face.
Tank smiled. “Jealous?
“You wish.” So maybe he was, but that didn’t mean Tank had to know. “Now be quiet and get some sleep or I’m gonna hogtie ya and put a gag on ya.” George burrowed his head in the crook between Tank’s chin and shoulder. If only he was this comfortable all the time.
* * * *
George whistled as he walked out of Tank’s bedroom, but it died on his lips as a small tiger walked toward him. He could have sworn Tank said they were wolves. Maybe his mate was a little screwed up George’s Turn
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in the head and couldn’t remember which animal he was because that was definitely a tiger in front of him.
George gulped when a large wolf came around the corner to follow behind the tiger. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing things right.
Yep, they were still there.
A hand landed on George’s shoulder, and he swung his arm as he turned around. One of the warriors ducked and laughed. “Don’t let them frighten you.”
“Sorry.” George cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed that the wild animals made him edgy. “So there are cats or dogs living here?” The man chuckled. “Hi, I’m Loco. You must be George, Tank’s mate.”
He shook the offered hand, never letting his eyes leave the oddball pair walking slowly toward him.
“We’re wolves. Kyoshi there, along with his cousin Keata, are tigers, shifters from southern Japan.”
“Hope you don’t think that explains it.” George laughed nervously as he scratched his head. The small tiger stopped in front of him and sat back on its haunches. It batted a paw at him like a cat would do.
Was that normal for a tiger?
“I think Kyoshi wants to play.” Loco chuckled. George watched as the man reached down and scratched behind the tiger’s ear, the wolf giving off a low growl.
“Mr. Cute and Fuzzy over there don’t seem to keen on the idea of the tiger being touched. I think I’ll keep all ten fingers if you don’t mind.” George took a step back.
“Nah, don’t mind Storm. It’s a mate thing. Kyoshi loves to have his ears scratched.”
And the wolf looked like he’d love to eat Loco. No thanks. “Um, okay. I’m gonna go, you just keep on scratching the cat. Good luck.” George turned and walked a little faster than normal, putting a great amount of distance between his body and those sharp teeth.
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Lynn Hagen
He walked into the den, stomping over to the stereo and changing it until he found the local country station. His ears were gonna start bleeding in a minute if he continued to listen to that guitar wailing out that god-awful music.
“Hey, what the hell is that?” Cecil covered his ears.
“It’s called music. Try it sometime.” George walked behind the bar, looking for a beer.
“I will if I lose my wife or want my dog back.” Cecil flicked the dial, putting his heavy metal back on.
“I’ll keep listening to this if I want to commit suicide.” George took his bottle of beer and walked back, changing it back to Garth Brooks.
“You want a shootout at noon?” Cecil placed his hands on his hips.
George bit back a smile. “Sundown tomorrow. Out back.”
“Fine. Until then…” He swung the dial back to Metallica. George may not listen to the music, but he was up on the popular bands.
“Until then.” George swung it back to his country song.
“Stop! I wanna kill my wife and lose my dog at the same time,” Johnny yelled.
The stereo gave a loud buzz and then went dead.
“Now look what you did.” Cecil glared at George then played with the dial.
“Me? It was that satanic music. Must have sucked out the stereo’s soul.” It took everything in George not to burst out laughing.
“What’s going on in here?” Maverick walked into the den.
George and Cecil pointed at each other.
“He did it,” they said in unison.
Maverick approached George, eyeing him up and down. “We haven’t been formally introduced. Raiding the night club to hunt the mates down