Page 22 of The Rabbit's Foot
Mal blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I want to help you. I need to do this.”
Mal sat back, keeping a hand on Alp’s bouncing leg. “No. No one else is going with me.”
She frowned, and then her expression morphed to one of anger. “Oh, I see. It’s a suicide mission,” she snapped. “You know, I took you to be a smart man. I’m sad to learn I was wrong.”
Mal scowled at her. “What? Listen—”
“No, you listen,” she shouted. “If there are that many shifters, how will they get out if you’re dead? Who’s going to let them loose from their pens? They’ll starve to death, or be crushed if they shift back. And how many have injuries that might kill them?” She tilted her head toward Alp. “It’s obvious you heal faster than normal, but like with Alp, sometimes you need another person to help make things better.”
Alp crossed his arms and sat back, a smug look on his face. “Don’t hold back, Lydia. Maybe he’ll listen to you, since he can’t seem to hear what I’m telling him.”
“I can’t protect you,” Mal snarled. “Don’t you fucking get it?”
She arched her eyebrows. “Do I look like someone who needs protection?” She blew out a breath. “I won’t kill anyone, but you need me to help those shifters who are injured. I mean, I’m not a human doctor, but if they’re in their animal forms, I can give them aid.”
Mal stood, his posture rigid. He hated that she was right. If he went in there and died, then all the shifters left in the building would probably die too. He had no problems killing the humans who’d vivisected the shifters, but he couldn’t see his way to condemning the people they’d held captive. Still, he was only one man, and he had no backup.
“I can’t take you in with me. There’s no one else to help.”
“My parents are coming,” Alp reminded him.
“Bunnies aren’t fighters. I won’t have you lose your folks.”
Alp snorted. “My mom is so pissed, she’d probably take them all on at once. You don’t hurt any of her babies.”
Mal pinned Alp with a harsh stare. “Be honest with me. Do you want your mother in a room with murderers? Do you want her to see their blood as it pours out from their mangled bodies? You good with her being in a building with corpses that have been torn apart?”
Alp paled. “N-no, I don’t.” Then he turned his gaze up at Mal. “But I can’t lose you either.”
The ache in Alp’s voice made Mal smile. “Okay, what if I promise to come back to you? Will that keep you home?”
Home? When had Mal started thinking of Swenson as home?
Around the same time you found Alp, don’t you think?
There was a small handful of places that Mal had been where he’d stayed more than three or four days, and none of them could offer anything to make him hang around. Once he pocketed the cash from the pool game, Mal was out of there. This time, he had a reason to stay.
“No,” Alp replied, his tone showing Mal this conversation was far from over. “Because you’d lie to keep me out of the way.”
“To keep you safe, you dumb bunny!”
Alp’s lips curled up, and then he and Lydia snorted. “Dumb bunny? Really? That’s the best you can come up with? At least I called you a big, dumb fucker.”
Mal reached out and stroked Alp’s hair. Soft, silky strands slid between his fingers. Alp pushed against his hand, and Mal was lost. He’d never had a reaction to anyone like this. Fuck ’em and get gone. That was the best way to handle these things. But he found that with Alp, he wanted to stick around. To run the woods together, to lay down by the lake and sun themselves on a lazy Sunday. He wanted….
“Mal?”
He turned to find Lydia staring at him. “Sorry, what’s up?”
“Do you know where these people are?”
Mal gave a shrug. “The way Alp was the day I found him, they couldn’t be far from there. He was falling over, stumbling, and—”
“I was fucked up. I think we get the point. Can you move on with your story?” Alp bitched.
Unable to stop himself, Mal reached out and ran fingers through Alp’s hair. “Sorry.” He turned back to Lydia. “The men were on foot too. I figure the best way is for me to go back to the area and nose around.”
