Page 5 of Murder Mittens

My family consisted entirely of shameless, attention-whoring assholes.

I braced for the worst, which involved me cancelling my trip due to my uncle’s offended sensibilities. “And what did Uncle Henry have to say?”

“The spa you picked in Cincinnati is shit, we’re terrible brothers, and that we should have sent you to Hawaii to be pampered like the princess you are. He’s not wrong, but now the entire family is having a mass conniption because we didn’t send you to Hawaii.”

Right. Only a fool would think virus-driven cats would be capable of handling the situation with grace or dignity. “First, I don’t want to go to Hawaii. I want to go to Cincinnati. I picked that spa because they’re friendly towards lycanthropes, they have a world-class chef, and it’s all inclusive. I can get my fur groomed however many times I want, and they only have mated pairs on staff or married humans. I will be able to enjoy my vacation without being bothered.”

“I did try to tell Uncle Henry that, as you’d fought with Dad over your choice of spa and city. He doesn’t believe us.”

“Is Uncle Henry there?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. He is.”

“Tell Uncle Henry if he interrupts my vacation to Cincinnati, I will rip out all of his fur, send it to an unmated female wolf, and write her a note telling her that he’s a hot, single man seeking a brave, fearless woman.”

“Has anyone told you that you can be pretty evil when someone tries to screw around with your plans?”

“Not recently,” I admitted.

“That’s goes beyond mean to pretty damned evil, sis. I just thought I should warn you he might like that.”

Ugh. Lycanthropes. “Please use your legal degree for something useful, like convincing Uncle Henry I am going on the vacation I want rather than the one he wants. And I’m still coming over and stealing your lunch money, so if you could leave your wallets out, with cash easily accessible, so I don’t have to waste too much time digging through them all, I would appreciate it.”

My brother growled at me. “You’re not stealing our lunch money.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I will be over soon, and so help me, if there isn’t lunch money in all your wallets, I will be sinking my claws into your ass. You got me, dipshit?”

Without waiting for an answer, I hung up. Delaying two or three hours wouldn’t do jack shit to my schedule, and if my jerk family had wanted to keep their money, they wouldn’t have pushed my damned buttons.

Two

You’d probably find that thing’s older brother and adopt it.

Any other day, I might’ve put in the time and effort to hide my scars with makeup. Makeup offended my family, who did their best to convince me my scars weren’t that bad, and they hated when I added a layer of junk to my face in an effort to make it disappear. It would take me an hour to become presentable and disguise myself for my hunt, but I’d get a few hours of driving under my belt first.

An hour and a half after talking to my father and brother, I pulled into the driveway of my parent’s farmhouse, muttering curses over the twenty-some cars in my way. I parked at the end of the line, heaved a sigh, and hiked to the front door, where my father waited on the porch swing.

“I knew I should’ve banned you getting your license. You’re now driving off and doing things on your own. That’s simply unacceptable.”

I flipped my father off. “I’m too damned old for that crap, Daddy.”

“You’ll always be my little kitten, and I don’t care you’re thirty-three. You’re still my baby. You’re a baby with a piece of shit car, though. I’m starting to think you need to go beat your brothers for more than just their lunch money. They should be contributing to your new car fund.”

I turned and regarded my vehicle with a sigh. It had seen better days, and North Dakota’s winters hadn’t treated the damned thing well. The rust had tripled since I’d purchased it, and none of my precautions spared it from the salt and seasons. “I can get my own car, Dad.”

“I’m sure you can, but you’d probably find that thing’s older brother and adopt it.”

Would my car’s older brother consist of anything other than rust? I gave that some thought. “I have to go mug my brothers for lunch money. I’m going to go treat myself to something nice on the way to Cincinnati. When I get to Cincinnati, I will be pampered at a spa without anyone invading the spa to bother me. Am I clear, Daddy?”

“You should leave your car with me and take mine. I make no promises your vehicle will survive its vacation.”

Considering I had plans for bloodied bodies to take up precious space in my trunk, there was no way in hell I could use Dad’s truck.

Or could I? If I took Dad’s truck, I could have the bed cleaned in record time, and he wouldn’t have a clue I used it for my legalized murder sprees. “The truck?”