the shooter was.
And then we’ll catch ’em and eat ’em.
It seemed Hayder wasn’t the only one peeved at the interruption.
But still…
We don’t eat people.
Such a disappointed kitty.
But catch the hunter and we’ll order the biggest rare steak they have in stock.
With the red sauce stuff?
A double order of the red wine reduction, he promised.
Lungs burning, Hayder dragged them to the surface, behind the filtering screen of water cascading from above. The little hidden grotto made a great hiding spot. The shooter would have a hard time targeting them, and the water would also slow the bullet and throw off its aim. He knew they were more or less safe for the moment, but she didn’t.
Soaked and scentless didn’t mean Hayder couldn’t sense the fear coming off Arabella.
She remained tucked close to him, for once not sneezing. Small blessing because one of her ginoromous achoos might have caused quite the amplified echo.
“Was someone shooting at us?” she whispered in his ear. Kind of funny since nothing could be heard above the falling splash of water
“Yes. Someone was trying to get us.” Which meant heads would roll with whoever was on duty for security today. Exactly how had someone made it on to pride land with a loaded weapon? What kind of cowards hunted shifters with bullets?
The kind who thought it was okay to beat a woman.
Grrrr .
Man, not lion, made the sound.
It was also the man who made sure to tuck Arabella as deep as he could into the pocket, using himself as a body shield just in case the gunman got a lucky shot.
The crashing of water, not to mention the echoes created by the recess, made it impossible to gauge what happened outside their watery grotto. Did the shooter approach? Did he know where they’d gone? Would he stick around long enough for Hayder to hunt him down and slap him silly?
Only one way to find out.
Submerging himself, he kicked away from the shelter and, with powerful strokes, drew himself to the center of the pool where the water was deep enough for a concealing dive and where’d get the best view of his surroundings.
It also meant, when his head popped from the water, he provided an excellent target.
Rapid splashes showed the bullets hitting the water, one grazing close enough to his ear to flay a strip of skin.
“Shit!” He ducked, but not for long. Shouts erupted, muffled by the water, but still of interest.
Good guys to the rescue or more of the enemy to really fuck with the odds? He let himself float to the surface, allowing only the top of his head and eyes to emerge.
No gunshots, but he did come under a verbal attack.
“I thought cats didn’t like water,” a voice drawled from the shore.
“I thought you were still in Europe, giving us all a bad name,” Hayder replied as he tread water and spun to face the speaker. “What are you doing here?” You being Dean, an old rival. Question was, did Dean work for the good guys or the bad ones?
“Apparently I am rescuing your naked ass from poachers.”
“Poachers don’t aim at humans.”
“Wolves might though.”
Wolves? So this was related to Arabella. “You caught the guy shooting at us?”
“Lawrence took care of him while I came to check on you.”
“Lawrence is here too?” A buddy of his from back in his college days and then the few years after when he’d taken on a few jobs for the shifter council that led to some interesting missions.
He’d not seen Lawrence in years, which was good, as it meant he got to avoid Dean, the jerk who loved to cockblock so he could steal a chick for himself.
“Forget Lawrence. I’m more interested in this ‘we’ thing? Who else is out here with you?”
“None of your business.”
Wrong thing to say. Dean perked up, and Arabella chose that moment to surface, a sleek water goddess.
A low whistle left Dean. “Well, hello there, sweetheart.” Dean showed his stripes—and Hayder didn’t mean his tiger ones—with the wide smile he shot
And then we’ll catch ’em and eat ’em.
It seemed Hayder wasn’t the only one peeved at the interruption.
But still…
We don’t eat people.
Such a disappointed kitty.
But catch the hunter and we’ll order the biggest rare steak they have in stock.
With the red sauce stuff?
A double order of the red wine reduction, he promised.
Lungs burning, Hayder dragged them to the surface, behind the filtering screen of water cascading from above. The little hidden grotto made a great hiding spot. The shooter would have a hard time targeting them, and the water would also slow the bullet and throw off its aim. He knew they were more or less safe for the moment, but she didn’t.
Soaked and scentless didn’t mean Hayder couldn’t sense the fear coming off Arabella.
She remained tucked close to him, for once not sneezing. Small blessing because one of her ginoromous achoos might have caused quite the amplified echo.
“Was someone shooting at us?” she whispered in his ear. Kind of funny since nothing could be heard above the falling splash of water
“Yes. Someone was trying to get us.” Which meant heads would roll with whoever was on duty for security today. Exactly how had someone made it on to pride land with a loaded weapon? What kind of cowards hunted shifters with bullets?
The kind who thought it was okay to beat a woman.
Grrrr .
Man, not lion, made the sound.
It was also the man who made sure to tuck Arabella as deep as he could into the pocket, using himself as a body shield just in case the gunman got a lucky shot.
The crashing of water, not to mention the echoes created by the recess, made it impossible to gauge what happened outside their watery grotto. Did the shooter approach? Did he know where they’d gone? Would he stick around long enough for Hayder to hunt him down and slap him silly?
Only one way to find out.
Submerging himself, he kicked away from the shelter and, with powerful strokes, drew himself to the center of the pool where the water was deep enough for a concealing dive and where’d get the best view of his surroundings.
It also meant, when his head popped from the water, he provided an excellent target.
Rapid splashes showed the bullets hitting the water, one grazing close enough to his ear to flay a strip of skin.
“Shit!” He ducked, but not for long. Shouts erupted, muffled by the water, but still of interest.
Good guys to the rescue or more of the enemy to really fuck with the odds? He let himself float to the surface, allowing only the top of his head and eyes to emerge.
No gunshots, but he did come under a verbal attack.
“I thought cats didn’t like water,” a voice drawled from the shore.
“I thought you were still in Europe, giving us all a bad name,” Hayder replied as he tread water and spun to face the speaker. “What are you doing here?” You being Dean, an old rival. Question was, did Dean work for the good guys or the bad ones?
“Apparently I am rescuing your naked ass from poachers.”
“Poachers don’t aim at humans.”
“Wolves might though.”
Wolves? So this was related to Arabella. “You caught the guy shooting at us?”
“Lawrence took care of him while I came to check on you.”
“Lawrence is here too?” A buddy of his from back in his college days and then the few years after when he’d taken on a few jobs for the shifter council that led to some interesting missions.
He’d not seen Lawrence in years, which was good, as it meant he got to avoid Dean, the jerk who loved to cockblock so he could steal a chick for himself.
“Forget Lawrence. I’m more interested in this ‘we’ thing? Who else is out here with you?”
“None of your business.”
Wrong thing to say. Dean perked up, and Arabella chose that moment to surface, a sleek water goddess.
A low whistle left Dean. “Well, hello there, sweetheart.” Dean showed his stripes—and Hayder didn’t mean his tiger ones—with the wide smile he shot
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