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Prologue

He was back in that same dark apartment, stumbling around the kitchen looking for a way out, lightheaded from the multiple gashes on his arms that were still bleeding heavily. Focus, he thought to himself, you know this place, now find the door. After a few more bumps and bruises, he managed to make his way to the still-open front door and down the hallway before collapsing in the lobby by the elevators. As he fell unconscious from blood loss, he thought he smelled....bacon?

Chris awoke with a start from his latest nightmare and immediately checked his forearms for any traces of blood. Finding only smooth black and white fur, his heart slowed enough that he could breathe normally again. After a minute or so of lying there, he realized that the smell of frying bacon hadn't faded like it should have. Immediately on his guard, he rolled out of bed, rising to his full six foot two height, and slipped a knife out from under the mattress. While he was padding down the stairs towards the source of the scent, Chris couldn't help but wonder what burglar would bother to make bacon while stealing whatever he came for. Flicking the knife into his right hand, he walked into the living room ready to fight, at least until he saw who it was that had disturbed his rest.

"Morning Chris, sorry if I caused a problem, was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed for a change."

His cheeks burning with embarrassment, Chris realized it was a Saturday morning and his girlfriend, another white tiger, was the mystery burglar he was ready to dice up. "Sorry hon, lost track of what day of the week it was, didn't expect you to be home is all. Since I'm up I'll save you the trouble of taking everything upstairs."

Andrea chuckled and set down the plates she'd been carrying. "No harm done, and not that I mind the view, but you might want to consider a robe or something. Bacon grease is not one of those things you want to splatter on yourself." She walked past him, brushing into his toned figure and missing another flush as Chris discovered he was completely nude, standing at the table with a six inch switchblade in his hand.

Minutes later, he and Andrea were seated at their little end table eating eggs, toast, and bacon. He'd found a black bathrobe on the banister, probably Andy had just done the wash and not bothered taking everything back upstairs yet. Chris focused more on his girlfriend than on breakfast, as they usually didn't see each other much during the week. She worked regular nine to five hours at a local technology firm, while he held down a pair of jobs, one in the morning at an automobile service center, the other from around seven until eleven at a nightclub downtown as a bouncer. Both had repeatedly tried to change their hours so as to be able to spend more time with each other, but due to the nature of their jobs, the only possible option had been for Chris to start the maintenance position a few hours later, which meant less hours or risk being late getting to the club for his other job. Money was oddly tight for a couple of 21 year olds with no children, a house that was paid off, and only two older cars that had been paid for in cash, so Chris never acted on the offer to change hours. Besides, they had the weekends to themselves for the most part, and the work was usually interesting, so neither of them minded too much.

"Hey Andy, don't forget we've got that meeting with Jack Holland tonight, I know he said it was just an informal get-together, but you remember how he was back in school..."

"Yeah, I do, good old Cracker Jack Holland. Wonder what he's gotten himself into lately? I'd have thought that teaching position he held while we were there would have driven him nuts by now," she said as she cleared the table off. Andy was only an inch or so shorter than Chris, which made quite a few things in life much easier. They could drive each other's cars without having to adjust the seats, walk comfortably arm in arm, as well as plenty of other day-to-day activities. Chris never needed to work out due to his jobs keeping him active and in shape, while Andy's metabolism was fast enough to keep the fat off. Beneficial, since they were fond of various martial arts and would often spar with each other when the occasion presented itself.

Jack Holland, or 'Cracker Jack' as he was known to many, was never far from mischief, a computer, or a good drink. Usually he combined the three and ended up needing a ride home or a place to hide out from the Feds depending on his activities that day. He taught at the secondary school Chris and Andy used to attend, and they befriended him quickly, as all three were interested in technology, more specifically ways to use technology for their own gain. Jack had already bumped his pay grade a few notches over the course of the years he'd been working, and thanks to a filing mishap, he never had to pay taxes on the increase. As far as Chris knew the IRS had never caught up to him over it, and he doubted they ever would. He hollered to Andy that he was going to get cleaned up and go out for a while before dinner, and that he'd be back by four.

After going back into the bedroom and turning on the shower, Chris tossed off his robe and sat thinking about his life since he graduated school. He'd lived with his parents for another year but finally decided to move out and buy a place with Andy, whose parents put up about half the price of the house. Chris's parents didn't seem to mind the whole arrangement, and even bought a car for "his S.O." It ended up becoming his car when one of Andy's cousins gave her his Corvette as a housewarming gift. Two cars was probably overkill for living at the edge of the city, but it was much easier to know that you had a ride available at all times, rather than trying to depend on public transportation and being late to work constantly. The sudden cessation of squealing from the pipes pulled him away from his thoughts and Chris stepped into the refreshingly hot stream of water.

***

The snow leopard didn't know much about the human sitting in front of his TV watching the morning news other than the fact that he was CEO of MediaWare Limited, a national software company that produced various products to assist Hollywood filmmakers with their CGI craze. He could care less what this gentleman had done in his life, what mistakes he'd made to put him where he was right now. An icy calm spread over the leopard's form as he tweaked his scope one last time, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. A spray of blood over the far wall confirmed what he already knew; his target was dead and it was time for him to leave.

***

Chris had just pulled out of the driveway when he heard the radio DJ announce a police report of the death of Greg Johnson, founder of MediaWare and highly successful entrepreneur. Guess the board of directors didn't like his business decisions, Chris thought as he flipped on the CD player. As he put down the windows of his Integra, he realized it was much warmer than he expected for a spring day and briefly considered changing out of his black jeans and t-shirt. As he cruised down the road with the latest from Avenged Sevenfold blasting from his speakers, the white tiger felt like all his worries had disappeared for a while, especially those recurring nightmares he'd been having lately.

He couldn't think of any reason for them, he'd never had any traumatic experiences in his childhood, hadn't cut any bad deals with people lately, never even been to an apartment like the one he kept seeing. Sure, he'd killed a burglar last year, but that was in paw-to-paw combat, not with any sort of blades. The fox probably was new to the business, didn't case the house properly before entering that night. Andy had been up late watching TV and her yell woke Chris as well as startled the poor fox. Had he just turned and run he'd probably still be alive, but he pulled a knife as Chris came in. Andy dropkicked him across the room and the last thing he saw was a set of claws flicking across his throat. It was ruled as a self-defense killing and both tigers were set free immediately following questioning the next day. That had never bothered him then, and there was no reason for it to start now, especially not like this.

Pulling into the parking lot of the local electronics shop, he turned the radio back on and caught the tail end of an APB for a black 2010 Mustang GT. Probably for that job on Johnson earlier, oh well, cops will never find the guy probably. Turning off the ignition, Chris got out and strolled into the store, ignoring the stares of other patrons. The section of town he was in consisted of predominately mid to upper class humans, so the sight of a fur at the corner store drew a little attention, but no one paid him too much mind, he wasn't the stereotypical trailer trash or criminal they were probably used to. He even got wolf whistles from some of the teenage girls as he walked by, but he ignored them easily. He wasn't into humans romantically, preferring other felines. He'd been with Andrea for about five years now, since the middle of high school at least, and they'd probably end up married in another year anyways.

The security guard at the door gave Chris a dirty look, but from his attitude towards an exiting canine, it appeared he was just one of those humans that didn't like furs to begin with. There were still some people like that unfortunately; they felt like the natural order of things had been altered somehow, that humans had played God and that furs were simply a horrific science experiment. The tiger blew off the guard and walked into the shop, knowing exactly what he was looking for and where to get it. He'd been to this place so many times he could probably navigate it blindfolded, side effect of being a computer hacker or something.

Grabbing a pair of half terabyte external pocket hard drives, some spare cables, and yet another USB hub to connect them with, he started back to the registers. This was where most of his income went, directly into his computer equipment. He only bought the best, and it showed in the costs, even the cables were ten bucks apiece for just 3 feet. As luck would have it, the one new guy on the shift was just finishing up with his customer and there was no one behind him to take the standard sales pitch for whatever warranties were being sold these days. Stepping up to the counter, gear in hand, Chris couldn't help but notice that the sales clerk almost seemed intimidated by the six foot tall tiger. Dropping the drives and other items on the counter, he immediately told the clerk he wasn't interested in any warranties, newsletters, promotions, etc. unless they got him a discount.

"Are you sure? We have this great deal on platinum-tipped cables going on â€""

"If I wanted platinum, I would have gotten platinum. Gold is just fine for what I want to do."

"Well, how about the seven port upgrade on this hub? Only five dollars."

"I got a four; I want a four, not a seven. Ring my order up, I'll be paying cash."

"Yes sir. That'll be $247.36; you did say cash, right?"

"You heard me," said Chris as he handed over a few bills to the clerk.

"Of course, sorry sir. Two dollars sixty four cents is your change. Have a nice day." The clerk didn't appear too enthusiastic about the nice day bit, but being cut down a few pegs by a customer didn't happen every day either.

"You too," Chris muttered as he walked out, bags in hand. Oh well, he'll learn eventually. The guard gave him another sneer as he left, but again Chris ignored him completely. He wanted to punch the arrogant fool, but didn't feel like wasting the energy right now, not to mention the commotion he'd cause and the extra shower he'd have to take to get the blood off his paw.

Getting back into the forest green Integra Type R, he debated whether he should head home now and spend time with Andy, or go down to the local pool hall and shoot some billiards. A quick glance at his watch told him the hall wasn't even open yet, since it was Saturday they didn't open until two, and it was only one o'clock, so he decided to go back to his house and lounge around for a few hours before meeting Jack for dinner.

Andrea hadn't even bothered getting dressed by the time he got home, she was still in a black bra and thong. Sitting next to her on the couch, Chris put his arm around her and pulled her in close to him, enjoying the warmth provided by her body. The tigress started purring softly as she felt Chris nuzzling the back of her neck. "You know, we've got a couple hours before we have to be at dinner," she said softly.

"My thoughts exactly," came Chris' reply, muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt as he pulled it over his head. His jeans suddenly became much tighter as he watched Andy slip her thong off, tossing it away with a quick twitch of her foot. "Let's kill two birds with one stone, shall we?" he asked as he picked her up and started towards the stairs, nibbling on her ears the whole way.

***

Gary Hoffman slammed his fist down on his desk in frustration. The fact that his department had still failed to apprehend the only suspect in this morning's shooting of that company's CEO was just one more problem that he'd been taken to task for in the emergency department meeting. Not like it should be hard to find a brand new jet black Mustang around here, nobody buys American anymore. He flipped through his folder of open cases, trying to see if there were any trends in recent murders. Not finding any after a quick glance, he tossed the papers to one corner of his desk, pulled out a cigarette and his lighter, and lit up. He was getting sick of taking all the blame for his officers' incompetence. If you want something done right, you've gotta do it yourself apparently, he thought bitterly. Ballistics tests had come back from the lab while he was in his meeting, and he looked them over, hoping that someone had been able to match the murder weapon to a buyer. The numerous blank boxes revealed that there had been no such luck; all that had been determined was that the slug was fired from a typical hunting rifle, nothing illegal at all. In fact, the single most suspect thing about the report was the failure to identify a buyer for a sport gun, but considering the general state of funding for these labs, Gary was willing to overlook it as poor research.

He looked up as his secretary stuck her head in to his office, wondering what bit of bad news she'd brought him this time. Remembering the old adage of 'don't shoot the messenger', Gary forced a smile to his lips and asked her what was up.

"Oh, I just wanted to see if you wanted anything for lunch, I was going out in a few minutes anyways. Everything okay boss?" Her face was perfectly neutral, but the worry made itself obvious in her voice. It was no real secret around the office that the police chief had a thing for his admittedly cute lioness secretary, even though he had a wife and kids at home. He never talked about it, but he'd often fantasize that his wife was actually the large-breasted, golden-haired, smooth-talking feline while making love to her. He knew his family would never have approved of his seeing a fur, much less marrying one, but he could most certainly enjoy things in the privacy of his thoughts.

"Yeah Shannon, could you grab me a turkey club or something? Thanks." He waited until she'd closed the door to his office and returned to his work. There had to be something that would give him a clue as to the identity of the murderer, but no one remembered seeing the license plate on the getaway car, and it turned out there were slightly more new Mustangs than he though, a few hundred more to be precise. The logical next step would have been to look for one registered to someone nearby the scene of the shooting, the CEO's suburban mansion, but the only registered owners of a car fitting the description he'd received all lived either way out in the more rural areas, or deep in the inner city. Looked like he'd have another long night at the office, this time for legitimate work too. His wife was going to kill him if he didn't come home on time every single day next week, so he'd better get cracking on this case and wrap it up by tomorrow. He didn't mind working Sundays at half pay if it meant solving at least one open report sitting on his desk, not to mention saving his head at home and letting him spend more time afterhours with his secretary at the local bar.

***

As the pair of tigers finished toweling themselves off and brushing their fur, Andy asked her boyfriend if he remembered the last time they'd had sex in the shower.

"I don't remember the last time, but I can tell you the next time is going to be tomorrow morning. Would have been better if the hot water hadn't run out halfway through, but oh well," replied Chris. It was only three o'clock, but he figured fifteen minutes minimum to get dressed and decide on whose car to take, plus a forty-minute drive, which would get them to the club with five minutes to spare before they were supposed to meet Jack. He grabbed a pair of boxer shorts and a dress shirt from his dresser, and picked up his jeans from where they'd been discarded earlier. Andy spent a few extra minutes grooming herself, and then slipped into a pair of low-rise boy shorts, strapless bra, and knee length dress, all black of course. Black thigh socks and dress flats finished her attire for the evening, while Chris opted for crew socks with tennis shoes, also black to match his jeans. As they headed out of the house, Andy grabbed her keys from the peg on the wall.

"Guess you're driving then honey."

"What, like you expected me to let you take that Japanese junker to a dinner meeting with Jack Holland? Are you crazy? This calls for good old American muscle, especially since we might be racing him afterwards."

"Hey, that 'junker' has almost 400 horses under the hood, I bet it'll smoke whatever ole Cracker can throw at it." Chris replied, with mock injury in his voice.

"Yeah, we'll test that some other time. You still need to get the headlights fixed anyways, so we can't drive it at night to begin with," Andy shot back, silencing his arguments.

As Andy started up the fire red 1986 Corvette, she smiled a little. There wasn't much that compared to driving through the city at sixty in second gear, especially if it was dark out. The sun was still a ways away from the horizon, but she knew with Holland's penchant for talking about everything under the sun, it'd be plenty dark on the trip back.

The radio was playing smooth jazz as they drove through the city streets, and both tigers let their eyes wander over the landscape, seeing shops opening for the crowds of people soon to be getting off work, little cafes closing their doors only to reopen them in a few hours with neon signs blazing in the windows. The remarkable transformation the entire city underwent every evening was a sight to behold, and was a huge factor in the location of the house Andy selected. She loved the nightlife just as much as the next girl, but was also more restrained when it came to random hookups and heavy drinking.

Arriving at the nightclub, Chris noticed a very new, very shiny, black Mustang GT parked close to the door. Motioning to Andy to park next to it, he unhooked his seatbelt and turned down the radio. As they got out of the car, he glanced inside of the 'stang and couldn't help but be a little envious of the owner. Black leather seats, navigation unit in the dash, digital speedometer, in other words, whoever bought it had spared no expense in customizing it. Oh, what I'd give for one of those, he thought, but I can't imagine what it had to cost. American cars were more expensive these days, simply because people had migrated away from them, preferring European and Japanese vehicles solely based on maintenance costs. The problem with that thinking was that no one ever considered the fact that a good American car generally didn't break down very often, and provided a very luxurious ride, even over rough stretches of road.

Jack was seated at the far end of the bar, facing the door, so he saw the pair of tigers come in at exactly four o'clock. Waving them over, the snow leopard called for the barkeep to serve up a couple extra Heinekens. He hoped that neither of them had changed their preferred drink lately, but didn't care too much if they had. He knew they'd drink them anyways, especially since he was paying.

"Good evening, my friends," he said very formally, before sliding off his barstool to hug Andrea and shake hands with Chris.

"Haven't changed a bit I see. Nice to know we can still count on one thing remaining the same in this crazy world. Crackerjack Holland will always be the crazy guy in our little group, not that I'm complaining, crazy is good." Chris chuckled as he spoke, just to be certain Jack got the fact that it was meant as humor. Never can be too safe around him, especially after what he did to that one kid who insulted him in front of the whole class my senior year. Chris hopped up onto a stool, with Andy taking the one between the two felines.

The night passed quickly, with Jack flirting with any attractive girl that walked through the door, regardless of species, Chris cracking raunchy jokes, Andy flipping shot glasses in the air a few feet above the counter, and the bartender slinging beers down the bar constantly. All three of them had high tolerances for alcohol, which had won them a few bets before their friends caught on.

Around seven thirty or so, Jack steered the conversation back to more serious matters than deciding which of the twin sisters at the end of the bar was more attractive. "So, Chris, not to sound rude about it or anything, but I know money is a little tight with you guys. It's obvious that having to work two jobs is taking a toll on both of you, and if Andy wasn't such an upstanding girl I'm fairly certain she'd have either cheated or broken up with you by now."

"Yeah, that's about right, at least as far as the money goes. Why do you bring it up? You aren't one to gloat about things like that." Chris was genuinely puzzled at Holland's quip, because for all the years they'd known him, he'd never taken a holier-than-thou attitude towards someone unless he was ridiculing his boss.

"No, I am one to offer both of you a deal you would be hard-pressed to refuse however. I can get you jobs that pay well, offer very flexible hours, and have plenty of perks attached," Jack replied, smiling in that mischievous way he had.

"What's the catch?" This time it was Andrea who spoke up, because as much as the idea of breaking free of her boring old nine-to-five routine appealed to her, she remembered what her grandmother always told her, which was that if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was.

"Oh, there is no catch per se, as long as you don't mind the possibility of a job in the middle of the night...and a little bit of blood on your hands occasionally."

"How much is 'pays well' Jack? Enough to buy a couple new cars?" asked Chris. He really wanted a new car, mostly since his was getting up in miles and things had started going wrong often enough that it was becoming more expensive to fix than it would be to buy a new car.

"Did you happen to notice that Mustang out front? Black on black interior, all the options? That's my daily driver; cost me forty-two thousand dollars, paid in full at the dealer off a week's wages. And that was a bad week to boot."

Sighing, Chris told Jack he'd have to think about it. He really wanted the flexible hours so he could be with Andy more, and the money couldn't hurt, but something nagged at him. Jack had said something about bloody hands, which worried him a slightly. What kind of work does Holland do these days? I thought he was a schoolteacher still.

Thanking him again for their little outing, and all the booze, the two tigers stood to leave. Jack leaned off his stool and whispered to Andy that she really should give it some serious consideration. She smiled back at him as she walked out arm in arm with Chris.

The drive back seemed too short, partly because they were so excited at the prospect of new jobs, and partly because they street-raced a couple punks in a riced up Civic. They won easily, not as if a Corvette could possibly lose to a cheap mass-market economy car, even if it wasn't tuned to within an inch of perfection by Chris' friends down at the shop.

As the happy couple stripped down and got ready for bed, the glow still hadn't faded from their faces. Andy actually jumped into bed, landing on Chris' stomach, almost causing him to vomit up his liquid dinner. "Jeez, I know you're excited, but try to avoid killing me tonight, I sense whatever scheme Jack has cooked up this time will put us in harm's way often enough as it is."

***

The next morning, Andy was awakened by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Answering it, she heard the voice of one of her co-workers.

"What's up Brad?" she asked groggily.

"We just lost the MediaWare contract, they're cutting jobs left and right, you, me, and at least twenty other guys are getting our notices tomorrow morning, at least if you believe the rumor mill."

"Mhmm, well, thanks for letting me know. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"You don't sound too concerned, you realize what this could mean? Job hunting, unemployment offices, etc."

"Well Brad, I'll be honest with you. I've recently decided to explore other career opportunities. Thanks again for looking out for me. Bye now." With that, she hung up the phone, smiled, and went back to sleep. She'd have a horny tiger to wash come morning, and she needed all the sleep she could get.

END