Chasing His Puma (Big Bad Bunnies Book 3) Page 4

  It was then that she realized she was still looking up at him and he was gazing down at her, but something in his gaze had changed a little. Something about the gleam in his eye made her catch her breath. Her puma—normally not super alert in the mornings—metaphorically lifted her head with extreme interest.

  Brock grunted again, suddenly straightening up and leaving Doc feeling both dazed and confused. "Let's go."

  To her surprise, he walked around to the passenger side of the car, leaving her standing there blinking as he got in. Her puma made a frustrated yowling noise, flopping back down in a heap inside Doc's head. What the heck had just happened?

  For lack of anything better to do, she shut the back door and got into the driver's seat.

  "I'm surprised you didn't try to insist on driving," she said a little dryly as she put her coffee in the cup holder. Not because she was trying to poke at him—really, she was actually just surprised. He seemed like the control freak type.

  "Don't know how to," he said gruffly, looking straight ahead as she started the car.

  "What?" she asked, thinking she must have heard him wrong.

  Brock shrugged. "I had just gotten my learner's permit when we were taken. Haven't had time to learn since we were rescued."

  Oh geez... talk about open mouth, insert foot. Doc blushed. "Sorry."

  We could teach him! Her puma suggested enthusiastically. Doc ignored the thought.

  He shrugged again as the drums started up and she began to pull out of the parking space. Doc turned up the music. Maybe not talking was better until they got used to sitting next to each other. She could just fill the car with the sound of music until then.

  Hopefully he liked Disney songs.

  "Let's get down to business!—"

  Going by the slow turn of his head and the utterly incredulous expression on his face as he did so, she was going to go with not so much on the Disney thing. Oh well.

  "To defeat… the Huns..." She drummed along with the song on her steering wheel. "Did they send me daughters… when I asked for sons?"

  Chapter 3

  Two hours.

  Two hours of nonstop Disney music—at least he assumed it was all Disney, he didn't recognize a lot of the songs, but he'd also missed a lot of the movies—and Brock still hadn't figured out how to bring up Brady and Jesse's mating reception to Doc. Not that she seemed interested in talking for once, which was a little frustrating. He was sure he could work his way around to an apology if she just chattered at him for a while like she normally did.

  Instead, she seemed perfectly happy just bopping up and down in her seat and singing along to the music. She wasn't a bad singer and it was actually pretty cute. Even his bugaboo found it oddly soothing.

  It was just frustrating because he did want to apologize for his behavior at the reception.

  The words had been on the tip of his tongue this morning and then he'd looked down into her pretty greenish-hazel eyes, and forgotten what he was going to say. Which had been more than a little disconcerting, so he'd ended up grunting at her the way he normally did while he tried to get his act together. After all, six hours in the car, it shouldn't be too hard to find a way to apologize... at least, that's what he'd thought.

  But if the next four hours went anything like the first two he wouldn't be able to do it. How was he supposed to work a conversation around to Brady and Jesse's mating celebration when there wasn't any conversation happening?

  He was polite about it though, he waited until she finished singing Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid—a song he did actually recognize—before he reached forward and punched the off button on her volume. Immediately, Doc turned to him with a scowl on her face.

  Didn't quite look so much like Strawberry Shortcake now.

  "Hey!"

  Brock cleared his throat. "I want to talk."

  The look she shot him before turning her attention back to the road was wary but also interested. "Okay."

  They sat in silence for a long moment. Doc's fingers began tapping on her steering wheel as if to music he couldn't hear.

  Say something. His bugaboo prodded him. Unfortunately it didn't offer up any suggestions.

  Doc glanced at him again. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

  "Um..." At a complete loss, he finally just went for it. "Brady and Jesse's mating celebration."

  Immediately her fingers stopped tapping and she gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring straight ahead. "I'd rather not talk about that."

  "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he explained, hoping that would be okay at least. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt relieved. The feeling was short-lived.

  "Sorry about what?" Her voice was a little higher than usual, like she was trying to be casual about the question—but she was trying way too hard.

  "Sorry I was mean."

  There was another long pause.

  "Thank you," she said, a little more quietly.

  Brock shifted in his seat, feeling a little uncomfortable with the unexpected intimacy of the moment. But when she reached for the volume control, he spoke up again.

  "Wait..."

  Glancing at him, her hand hovering over the knob, she raised her eyebrows, waiting to see what he wanted.

  "Don't you want to keep talking?" he asked. Yeah she was cute when she was dancing in her seat and singing, but he kind of missed her chattering at him. Surprisingly, for once, he'd rather have a conversation than not.

  Pursing her lips, she withdrew her hand, placing it back on the wheel. "Not if it's going to be like it usually is where I talk and you sit there looking like you're in pain."

  The bluntness of her statement—and the incredibly on point description—surprised a laugh from him and the car swerved a little as she jerked to the side in shock. Her wide eyes jumped back and forth between him and the road as she tried to take a good look at his face and get herself back between the yellow and white lines simultaneously.

  "Watch where you're going!"

  "Did you just laugh?" She sounded completely incredulous.

  Brock crossed his arms over his chest. Okay, he knew he could be kind of serious, but it wasn't like him laughing was some kind of mythical occurrence. "I laugh."

  Sometimes. His bugaboo snorted inside his head.

  I laugh.

  When there was something to laugh about, he laughed. There just wasn’t always a lot to laugh about.

  "Uh huh," Doc said, shaking her head. Her eyes were back on the road now and she had a bit of a bemused expression on her face. "As long as you realize I'm not going to be doing all of the talking. You have to talk too. Tell me something about yourself."

  "Like what?"

  "What's your favorite movie? Let's start there."

  ******

  Pulling answers from Brock was like pulling teeth at first, but it was worth it as he slowly started to relax and talk more naturally to her. Yeah, he still wasn't exactly chatty—Doc got the feeling he used the least amount of words possible whenever he had something to say, but he was talking.

  She still couldn't believe she'd heard him laugh.

  Seen it too, as odd as that sounded. The laughter had lit up his entire face, making him look lighter, younger, and almost like an entirely different person. She hadn't even realized how much he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders until suddenly it didn't.

  Now he was actually kind of having a real conversation with her and Doc felt a million times better than she had in weeks. She'd learned that his favorite movie was Monty Python and the Holy Grail (which, actually wasn't too surprising, she'd heard his sisters referencing the movie constantly), his favorite sport to play was soccer and his favorite to watch was football, and his favorite thing that he was catching up on since being freed from The Company's clutches was the TV show Archer.

  "I've never heard of it," Doc said. She wasn't really specifically curious but she did want to keep Brock talking. And she really
hadn't heard of it. "What's it about?"

  "It's a cartoon so you might like it," Brock said, his tone almost oddly bland. Like he was trying to sound... innocent, maybe? "You should check it out sometime."

  "Maybe I will," she said, a little defensively. "I watch things other than cartoons you know."

  Like live action versions of cartoons—Ella Enchanted, Enchanted, The Princess Diaries, the new live-action Disney movies... Harry Potter.

  So she knew what she liked, so what? Who didn't like happy endings?

  "What's your favorite television show?" he asked her. Doc had been making sure she only answered a question after he had, because fair was fair.

  Of course, now she didn't want to admit that Once Upon A Time was her favorite show. Yeah it wasn't a cartoon but it was pretty obvious just from the title what it was. So she went with her second favorite show.

  "Game of Thrones."

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Brock's entire upper body turn in his seat so he could give her a full-on stare. She pressed her lips together, trying to hide the threatening smile.

  "No way."

  "Yup."

  "Isn't that a little dark for you?"

  Doc shrugged. "Can't have the light without a little dark. Besides, have you ever really watched Disney movies as an adult? They're not exactly all fun and games, and the stories they're based on are even less so. Snow White's stepmother tries to kill her and the Huntsman abandons her in the woods to fend for herself when she has absolutely no survival skills. Bambi's mother is killed at the beginning of his movie and so is Simba's father in the Lion King. Cinderella is used as a slave by her stepmother, Rapunzel is stolen from her parents, Aladdin is a starving street urchin no matter how upbeat he is about it, and Ariel literally signs away her soul. I could go on."

  "I bet you could," Brock muttered under his breath, but he didn't sound resentful. Actually, he sounded kind of interested. When he spoke again it was in a regular tone. "So you like the dark stuff?"

  "No," she said. "I like seeing people overcoming the dark stuff. Like you and your siblings. You've been through hell, but here you all are, fighting back against the bad guys and Brady and Bethany have even managed to find mates and fall in love. If that's not overcoming evil then I don't know what is."

  This time when Brock fell silent she didn't try to put the music back on. He was obviously mulling over what she said and somehow the silence felt comfortable.

  Lick him? her puma asked hopefully.

  No! Doc thought back at it. What the heck? Crazy cat!

  Her puma sulked.

  ******

  Talking to Doc wasn't so bad, although Brock eventually found he couldn't keep up a conversation for hours on end. When he said he didn't mind if she put the music back on, she smiled at him and said she had enjoyed the conversation before resuming her singing and dancing routine. She even sounded like she meant it.

  Brock didn’t know any of the words, but he found himself actually humming along sometimes to the tunes he was familiar with.

  That died when they reached what was supposed to be the skunks’ surfeit.

  He said supposed to be because it looked more like a ghost town.

  While he’d been expecting a small town or commune type of situation—and this was more like a commune from what he could see—he’d also expected to see some signs of life.

  There was nothing. No one walking down the dirt paths, no one in the windows of the houses, no one in the yards… Brock’s bugaboo lifted its head, becoming alert as it responded to Brock’s growing anxiety.

  Doc slowed the car and parked on the side of the road.

  “This is really creepy,” she said after a moment where they both sat there, waiting for something to happen. Brock could feel all the hair on his arms standing up. He grunted, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement, any possible threat. That was why he’d been sent after all.

  “I’ll go look,” he said after another long moment. “You stay here and call Steele.”

  Before she could respond, he was already getting out of the car and standing beside it. To his annoyance, he heard her door open, and he turned back to scowl at her. She gave him a good glare right back.

  “I’m not planting myself like a sitting duck out here,” she said crossly.

  “Fine,” Brock snapped back. She actually had a point. Just sitting out here by herself she could definitely end up being a bigger target than if she was right by his side. To his surprise, she opened the backseat and pulled a smaller bag out of her larger one. “What’s that?”

  “Vaccine,” she said, closing the car door, looking a little grim. “Just in case all this quiet is disease-related, it might be too late to administer vaccines, but I’d rather have them immediately on hand in case there is someone not already stricken.”

  A creeping tingle went down Brock’s spine. He’d immediately assumed this was some kind of trap—like the one he’d walked headfirst into when he’d been injured, along with the rest of his squad—or that the skunk shifters had fled for some reason. It hadn’t even occurred to him they might be in the silent houses, suffering.

  “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, picking up his pace. “Call Steele.”

  “I’ll text him. We can call him when we have some actual information.” Doc looked a little grim. “Plus, I don’t want to be distracted or have my hands full while we search… just in case.”

  Interesting. So he wasn’t the only one thinking this might be something other than disease. Brock had never seen Doc looking so serious. He found he didn’t really like it. He much preferred her Strawberry Shortcake demeanor.

  The first house was unlocked, and empty. So were the second… the third… the fourth… they kept working their way down one side of the street. Nothing looked overturned or out of place, although there were a few houses that were a bit messier than others. Mostly those with kids’ toys in them, which made Brock’s hackles rise even more. The musty smell of skunk was evident around the houses where territories had been marked by the shifted animals, but nothing seemed amiss. Which really just made it all creepier.

  Both Brock and Doc became tenser as they kept moving and there was no one.

  “Let’s cross the street,” Brock suggested when they reached the tenth house.

  “Do you really think it’s going to be different over here?” Doc asked somberly, even as she followed him. “I’m starting to think no one is here at all. We should call Steele.”

  “There are woods behind these houses though,” Brock said, a bit distracted as he peered around the side of a house rather than into it, into the forest. “Maybe they went into the woods for some reason? There might be a clue. Keep an eye out while I look and then we can call Steele.”

  There was… something…

  His bugaboo began to pace inside of his head, a low growl filling its throat and making Brock want to growl in unison.

  A scent… a smell… so familiar…

  The flashback slammed into him.

  They’d told him there would be someone hunting him, but there was no sign of anyone.

  He couldn’t smell anyone either. Brock relied on his smell to tell him where the assholes were.

  They were all heavily trained soldiers and even in his bugaboo form he wasn’t any real match for them… yet. But at least he’d always known where they were, what direction they were going to come at him from.

  Something was different this time.

  The faint scent of lavender wafted on the air, innocuous. He barely noticed.

  That was when the pain hit him from behind as a silver bullet sank into his back leg.

  “Brock!”

  He shook himself… because it didn’t hurt? Why didn’t it hurt? He remembered it hurting…

  The sound of clothing ripping, followed by a yowling predator’s cry finally helped Brock shake free of the memory which was already losing its hold on him. His bugaboo lurched inside of his head, panicked, finally comple
tely pushing away all memories of Dr. Montgomery’s experiments because Doc needed him.

  Doc!

  ******

  The bastard had snuck up on her from behind while she’d stood beside the house, watching Brock having some kind of fit. She hadn’t heard him, hadn’t smelled him. Even in her cat form, which she’d shifted to, she still couldn’t smell anything but lavender.

  Almost as soon as she shifted, the man who had grabbed her from behind—but fortunately hadn’t reacted well to having his hand bitten when he’d tried to cover her mouth—also shifted.

  Now she smelled the mangy wolf.

  Although he outweighed her, probably by a good fifty pounds, he was also a lot slower than her. The jerk had barely dropped to all fours before Doc had jumped on top of him, digging her powerful hind claws in and raking painfully down his back. The wolf howled in pain, which meant its throat was exposed…

  And Brock came running in to slash across the shifter’s neck with a silver blade.

  The smell of wolf now mingled with the scent of blood as he slowly collapsed underneath her. Basically riding him down to the ground, Doc gave Brock a baleful look.

  I’m a damsel. I’m in distress... I could’ve handled that.

  Her puma wasn’t particularly happy about having her kill taken away from her and neither was she.

  “Sorry… I… Sorry…” Brock said, panting. He didn’t look so good actually, Doc thought, peering at him through her cat’s eyes.

  Sweaty—which he hadn’t been a minute ago—pale, even shaking a little bit.

  “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. He looked almost sick. “I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

  Doc was about to change back to human, even though her puma wanted to stay in charge for a little longer, when the distant sound of approaching vehicles made both her and Brock freeze. They were coming from the same direction the two of them had—which made sense since it was the only way into the skunk’s community by road.