Blood of the Pride by Sheryl Nantus Page B

tell me about this guy? And why we’re not having this conversation with some detective down at the police station?”
    I chewed the toast slowly, drawing out the experience as long as possible. “There’s a lot here I can’t tell you about, a lot that the cops don’t need to know and can’t know.”
    “I figured that out.” Rocking back on the wooden chair, he smiled. “However, if you get killed, it will really, really impact my story in a negative way.” A sly wink shot my way. “Aside from making me pretty upset.”
    The ceramic mug had grown hot to the touch, almost burning my fingers. “I have to call my client first.” I took another bite of toast and shrugged, feeling the pull on my shoulders. “You know how this game goes.”
    “That I do.” He got up and disappeared into the other room for a second, returning with my portable phone. “I’ll give you a bit of privacy.” Another disarming grin. “Let’s see how many channels you actually get in this place. I’ll be upstairs.”
    I waited until I heard the reassuring creak of the steps before dialing Jess’s number. It rang thirteen times before the line clicked over to live.
    “Hello?” Jess’s voice struggled through the air. “What?”
    “Who in the Pride has a white stripe running down one side of his nose? Male, tall over six feet or so?” My words were clipped. “Bastard just tried to kill me here in my own home and you have no idea of how pissed I am right now.”
    “What?” Jess’s response shot to full awareness. “What the hell…”
    “Thanks for your concern,” I snapped back, growling into the receiver. “Now tell me who’s got that marking.”
    “What, you think we remember everything about everyone?” Jess snarled, now fully awake, “You know the rules. No computer files, nothing out of the Library unless the Board approves it.”
    “You know who’s got those markings, which family line. If not, find out. I’ll be up there by dawn.” My eyes moved to the doorway leading to the office. “And I won’t be alone.” I hit the disconnect button before she could start complaining, then move to whining and then threatening. I wasn’t in the mood for it. Jazz wandered in from the other room and wrapped herself around my feet with a comforting purr. She knew exactly what I was going to be dealing with. Another visit to the farm.
    Except I wasn’t going to the farm alone. I was bringing a stranger into the heart of Pride territory and rubbing it in their faces that I wasn’t a part of their world anymore. It would be dangerous for Bran and me but I had to try to get the upper hand in this game before someone got killed.
    Like me.

Chapter 9
    The Brown Betty had one last cup in it and I drained every drop I could from the battered old ceramic teapot before putting it in the sink. The toast had settled in my stomach nicely with the painkillers, which were probably holding back the headache I should have from calling Jess.
    Bran was sitting on the bed, the remote in one hand and in his other a clump of brownish-black fur. My stomach did a flip-flop. He must have collected it from the bedroom while he cleaned up and I was in the shower.
    He looked up as I sat on the bed beside him. “CNN’s got a good documentary going on the Middle East. That is, unless you really want to watch music videos. About the best thing on at…” He checked his watch. “Four o’clock in the morning.”
    “What’s that?” I rolled the words lightly off my tongue, nodding toward his other hand. “Dog fur?”
    “I thought you’d be able to tell me.” He dropped the remote on the bed and rolled the fur between both his hands into a small ball. “See, I found this all over your bed. And all the way down the stairs. I’m not seeing a dog around here and your cat’s very, very white. So I have to ask myself,” his eyes met mine, “what sort of creature attacked you and why aren’t you even a little bit surprised?”
    I put my