one fluid motion, the cat jumped up on top of the gun safe, curled his paws over the top edge and rested his chin lightly between them.
Kiera sighed. She had forgotten all about Shiloh. Her escape plan hadn’t included a cat. However, since Shiloh and her father had basically adopted each other a few months before he was attacked, she couldn’t very well leave Shiloh here to fend for himself.
Though she would pity the person who broke in here with the moody tabby on the loose.
Kiera and Shiloh had developed somewhat of an uneasy coexistence since her father had gone to the hospital. Kiera didn’t particularly like cats, and Shiloh loved to annoy her. She’d actually grown used to having the feisty feline around and even held an odd fondness for him—something she would never admit openly.
The combination dial slid toward the last number, and the safe made a loud click as bars disengaged and allowed her to pull the heavy door open.
The strong scent of chocolate-covered cherries filled her senses, and the familiar sting of unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes. Her father never smoked his signature cigars inside the house, but whenever he cleaned his weapons or rearranged items in his safe, there was always a fat stogie clamped between his teeth.
Damn, I miss him .
She mentally shook herself and steeled her resolve. After all, her father would kick her ass if he found out sentimentality had gotten her captured.
Inside the safe, she found all her father’s weapons just as he had left them, along with extra ammunition and enough knives and other tools of combat to supply a small rebel army.
She pulled a large black gun duffel from the bottom cabinet and loaded an assortment of guns, ammunition, knives and other goodies into the bag. Guns weren’t always very effective against either race of witches, but there were enough humans and even half-breeds who were sympathetic with the Cunt Council that the assorted hardware would probably come in very handy.
The Humvee opened when she pressed in the code just under the door handle, and she tossed the gun duffel into the hidden panel under the back hatch and then set her backpack on the backseat.
A quick trip to the kitchen provided a bag full of cat food, basic nonperishable human food and medicinal supplies, which she placed next to her backpack.
“Shiloh,” she called to the cat still perched on top of the gun safe.
The cat stretched and then yawned before he jumped down and ambled forward as if he had all the time in the world.
“I wish Dad had gotten you used to a cat carrier. Then I could just toss your kitty ass in and get moving!”
Shiloh ignored her angry words and finally made his way to the Humvee, where he jumped in and curled into the front passenger seat where he had always ridden when her dad had taken him on trips.
Kiera slammed the door to the Humvee and walked back through the house, arming security sensors and testing locks. She knew nowhere was impenetrable, especially for the Cunts, but she refused to make it easy for them.
Finally, she slipped inside her room and pulled a large shoebox from under her bed. It held the last remnants she had of her mother, and she couldn’t bear the thought of them being taken or destroyed. Her mother had risked her life and her place in Cunt society to marry her father and try to give Kiera a normal life—and she had paid for it, dearly.
Kiera would always respect that, even though the decision had taken her mother from her.
With a last look around at the top floor of the house, she took the stairs two at a time, and almost as an afterthought, grabbed her father’s framed military medals off the wall and tucked them under her other arm.
She pulled the garage door shut behind her and set the house perimeter alarms before she turned back to the gun safe. The shoebox and the framed military medals fit snugly in the bottom drawer after she rearranged the Japanese throwing stars and the nunchucks. The drawer slid easily closed, which allowed her to close the heavy safe door and click the entry pad back in place over the combination dial.
With a last wistful look at her PT Cruiser, she slid into the Humvee and fastened her seatbelt. “Hold on tight, Shiloh. This may be a bumpy ride.”
Kiera drove until her eyes stung with fatigue. Shiloh purred softly on the passenger seat beside her, where he had curled, dozing through four changes of license plates, three stops for gas and one indulgent stop at a drive-through Starbucks for an iced venti caffe latte with a quad shot of espresso.
“Damn cat. A lot of help you are.” She scowled at the peaceful feline, who seemed to only purr louder at her words.
Her headlights cut a dim path through the darkened haze of predawn, and she almost missed the slightly obscured gravel driveway to the safe house she and her father had set up in case of emergency. There were actually seven of them in different locales, but she chose this one since it was the closest to home.
The Humvee barely fit down the small gravel road to the cabin, and the screech of low hanging branches brushing the side of the vehicle made her jump until her tired brain made sense of the noise. After a few winding curves, the headlights shone on a small log cabin with a tiny attached garage.
Adrenaline surged back into Kiera’s veins as her gaze swept the perimeter for any sign of something out of place. When nothing jumped out of the shadows at her, she stopped the Humvee and slid out of the driver’s side with the Ruger her father had given her cradled in her palm. She disengaged the safety and started forward with the muzzle of the gun pointed down and to the side.
The strong scent of pine and rich earth filled each breath, and she breathed deep since the smell brought back cherished memories of time spent camping with her father.
Something brushed her right ankle and she bit back a scream.
Then her mind processed the identity of the orange streak that raced toward the front door of the cabin.
Shiloh.
“Fucking cat,” she muttered under her breath. My own fault for not shutting the car door . He would have to fend for himself if he wasn’t careful.
Her gaze swept over everything, cataloging distances, possible hiding places and escape routes as she went.
The attached garage was manually operated with a handle that had a keyhole in it. It marred the rustic simplicity of the log cabin next to it, but since a garage would make it easier to conceal the Humvee, she really couldn’t complain. The windows of the two-story cabin were dark, and large thick trees and foliage enclosed the sides of the structure, casting it in further shadow, since only slivers of moonlight peeked through the thick cloud cover.
With the Ruger a comforting weight in her hand, she carefully made her way around the side of the cabin where Shiloh had disappeared. She slid in between the side of the cabin and close-growing trees, thankful for the generous cover the forest provided.
Her tennis shoes crunched softly against the pine needles that padded the forest floor, but she detected nothing out of place.
When she reached the back corner of the house, she approached the porch that ran the full length of the cabin and overlooked the lake.
Soft
