Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(8)

He didn't like the way the fabric clung to him, but Ryan appreciated the fact that he could shift without worrying about it ripping. Same reason he was pulling on Lycra leggings that would be far more at home on a college girl and paired up with Ugg boots.

But these leggings were just going to have to deal with being on a bear.

Silently, Ryan climbed out of the window on the second story of the house he'd built with his own two hands, and the eight to ten hands of workers he hired to do all the things he wasn't sure how to do. Fully extended, his feet were only halfway to the ground, but he'd made this drop so many times that he landed without a sound - quite a feat for someone that pushed three-fifty when he hadn't eaten for a few hours.

Just thinking about food made his stomach growl, which is a really big problem when you're about to go cattle rustling. He fished a couple of his aunt's famous tamales out of his pack, and squeezed them into his mouth, chewing only a couple of times before swallowing the cornmeal and beef delights. They were so good that he felt a little pang of guilt at inhaling them the way he did, but there were things to do.

Why did she keep looking at me? And why didn't she ever say anything? Searching his memory for the devilishly attractive woman in the hip-hugging black dress, Ryan came up empty. I'd remember someone with bat wings. That much I know. I might not remember a whole lot of my past, but bat wings? On a woman like that? I'd remember her anywhere.

A grim smile crossed his lips as he crouched. It doesn't matter, he thought. I don't have time for mates or dates or wishing I had one of them. I figure I need twelve cows, if I'm going to feed everyone for the winter, and I'm pretty sure Danniken ain't gonna do a damn thing to help. I better get busy.

His plan was fairly simple: steal a cow at a time until he either had enough meat to feed a bunch of aged shifters for a whole winter, or far less likely, the Jamesburg town council pulled its head out of its collective ass, and actually did something for once instead of infighting or avoiding meetings. He'd lived in Jamesburg for almost six years, and two days ago was the first time he'd ever set foot in that courthouse.

For a town where everyone seemed to know everyone, there were a whole lot of unknowns, a whole hell of a lot of people who lived on the fringe. And it just so happened, those people? Those were the ones who were the most vulnerable and helpless. And they were also the ones that Ryan Drake had promised his dying father that he'd protect.

So stealing a few cows? Shit. If the people of this town start dropping like flies from starvation, Danniken's gonna have a whole lot more to worry about than some missing cows and people yelling at him during complainer's court. As hidden as this place is, someone's bound to notice, he thought with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. Or worse comes to worst, someone's gonna ask for help from somewhere else. Somehow, I doubted that's the sort of attention Danniken wants for strange little Jamesburg.

Ryan hated the thought. He loathed himself for it, really, but if he had to do it, he'd go wherever he could to feed the people who couldn't do it for themselves. He'd get help from somewhere, if he couldn't get it from Danniken.

He crouched, letting his knees crunch into the frosty leaves and fallen pine needles covering the ground. The earth was cold and solid underneath him, and he felt grounded, he felt purpose.

But as the fur started sliding out of his pores and his muscles grew thicker, harder and larger, the image of that strange, intoxicatingly beautiful bat woman flickered back into his mind. He started thinking that maybe, just maybe, he should spend some more time in town.

Ryan's heart was heavy as he shook out his fur and grunted a stifled roar into the chill of night. His golden yellow fur poofed out of the extremely tight clothes, making him look a little bit like a giant corgi wearing a turtleneck. His paws dug into the undergrowth, and he pushed himself forward, steps growing less painful with each one he took. Finally, he broke into a run, heading straight toward the place he knew he'd find the cows.

*

Thomas Westing's ranch was about fifteen minutes as the bear runs, from Ryan's little compound. He didn't like victimizing his neighbor - or the closest thing he had to one who wasn't in some way his relative, or under his care - but if he was going to get attention, there wasn't much of a choice. The guy called himself West, and was mated to a private dick in town named St. Claire.

Ryan liked him well enough, but just like he had no time for the intricacies of finding a mate - even if she was that gorgeous bat-winged woman, he thought with a gulp - he didn't have time for a bunch of friends, either.

Leaning on one of the fence posts on the part of West's land furthest from his house, Ryan pushed until the woven wire fence sagged just enough to climb over before he stood on his back legs and shifted back into a black-clad human. When it was over, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and doing his damndest to get that woman out of his head.

He found a tree to leave his booty-hauling sled underneath. It probably provided shade for a whole bunch of cows in the middle of Jamesburg's hotter days.

Overhead, something flapped. He looked up, but his human eyes couldn't distinguish anything aside from the night. Probably a bird, or... something. A bat? He laughed at himself for the knot that formed in his stomach, and he got back to business.

Again, the flapping.

He shot another glance upward before dismissing whatever it was with a shake of his huge head. Ahead of him, something he did not, in any way, expect, was wandering the pasture.