Page 25 of Brandon’s Mate

He used one of the crows’ cell phones to take a picture of the heap of bloody bodies in the truck bed and texted it to Caleb.

You’ll have to try harder than that.

I disrespectfully suggest you come pick them up before they bleed out.

Love, Ray

He added a couple of heart emojis just to piss Caleb off. Then he tucked the phone back in the guy’s pocket, so they could be tracked, before he turned his back and walked away.

Kill them, his panther yowled. Enemies kill bleed bite die…

Yeah, yeah, yeah. He tuned it out until it was faint and far away. For once he had something more important on his mind.

Kitty Jameson was here. By some inexplicable voodoo magic, she was here in Farville. In his parking lot, looking more delicious than an all-you-can-eat barbecue buffet.

He was so, so fucked.

It took him ten minutes to walk back. He could have run, but he was hot and tired and bleeding, and he needed some time to figure out what the hell he was going to say to Kitty.

Ah, who was he kidding? The garage could be in fucking Kansas, and he still wouldn’t be able to think of anything coherent to say to her in the time it took to walk there.

Except get the hell out of his life before he dragged her down with him.

Anyway, the longer he took to get back to the shop, the longer he could savor the knowledge that she was back in his life, for however short a time.

He’d always imagined her out there somewhere—shining, happy, driving some lucky sucker insane with her adorable brand of crazy.

He’d envied that hypothetical sucker, being able to bask in that shine. And also wanted to kill him for being with Kitty when Brandon wasn’t.

But being with Brandon would destroy that light inside her. It would destroy her.

Only now she was here, and he wanted a minute—just a couple minutes—to feel that warmth inside him before he had to make her go.

Maybe an hour. They could have dinner, or something. Catch up on their lives, talk about old times. She was probably just passing through, right?

The garage came into sight too damn soon. The Catalina was still parked outside, but Kitty was nowhere to be seen. As he passed the car, he ran his hand lightly over the vintage curves and the shiny red paint. There was a big splotch of bird crap right in the middle of the hood.

A Talon-sized crap. Seemed she’d pissed somebody off already. Color Brandon unsurprised.

Of course she hadn’t stayed where he told her. She was… Kitty. She never fucking did what she was told.

He’d always liked that about her.

His panther nose wasn’t as sensitive as her wolf’s, but he could still scent her. Sweet and tantalizing. His panther’s voice in his head dropped to a murmur.

He followed the scent inside the building, to the office.

Kitty was kicked back in his chair, her feet on the overflowing desk, the piles of paperwork and bills she’d shoved to the side teetering on the edge. She was leisurely thumbing through his mail.

Brandon leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, just watching her ignore him. In the middle of these dingy surroundings, she shone like a star.

Still gorgeously curved, still with that don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Her pink shimmery t-shirt said “Bad Girl” in rhinestone sparkles. She’d always tried to be bad.

But she had a huge heart that loved too hard for her own good. She also had a brittle shell that was new. He wondered what had happened to cause that, and was surprised at the intensity of his desire to know.

His panther had gone completely silent. Then he said one word.

Want.