Lynnette looked back over her shoulder. “I’ve got more colorful language if you’d prefer,” she replied, “but you told us to leave, so we’re leaving. Don’t chase us down,Deputy, or I might get scared on the highway and call the State Police.”
Jenna swore she heard his teeth crack from how hard he locked his jaw. She wanted to stay, to scream and curse and put up a fuss, but it would get her nowhere other than behind bars with an undeserved blemish on her record. So, she allowed Lynnette to lead her outside.What am I going to tell Martha?
As mad as she was about her business—it was her livelihood, after all—the situation with Steph was still more important. And who were they supposed to go to if not the county sheriff? She’d researched just earlier that week. The State Police did not, in fact, outrank the county sheriff. Turning to them would do her no good.
Lynnette poked her hard on the shoulder. “Let’s drive to that old movie theater and meet up in the lot so we can talk without risk of being arrested, okay? I’ll follow you.”
For as much as his grandfather had loved Misty Glades, the property he’d claimed and settled a home on after his own military days was technically on the far side of the town’s border. It was two acres of thinly forested land, accessible down a dirt road that hadn’t been maintained. National forest bordered it on two sides, and the third boundary was defined by a natural stream that ran out from somewhere inside thatforest. It had always been a beautiful location. Tucked so far away that if a person didn’t know it was there, they’d never find it—particularly since his grandfather had chosen a small two-bedroom, single-story mobile home for the large piece of land.
Jon remembered his grandmother best on that property, out in the sun, her hands covered in dirt as she fussed with her garden. As a little kid he’d thought he was so helpful, running through her flowerbed and playing sprinkler whenever the mood struck him. She’d never once admonished him for it.
The flowerbed had died long before he’d left town. Gardening wasn’t his grandfather’s thing. But in the years that had passed, Jon could see it had only been the first to go.
The property was so overgrown he could barely find the modest home. The land had put some good years in toward reclaiming that space, and there hadn’t been anyone dropping by to peel it back or otherwise try to stop it. He could tell the breadth of the water bank had expanded some and assumed it had flooded sometime in the past, though the stream was lower currently. The stream was about the only thing not flourishing.
Until he found the house. The house was definitely doing the opposite of flourishing. It looked like someone had trashed it, there was an old scorch mark along the siding on one side, and plants grew out the shattered window. The roof was partially caved in, and cobwebs hung from all the eaves like icicles off a cave wall. It was a sight better suited for a haunted house on Halloween.
Anger swirled inside Jon as he walked a wide berth of the house. There was no sense going in—though he easily could, despite not having a key. He’d hoped a little elbow grease would be enough to make it functional again, even though realistically he’d figured there would be things he’d want to update, too. But this was beyond what he’d had in mind.
It was sure as shit beyond what he had time for.
His fists clenched at his sides. He’d let his mind spin with possibilities on his way to the house, after watching Jenna drive off, and he’d come to the conclusion that the property he’d inherited was the best place for the new venture he wanted to launch. It was already his, as long as the legal side held up, and it was a good size. Plus, it was on the far side of Misty Glades, so not only was it likely to be more encouraging to folks from deeper in Oregon, it would boost tourism and the economy of the little town it was a part of, too. Although there’d be a fair share of people who resented the higher traffic, regardless.
But his mind was set. It had to be here. And that meant the overgrown nightmare of a property that had fallen in his lap needed to be cleaned up, the old house leveled and removed, in order for something new to be started. Because starting was key.
Jon reached into his pocket and extracted his phone, and scowled. Perhaps the smartest first step would be figuring out a way to get reliable cell signal to the area.Nothing more to see here right now, anyway.
He turned and pushed back through the too-tall grass and shrubbery, ducking around where he remembered the low-hanging branches to be.
Something cracked behind him, like a twig underfoot, and he froze. The hairs on his neck stood up. He didn’t need to do a sensory sweep to know he wasn’t alone, though he should have been. He did one anyway, because knowing precisely how many enemies and where they were positioned was always the smarter choice.
He identified two, spread out, and he knew immediately who they were. One was the shifter that had landed Lance in the hospital, the other was presumably human and hanging a bit further back. The human had a non-organic weapon raised; from his physical positioning it was a semi-automatic and the trajectory assured it was aimed at Jon’s head. The feline shifterwas in shifted form and attempting to sneak up on Jon, only a few yards directly behind him.
So, they do plan on circling back to eliminate witnesses.He’d need to check on Lance again.
Jon slowly raised his arms, hands open to show they were empty. He’d already acknowledged hearing the snap from the feline’s sloppy stepping and they’d be stupid as fuck to accept that a trainedanyonewould blow that off. “Whoever you are, and whatever you want, there’s no need for violence.” It was possibly the most bullshit thing he’d ever said.
He just wanted to gauge their objective. Silence could theoretically be bought.
The feline let out a low growl, making himself known. Undoubtedly, they believed he was the one who’d been made.
Jon slid a foot to one side and turned carefully around, making sure not to lower his arms or turn his head toward the gunman. He slipped his own net around the asshole’s trigger finger, though, making sure he was the one in control of that particular appendage for the time being. But as long as the guy didn’t try to move it, he wouldn’t notice.
His eyes locked onto the sleek, powerful figure of a horrendously out of place panther standing far too close for comfort.A fucking panther shifter? In Oregon?Obviously, they could travel as well as any other man, but he still found himself surprised.
The feline growled again, lips pulling back to reveal its fangs and whiskers twitching. Angry golden-amber eyes glinted in the filtered sunlight.
Somewhere overhead, a blue jay cried.
Jon felt the tension release in the panther’s muscles and threw himself aside as the feline leapt forward in a lunge. He twisted as he hit the ground, not wanting his back to either enemy despite retaining his hold on the steady trigger finger. “You don’t wannado this, pal,” he said to the panther. He cracked his neck as the feline gathered himself, tearing grass out of the ground beneath his claws. “Well, maybe you do. But you’re gonna make me owe my buddy a debt. He’s already called dibs on your furry ass.”
The panther let out a roar and sprang for him again.
Jon twisted out of the way, using the movement to bring him back to his feet, and raised the gun he’d slipped out from his boot. It was just a handgun; it wouldn’t kill the shifter unless he got a damn good shot in. But that wasn’t impossible. “Let me rephrase,” he said, keeping his outward focus on the feline as the guy’s backup finally tried squeezing the trigger. It was only a slight tension against Jon’s hold, but it told him everything. They didn’t give a shit about straightforward or honorable.
Movement near a tree assured him the gunman was forgetting his stealth, too.
Jon still didn’t look away from the shifter. “Youwilllose this fight, both of you, if you don’t retreat right fucking now.”
