Nash snorted. “In your dreams. It’d be like swatting a fly. One swipe and you’d be done for.”
“Perhaps,” Ramon conceded. “But you’d have to get that swipe in first and you’d have no chance of getting anywhere near me. I’d be ten times faster than your slow ass.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” Nash said.
“Any day, any way, my friend.”
They laughed good-naturedly as they made their way around the back of the property. Unfortunately, any hope Ramon had held onto about grabbing the boys and getting out unnoticed disappeared when he heard the raised voices in the backyard.
“Theystarted it by trespassing on private property. Who the fuck do they think they are?” And a moment later, “Who thefuckdo you think you are?”
“Shit, quick,” Ramon said, breaking out into a run.
He would have recognized that voice anywhere—Mason Brown. And he sounded drunk. Ramon’s heart plummeted when he heard one of the boys reply, “We’re Miguels! Who the fuck do you thinkyouare?”
Stupid goddamn idiots. What in the hell did they think they were playing at? If they made it out of this alive, Ramon was going to kill them. He ran into the backyard in time to see the look of incredulity on Mason’s face. Then the man brought back his arm, hand clenched into a fist.
“Mason!” Ramon shouted to get his attention.
Mason turned at the sound of his name being called, distracting him from the punch he’d been about to land, but upon seeing Ramon, his face lit up with predatory glee.
“Only you would be dumb enough to wander into a lion’s den,” Mason said around a cackle. “Oh, and these fools right here, of course. These your sidekicks, are they?”
“We’re no one’ssidekicks,” Carlos spat.
“Carlos!” Ramon shouted. “Shut the hell up!”
The boy looked annoyed at being spoken to like that, but he knew better than to answer back to Ramon. Most kids did. Ramon would have liked to have thought it was because he worked for the FBI or because of the reputation he’d built as a fair but tough adjudicator of the family’s minor spats, but he was under no illusions. It was more likely to be because his father was leader of the flock. None of them wanted to get their asses tossed out.
Ramon drew his shoulders back and started towards the small cluster. He drew in a deep breath, readying himself to defuse, or more likely, defend the situation, when a scent hit him out of nowhere, so powerful it nearly caused him to faceplant on the fancy wooden decking. What the hell? It wasn’t, as he’d have expected surrounded by a pride of belligerent lions, the scent of decay or decadence. In fact, it wasn’t an unpleasant scent at all. Quite the opposite. It was divine—like spring roses and fresh cut hay. He tried to take another step forward but stumbled. Nash, who had fallen in line beside him, cocked his head to one side and studied him.
“Hawk? You okay, buddy? You don’t look so good.”
Mason roared with laughter. “He looks like he’s gonna puke.”
“Smell,” Ramon managed to choke out.
Nash screwed his face up in confusion. “Huh?”
“Smell,” he said again. “Oh, shit.”
At that, Nash looked even more perturbed. “I don’t smell shit, wait, didyoushit?”
Ramon closed his eyes and prayed for strength. Trouble was, with his eyes closed, the scent seemed even more intense. Intoxicating. He needed to find its source. He opened his eyes again just as they shifted into his hawk form and his fingernails lengthened into talons.
“Oh, the party just gotrealinteresting,” Mason said. “Bring it on.”
“Mason,don’t,” a soft, feminine voice ordered.
Ramon’s head swung in her direction, and it was like staring into the face of an angel. She was so beautiful that he was tempted to shield his eyes, as if her beauty might blind him. Already he knew he never wanted to look on anything but her for the rest of his life. Her long, pale blonde hair looked as if it had been spun from pure sunshine and her big blue eyes were as light as the sky on a summer’s day.
“Mine,” he breathed.
“Oh, shit,” Nash groaned.
It was only a small consolation, but the woman looked as awestruck as Ramon felt. As he stared, her eyes shifted, and sharp looking incisors tore down past her lips.
“What the fuck? He’s in a daze,” Mason slurred. “Is he high?”
