"Shit no," I replied with a laugh, holding my coffee closer to my chest. "Get your own."
Steele started to pout—damn it, he was going to win me over with that—but Kody saved the damn day by producing an extra travel mug.
"Here, cyborg," he said, handing Steele the coffee, "don't say I never do anything nice."
Steele took the coffee, sipped it, then glared. "Cyborg's are part machine, not just metal. Keep thinking, bro."
Heading out of the kitchen with my coffee safely in hand, I rolled my eyes at the two of them. At the front door I stuffed my feet into a pair of Ugg boots, then headed outside. The new security office—new, since we never used to need security like this—was around the corner of the house in what used to be a storeroom.
The door was open, but before I got there, our cook—Anna, not Karen like I’d thought her name was for way too damn long—came rushing out with her hands pressed to her mouth.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed when we almost collided. Tears streaked her face, and her hands were shaking as she reached out to steady me. "I'm so sorry; I wasn't looking."
I shook my head, dismissing her apology. "It's fine, Anna. What's going on? Why are you upset?" Worry and anger rippled through me. If one of the guards had been harassing her—
"It's so silly," she told me with a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't even know why I'm so upset. I didn't even know the poor thing. It's just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I think I must be getting soft in my old age."
Confused as hell, I made no move to stop her when she reached out to hug me. It was just a quick squeeze, but still left me a bit shell-shocked. Aside from the guys and Bree, I couldn’t remember anyone hugging me since my mom died.
"I need to get back to work," she told me with a soft smile, then extended it to Kody and Steele behind me. "I'm cooking a proper roast for your dinner tonight, and if I find pizza boxes in the morning, someone will feel my wrath, understood?" She seemed to already be pulling herself together, sniffing away the last of her tears. "You four need to eat some good food. Especially you, Max Steele."
Kody and I shared a grin. Steele was usually the first to suggest pizzas. Now he was catching Anna's ire for all the beautiful meals we'd never ended up eating.
"Yes ma'am," he mumbled, sounding sufficiently scolded.
Anna nodded, parking her hands on her hips. "Good. I've gone ahead and changed my hours to be sure you're all eating better. Not only is it important for your health, it seems to me that you just keep tempting fate with all these take-out dinners. Don't you realize how easily someone could poison your food? Good lord, for some smart people, you're very stupid sometimes."
She walked away without waiting for our response, and I couldn't escape the rush of embarrassment that swept over me. Goddamn it, she was right. No pizza or Chinese was good enough to risk my guys being poisoned.
"Shit," Kody cursed, "she has a point on that one."
"Dammit," Steele muttered. "I like pizza."
I scrubbed a hand over my face and glared at them both. "Guys, how many freaking times have we basically opened the damn door for someone to poison us? I'm feeling next-level stupid right now. But more to the point, why was Anna crying just now?"
"She found the package," Archer said from behind me. I spun around and found him leaning on the door frame with his arms folded and a grim look on his face. "It was in the driveway when she got back from the grocery store this morning."
"Well shit," Steele muttered, "don't keep us in suspense. What's he sent this time?"
Archer just stepped back, indicating we enter the little security office.
Inside, Sampson—our head of security—and Dave the gate-guard were standing around one of the desks, looking somewhat repulsed. The gift box sat there seeming innocent enough—or it would if we hadn't already received countless similar packages. There was a stomach-churning odor in the small office, and I immediately blocked my nose.
Whatever was in the box, it wasn't flowers and chocolates.
"Addressed to me this time?" Steele murmured, coming closer to the box to read the label scrawled across the top. "I take it you've already looked inside?"
Dave grimaced. "I wish we hadn't."
Sampson huffed an annoyed sound. "Be glad you weren't here to deal with the human heart before Christmas, then. You can head back to the gate now."
The gate-guard didn't protest as he hurried out of the office, leaving us alone with Sampson and the box.
"Weak-stomached fuck," Sampson grumbled. "Gonna have to fix that if he wants to keep working here."
Steele just raised a brow, then reached out to flip the lid off the box and reveal its contents. I was still breathing through my mouth, but I could tell by the way Steele blanched the smell had gotten worse.
"Sick fuck," he muttered, peering into the box with a scowl. "Is there a note?"
"Underneath," Archer replied. "We didn't want to disturb things until you'd seen it as is."
I took a step forward, needing to see what my stalker had decided to send to Steele directly. If it was a Ken doll, I might die laughing.
"Oh, come on," I groaned, seeing what was causing the smell. Inside the gift box was a very dead cat. A gray one, wearing a name tag and collar. This was someone's pet. Fucking hell.
Sampson held out a pair of latex gloves to Steele, who placed his coffee down, then pulled them onto his hands. Gingerly, he reached into the box and moved the dead cat until we could read the name tag. Max.
Somehow, my stalker had managed to find someone's pet cat called Max with fur in a soft shade of gray all too similar to Steele's eyes. Or his name.
Carefully, Steele extracted the note from under the cat and laid it on the desk, then he pulled a bullet casing from the box to lay beside the note.
Welcome home, Max Steele. You must be almost out of lives by now.
Then, on the bullet casing: LUCKY CAT.
"Well, someone's pissed that he's a lousy shot," Kody murmured.
Archer and Steele were all but vibrating with anger, though, and I got the distinct impression I was missing something important.
"You guys know something more," I accused. "Spill it."
The two of them exchanged a long look, then Steele snapped his latex gloves off with a heavy sigh and an angry headshake.
"Cat," Archer replied, his voice a furious rumble, "is what Steele used to call you."
I frowned, confused. "What? No, I've always been Hellcat to him."
Archer gave a grim laugh, shaking his head. "Not now. Back when we first met, when you were eleven. He changed it to Hellcat when he started thinking about your nails dragging down his back during sex."
"Shut up," Steele snapped, glaring. "Sex had nothing to do with it."
Kody snorted a laugh. "Sure it didn't."
I held my hands up, my brain whirling. "Wait. Hold up. You're saying my stalker knew what you called me almost eight years ago when we hung out for three weeks?"
Steele just shrugged. "It could be a coincidence."