Nine-thirty, Tracey Rickard thought to herself with disgust. I need a life.
She walked through the parking garage, hand in her purse, touching the can of mace. She made sure it sat on top of everything in the purse so she could whip it out in seconds. Being an attorney for sometimes some unsavory types, she was always precautious when going out to her car.
“Miss Rickard.”
She stopped, did not turn toward the voice, but eased her mace can out. “Who’s there.”
“Knight,” said the voice, and she did turn around, and gasped. Standing before her was two huge…cat-men? One was yellow with black spots, long haired with gold cat-slitted eyes; the other white with black spots, wearing wraps around his forearms and legs and a white side skirt with traces of blue along the hem. Both were easily two of her, and could easily overpower her.
“Sorry,” the yellow cat said, “bu’ I hadda find you.” He motioned to the white one. “This is Malcolm, my king an’ mate.”
“Sorry to meet you under such circumstances,” he said.
Tracey just stared, then stood up straight. “The police are looking for you, Knight.”
“I know,” he said.
“We need to talk.” She put the mace can back in her purse. “Mind coming upstairs?”
They both nodded. Malcolm shimmered and shifted, smoothly changing into a white haired man with light blue eyes, still wearing the skirt and the wraps. Knight also shimmered and shifted, yet he was naked. Tracey averted her eyes to look up into his gray ones. “I might have a towel upstairs.”
“That’d be good,” Knight said.
With the dish towel draped strategically across his groin, Tracey could now concentrate on Knight’s story. When he finished, Tracey looked to Mal. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”
Mal said, “Only under extreme duress. And he was only defending himself with what weapons that came to hand.”
Tracey frowned, “You have two choices. You can keep running until the cops get you, or you can front up.”
Mal’s eyes narrowed, “He’d get screwed if he plays the hero.”
“Not true. I know someone who can help. He doesn’t come cheap.”
“Money doesn’t matter,” Mal said immediately.
Tracey picked up the phone. “In that case, I’ll call him, leave a message, and hopefully he’ll get to see you before the police do.”
She made a quick call to a man named Blake, leaving a message. Then she put her elbows on the desk, head on her hands. “In the meantime, keep things normal. If the police come, don’t let them into your house. Tell them you have to wait for your lawyer before you talk to them. Sound like a broken record if you have to, but don’t let onto anything. Especially don’t let on that you can shift.”
Knight nodded. So did Mal.
“So go home, and tomorrow Blake will be contacting you. Here…” She opened her desk and rummaged into her drawer, pulling out a cheap pay-as-you-go cell phone. “This is secure, I’ll have Blake call you on it. Do you have a suit?”
“Yes,” Knight said sadly.
“You’ll need that when you turn yourself in.”
“A’right,” he said.
Mal didn’t look happy about it. “Are you sure that will be safe?”
Said Tracey, “Knight might be in custody for a little while, maybe the weekend, though I think Blake will do everything he can to get him out before then.”
Knight reached over and took Mal’s hand. “I’ll be okay.”
“You have to be,” Mal said, and let Knight take his hand.
Tracey looked between the two, and said, “All right, do we have a plan? Tell me what it is, Knight.”
“Say I got a lawyer, don’ let th’ cops in my house, an’ don’ let on I’m a shifter.”
“Very good.” She sat back in her chair. “Now go home, go about your business, and Blake will contact you.”
“Yes’m,” Knight said and got up, the dishtowel falling from his groin. She snapped her eyes up. Mal rose at the same time as Knight, as Knight had dropped Mal’s hand.
Mal held out his hand to Tracey, “Thank you for everything,” he said.
“Happy to help,” she said. The two men left, and she looked at the clock.
Ten thirty-eight.