Sheryl Nantus - Battle Scars

She wasn’t just talking about keeping the feuding members apart. We’d kept our family secret for centuries from human society and it was her job as a Board member to do everything she could to keep our existence off the grid.

Having a major brawl between families in the middle of Toronto wasn’t going to happen if she could help it.

She let out an annoyed snort. “Middleton, ass that he is, didn’t tell me he needed help finding his daughter. He asked for someone to do a security check on some new farm hands he was thinking of hiring, temporary help and all humans. I figured you needed the work and gave him your number.”

“I could use the money but not if I’m going to be walking into the middle of a Felis Hatfield/McCoy feud.” I paused before asking the next question. “What’s your call on this?”

“My what?” Jess replied.

“What’s the Board’s position on this?”

Bran gave me a questioning look. I waited, unsure which answer I wanted. The Board controlled and led the Pride in many areas but I wasn’t sure where runaway kids fell in their never-ending political games.

“I’m not calling you on behalf of the Board. I’m calling you because Mary Chandler is a good friend who needs help,” Jess said. “If you choose to take her case as well I’ll get her to transfer the funds into your account today.”

“And the Board’s position is?”

“We don’t have one. We don’t choose sides.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Can’t or won’t?”

“The Board isn’t going to choose which family to support. Haven’t in the past and sure won’t now, not when it’s nothing but a pair of runaway kids who might just as easily turn up at home in the next few hours.” She paused and I could hear her choosing her words carefully. “At this point it’s nothing that should concern the Board. Personally I’ll be happy if you take the second case, but whatever you decide is fine with the Board and with me. You can dump both cases if you want. Jake’ll be upset if you turn him down but he’ll get over it.”

“Give me a minute.” I imagined a set of scales in my mind and started tossing weights on each side. Helping was almost mandatory for me as a fellow Felis but I wasn’t keen on getting caught between two angry families. I had no doubt people had been burned in the past on both sides and I didn’t need the trouble.

The problem, again, was that if I said no I could see Middleston and/or Chandler sending in their own family friends to find the kids and opening a huge can of trouble in my city. It’d be like setting a bull loose in a china shop, or in this case a clumsy lion thrashing around.

I had no doubt if that happened I’d be pulled in either to help clean up the mess or cover up the blood.

At least if I took the case it’d be on my own terms.

“How many runaways have you found over the years?” Bran touched my shoulder, making me jump.

“A few. A handful, to be honest.” I tried not to sound defensive, knowing Jess was still listening. “Most of them go home after a week of lying on cold pavement, ready to warm up to their parents again. Usually they leave over a small thing, curfews and crap like that. I usually hit the bus station first and then walk the streets for a few nights until they come up. Get Hank to call the beat cops and put the fear of God into the homeless kids until they run home to mom and dad.”

I flinched inside, thinking about Hank Attersley. The police detective and I hadn’t spoken since he’d had to take me in for my involvement with the Hanovers and Bran’s half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I could count on him for help right now.

Bran cleared his throat. “That could take weeks.”

“It could,” I admitted. “These are kids used to roughing it, not pampered socialites looking to scare their parents because they didn’t get a sports car for their birthday.”

Bran nodded. “You’ll need my help if you want to find them fast. I know it’s been a few years but I can help you cut corners, save you wasting time in some areas and maybe use some old contacts.” He grinned. “Not to mention two heads are better than one, even when one’s mine.”

I bit down on my lip, feeling the skin threaten to split.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Jess asked the question I was thinking.

“I owe you,” Bran answered. He wasn’t wrong—Jess had been a major factor in finding and saving his baby half-brother a month before. “I always pay my debts. Say the word and I’m with her on this.”

Jess chuckled. “As if I could keep you out of her business.” Her tone shifted. “Rebecca, are you going to be okay taking him along?”

I hesitated just long enough for Bran to take and squeeze my hand.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, the faster we find those two kids the faster this entire thing is over.” He smiled and flexed his free arm. “Better. Stronger. Faster.” He pointed down at his shorts. “As you know.”

“Faster, yes.” I turned my attention back to the phone, ignoring his exaggerated wincing, and hoped Jess wasn’t getting the joke. “Jess, tell me the truth. Is this going to get nasty?”

She laughed, a low rumbling that both stirred the hunter inside and terrified me at the same time. “It always comes down to blood, Reb. Always down to the blood.”

Within the hour I had all the pertinent information about Evan Chandler on my computer screen courtesy of an email from Jess, including a color photograph my printer screeched out to join the one of Lisa Middleston downstairs.

The young man had dark hair, cropped almost to the scalp, and a wide smile that would have a dozen girls tossing their panties at him on a good day. He cradled a classic guitar with the care and love of a mother for a newborn. It was easy to see how he’d be a dream date for a young Felis girl, especially if he was a bad boy by birth.

Standing at my desk I shoved the two photographs next to each other in a large envelope along with duplicates courtesy of my coughing photocopier. I didn’t want to get to the point of plastering their faces on each telephone pole in the city but it never hurt to be prepared to drop off copies. I also scanned the two pictures into my cell phone for backup.

Bran whistled as he came down the stairs wearing jeans and tugging on a light blue T-shirt with the Toronto Maple Leafs logo on it. I winced at seeing the pale pink scars on his chest.

We’d both taken a battering over the past few weeks, mentally and physically. I hoped this case would be less of both. We could use a little down time.

Bran strolled by me, adding a jaunty strut to his walk. “Enjoying the view?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me regret taking you to the Cat’s Meow.” Saying the name of the strip club in Penscotta, Pennsylvania stirred up old memories. That was where he’d gotten the scars and we’d cemented our relationship.

Then he made a less-than-subtle shift of his hips and I forgot what I was remembering.

I resisted slapping his butt as I followed. “It’s time for work.”

“Your call.” He trotted into the kitchen, where the kettle had just started to scream.

“I figure we’ll start at the bus station.” I threw a handful of cat treats on the floor as Jazz padded down the stairs toward us. She trilled as she dove on the tiny brown nuggets. “They’ve been in town at least a day or two but I’m hoping someone saw them, maybe pointed them toward a shelter.”

“Even if they hit the shelters they’ll be trying to get some money for food and maybe a hotel room to stay off the streets. It may be summer but it’s still nicer to sleep on a mattress instead of the ground. Whatever cash they brought won’t last for long and they’ll end up begging on Yonge Street for spare change.” Bran poured the hot water into my fat Brown Betty teapot. “That or busking. Any skills between them?”