The Four Horsemen: Bound (The Four Horsemen Series Book 2) by LJ Swallow (18)

* * *

VEE

Did I expect the place to disappear along with my old life?

I stare at the furniture shop, with my flat in the same position above it, and my car parked in the lane around the back. I stand outside Heath’s car and clutch the tissue inside my jacket pockets. I attempt to hide how freaked out I am as I’m confronted by the reality the guys told me didn’t exist.

There’s no fooling Joss. He places a hand on my arm, concerned eyes studying my face. "You okay?"

"I think so. It's as if I'm looking at a stranger’s flat. I thought I’d feel like I was coming home but... no."

"Do you want to go inside?"

I shake my head as my pulse quickens. "No. Not today. We can sort everything out another time."

Heath leans over the low brick wall between the street and the yard behind the shop. His combat jacket and T-shirt ride up revealing a toned back and the oh-so-gropeable ass in his dark denim jeans. "Where did you last see your cat?" he calls.

"Chasing another cat up the street," I reply.

Heath steps back again. "He’s obviously not hanging around your flat pining for you."

I scowl. "I’m aware of that. I told you, my cat stopped coming home altogether a week before I met you guys. For the month leading up to that, he rarely appeared."

"Are you sure he was your cat?" Joss asks.

"What? Of course, he was! I don’t randomly abduct animals and force them to live with me."

Heath and Joss glance at each other; a bloody annoying habit they all have when I know I’m excluded from something. I poke Joss in the stomach – or attempt to since solid muscle greets me. "Stop that! What’s wrong?"

"How old’s your cat, Vee?" he asks in a quiet voice.

"I adopted him from the shelter a year ago," I retort. "He isn’t a false memory. He’s my cat."

"Or was," mutters Heath. "What are you going to do if we find him?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I don’t have one. Take the cat back to the guys’ property? And then what happens when I need to go away, since they’ve made it clear we’re not staying in the area permanently? Plus, aren’t cats freaked out by moving home? What if he tries to return to his new family and doesn't make it?

"Call for the cat, Heath," says Joss. "He might be scared and hiding."

"More like enjoying life in someone’s house," he mutters. "Vee, you call him."

What's with Heath’s reluctance and Joss’s unsuppressed amusement? Oh, right. His name. "Fine. I will."

Scalp prickling under their scrutiny, I wander behind the row of shops to the narrow laneway. "Bacon!"

Joss erupts into laughter, and I shoot him a filthy look. He holds his hands up. "Sorry, but seriously? Bacon? No wonder he fled. Probably thought you were going to make breakfast out of him."

"It was his name at the shelter. I didn’t want to change it," I retort.

Heath approaches and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He hugs me to his warm chest, the scent I associate with head-spinning kisses moving over me. "I know you’re worried. Ignore dumbass taking the piss."

"I am not! It’s just funny, okay?" Joss approaches too and touches my face. "I promise not to laugh at your cat's hilarious name again."

I pout. "You call for him, then."

"Huh?"

Now it’s Heath’s turn to snigger.

"The cat? Go on," I challenge.

Joss purses his lips and glances around furtively. The surroundings are empty of everything but parked cars, rubbish gathering in the drains, and us.

"Bacon," he says in barely a whisper.

Heath’s laughter matches Joss’s from earlier, and I duck from under his arm. "This is getting us nowhere! I’m going to check out the neighbour’s place."

Leaving the comedians behind, I stride in the direction of the terraced row of houses until I reach the narrow, gated backyards consisting of concrete pavers or uneven ground. I halt in front of a yard with washing pegged to the line and look over the wall at the net curtains in the kitchen window. I’ve seen Bacon hanging out in this yard, so I count how many houses to the end, and march around to the path leading along the front of the houses.

My Horsemen protectors follow. A young woman passing, with a child in a stroller, double takes. They’re oblivious, focused on me. I smile a little too smugly when she stares at me in disbelief. Yep, they’re mine. Both of them.

"This is the one," I say.

The front windows contain the same yellowing net curtains as the rear, and a sunflower grows in a terracotta pot by the blue door. What was once a lawn is now muddy with sparse grass, and a tarmac path leads to the door. There’s a faded plastic sand box on one side, and two small bikes resting against the red brick on the other.

I search for a doorbell. None. Taking a nervous breath, I rap on the door.

I’m about to knock for the second time when a woman answers. She has curly blonde hair and dark circles beneath her eyes, dressed in baggy pants and a cardigan over a T-shirt. She holds a toddler against her hip; a young girl with brown hair who grips her mother’s shirt in one hand and a doll in another.

The woman eyes us suspiciously. "Yes?"

"Um. Sorry to bother you, but –" I begin.

"What are you selling? I don’t want to buy anything." She hitches the girl further up her hip and makes to close the door, her wary look switching to Joss and Heath, who flank me.

"No. I’m looking for my cat."

The woman pauses. "Cat? What does it look like?"

Hope rises. I bet the ungrateful animal did move here. "Black. But he has one white paw." I indicate my right hand. "He should have a red collar too."

"The black cat's yours?" she asks. "I thought he was a stray."

"He’s a bit fat to be a stray," I retort. His weight gain over the last few month confirmed to me he has another – if not several more – homes to dine at.

"He’s always hungry when he comes here," she replies.

Is she suggesting I neglect my cat? "He’s always hungry, full stop."

The woman bites the corner of her lip, distracted by the godlike men either side of me. "You have quite a search party for one cat."

"Just ask her outright," says Heath gracing her with a friendly smile. "I’m sure if this lovely lady knows where your cat is she’ll tell you."

The woman's cheeks redden at his attention, but I understand Heath's hint.

"Have you seen my cat?" I ask her outright.

"Yes. The cat's inside." The woman blinks. "With my daughter. Wait there."

She disappears inside the house, closing the door with a click. I shuffle from foot to foot as I wait, hoping the cat is Bacon.

"What are you going to do if it is him?" asks Joss again. "Xander would lose his shit if we took a cat home."

Which tempts me to do exactly that. But taking Bacon to my new home would be unfair. I’ll need to join the Horsemen on their "trips away", and who’ll look after a cat then?

We glance at each other as voices rise in the house and a child wails. The woman returns, followed by a blonde-haired girl around three years old. She cradles a black cat in her arms as if he were a baby, and Bacon’s unmistakable white paw touches her face. Guilt twinges when I spot the tears streaking the girls cheeks.

"Is this him?" asks the woman.

Bacon looks at me, not struggling against the girl’s hold, and with no sign of interest. Bloody cats.

"Have you come for Blackie?" she asks and sniffs. "He’s my cat." I wince for Bacon as the girl squeezes him tighter.

"Give Blackie to the lady," says the woman and places a hand on the girl’s head. "He belongs to her, and she loves him too. The lady wants to take her cat home."

"But he came to live with me," the girl protests. "He doesn’t want to go home!"

Ah, crap. The guys either side of me remain mute. Why did they come with me if they weren’t going to help?

"Maybe put him down?" I suggest. "He doesn’t look comfortable."

The teary girl half-drops Bacon to the floor who rubs himself around her legs. Again, no response to me. I slide a hand down my face. This situation is awkward and not what I expected. What do I do?

"The cat's always here," says the woman. "He follows Maisie everywhere and sleeps on her bed. If you take him, he’ll probably come back."

She’s right, another reason I can’t take him to the guys’ place. I’ve heard about cats walking miles to return to their homes and territory. "Hang on."

I turn to a perturbed looking Heath. "What do I do?" I whisper.

"I don’t know anything about cats. Joss?"

"She really loves him," he says in a low voice. "If uh... Bacon likes living here you know he’ll be safe."

"But I want him too." My words are almost a whine as if I’m a girl cut up over a broken relationship. Bacon left me for somewhere and someone he prefers.

Joss takes my hand and squeezes. "Maybe he hated his name, and that’s why he ran away."

I scowl and slap his hand away. "Ha ha."

"What’s his real name?" asks the woman.

My heart hurts as I look down at the wide-eyed girl, the one whose new pet I could take away from her.

No. he should stay here. This way, I can be sure he’s safe. With me, he won’t be.

"Blackie," I say.

The girl’s smile brings sunshine into the shadows of my day.

* * *

I fight the lump in my throat as we walk away with reassurances from the woman, who finally introduced herself as Meg, that the newly named Blackie would be safe with them.

On the drive home, I rest my head on Joss’s shoulder, his hand on my knee, and close my eyes. Both guys fussed over me when we walked away from the house. Their hugs were welcome, but I need to put him out of my mind. I repeat to myself he’s better and happier with Maisie.

Heath and Joss don’t mention my cat again.

Halfway home, the car veers off the road, and I open my eyes. A petrol station forecourt comes into view, and Heath stops his car at a pump.

"How often do you think the original Horsemen had to refuel?" I ask with a smile.

"Original Horsemen?"

"The Four Horsemen. Men on horses, not in SUVs. Do you think their horses were magical?"

Heath shakes his head at me. "That's a story, remember."

"I know, I was kidding."

I glance at Joss who shrugs at Heath's unimpressed response. "Did you know Heath can't ride a horse? We tried once."

"I'm trying hard not to laugh here," I say. "The Horseman who can't ride a horse."

"Watching what happened when you tried was funnier, huh, Heath?"

Heath opens the car door. "You're not as hilarious as you think, Joss. I’ll fill the car, and we can head home."

"I want to tell Xander we have the cat just to see his reaction," says Joss. "Man, that would be hilarious."

Heath shakes his head but fights a smile too. Tempting idea.

The car door clunks closed, and I watch as Heath stands by the car and fills the tank, eyes to the sky. I look out too, at the cars lined up around, and at the people walking in and out of the small store attached, or leaving with snacks. Business people in company cars, mothers in SUVs, tradesmen in white vans. Ordinary people; normal lives.

People with no idea what lives amongst them.

I shuffle down and cover my face; I don't want to take in any more of the real world today.

"I understand," whispers Joss and pulls fingers from my face. "You don’t need to pretend you’re okay."

His green eyes, soft with concern, look into mine as he tips my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He places a kiss on my forehead, at a spot between my eyes, before hugging me to him.

After a few silent moments he says, "If we ever capture a hellhound to keep as a pet, you’re not naming it, okay?"

"Hellhound? Do they exist?" I ask, face against his chest.

Joss chuckles. "No. Well, I don't think so. I haven't met one yet."

I groan. "Heath's right, you're not as funny as you think."

Joss strokes my cheek with his thumb, and I close my eyes again. Leaving behind Bacon in the girl’s safe, sticky, hands brings a finality to my switch from Vee to the Fifth.

My cat was the last part of my old life, and now he's gone.