Trio of Seduction. Cassie Ryan
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meant witches of one race or the other.
Of course, the military doctors didn’t recognize the symptoms, and she couldn’t very well enlighten them. She knew better than most that humans didn’t like what they didn’t understand. In her small clinic, she had treated many Cunts, as well as Klatch and Cunt half-breeds, who had been injured at the hands of humans. Then again, there were also many cases where they had injured each other.
A heavy weariness threatened to settle over her as it always did when she thought about the past. She shoved it aside and banged her head back against the door a few times, hoping to break herself away from the emotions those memories brought.
She had never found out who or why her father had been attacked, and he hadn’t woken since.
However, she was enough her father’s daughter to know he would want her to put her own life above sentimentality. He was as safe as he could be in the Phoenix VA hospital; now she just had to get herself to safety.
Kiera closed her eyes and carefully walled off her emotions, just as she had so many other times over the years. She pictured pouring all her pain and fear into a large shoebox and then closing the lid before stacking it on top of the growing pile of closed boxes inside her mind.
Her eyes snapped open, and the familiar calm of knowing what to do and carrying it out enveloped her. “Get your butt in gear, woman!” She smiled as she said the words aloud, since she could almost hear her father’s deep voice booming those same words.
She jogged down the hallway and into the kitchen until she came to the pantry just under the stairs. The door swung open at her touch, and rather than stepping in, she reached inside and up above the doorframe. Her fingers traced the seam of the wall where it met the ceiling until she found the latch, which to anyone else would feel like a rough spot on the sloping ceiling of the pantry. She pressed the latch for exactly four seconds and then let go and stepped back.
A large cubby as wide as the pantry door slid open from the ceiling to reveal a black backpack full of everything she would need to get away or even start a new life, if it came to that. She hefted the backpack over one shoulder and then dug a quarter out of her pocket and tossed it inside the cubby, where it landed with a quiet thunk .
The quarter was a signal between her and her father, which would let him know which safe house she planned to go to first.
Kiera swallowed hard as she realized her dad would probably never see it, and she was totally and completely on her own. She clenched her jaw and closed the cubby with the quarter still inside. After she closed the pantry door, she walked down the short hallway to the garage.
Her father’s Humvee sat next to her purple PT Cruiser, and she huffed out a breath as she realized she would have to leave her car behind, too. That was the price of having such a distinctive car in a closed community—not to mention the “WTCHDR” license plate. It had been somewhat of a joke at the time, but over the years since she had opened her clinic, it had made her easy for her target clientele to find.
Her gaze swept the inside of the garage to make sure nothing had been disturbed.
Floor-to-ceiling cabinets ran along each side of the garage, and at the back, where normal people would put a washer and dryer, her father had installed a heavy-duty fireproof gun safe, which ran the width of the space and stood six feet high. Her father had it specially made and equipped with state-of-the-art security measures.
Marine colonel’s liked their firearms and other goodies protected.
Kiera pressed her thumb to the entry pad of the gun safe. After scanning her thumbprint and matching it to the approved users—only she and her father—a small black panel popped open to reveal the combination lock.
Her fingers reached for the dial.
A blur of dark orange fell from above, knocking her arm away.
Kiera whirled to face her attacker, and a loud “mrowwr” sounded near her feet.
“Damn it, Shiloh!”
Her father’s orange tabby cat swiveled his head, and she found herself on the receiving end of an unblinking orange-eyed glare. The effect was made more intense by the fact that a perfect line of white ringed both eyes like fur eyeliner. The rest of Shiloh was alternating stripes of dark and lighter orange, with white only around his eyes, on his toes and at the tip of his tail.
“Sorry, Shi,” she mumbled as she reached for the safe’s dial again. “It’s been a rough day.”
In one fluid motion, the cat jumped up on top of the gun safe, curled his paws over the top edge and rested his chin lightly between them.
Kiera sighed. She had forgotten all about Shiloh. Her escape plan hadn’t included a cat. However, since Shiloh and her father had basically adopted each other a few months before he was attacked, she couldn’t very well leave Shiloh here to fend for himself.
Though she would pity the person who broke in here with the moody tabby on the loose.
Kiera and Shiloh had developed somewhat of an uneasy coexistence since her father had gone to the hospital. Kiera didn’t particularly like cats, and Shiloh loved to annoy her. She’d actually grown used to having the feisty feline around and even held an odd fondness for him—something she would never admit openly.
The combination dial slid toward the last number, and the safe made a loud click as bars disengaged and allowed her to pull the heavy door open.
The strong scent of chocolate-covered cherries filled her senses, and the familiar sting of unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes. Her father never smoked his signature cigars inside the house, but whenever he cleaned his weapons or rearranged items in his safe, there was always a fat stogie clamped between his teeth.
Damn, I miss him .
She mentally shook herself and steeled her resolve. After all, her father would kick her ass if he found out sentimentality had gotten her captured.
Inside the safe, she found all her father’s weapons just as he had left them, along with extra ammunition and enough knives and other tools of combat to supply a small rebel army.
She pulled a large black gun duffel from the bottom cabinet and loaded an assortment of guns, ammunition, knives and other goodies into the bag. Guns weren’t always very effective against either race of witches, but there were enough humans and even half-breeds who were sympathetic with the Cunt Council that the assorted hardware would probably come in very handy.
The Humvee opened when she pressed in the code just under the door handle, and she tossed the gun duffel into the hidden panel under the back hatch and then set her backpack on the backseat.
A quick trip to the kitchen provided a bag full of cat food, basic nonperishable human food and medicinal supplies, which she placed next to her backpack.
“Shiloh,” she called to the cat still perched on top of the gun safe.
The cat stretched and then yawned before he jumped down and ambled forward as if he had all the time in the world.
“I wish Dad had gotten you used to a cat carrier. Then I could just toss your kitty ass in and get moving!”
Shiloh ignored her angry words and finally made his way to the Humvee, where he jumped in and curled into the front passenger seat where he had always ridden when her dad had taken him on trips.
Kiera slammed the door to the Humvee and walked back through the house, arming security sensors and testing locks. She knew nowhere was impenetrable, especially for the Cunts, but she refused to make it easy for them.
Finally, she slipped inside her room and pulled a large shoebox from under her bed. It held the last remnants she had of her mother, and she couldn’t bear the thought of them being taken or destroyed. Her mother had risked her life and her place in Cunt society to marry her father and try to give Kiera a normal life—and she had paid for it, dearly.
Kiera would always respect that, even though the decision