec’s apartment building, replaying the conversation in her head. There had been no emotion in his eyes whatsoever when he’d spoken of killing all those people—which she supposed was better than if he’d gotten off on it, but still. That cold black stare was some scary shit.

She couldn’t help wonder if he’d always been like that, or if it was a conditioned response. Or a defense mechanism. What had he been like before the Organization touched his life? He was startlingly handsome, on the unmarked side of his face. Startling because one so rarely noticed his finely carved features with the distraction of the scars. Had he been vain once upon a time?

Tall, muscular, with silky black hair just a little on the long side and inky black eyes—had they ever been mischievous rather than dead?

He would never have had trouble with the ladies.

Had he been married? She’d heard that the Organization had killed his family, but she didn’t know who that meant. It could have been parents or siblings, but the way he’d spoken about that child on the autopsy table…

He was old enough to have been a father when he was taken. Mid-thirties now, if she had to hazard a guess. No one knew how long he’d been with the Organization or how he’d escaped. He’d simply said it was
too long
and he’d
killed his way out
. Then he would tilt his head, in that way of his, calling attention to the scars. Like he was proud of them. Wanting to make sure you didn’t miss them. Trying to punish everyone who might avoid looking at them head on.

Grace had never been afraid to look. He wore his damage on his face. No one could see hers. Didn’t make one of them more special than the other.

She slipped into her office—just a few more things to finish before she could call it a night. Those duty rosters weren’t going to edit themselves. And even if Roman had been giving her shit, getting a health report from Brandt on the incoming refugees was a good idea. She was a pride lieutenant, but she was also their security team’s primary medic and worked closely with Dr. Brandt when he was short staffed. Which was pretty much always, these days.

A lioness’s job is never done
.

She sat down at her desk, flipped up her laptop—

And stared at the sticky-note she’d stuck on the screen earlier so she wouldn’t forget the family dinner she’d absolutely promised her mother she would make it to.

“Shit.”

It was the reason she’d put on the freaking girly shirt after her shower when she got back to the pride and she’d completely spaced it. The anniversary of her parents’ mating day. And she was over two hours late.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Keeping up a steady litany, Grace slapped her computer closed and ran out of her office. The duty roster and health report would have to wait. Her parents were understanding of her pride duties, but they’d never forgive her if she missed
another
family function.

She sprinted through the main compound, grateful the pathways weren’t very crowded at this hour, and wove her way toward the larger, family bungalows on the south edge. Possession was a fluid thing in the pride, with even houses looked on as community property that was traded according to need, so her parents were somewhat unusual in that they still lived in the same house they’d moved into when the twins were born, a sprawling—by pride standards—six-room bungalow with its own kitchen.

Grace had only lived there with them for one year before joining the pride soldiers in the barracks, but all five of her younger siblings still lived at home. The house was always loud and bright—and Grace always felt a little out of place there. An only child until she was twelve, part of her still viewed the Calaveras family baby boom as an invasion.

It didn’t help that she seemed to be the only member of her gene pool who had any sort of warrior tendencies. Her parents often looked at her as if they couldn’t quite figure out how she had turned out the way she did. Grace tried not to hold that against them—but it didn’t exactly make her want to rush home at every opportunity.

Her mother was standing on the long, low-slung front porch, sipping tea with one of her aunts and two of her cousins as Grace jogged up. At her approach, the others made their excuses and slipped inside, leaving her mother alone on the porch when she climbed the steps.

“I suppose we should be grateful you made it at all.” Her mother sighed.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Thank you. Your father’s inside. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.” Her mother eyed her from head to toe. “You look healthy. Are you getting enough rest?”

Pushing thirty and her mother was still trying to force naptime on her. “When I can. It’s been hectic lately.”

Her mother nodded, eyes flicking toward the heart of the pride compound. Robert and Malin Calaveras had never been political by any stretch of the imagination, but even they couldn’t ignore the uproar in recent weeks. New Alpha. New Alpha’s mate. Refugees arriving daily from the south—both trying to evade Organization capture and escaping from Organization facilities. Even if they avoided knowing exactly what Grace did for the pride, they had to know that her plate would have been full lately.

“Well,” her mother murmured. “Try to remember to make time for yourself.”

Which was code for
would it kill you to date?
Grace just smiled, determined not to be a brat at her parents’ party. “Shall we go in?”

The main room of the house was jammed with people, most of them family and all of them lions, if she had to guess based on scent alone. Not that her parents were against mixing—they’d both seemed genuinely pleased when Patch and Roman had announced their mating—but in general they veered more toward the traditional keep-to-your-own mentality.

Grace tended to think the traditions were bullshit. Just another way she was the black sheep of this lot.

She heard her father’s laugh and threaded her way through the crowd to his side to give him a hug.

“Gracie! You made it!” He squeezed her, and then rocked back on his heels to take her in.

They were exactly the same height, but that was where the resemblance ended. For a lion, he was quite soft and his brown curls and gold eyes gave no hint where her own straight blonde hair and blue-on-blue eyes could have come from. Her mother insisted Grace looked just like her maternal great-grandmother, but there were no pictures to verify the resemblance.

“Happy anniversary,” she repeated dutifully.

He beamed, his eyes searching out her mother in the crowd. “Thirty years, can you believe it?” He laughed. “I feel too young to be mated for thirty years.”

Normally Grace would make a crack about the shotgun marriage aspect of the whole thing—she’d been born only four months after their mating ceremony—but for once she went for tact and kept her mouth shut.

“By the time your mother was your age, she’d been mated ten years,” her father chortled. “What are you waiting for, Gracie, my girl?”

She forced a smile. “Oh, you know how it is. I can’t imagine settling for anyone who isn’t as great as my dad.”

And he was great. Even if he didn’t understand the first thing about what mattered to her.

Her father smiled, something disconcertingly sly entering his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Mr. Right is closer than you think.”

Oh dear God.

This was a set-up.
Of course
there was someone here they wanted to pair her off with.

“Dad, you know how crazy things are right now. I barely have time to think, let alone date.”

Her mother appeared on her other side. “Lots of pride soldiers have relationships, Gracie. Families, even.”

“I’m a lieutenant. And a medic. It’s three times as much work as being a perimeter soldier.” And she had to work harder than everyone else to prove she belonged because no pride had ever had female lieutenants before.

She lived and breathed her job and that was how she liked it. She
was
the pride. And she was far too busy to be lonely. Her parents were hopelessly codependent, but she
liked
being self-sufficient. And if she wanted sex, well, that was easy. Thanks to a standing no-strings arrangement she had with Kelly Mather, the pride’s resident flirt, an easygoing lion who never demanded more of her. Instant gratification, no relationship fuss.

Just then the crowd shifted and she saw a familiar profile, crowned by a familiar cowboy hat, across the room. Kelly Freaking Mather. Damn it. What the hell was he doing here?

Her parents followed the direction of her gaze before exchanging a conspiratorial smile.

Of course. Her set-up. Joy.

Did they know she’d been screwing him off and on for years? Ugh. Things she did
not
want to think about her parents knowing. That had to top the list.

Kelly was talking to one of the twins. Honor was only eleven, but she was female, so of course Kelly had her wrapped around his little finger. All he had to do was flash those dimples and anyone without a Y chromosome melted at his feet—and a fair number of people with Y chromosomes as well.

The smug happiness radiating off her parents was reaching suffocating levels, so Grace excused herself and threaded through the crowds, exchanging passing greetings with various friends of her parents and distant relations as she made her way over to Kelly and Honor.

“Gracie!” Honor squealed when she noticed her approach.

Grace caught the projectile launched at her chest that was her sister and gave her a squeeze before dropping her back on her feet. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Did you know Kelly knows how to French braid?” Honor asked, twisting to display the braid that Grace could only assume was Kelly’s handiwork.

“I did not, in fact, know that.” Though an intricate awareness of how to repair women’s hairstyles after fooling around was probably a useful skill for the Cowboy Casanova.

“I’m gonna show Faith.
She
doesn’t have a French braid,” Honor said with the haughty enthusiasm that only came from the ability to lord something over a sibling. Then the girl plunged into the crowd and vanished, leaving Grace alone with Kelly—if she didn’t count the speculative gazes of everyone in her parents’ social circle.

“Come get some air with me,” she snapped.

If Kelly was fazed by the sharp order, it didn’t show as he lazily rolled to his feet. But then, nothing much fazed Kelly. It was a large part of his appeal.

They threaded through the crowd in the kitchen to the door to the side porch, which was smaller and much more private than the sprawling one out front. Grace told herself she was paranoid and that the lions around them were not all humming the wedding march in their heads, but her temper was on a hair trigger by the time they stepped outside and the door shut behind them.

She rounded on him. “What are you doing here?”

Kelly propped his shoulders against the side of the house, crossing his ankles. “Your parents invited me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Seemed rude to say no.”

“Kelly. You know they’re trying to set us up.”

“Yep.” He tipped his head so she couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hat.

“And you’re totally fine with that?”

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Thank God. A normal explanation. He probably had pride business to discuss. And now she felt guilty for snapping at him. “Sorry. I know I’ve been crazy busy. What did you need to talk about?”

“I don’t want to have meaningless sex anymore.”

“Oh.” She blinked. Wow. Man-whore Kelly Mather was turning over a new leaf. “Okay.” It wasn’t entirely a surprise. Beneath the layers of flirtation and cheerful debauchery, he was a good guy and she’d always figured he would settle down and become a one-woman man someday. She’d just thought she’d have a few more years of uncomplicated sex first. Kelly was several years younger than she was. She hadn’t expected him to catch the monogamy bug so early. It was moderately inconvenient that she’d have to find someone else to scratch her itch, but her smile was genuine when she said, “Good for you.”

“I think we should date.”

“Oh…”
Shit
. Alarm bells—too late, damn it—began blaring in her head.
Danger, Will Robinson!
“Kelly…”

“I know you don’t want a relationship, but I do. And I want one with you. I understand your life is crazy right now, but I can be accommodating. And I felt like I should warn you that I’m going to be trying to convince you to give me a shot.” He grinned. The infamous dimples flashed. “Prepare to be romanced, Grace Calaveras.”

Well. Shit.