Kate laughed.
I had already made the calls before I left for my meeting with Aunt B. My evil plan was already set in motion.
I raised my pink drink. “To revenge!”
Kate raised her glass and we clinked.
“It has to be really good,” she said.
“Trust me on this. It will be epic.”
The front door of Raphael’s house swung open. A moment later Kate appeared in the doorway of the master suite’s bathroom. She was wrapped in a plastic biohazard suit.
“Still clear,” she reported. “It’s twenty past midnight. He’ll be home soon.”
“Almost done,” I told her.
“We would be finished already if you hadn’t insisted on doing the tub.”
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. I had put in nearly twelve hours of work, using every iota of my shapeshifter strength and speed. Kate had helped, especially with cutting things, but I wanted my scent all over this place, not hers, which was why she was wrapped in plastic, and I wore a tank top and a pair of capris, sweating and leaving my scent signature on everything.
“Almost done,” I promised again.
Kate turned. A moment later I heard it too, some sort of rumble at the front door.
“I got this,” Kate said and went out with a determined look on her face.
A moment later I glued the last strip in place and stuck my head out.
Kate stood by the door with her arms crossed.
That was an anti-Curran pose. What the hell was the Beast Lord doing here?
I padded to the door.
“First, you didn’t come home.” Curran’s voice held zero humor. “Second, I’m told that my mate is lingering in Raphael’s house. There can’t be any good reason for you to be here.”
“Are you spying on me, Your Furriness?” Kate asked.
“No,” I said, stepping into the doorway. “Jim has Raphael’s house under surveillance.”
Curran looked at me, then looked at Kate.
“Revenge,” Kate said. “I’ll explain later.”
Something hissed. The three of us looked up. A dark shadow rose on the neighboring roof, and I recognized Shawn, one of Jim’s people. Speak of the devil. “He’s coming,” Shawn hissed. “Raphael’s coming.”
Oh shit.
“Help!” Kate held her arms out.
Curran grabbed the biohazard suit and ripped it in half, stripping it from her. Kate thrust the suit into the nearest trash can.
I ran inside the house, locked the front door, ran upstairs, lowered the attic ladder, climbed into the attic, pulled the ladder up behind me, and dashed along the beam to the corner over the living room. My surveillance nest waited for me. I’d bugged the entrance and every room in the house, and now the images from the house filled my tablet. I was going to record this for posterity. I plugged the earpiece in.
Curran and Kate stood by the door.
“I can’t believe you decided to come down here and check on me,” she said.
“The guy once handed you a fan and told you to fan yourself if the sight of his naked torso was too much.”
“That was like a year ago. Will you let it go already?”
“No.” Curran grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her. “Never.”
She kissed him back and smiled.
Awww. Kate and the Beast Lord sitting in a tree…
The sound of a car pulling into the parking lot.
I scooted on my pallet of plywood. Showtime.
Raphael approached. My heart skipped a beat. He looked good. He was also carrying something long and wrapped in canvas.
“Hello,” Raphael said.
Now that I looked closer, he seemed a little tired. There were slight bags under his intense blue eyes. Yeah, those sleepless nights of breaking into people’s apartments and rearranging furniture must be killer.
“Hi,” Kate said with a big fake smile.
Don’t overdo it, woman. Come on.
Curran just stared. Jesus Christ, those two couldn’t lie their way out of a paper bag.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.
“We have something important…to discuss,” Curran said.
I hit my hand on my face. Brilliant, Your Majesty. Not suspicious at all.
“In private. Inside,” Kate said.
Raphael looked at Curran then slowly at Kate. “Please come in. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. For some reason all of the plumbing in the Clan Bouda House came apart and my mother called me.”
“What do you mean, came apart?” Kate asked.
“I mean that every coupling and fitting in the house has been pulled open,” Raphael said.
“I didn’t know you were in the plumbing repair business,” Curran said.
“I’m in the good son business. I couldn’t leave my mother in the house with no running water.” Raphael opened the door. “Some idiot likely pulled a prank. It’s a house full of boudas.”
“What’s this?” Kate asked pointing at the bundle.
“An apology for being a selfish asshole.” Raphael unwrapped the canvas, revealing the instantly identifiable shape of a high-tech compound bow: low-tech bows were bent outward, like a crescent, but this bow’s center bent inward, toward the archer. I zoomed in. Lightweight, a hollow carbon fiber riser with the telltale Celtic knot grid pattern, dampers to absorb the recoil vibration, ornate cams, string suppressors…Oh Jesus Christ, he was holding an Ifor compound bow. Sleekest, leanest, meanest bow on the market, with pinpoint accuracy and a vibration-free shot delivered in complete silence. It wasn’t a bow, it was death wrapped in a dream and twenty-first-century engineering. They were made in Wales by a single artisan family, one at a time. I had been trying to buy one for ages, but there was a waiting list a mile long and UK buyers were given a strong preference. How could he even get one? Where?
“Do you think she’ll like it?” Raphael asked.
“She’ll love it,” Kate said. “But I don’t think buying her things will work.”
For me! The bow was for me! I dropped my tablet.
Raphael glanced up. “Did you hear something?”