The Cougar's Bargain (12 page)

But as long as she was walking, she was busy. The longer she walked, the longer she could put it off.

She thought about taking the long way around to the motel as she approached it, but spotting Sean's bike, she remembered why they were even there in the first place. She had information to share about
Los Impostores
. She didn't know how much of it was useful, but he probably would know, so she needed his help.

And still, every step she took became harder, her feet heavier.

Coward.

“I can just get it over with. Put it behind me.” That way she could rage for a while and get it out of her system—move on to more productive things.

She dug deep for some mojo and jogged up the steps and down the breezeway to her room. Before the door closed behind her, she had her phone. Ignoring a new missed call from Glenda's landline for the moment, she dialed her parents' number. Whoever had called her from the ranch hadn't left a message, so whatever they wanted probably wasn't important. They'd send her a text to call back if it were.

Sean stepped in from the adjoining room as she perched on the corner of her bed, and she held up a hand.

He nodded and went away.

“Oh my God, Hannah, is that actually you?” Her mother did that wheezing laugh that always sounded like it was at Hannah's expense, and Hannah hadn't even said anything yet.

“It's me,” Hannah said flatly.

“So you're back in the country? I wish you would've told us you were coming. Do you need to be picked up from the airport?”

Hannah wrapped the end of her braid around her fingers and let her knee bob. “I'm in the country, but I'm not near home. It'll be a while before I get there.”

Weeks. Months.

“Well, where are you? It wasn't like you to go running off someplace without telling anyone.”

“Sometimes people change their plans midstream.”

“You've never been one of those people.”

“Folks turn over new leaves all the time,” Hannah muttered, trailing her fingertips along one edge of her scar.

“I'll say.”

“Where's Daddy? I want to ask him a question.”

“He went to the warehouse store to get stuff for the cookout.”

Hannah stilled her knee. “What cookout?”

“The one we usually have for your birthday.”

“I'm not there.”

“No reason to kill the tradition, though. Folks expect us to have a cookout in August.”

“So, I'm just a decoration when I am there, right? What you're doing is kind of like having a bachelorette party for a missing bride-to-be.”

“No, it's not. Lord have mercy, you are the most sensitive child. I
swear
you are.”

Hannah's knee started bobbing again, and she grated her teeth to hold her tongue.

Sean poked his head in again, and she gave hers a shake. He retreated.

“Well, happy birthday, anyway,” Mom said. “When are you coming home?”

“I'm not, really. I'm selling my house and moving to New Mexico.”

Her mother laughed again—a wheezing laugh that made Hannah wonder if the woman was reaching for her inhaler. Mom actually
did
have asthma.

“I'm not joking, Mom.”

“Oh, come on. What the heck is in New Mexico? Is that where you are right now?”

“That doesn't matter. Listen, I gotta go.”

“Well, wait. The garage door is rattling. Your daddy must be here. Hold on.”

Hannah wanted to push that disconnect button, but Sean stepped into the room again, this time leaning against the dresser. For some reason, having him there made her feel a little braver.

“Where the hell are you?” her father asked without even bothering with the
happy birthday
preface, just like her mother.

“Doesn't matter. Listen, I want to ask you a question.” She pulled her gaze from Sean's curious one and stared at the worn, taupe carpet at her feet. “When you left the voicemail, what did you mean by
Since it matters so much to you
?”

“Huh?”

“You said,
Happy birthday, since it matters so much to you
.”

“God, Hannah, you know how you are. You get upset when folks forget.”

“Not
folks
, Daddy. You, Mom, Chad, Eric, and Steven. You're the five people in my life who should remember my birthday.” Ellery and Miles had, even with everything going on at the ranch. They'd sung happy birthday to her in chorus, and Hannah had grinned like an asshole with her phone pressed to her ear as she walked toward the address Lola had given her.

“You're the five people who
should
show up on time to help me move out of my dorm room,” she continued. “Who
should
remember every now and then that little girls aren't little boys and that they have to be treated accordingly. Maybe I am oversensitive and I'm flying off the handle about nothing, but I've been waiting a really long time to get that off my chest. I know you're going to talk about me the moment I end this call, and that's fine. You're going to talk about how I shouldn't have left therapy, even though you couldn't be bothered to show up for those few appointments when the therapist asked you to be there, too. That's fine. You can talk about that, too. Talk about how temperamental I am and how you don't understand why I can't be as mellow as my brothers. Go ahead and talk all you want. Talk yourselves blue in the faces, and enjoy the birthday party you're throwing for me that I'm not even at.”

“Dammit, Hannah, come on, you're being way too—”

She disconnected before he could spit out the accusation, then stared at the phone's dark screen for so long that her vision blurred.

Sean crouched in front of her and gave her knee a squeeze, withdrawing his hand quickly. “I … I'm sorry you had to say that with me in earshot.”

She drew in a shallow breath and let out a sharp, bark of laughter. “Well, you nailed that apology.”

He shrugged. “I don't know what else I could apologize for that would be genuine.”

She tossed her phone aside and stood. “Don't feel sorry for me. Don't—just,
don't
do that.”

“I don't feel sorry for you. Well, maybe a little, but that's not why I came in here.”

“Why did you? I told you to leave twice.”

“Yeah. You did, but the thing is, when you're agitated, the beast part of me doesn't like it. He wants to see what's wrong and try to fix it.”

“So, you being in here is your act of self-preservation. I'm stressing you out.”

“You've been stressing me out for months. That's nothing new. If you'd like me to try harder not to care, I don't know what to tell you. There's no switch for me to turn off, but I can pretend I don't know anything—that I didn't hear it. That'll only work for as long as you're not carrying the anger around. If you're still pissed, there's only so much pretending I can do.”

She twirled her braid, chewed the inside of her cheek, and stared at the floor. Practicing “mind over matter” was impossible when it came to family history. She thought perhaps the reason her interactions with her parents left her so upended every time was because they were right. Maybe she did have a skewed view of things and her reactions were out of sync with reality. Maybe there
was
something wrong with her.

“Let's change the subject,” he said. “How about that?”

She shrugged. “Might as well.”

“Are you going to shoot me a death glare if I sit?”

“Probably, but don't take it personally. It's a reflex.” She was so used to being bothered by every damned thing, she had to try hard to demonstrate that she really didn't care.

Besides, it was just Sean.

He sank into the chair near the window and entwined his fingers over his belly. “I talked to Mason.”

“Yeah?” She twirled some more and peeked at Sean through the corners of her eyes.

“Mm-hmm. Ellery's heading out to try to wake Gulielmus. Mason and Tito are going to have a come-to-Jesus talk with the Coyotes. Hank's taking Darnell out to look for the Sheehans.”

She stopped fidgeting. “What about Miles? They didn't just
leave
her, did they? She can't really take care of herself.”

“Mom'll look after her.”

“Oh.”
Duh
. It was expected and natural, and nobody gave Miles shit about it. Nobody
expected
her to hold her own in a fight. She was allowed to be weak.

Hannah wasn't, though.

“I talked to them this morning. They didn't say anything about it.”

“The plan probably came together pretty quickly. By the time we get back, there's either going to be a little mess or a big mess.”

“Either way, we'll be walking into a mess.”

“Yep. But maybe by this time next week, things'll start to settle down.”

“One could hope. I'd love to be able to sit out and figure out this Cougar thing without worrying about open hellmouths or Coyotes showing up in random places in town and being dicks to the ladies in the glaring.”

“I think you're adjusting admirably well, in spite of everything.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Sean.”

“I mean it.” He extended his leg and gave her a knee a little bump with his foot. “The fact you have so much responsibility should tell you that you're respected.”

“Is that what it is? Respect?”

“You don't know what that feels like?”

She stared down at the tight weave of her jeans fabric and concentrated on counting stitches. She couldn't think too much when she was trying to hold a count. Less thinking meant less obsessing. She'd worry that he was wrong and that she
wasn't
respected so much as tolerated, and she wanted so badly to be good enough for someone. She wanted to think she deserved the title of avenger.

Her phone shuddered and looked down at the screen, furrowing her brow.

She didn't recognize the number.

“What'd you find out about
Los Impostores
?” Sean asked.

“Oh.” Distracted just that quickly. “Well, you tell me. Here.” She snatched her phone off the bed, queued up some video footage she took, and held the device out to him.

After a moment, he stood, padded over, and took the phone. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her and hit play.

Her mind and body were suddenly at war. The defiant, contrary woman in her said, “Move over, bud.” The animal in her that recognized its mate said, “Lean in and touch.” The best choice seemed to be doing neither, so she sat on her hands and took a deep breath.

“It's a house?” Sean asked.

“Mm-hmm. That was the address Lola gave me. I think she was probably bending the godly engagement rules by giving it to me, but I'm sure she thought out all the potential consequences before she did.”

The video featured a courier carrying a stack of thick envelopes onto the property, but not to the front door. He bypassed it, and returned to the screen a moment later with empty arms. Hannah had wanted to see where those packages had gone so quickly.

“Is that where they live, or …”

“That's what I thought at first, but I watched for a while to make sure it was safe, and then I got closer. The side door had a little sticker in the window that advertised investigative services.”

“Private eyes?”

“Yeah, but that didn't seem right to me. I know a few private eyes that work with my father and the police department where he's a captain. They're generally licensed and bonded. The best I can tell, these guys aren't. I did a little searching while sitting in the library across the street. There's scant information available about them online or in any of the obvious databases. I did a reverse search on the address, and did find a couple of hits on message boards.”

“Posted by them or others?”

“Others looking for a … certain kind of service.”

He handed the phone back to her and leaned back onto his elbows. “Meaning?”

“Nothing you can describe as legal by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Like, assassins?”

She cringed. “This sounds so stinkin' ridiculous, but hell—a few months ago, I would have thought the idea of Were-cougars was utterly insane, and here I am. The world is probably a lot more jacked up than even I originally thought.”

“What's your theory?”

She shrugged and met his gaze, expecting to see incredulity in it as she so often did with the men in her life, but there was just neutral curiosity there. Even if he didn't believe it, he'd listen.

Has he always been listening?

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I … I wouldn't call them assassins, though based on what I read, they probably do get their hands dirty in some pretty unseemly ways. I peeked at the parcels outside the office door, and figured out the courier was acting as a sort of third party to make their transactions anonymous.”

“By
peeked at
, you mean …”

“I … might have opened one.”

“Hannah.” His voice was half laugh, and half scold.

“What?”

“You're nuts. You know that right?”

He said it so affectionately, she wasn't sure if she was supposed to take offense.

Assume not.
Optimism was a refreshing change from the ordinary.

“Um … the glue wasn't fastened all the way,” she said, “and I figured if they were going to sniff the parcels, they weren't going to get much off from my transfer.”

“True. You don't have much of a scent for a Cougar.”

“I
do
have a brain.”

“I never said you didn't. Shit, woman. Come on. What was inside the envelope?”

She furrowed her brow, closed her eyes, and tried to remember the exact wording, but she'd been so revved up on adrenaline at the moment that her memory of what was printed was unreliable. “Uh … there was a job request. All of the identifying information was blacked out, but the client was asking that their company handle a property dispute. There was a time and a date for them to meet, and a location somewhere in Tucson.”