Free Framing Felipe by Holley Trent Page A

deep
breath,
and
unlike
Sarah,
it
wasn’t
because
he
was
angry.
It
was
    because
she
smelled
like
mangos
and
sweat
and
woman.
He’d
never
been
so
turned
on.
    Even
with
her
scowling
at
him,
she
was
a
vision.
Perfection
in
leather.
    “Dana
would
have
my
neck
if
anything
happened
to
you.”
    “I
know
you
were
hired
to
do
a
job,
but
this
seems
backward.”
    Some
of
the
anger
seeped
from
her
expression,
and
now
her
visage
was
marked
with
    curiosity.
Intrigue.
“What
seems
backward?”
    “You
minding
me.
I
feel
like
it
should
be
the
other
way
around.”
    And
she
laughed—a
genuine,
rumbling
laugh
of
amusement
that
came
with
a
    headshake
and
her
turning
on
her
heels.
She
strode
toward
the
porch
and
said,
“I’m
an
ex-‐
    Marine,
Felipe.
I
can
take
care
of
myself.”
    With
any
other
woman,
he
would
have
let
it
drop.
He’d
already
established
she
was
far
    from
normal.
He
wouldn’t
want
her
otherwise.
“Just
because
you
can,
doesn’t
mean
you
    have
to
all
the
time.”
    She
paused
in
the
doorway,
her
back
to
him,
and
rested
her
hand
on
the
frame
a
    moment.
He
expected
she
was
working
up
a
particularly
nasty
response,
but
in
the
end,
she
    just
shook
her
head
and
reached
inside
the
doorway
for
something.
    On
the
way
back
down,
she
carried
a
key
ring
and
hardly
acknowledged
him
as
she
    descended
the
stairs.
“They’ll
be
okay
in
the
bread
truck
for
a
while,”
she
called
out
to
    Tamara
and
the
cats.
    Tamara
nodded,
and
handily
caught
the
keys
Sarah
tossed
at
her.
She
unclasped
the
    padlock
and
the
cats
pushed
the
wounded
Visa
into
the
back
of
the
vehicle.
    “Why
do
you
own
one
of
these
things?”
Felipe
asked,
gesturing
to
the
truck.
    Sarah
shrugged.
“One
of
the
were-‐cats
owns
a
car
graveyard.
This
was
brought
in.
He
    fixed
it
up
and
asked
Patrick
if
he
wanted
it.
Patrick
was
thinking
about
tricking
it
out
and
    using
it
for
the
pub.”

    FRAMING FELIPE
–
44
–
Holley Trent

    Tamara
drew
the
gate
down
and
reattached
the
lock.
“Since
we’re
not
savages,
we
    should
probably
get
the
one
you
shot
some
medical
attention,”
she
said
to
Sarah.
    “Pretty
sure
one
of
those
bullets
in
him
is
one
of
yours.”
    Tamara
beamed.
“I’m
getting
better
with
the
moving
targets.
Call
Doc
and
see
what
she
    says.
I’m
going
to
check
on
the
good
guys.”
    Sarah
brushed
his
side
brusquely
on
the
way
into
the
cabin.
“I’ve
got
to
call
our
doc.
Do
    me
a
favor
and
stay
out
of
trouble
for
five
minutes.”
    Five
minutes
seemed
like
a
lot,
but
if
she
insisted…
    He
followed
her
in
and
leaned
against
the
kitchen
counter
while
she
made
her
call,
    eyeing
her
the
entire
time.
    She
looked
up
at
him
once
or
twice,
saying
nothing,
and
apparently
she
was
put
on
    hold,
because
she
put
her
hand
over
the
mouthpiece
and
said,
“What’s
with
the
glare?”
    He
crooked
his
thumb
toward
the
front
door.
“This
is
normal
for
you?
This… caos ?
This
    pelea ?”
    She
produced
a
noise
that
was
a
combination
of
a
snort
and
scoff
and
raised
her
    shoulders
briefly.
“I
expect
the
unpredictable.
We
Shrews,
we
can
take
care
of
ourselves.
    Every
now
and
then
a
bad
guy
might
get
away,
but
we
usually
come
out
unscathed.
Doesn’t
    matter
what
kind
of
supernatural
bogeymen
we’re
up
against,
none
of
them
particularly
    like
guns.
That’s
why
we
all
carry.”
    “But—”
    She
held
up
her
index
finger,
bidding
him
to
wait.
The
person
on
the
other
line
had
    returned.
“Hey,
Doc.
We
had
a
bit
of
a
scuffle.
Two
of