Bristol shrugged, trying to look unaffected by the Adlers’ show of solidarity. Having them helping her felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Gulping several large swallows of the frozen margarita sitting in front of her, Bristol felt the rush of the alcohol before realization hit her.
“Fudge, I hope this is mine.”
Chapter Ten
Israel was grateful Bristol had the opportunity to spend several hours with Bronx. His brother was smart, intuitive, and a natural salesman. He’d talked to Bronx several times during the day and knew how reluctant she’d been to spend money. While he appreciated her conservative nature, he also wanted her to have the things she needed and deserved. Israel was still furious, someone had destroyed everything in her apartment.
There wasn’t any doubt the intruder had been a shifter, but he hadn’t wanted to confirm the questions he’d heard streaming through Bristol’s mind. Equally clear was the shifter was someone they knew because he or she had tried to cover their scent by dumping an entire bottle of nasty smelling perfume everywhere. Fortunately, the perpetrator had used a brand containing a large percentage of alcohol. Once the alcohol fully evaporated, underlying scents were easily detected.
Although the scent was familiar, he couldn’t confirm the other shifter’s identity. The first person he intended to check was Clovia Williams. Parker wouldn’t be able to charge her based on Israel’s identification, but she would face censure within the shifter community.
Shifters as a group were supportive of each other out of necessity. Fighting among themselves led to their discovery by nonmagicals, which inevitably ended in public exposure. Historically, being revealed publicly as a shifter meant you were either forced to flee, leaving everything behind, or you risked being lynched by an angry mob of torch-bearing villagers, intent on ridding their communities of anything they didn’t understand.
Recently, popular movies brought new levels of understanding of members of their communities, but most government officials were a different story. The local police chief was more open-minded than most and discrete enough to wait until they were alone to ask the important questions.
A sharp kick to his shin brought Israel back to the moment. He glared at his sister, but Cat wasn’t the least bit intimidated. She returned his glower with one of her own before flashing him an unrepentant grin.
“You are not the boss of me, so you can stuff the dirty looks, little brother.”
What a load of bullshit. She’s only a year older and still lording it over me.
“You’re a menace, Catalina. Cooper is doing a lousy job of keeping you in line. Where is he anyway?” The shift in Cat’s expression was so subtle, only someone who knew her well would have noticed the small tells—the inconspicuous tensing of her jaw and the flash of concern reflected in her wary eyes. Israel felt his brows pull together when he noticed Cat rubbing the fabric napkin between her fingers—a nervous gesture she’d had since she was a kid. He knew she’d worked hard to break the habit—he also knew it only resurfaced when Catalina was skating on the edge of an emotional implosion.
“He was called away on business.” I can’t tell you any more about this. Leave it alone, Is. Her use of the nickname only his siblings used had the desired effect. He backed off—for now. Bronx broke the tension by wrapping an arm around Cat, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
“I’m glad Cooper’s out of town. Hell, I already know there isn’t a chance in the world the beautiful woman I spent the day with is going to be interested in barhopping.” Looking at Catalina, he flashed a smile Israel knew made every woman on the planet melt. “You’re pinch-hitting tonight, Cat.”
Israel knew the two of them wouldn’t be barhopping. Bronx was experiencing a security issue at one of his dealerships and was hoping Catalina could help him catch the culprit. So far, the intruder hadn’t taken anything and was never seen clearly enough on any of the security cameras to make an identification. Dodging the large number of cameras Israel, which installed at all the dealerships, made them believe they were dealing with a magical. No one knew who was managing to breach every security measure they put in place or what they wanted since nothing was ever disturbed or missing.
“Well, would you look at that? Someone drank my margarita.” Looking up at him, Bristol’s blue eyes appeared slightly unfocused as they narrowed. “Was it you? That seems a bit presump… umm precou… shit… pushy. Yeah, that’s it. Pushy. I’m still thirsty. Can I have another since I didn’t get to drink this one?”
Damn, she’d only had one drink, and his mate was trashed. If he didn’t get some food in her, she was going to be down for the count. He looked up, grateful to see their waiter approaching with their dinner.
“You can have another drink after you finish your dinner.” The imp had the audacity to look to Bronx for help.
“Do something. I’m thirsty, and your brother is being mean. Hell, I didn’t like the parents I had… why would I want to give fate another shot at blowing up my heart.”
Shit. Even drunk, she’d managed to paint him into a corner. If he hadn’t been worried about her getting sick, he might have relented. Luckily, she saved him the trouble. Israel laughed when her focus switched to the steak in front of her.
“Holy cow.” She burst out laughing at the unintentional pun. “Rare. Perfect. Hey, wait. Somebody put a potato on the plate with my steak. Who would do such a thing? At least they didn’t try to give me a salad. That would have been insulting.” Shoveling in several small pieces of steak into her mouth, Israel heard her moan. Damned if the sound didn’t go straight to his cock. “I love steak. I don’t get to eat it often, my budget doesn’t have room for steaks, and before this past week, my schedule was a train wreck, too.” Between bites, she kept chattering, making the rest of them laugh.
She’s said more now than she did the entire time we were shopping. Margaritas are going to be the magic elixir to get her to open up, brother.
Even though the observation had been telepathic, Israel was still able to hear the affection and amusement in Bronx’s voice. When the waiter brought Bristol another margarita, her smile lit up the room.
“Thank you, I appreciate it. I’m always in awe of food service workers. You all are amazing.”
The young man paused for a heartbeat, and Israel suspected the steakhouse patrons were usually too engrossed in their business or romantic discussions to thank those serving them. Bristol’s simple act of kindness told him more about her character than anything in his staff’s report. Hell, maybe he needed to start taking people out for a drink before interviewing them. The young man smiled, nodding his thanks before disappearing into the kitchen once again.
“I worked at a bar the summer before I started medical school—hardest job in the world. Drug names are scientific, they make sense. Drinks? Not so much. Seriously, naming a drink Sex on the Beach doesn’t tell you it has vodka, peach schnapps, grapefruit, and cranberry juice in it.” When none of them responded, she simply shrugged. “You have to learn the ingredients and amounts. Hell, the only reason it isn’t worse than cooking is even I couldn’t find a way to set something on fire. No risk of burning the place down should have made it the perfect summer job. I guess it wasn’t that bad—aside from having to pay one of my classmates to create a fake ID. I didn’t drink, I was there for work. Why did I need to be twenty-one? Another ridiculous rule. Have you noticed there are a lot of insane rules these days? It’s like that old song by the Five Man Electrical Band… Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind. Do this, don’t do that. Can’t you read the sign?”