Vargas looked down at his hand, watched as claws came out of his fingertips. Watched the skin become covered in fur.
He shook his hand out as if he’d just burned it. But he was just trying to turn it back to human. Something every kid shifter tried in the beginning.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, I know what I am. I know.”
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s actually amazing.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“Of course it is.”
“But I tried to eat a child—”
“Allegedly.”
“—then I was hit by a tranquilizer dart—”
“You needed the rest.”
“—and I keep ending up naked on your china cabinet.”
“Yeah . . . that is weird.”
In confusion, his head tilted to the side. “Really? That’s the weird one?”
“To me. I’m not much of a climber. But I’ve got a hell of a jump shot. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “I wanted to ask you if the team you said you were working with knows you’re still aliv—”
“Oh, my God!” He started to stand up, but Max put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back into the seat. “I have to let my team know I’m alive. I have to let Amelia know.”
“Who’s Amelia?”
“My team leader and friend. We started in the Corps together.”
“You can’t tell her. At least not yet. Not until you head back home.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t want government types wandering around our bear-only territory. And you need to remember that when you leave. You can’t tell anyone about this. They don’t know we exist and we need to keep it that way. It’s the only way to protect ourselves.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Not even your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. Kamatsu’s my friend who happens to be a woman.”
“Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut.” Max looked at the kitchen doorway, heard her sisters heading their way. “And don’t say a word about any of this to my sisters,” she whispered.
“You are making my life complicated,” he whispered back. “I hate complicated.”
“Suck it up, pretty boy!”
Charlie and Stevie walked into the kitchen.
“Hey! You’re up!” Charlie smiled wide, surprising Max. Her sister wasn’t known for her . . . good cheer. If anything, she was known for her control issues. “How are you feeling, Zé?”
“Better. No headache this time. I’m really sorry about your china cabinet, though.”
“It’s fine. When I mentioned it to our landlord, Tiny, he didn’t even remember he had one.”
Stevie sat at the table with several of her notebooks, leaned in, and whispered to Vargas, “Tiny’s a hoarder. It’s a behavioral disorder and I’ve come to the realization that he owns lots of real estate, so he has plenty of places to put his shit.”
Vargas leaned toward Stevie and whispered, “I don’t care.”
Stevie laughed in response, which pissed off Max because when she told her sister she didn’t care about some armchair diagnosis she’d just made about someone, all she got in return was foaming anger.
Despite her annoyance, however, Max was not going to point out to her sister what a hypocritical douche bag she was, but instead take the opportunity to show both her sisters what a caring human being Max could be. And not the “sociopath with malignant narcissism” that Stevie had once diagnosed during a heated argument.
Max placed her hand on Vargas’s forearm, and the cat’s green gaze locked on where they touched as she said, “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
The cat’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you?”
“And now you understand what you are, yes?”
“Yes. I understand.”
“And don’t you feel better about that?”
He shrugged. “I guess. I mean, it does explain a few things. Maybe.”
“Exactly! You feel better because you now know what you are. A whole new world is ahead of you. Prepare to enjoy the rest of your life.”
“I liked my old life.”
“Well, you’re getting a new one. Be happy!”
“Sure,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great.” Max stood. “I’ve gotta go.” She patted Vargas’s forearm, smiled, and said with as much empathy as she could muster, “Well . . . good luck to you. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
* * *
Zé wasn’t even listening when Max patted his arm. He couldn’t understand why she kept touching him. Or why she kept touching him like that. It reminded him of old Mrs. Ma-ducci down the block from his grandfather, who used to pat Zé’s head every time she saw him. He’d hated the head pat or anything that felt emotionally like a head pat. And that’s how Max was treating him. Like a cute little boy she’d allowed into her yard to get his baseball.
Innocuous. She was treating him as if he was innocuous and Zé didn’t like it.
But he had no idea why her sisters reacted as if she’d spit at him.
Charlie spun away from the oven, eyes wide. And Stevie slammed her hands against the table and stood.
“Max!” they both screeched at the same time, causing their sister to spin around and take a fighting stance.
“What? What’s wrong?” Max demanded, ready to start doing what she’d done to those men who’d kidnapped her.
“You can’t just leave him,” Stevie told her, hands now resting on hips.
Realizing there was no danger, she relaxed, but her eyes also rolled to the back of her head.
“I can’t? Do you want me to get him a limo to take him home?”
“You could call me a cab,” he suggested, enjoying her annoyance.
“Shut up.”
“Max!” Stevie barked again.
“Can we talk to you outside?” Charlie politely asked.
“No.”
Charlie pointed at the back door. “Get your ass outside!” she snarled from between clenched teeth.
With another eye roll, Max walked out of the kitchen, her sisters following.
A minute or two later, Stevie’s boyfriend came in, took a large stash of bamboo from one of the cabinets, and sat down at the table.
“Hey,” he greeted, biting into the bamboo at the same time.
“Hey.”
“Where are the girls?”
“Outside. Yelling at Max.”
“So a typical morning, then?”
“Based on what I know so far. . . probably.”
* * *
“You can’t just inform him that he’s a shifter and then send him off into the world alone.”
Max looked back and forth between her sisters before asking, “Why not?”
Charlie threw up her hands but Stevie answered this time. “You’ve upended the man’s world. He doesn’t know anything about anything. You have to help him.”
“Why?”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“I have a lot going on right now. We’re in the playoffs.”