The Trouble With Tigers Read online

  “I think that headbutt rattled your brains. You’re not thinking straight.”

  “I can’t image my life without you in it. I want to grow old with you. I want a couple of rug-rats with you and a house full of critters.”

  “Marriage? Are you talking about marriage?” My voice was a squeak.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I gaped at him in utter disbelief. “Because it’s too soon. Because you’re a cop and I’m not.”

  “You’d have to give up some of your outlaw friends.”

  “I’m done with Harry and his group,” I snapped.

  “Got any more like them?”

  “God, no.”

  Dutch stroked a finger over my cheek. “Good because orange isn’t your color.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t arrest me?”

  “I wouldn’t, but one of my fellow detectives might and then we’d have to do a Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “You’d go on the lam with me?”

  “I would.” Dutch brushed his lips over mine. “We’d make badass outlaws.”

  “Badass, huh?”

  “Yep and being a badass, I’d fit right in with your family.”

  My stomach knotted in horror as I met his shrewd gaze. Was Dutch trying to get a confession out of me or he was simply telling me he didn’t care about my dad’s criminal past? I sidestepped the issue. “Wait until Christmas and mom wants you to dress-up like an elf. You’ll be running for your life.”

  “Never.” Dutch bent down and took my mouth in a wild, demanding kiss. He made me feel like I was the last woman on Earth and priceless.

  Pure arousal thrummed in my veins. Dutch tasted so good I never wanted to come up for air. I cradled his face and kissed him back.

  Tinkerbell wiggled wildly. Arf. Arf. Arf.

  Dutch raised his head. “What’d she say?”

  “We’re squishing her, and she’s wants kisses too.”

  “Sorry baby girl.” Dutch gave her nose a smooch. “Better?”

  Arf.

  It was at that moment I knew I was falling in love with Dutch. He was a genuinely good guy. His touch sent a tsunami of sensations crashing through me and I wanted him so badly I ached.

  To have a relationship, we’d have to make some adjustments. Dutch was a by-the-book kinda guy. Me, not so much. Dutch had a rigid moral code. Mine was a bit more flexible, but I would never allow an innocent to be harmed. Be it man or animal. We both sought justice in our own way. We’d have to figure out how to meld our methods.

  Then there was my dad. Mom had changed him from a coldblooded killer into a loving family man. His past was full violence, but he had worked hard at redeeming himself. Would Dutch see the man my father had become, or would he only see the killer he had once been? That my father was willing to take a chance on Dutch was mind-boggling.

  What Dutch needed was a career change. If he wasn’t a cop, he might be willing to overlook my dad’s history. Maybe I could talk Dutch into becoming a pet detective. I could use a partner with his experience. My work was a bit more dangerous than anyone knew.

  I shut and locked the door. “Have you ever thought of working in the private sector?”

  “Yeah. Once I get my twenty in, I was thinking of starting my own security firm.”

  “Would there be room for a psychic pet detective?”

  “Definitely.” He escorted me to his immaculate black, high-rider truck.

  Aw, he had added a step for me, and if I was five inches taller, I could just about reach it.

  Dutch grinned. “Need a boost short stuff?”

  “I do, snookums.” He picked me up, kissed me senseless and put me in the truck.

  Arf.

  “He is a good kisser,” I agreed.

  Whistling a jaunty tune, Dutch walked around the truck, got in and started the engine. “Your dad invited us over for a barbeque tonight.”

  “You do know my mother will interrogate you again?”

  “Lookin’ forward to it.” He put the truck in gear and eased out on the street.

  I laughed. “You’re gonna turn the tables on her, aren’t ya?”

  “Yep.”

  “Here’s some friendly advice. Stay away from the honeysuckle wine.”

  “Why?”

  “It loosens your tongue better than truth serum.”

  “Your mom isn’t as clueless as she acts,” Dutch declared.

  “Not always. Do I need to go over our duties for the procession?”

  “Nope. I was a motorcycle cop for two years,” Dutch replied.

  “I was wondering where you got those nifty boots.”

  Dutch caressed my cheek. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “I have a few secrets of my own.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Funeral March blasted from my cellphone. I dug it out and swiped. “Hey Jana.”

  “How far away are you?” Screams, shouts and curses sounded in the background.

  Tinkerbell’s ears twitched.

  I frowned. “What’s going on? It almost sounds like a fight.”

  “They aren’t fighting yet. How soon can you get here?”

  “Five minutes if we step on it.”

  “Put the pedal to the medal. Your dad needs help,” Jana growled.

  I gasped, “Dad needs help?”

  Dutch increased his speed and flipped a toggle switch on the dashboard. A police siren sounded.

  Tinkerbell howled.

  “Sssh! I can’t hear Auntie Jana.”

  Tinkerbell stopped.

  “Please tell me you haven’t been arrested,” Jana cried.

  “I’m not under arrest. I’m riding in Dutch’s truck which is equipped with sneaky cop stuff. What happened?” I put the phone on speaker.

  “The deceased’s sisters are fighting over the jewelry. All eight of them and a few cousins have joined the fracas too.”

  “Whoa! Did the lawyer read the will before the services?”

  “No. The family freaked out when they saw the jewelry the dearly departed was to be buried with. Every one of them claims the deceased promised the sparkly stuff to them.”

  “What kind of jewelry are you talking about?”

  “Ten antique ruby rings, a pair of diamond earrings, a gold necklace and two diamond bracelets.”

  “Gotcha. Greedy family members. We’re pulling up now.”

  “Hurry.” The line disconnected.

  I jumped out of the truck as soon as it came to a stop in the mortuary’s parking lot and ran inside.

  Dutch was right behind me.

  I charged through the chapel doors and stared in utter shock at the sight of three elderly women bitch slapping each other in a coffin. Four other women desperately tried to wrestle the dearly departed out from under them.

  A distraught old lady clutching a rhinestone shoe and a vase of flowers sobbed hysterically as the women fought.

  “Damn,” Dutch muttered.

  Tinkerbell yipped.

  “No, they don’t have rabies.”

  Dutch snickered. “You sure about that?”

  “Well, they aren’t foaming at the mouth.”

  “Yet,” Dutch added.

  I looked around. The people in the pews almost seemed bored by the shenanigans. What kind of crazy family was this and where in the hell was Jana?

  My dad pulled two of the feisty grannies out of the casket, dumped them on a pew and bellowed, “Sit! If you move again, I’m locking you in the basement.”

  The granny still in the casket traded blows with the other women.

  “Enough!” Dutch roared in his best cop’s voice as he rushed over to them.

  All the women gaped at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

  Coffin granny huffed, “Watch your tone, young man.”

  Dutch pulled out his cuffs. “Sit down and behave yourselves o
r I’ll arrest all of you for disorderly conduct. A night in jail might do you some good.”

  Except for the weeping old lady, all the women quickly took a seat.

  Dad inclined his head.

  I nodded and walked over to the wailing old gal. “Are you okay?”

  “She took my shoes. She took my shoes.”

  Where was her keeper? The shoe she had a death grip on was a size 10 and she obviously didn’t have big feet. “But you got it back.”

  She cackled insanely. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” I urged her over to the front pew. “The service will be starting soon. Why don’t you sit here while I get you a glass of water.”

  She peered at me through the flowers. “Thank you honey.”

  The chapel doors crashed open with a loud bang! An athletic matron wearing a screaming yellow jogging suit stood there. “Did y’all really think I wouldn’t find out? No one steals from me! Not even the dead.” She stormed down the aisle. “I’m taking what’s mine. Anyone who thinks they can stop me is gonna get an ass-kicking. That goes for you fucking cops too.”

  A mask of steely authority on his face, Dutch moved to intercept her, while Dad circled around behind her.

  The matron side-stepped Dutch’s lunge, high-hurtled over a pew and grabbed an abandoned walker. “Get back!”

  Dutch kept coming and the bitch hurled the walker, striking him in the chest. He staggered back, tripped over a cane on the floor and down he went.

  “I know CPR,” one of the grannies cried. She jumped on top of Dutch and did a lip lock.

  Dad pulled the granny off him. “Go sit down.”

  “Party pooper,” she grumbled.

  I stepped in front of the bad-tempered matron. “You assaulted an officer and disrupted this funeral. Sit your butt down or the only one getting an ass-kicking is you.”

  Tinkerbell growled menacingly.

  “I’m not leaving until I get what’s rightfully mine.” The determined matron snatched a vase of flowers and threw them at me.

  I ducked and it shattered on the floor. “And now we can add criminal damage to your charges.”

  Totally ignoring me, the matron jumped in the casket and tugged frantically on the gold necklace the corpse wore. There was a snapping noise and the deceased head lolled at an odd angle.

  Oh ick! “Desecrating a corpse is gonna get you thirty days in county lockup.” I reached for her.

  “Get away from Aunt Mae,” a buxom blonde in her twenties shouted as she shoved me into the flower arrangements. Dozens of lilies, carnations and snapdragons rained down on me and Tinkerbell as we fell.

  Dutch hauled me out of the cascade of flowers in time to see the blonde pull out a big handful of Aunt Mae’s hair.

  Aunt Mae returned the favor. The coffin suddenly toppled over spilling her and the corpse on the floor.

  The blonde jumped on top of Aunt Mae, and they wrestled around.

  A teenage boy shouted, “Go Auntie Grace.”

  Dad grabbed Auntie Grace around the waist and lifted the loudly cursing woman off Aunt Mae.

  The feuding grannies suddenly fell on the body like wolves in a feeding frenzy.

  “This is better than an MMA event,” a distinguished elderly gentleman commented.

  I had to know. “Are they always like this?”

  “Yes. The Jones women are quite spirited,” he answered proudly.

  Nuts would be a better term.

  Jana stomped out of her office and pepper sprayed the fighting women. “Enough!”

  With a scream of pain, the women broke apart and frantically rubbed at their eyes.

  “I’m suing,” Aunt Mae shrieked.

  “Go right ahead. The security cameras caught everything, and my countersuit will bankrupt all of you,” Jana replied.

  A horde of cops rushed in.

  Dutch gestured at the women. “Arrest the lot of them.”

  The second the police officers snapped the cuffs on, the outraged family members attacked.

  Jana and I got out of the way and watched as a brawl of epic proportions erupted.

  “And I thought being a pet detective was dangerous,” I quipped to Jana.

  “Should we help them?”

  One look at Dad’s big grin and I shook my head. “Nah, guys get off on fights.”

  Chapter Ten

  Thankfully, the five-car funeral procession went off without a hitch. Most of the grieving relatives had been arrested and I prayed they wouldn’t bond out in time for the graveside service.

  The brawl had turned Dad and Dutch into best buddies. Go figure. Men were such weird creatures.

  Once the vehicles entered the cemetery, we peeled off to the visitor’s lot and parked our motorcycles under a shade tree. Jana and her attendant would handle the graveside services.

  I pulled off my helmet and sighed in relief as a faint breeze ruffled my sweat-soaked hair. I looked in the side mirror and grimaced. My black hair was a spikey mess. Using my fingers, I was able to smooth it back into what passed for a pixie cut.

  Woof. Woof.

  “A cold shower does sound good.” I removed Tinkerbell’s helmet too. “Thirsty girl?”

  Arf.

  Sliding Tinkerbell out of the carrier, I put her on the ground and retrieved my canteen.

  Dad and Dutch removed bottled water from their motorcycle’s storage bags and instead of drinking it, they dumped it over their heads.

  With a sigh, I poured water in Tinkerbell’s bowl and placed it on the ground. She lapped it up thirstily. “Jana’s short two escort riders next Saturday, you guys interested?”

  “Let me check with your mother,” Dad said.

  Dutch nodded. “Sure, unless I get a callout. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

  I frowned when I noticed a member of the honor guard standing next to a white van. Why wasn’t he at the gravesite? Jana was gonna have a cow. I pulled out my cellphone and sent her a text. Missing one of your honor guard?

  Jana text back. No. All here.

  Huh? I took a closer look at him. His uniform was all wrong and he looked awfully familiar. The only person I knew with a dragon tattooed on his skull was Dick. I called, “Dick? Is that you?”

  Dutch grabbed his neck. “Fuck!” He crumpled to the asphalt.

  “Run!” Dad gasped as he fell.

  I pulled my gun and whirled around. A sharp pain blossomed in my shoulder and I gaped at the protruding tranquilizer dart. Crap! I yanked it out.

  Tinkerbell growled as Samson walked toward us with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “Told you, I’d be back.”

  Gotta pull the trigger. Gotta. A wave of dizziness hit me. The gun slipped from my suddenly nerveless fingers and the next thing I knew I was face down on the asphalt.

  Tinkerbell yipped at me.

  “Get. Jana. Hurry.” I fought to stay conscious.

  Arf. She took off across the parking lot.

  Samson picked me up. “What? Does she think she’s Lassie?”

  “Won’t. Help. You.” As I sank into the waiting darkness, I heard him say, “Once you see my bargaining chip, you’ll be eager to do anything I want.”

  “You are a very naughty man,” mom cried from the van.

  “Big. Mistake,” I murmured as everything faded away.

  Chapter Eleven

  Someone shook me violently. “Wake up. Wake the hell up.”

  Huh? Why was mom singing Jingle Bells at the top of her lungs? A memory niggled at the back of my mind. Something bad had happened, but what?

  “Wake up!” A hand smacked my face.

  Ouch! It all came rushing back. That bastard had kidnapped us. Prying my eyes open, I stared at Samson’s frazzled expression and suppressed a grin. Mom drove most normal folks completely nuts in about an hour. “What?”

  “Get that Christmas Elf to shut the fuck up.”

  “You kidnap
ped my mother, you deal with her,” I said sweetly. When I tried to move, I realized I was tied to a chair. My gaze swept the area. I was inside a small, cluttered office. Through the glass door I could see the interior of a large metal hangar with a DC 10 cargo plane parked on the concrete. Crap, we were in Marana, Arizona. Harry’s base of operations for his illegal activities. I caught a brief glimpse of Dick. He always reminded me of a Sunday School teacher until you noticed his tattoos.

  Samson took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his long, red hair. “She’s been singing Christmas songs nonstop for the last three hours.”

  “Not. My. Problem.”

  “I know one way to stop her from singing.” Samson pulled his Glock.

  “You harm one hair on my mother’s head and I’ll never help you with your tiger problem.” I met his cold-eyed stare with one of my own. “Plus, I’ll summon every biting, stinging critter in the area and sic ’em on you.”

  Not being a complete idiot, Samson holstered his gun. “What’ll it take to get your cooperation?”

  I had to face reality. Samson was never going away until I helped him. On the bright side, I needed someone with his skill set. “You immediately release my mother and once you’ve helped me rescue a tiger from a hunting ranch in Texas, I’m all yours.”

  “Deal.”

  I blinked. “Just like that?”

  “I know when you enter into an agreement, you abide by it,” Samson said.

  “Let me talk to my mother.”

  Samson opened the door and shouted, “Bring the Christmas Elf.”

  Dick dragged my still singing mother into the office.

  “Kandi!” Mom cried and threw her arms around me. “My precious baby girl. Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Mom slipped me a knife and patted my sore cheek. “Good.” She picked up the trash can by the desk and walloped Dick with it.

  Dick staggered back and blood gushed from his nose. “What the fuck?”

  Samson yanked the trash can out of her hands before she could use it on him. “I see where Kandi gets her mean streak from.”

  “Oh, no dear. She gets that from her father.” Mom kicked him in the nuts.

  Samson doubled over. “Shit!”

  I cut myself free.

  “I thought we had a deal,” Samson croaked.