Andrea touched her tongue to her lip. “You’d be amazed at what a tight grip I have.”
Sean growled low in his throat. “You walk the edge, Andy-girl.”
She did, and Sean always made her want to leap right over it—to land right on top of him. He steadied her hand again with his strong one, and she held the wrench as he loosened a piece beneath it. The whole assembly came out, Sean and Andrea lifting it away together.
Nice. Sean’s face hung near to hers, a smudge of grease on his cheek. He smelled of sweat and bike grease, the outdoors, and all she could think of was the sunshine kissing his sweet backside.
Sean set the piece aside. He started to reach for the next thing he wanted to yank off, but Andrea touched his shoulder. Sean turned back to her, his breath on her face, eyes darkening.
Andrea was never sure who leaned forward first, but she was melting toward him and, next thing she knew, felt the scalding pressure of Sean’s mouth on hers. He kissed with strength, barely masking his power, and Andrea closed her eyes and drank it in. His hand stole to the back of her neck, arching her up to savor more of her.
“Come inside with me,” he whispered against her mouth, and she tasted his breath. “You can make sure I wash my underwear. How’s that?”
She wanted to; oh, she wanted to. No one was home, and they could explore what they’d started. More kissing, more touching, and Andrea could slide her hands into his jeans and cup his firm, sun-touched backside.
She pulled away slightly. He watched her, wanting and yet cautious, trying not to scare her. That worry for her twisted her heart around, and at the same time, she wanted to lick the moisture from between his lips.
“Your pants are vibrating,” she whispered.
“What?” Sean jerked. “Aw, damn it.” Andrea watched with amusement as Sean unfolded to his feet and yanked his cell phone from its holder.
As she rose with him, she heard the grating tones of Sean’s father, Dylan, come clearly over the line.
“Son,” he rumbled. “Fetch the sword. You’re needed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The warmth and vibrancy drained from Sean’s eyes. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked off the phone, looking grim.
“What is it?” Andrea asked. “What’s happened?”
Sean shoved the phone back into its holder. “My cousin Ely in San Antonio. Another drive-by shooting. Dad says he’s still alive, but ...” The way Sean trailed off said it all. “He’s asking for the Guardian.”
The darkness Andrea sensed in Sean came forward with a vengeance. His smiles were gone, as was the charming lilt with which he’d asked her to go inside with him. Then he’d sounded like a warm man seeking pleasure on a sunny morning; now he was the cold man who’d looked upon so much death.
“Sean, I’m sorry.” Andrea rubbed his tight forearm. “I don’t understand, though. The San Antonio Shiftertown has a Guardian, doesn’t it? I thought the humans made each Shiftertown use its own.”
“That Guardian is Lupine, and Ely’s my kin. Dad says Ely wants me, and I don’t care about the human rules right now. They think what we do is only ceremonial anyway.” Sean looked down at her, his eyes tight with pain. “Come with me?”
Andrea started shaking her head before he finished the sentence. “I can’t. I shouldn’t. I’m a half-Fae Lupine. His family won’t want me there.”
“Doesn’t matter. You might be able to help.”
“If you’re thinking of my healing gift, I told you; it’s not very strong. It might make no difference at all.”
“Damn it, Andrea, we have to try.”
The desperation in Sean’s eyes caught at Andrea’s heart. She hadn’t recovered from his smiling suggestion that they go into the house—no one was home; she knew that. She’d wanted what he offered so much it worried her.
But their personal lives had just dwindled to background noise. Once again, Sean was being asked to go and watch someone die.
Andrea drew a breath. “All right.” She might be able to ease Ely’s pain a little, at the very least.
Sean looked at his bike in pieces, then turned away, sunshine dancing in his dark hair. “Dad left his truck in the back. The keys are in it. Fetch it and meet me round front.”
Andrea nodded. Sean wiped off his hands, picked up his tools, and disappeared into the house without a word.
He’d gone to get the sword. Andrea’s heart beat faster. Sean’s expression, before he’d turned away, had been so empty that she’d wanted to put her arms around him. She hadn’t had the heart to refuse his request to accompany him, though she still wasn’t sure how much good she could do. Her healing talent had fixed up Ronan, but that had been the equivalent of bandaging a skinned knee. Kodiak bear Ronan was tough and strong, and he had an amazing metabolism. A few bullets in the shoulder were to him what bee stings were to everyone else. If Sean’s father had told Sean to bring the sword, it meant that Dylan thought Sean’s cousin beyond saving.
Andrea found the white pickup parked behind the house, keys hanging from the ignition. No Shifter would take another Shifter’s vehicle, and few humans ever ventured into Shiftertown without invitation, so the chances of someone stealing it were slim to none. Despite the fact that the truck was ten or more years old, Andrea knew, as she started it up, that it would be in perfect condition. Shifters learned to keep vehicles running in top shape, being forbidden to buy brand new ones.
She pulled the pickup through the alley and around to the front of the house. Ellison Rowe, another Lupine and a friend to the Morrisseys, came out of his house across the street and jogged over.
Ellison’s pack had been relocated here when Shifters took the Collar twenty years ago, but by all evidence he loved being a Texan, even by adoption. He never left home without his big belt buckle, cowboy boots, hat, and Texas drawl.
“What’s up?” he asked, leaning on the open window.
“There’s been another shooting. Down in San Antonio. Sean’s cousin.”
Ellison’s face changed. “Aw, shit, not again. What the hell is going on?”
“Must be a new hobby for humans.”
“Damn,” Ellison growled. “Come and play Shoot the Shifter. Step right up, have a good time. Assholes.”
Sean emerged from the house in a button-down shirt in place of his T-shirt, the sword strapped to his back. Ellison straightened up. “I’m sorry, man,” he said.