Page 11 of Hellcat

"We don't request our clients disclose their nature—after all, we do treat animals, not shifters, as I said. But if a shifter came with an animal that needs help, it would be illegal to turn him away because of his nature, so it's possible."

The blow came swiftly, right on her left cheek. Tania wasn't sure why she was surprised. It was the first time that her father had hit her, but she'd seen him raise a hand to her mother throughout her entire childhood, until Laura got out.

Nigel was shouting. "No daughter of mine is going to service fucking shifters, you hear me? They're damned, the lot of them. You're going to go to hell—"

She was halfway up the stairs already, and she tuned out the rest, making a beeline for her bedroom.

Princess was lying down on a bed. Tania closed her door, locked it, and rummaged through her closet to pull out the cat carrier. "Ready for a trip?"

She didn't bother packing any of her belongings, just grabbed her purse, containing her cards and ID, and the carrier with Princess inside. Tania all but ran to her car, ignoring the voices and footsteps following her. Her father was rushing to her, but in his state, rushing didn't mean much, given the fact that he couldn't manage two steps without tumbling.

She unlocked her beetle, and got in, putting Princess on the passenger seat and locking the door just as Nigel reached her. He tried her door, and then punched the window. Tania started the car and reversed out of this hell.

What the fuck was she doing here? Why had she believed that she'd be safe at her father's? Shit.

She drove aimlessly for a while. North, toward Valley Vets, she realized. Tania guessed that if Nigel was drunk enough to try to follow her, he'd go in that direction, so she drove past the practice, ignoring every motel on the way. Two miles up, she turned left, seeing a motel's sign. She bit her lip, hoping they accepted pets.

Chapter 8

Ian refused to acknowledge how much the phone inside his pocket had irked him all day. So what if a woman didn't answer his text? He'd waited until the following morning to contact her, and she had to wait at least a few hours to get back to him. It was common male-female protocol. But still, every time the damn device beeped, he pulled it out eagerly, and stuffed it right back in his pocket with a frown. An employee. A spam. A cold call. Ace, asking if he wanted to stop by for cupcakes. Stupid question. Of course he did.

He was in the main house, gobbling leftover icing, when the phone rang; properly rang, announcing a call rather than a message. None of Ian's acquaintances called him; they knew an enforcer was supposed to be silent on the job and could rarely take calls. A good excuse he was sticking to. Expecting someone wanting to install a solar system on his property, he glanced at the phone, and cursed out loud.

"Holy shit."

His screen displayed her name.

"Hey there."

"Hi! Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I was slammed all day."

"That makes one of us." He'd caught up on an action TV show while stuffing his face with junk food. "Is it usual for you to get busy on Fridays?"

"There's no quiet days, really. My uncle is off with a broken—well, everything. He had a car accident a couple of months back. And one of the other vets is on maternity leave. That means it's just me and Kenneth, plus the nurses. They can see the simple cases—you know, post-op check-ups, stuff like that, without complications, but we're still swamped. Today was a mess. Wait, you don't want to hear about my problems."

Ian found that actually, he did.

"No, feel free to share. I'm curious. It's not like I know many vets."

Shifters didn't often keep pets.

Tania didn't question his remark.

"Well,one of the ranches we cover called because their mare went into labor. They normally take care of things themselves, but there were complications. Poor girl needed a couple of hands. Literally. Up her..."

"You're right. I probably didn't need to know."

She laughed. Ian liked the sound, but he also caught the small sigh at the end of it. Something was wrong, and his animal wanted—no, demanded—to know what it was.

He could have asked, but the tiger inside him wouldn't have been satisfied with words. He needed to check her; her eyes, her expression, her scent.

"Listen, are you free tonight? I'm off today, so I figured we could do dinner now, if you want."

She hesitated.

"Or not. No pressure."

Ian bit his lip, playing with the icing gun in his hand.

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