FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

What Was Broken -

Chapter 2

Saturday night was spent relaxing around Sean's barbeque, sharing stories over beers while the human seared the meat to the perfection of canine tastes; that being nearly raw. Lazy begged out, explaining that he had to set up a cargo interception at New York Harbor. His undercover work was coming to a head and he had to be ever more careful. In that relaxed atmosphere Sean found the wolf to be quite ribald in his humor; quick to laugh and turn a phrase while he flirted with Taws.

Sunday was spent over movies with Taws and Sean in a relaxed tangle on the couch while Oda sat on the floor in front, leaning back against them. Packing was a quick affair. Oda advised that Sean expect a week, though suspected that his witness testimony would take only a few hours, if that. There were no return flight reservations, only an open ticket, but the wolf promised that Sean would enjoy at least a week in Vegas, regardless.

She drove them to the airport and, in full view of the public, hugged him crushingly and planted a lingering, very canine, kiss upon him. Sean, of course, returned it in full measure, prejudice be damned. He loved his collie, and that was all there was to it. Oda, for his part, stood looking on with all the poise of a well-armed law enforcement officer ready to pounce on the first passing glare. He only carried a small overnight bag where Sean had a hefty suitcase, both of which went into luggage.

With a flash of his badge Oda boarded the plane fully armed. In public he carried himself with the deadly poise of a hunting cat, stony faced and implacable. Beside him Sean looked more like a fugitive than a guest. Surprisingly the airline graced them with a gratis upgrade to First Class, placing them all the way forward. Perhaps because what pilot would not want an armed Fed just outside the cockpit door? It was the not the first time that Sean had flown First Class, but it was the first time he did so for free, with the added bonus of not having the tail of the non-human seated in front of him lying in his lap.

As the plane rose into the air Oda jabbed Sean with his elbow and grinned, "Too bad. No limousines."

Sean guffawed so abruptly and so loudly that the stewardess seated in the galley looked at them curiously.

Oda looked on quietly as Sean unconsciously burned through six of those tiny bottles of in-flight liquor, varying his taste beyond the whiskey he had seen the man throw back at his house. By the end of the flight Sean was happily buzzed and very relaxed.

But still, Oda observed, drunk. He had not seen the man touch a drop, beyond the one whiskey he had when they went through the Mines for the first time, during their previous trip. The demon had done more than just give the man nightmares; it had given him a habit. He said nothing, however.

Even well past sunset, the dry summer heat of Las Vegas hammered Sean unpleasantly when they stepped through the doors of the airport. He wiped his brow and panted, regretting the one drink he had on the plane as its calming warmth became a furnace in his gut. While they waited for the shuttle that would take them to the long term parking Oda left his car at Sean leaned on a pole and tried not to sweat through his suit. "It wasn't nearly this hot the last time we were here." He groused.

"That was April, and yes, it was." Oda rumbled quietly, "But you had other concerns."

"Yeah, I guess I did." The boarded the shuttle and rode to the parking lot in silence among a dozen others. Oda's car proved to be a pretty standard issue fleet sedan that, despite being unmarked, screamed 'LAWMAN!' It was comfortable, though, and the air conditioning was a welcome relief.

"Where're we staying this time?"

"One of the safe houses. I haven't told the court liaison where, though. My little secret." Despite his height, some six feet even if one discounted the ears, Oda was not cramped by the front seat of the sedan. He drove with a relaxed lean, one hand atop the wheel and his tail, thrust through the factory designed hole in the back of the seat, relaxed on the floor behind him. "Word on the street doesn't indicate that the Family has put a mark on you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Mark?" Sean blinked, his stomach churning. Vegas' air must be thinner, he thought, as well as drier, because it was really playing hell with his buzz. At least he wasn't nauseated. The first few times he tried to quash the cat's demonic presence he had quite overdone it and been nauseated for hours afterward. One of his co-workers had suggested ways to avoid the hangovers, which alarmed Sean that his condition had been noticed, but he took them to heart. He also cut back considerably on the whiskey. A fifth would last him a week, or more, depending on the demon.

"Mark, hit. Assassination."

"Shit." Sean huffed.

"Reality, Sean. You ground your boot on some big names in getting Ashley out, and exposing them. But that border collie, Bryant, is their big target, and Ashley as well since she saw a lot of - clients." He rumbled sourly as the seams in the road clicked by under the car in a steady, admittedly nauseating rhythm. Sean found his head bobbing to the steady click-whack of each one. "More than a few held positions of authority in the public and private sector." The wolf did not seem to notice Sean's discomfiture, nor the fact that he was doing just shy of ninety miles an hour. "Hell, she already fingered the first judge she saw; a stuffy old afghan hound. Screamed him right off the bench! A friend of mine, a bailiff in the federal court house, was in that courtroom when she was brought in for a deposition." Laughing, the wolf swept through a staggered line of semis easily without losing speed. "She told the whole courtroom what he looked like without robes, and the way his cock bent to the left, and exactly how it measured up... which apparently it didn't. I imagine it was utter chaos, but I would've been laughing my ass off."

"What happened then?" Sean tried to look at his lap, but the click-whack was giving him a headache. He didn't have his hangover cure. "I hope we're going to stop at a store?"

"She got pulled out, the judge is on indefinite suspension pending an investigation. Whole brouha is on hold until they decide if they want a change of venue or to bring a judge from another part of the state." Cutting a swerve between two slower moving cars Oda slewed to an onramp, "Store, sure thing, coming right up."

He brought Sean to a Super Mega Holy Shit! Mart; an edifice that had a quarter mile frontage and looked almost as deep. Luckily it had entrances convenient to whatever particular style of shopping was desired so they went straight to the grocery side. Oda wandered off to secure a few odds and ends while Sean made for the juice isle for his hangover panacea; white grapefruit juice. He grabbed a half dozen two-quart bottles, making sure to grab the ones without corn syrup. He went through half of one while leaning against the back of the car waiting for the wolf.

"Hung over much?" Oda chuckled at the sight.

"Yeah. That drink packed more of a hit than I thought." They slipped back into the car and returned to the highway, once again zipping along at ninety, utterly heedless of the slower traffic flashing by on their right.

"That drink? Bucko, you had six of them."

"Six?" Sean gaped, then sighed, "Yeah, that'd explain it." He rubbed his temples and continued working through the grapefruit juice.

"That works, eh?" Slowing for another exit Oda cruised off the highway into darkness. At the top of the ramp was a single ancient, unlit and shuttered gas station and then; nothing. Not even street lights.

"Like a charm, but not in moderation. Eight ounces for each uncut shot, or four ounces mixed." He capped the empty bottle and dropped it between his feet. Off to the southwest the glow of Vegas lit the night sky, the brilliant spear of Luxur's light stabbing heavenward. "How far out are we?"

The wolf steered onto a side road; a poorly maintained single lane strip of asphalt that made the car rattle, "About twenty from Vegas, another five off the Strip to the courthouse." They bumped down the road for a mile, then turned onto an even less recognizable path; nothing more than two channels left by tires in the dust and gravel. The goat track led down into a broad canyon with gravel rattling loudly in the car's wheel wells. At the far end of the canyon Oda's rattling ride finally came to a stop in front of another house. But for the brilliant beam of Luxor seen just beyond one lip of the canyon Vegas was no more than a glow. A dozen windows shone from the scarce few houses along the canyon, alone to provide illumination but for the stars and moon.

"Safe house Charlie. It's not grand, but it's out of the way."

"As long as the AC works, it'll do." Sean grabbed his suitcase and bag of grapefruit juice from the trunk and followed the wolf up the stairs. Oda's tail brushed his chest during the climb and he found himself just staring at it stupidly, finding it quite different than Taws' own. Hers was longer, and the fur draped from its gracefully upswept curve. The wolf's was straight but for the gravity imparted sag, and the dense fur gave it considerably more girth as well, like a bottle brush as opposed to the collie's whisk broom.

Observed, noted, and filed away in the back of Sean's head to be regurgitated during a brainstorming session in the future if the marketing department got a contract for anything related to fur. "Safe house, sweet safe house." Oda rumbled as he pushed the door open. The hinges squeaked alarmingly and Sean gave them a raised eyebrow as he walked past. "You try sneaking through that." Oda observed as he followed the human in.

The air conditioning most certainly did work, as the adobe walled house was pleasantly cool. Naked wooden beams defined an unfinished seeming ceiling twelve feet above and a single unbalanced ceiling fan wobbled, though quietly, in the center of the front room. An old CRT television sat on a wire frame shelf in the corner with an ancient, long couch against a half-wall on the far side of the room. Beyond the half wall was the kitchen, which was hardly fancy but serviceable. All of the windows were covered with thick burgundy velvet curtains.

The floor creaked with every step. "There's no sneaking of any sort in this place." Sean said as he swung his suitcase up onto the couch. "Bed?"

"Yours is over there, in the back door to your left," Oda replied, nodding towards one side of the hallway. "Other side is the bunk room, where the detail usually crashes when this place is in use. I'll be sacking out here on the couch instead, since there's only the front door, and the back going to the deck. Both doors have rusty hinges, and the couch is not visible from either. All of the windows are barred, so no getting in that way, either. Or out," he concluded with a huge wolfish leer at the human's curious glance.

"You scare me, wolf." Sean said with a shake of his head. "First you point me to a small room in the back, then say that you'll be between me and any exits, and end with a leer that makes me think that any attempt to use either could very well prove fatal. Yeah, that's reassuring." He wandered through the kitchen as he talked, opening doors to see what lay beyond. A pantry was behind one, and an aged wooden deck complete with a couple of slat wood lounge chairs beyond another. The deck overlooked the rising back wall of the valley and the thin trickle of a spring burbling into a pool was a dark slash a stone's throw distant. At the back of the hall off the main room was the single toilet and shower. Doors on one side were to the bedroom and a closet, the bunk room opposite them. "If this is a safe house, shouldn't the protective detail be two or more?"

"Four, actually, usually. But there's no credible, or verified, threats to your safety so ... well, I'm just taking precautions on my own until the brass decide otherwise."

"Thanks."

"Anytime, lad."

"There with the 'lad' again... anyway, I'm for bed. Those six drinks you say I had are driving construction equipment around in my head." Hauling his suitcase from the sofa he slogged off to the bedroom. At least the bed did not look half so careworn as the couch. It proved soft, with comfortable linens despite being a pastel pink monochrome. Sean shucked himself down to his briefs and sprawled in it, using just the sheet as a cover. The air conditioning worked fine, but it wasn't cranked down to northeastern cool.

Digging his phone from the pocket of his shirt he was surprised to find that it had full signal despite the remoteness of their location. He thumbed a quick text while he settled in comfortably. It was a strange bed in an unfamiliar room and did not smell like Home; it smelled a bit like wolf. Not that Sean really knew what wolf smelled like, but imagined it was probably a bit like Taws, but different.

Text Message To: Taws

All settled in safely. See you soon. Love you.

Aided by the comfortable cool keeping the swelter of the Nevada desert at bay, the comfortable wolf-scented bed, and the lassitude induced by the fading warmth of copious liquor, sleep stealthily stole up and dragged him down before his phone buzzed with Taws' reply.

The room was still dark when Sean was awakened some time later by the scent of coffee and hissing spit of a skillet in use. The door to the room was slightly open letting a wedge of light spill across the floor. Sean had a bad case of cotton mouth and bladder bloat but, beyond a little muzziness in his head he was suffering no ill effects of his copious alcohol consumption the previous evening. The juice had worked its wonders, as usual. The room was uncomfortably chill and Sean grumbled, unwilling to come out from under the pleasant warmth of the blankets he had dragged over himself at some point in the night.

Mother nature, however, had an entirely different agenda and made that abundantly clear while he lay there. With a sigh he levered himself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. A heavy terry cloth robe hung from the top of the door and he snatched it down to wrap himself.

After answering nature's rather irritated late acknowledgement he wandered from the room to find Oda in the kitchen preparing some manner of morning repast. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the small house. Oda glanced up with a rakish grin.

"Morning, sunshine. Pink suits you."

Sean looked down at the robe and grunted, "'S not pink." He grumbled, shuffling past Oda toward the coffee pot. A couple of tall, oversized mugs stood nearby and, much to Sean's muddy headed delight, so was a collection of his preferred coffee fixings.

"Oh, what color is it then?" Oda turned back to the skillet and poked the bacon in it with long roast fork.

Stirring his coffee and raising it to his nose to savor the rich aroma he glanced over the wolf's shoulder. "It's red. Pale red."

"Pale red, hmm?" The wolf tuned his head slightly to fix Sean with a pale golden glance, "They have a name for that color."

"Yeah?" Sean moved around to lean against the end of the couch and sip his caffeine recharge. "What?"

"Pink."

"Fuck you, dog." Sean snorted into his cup, but with some humor. Oda poked the long fork toward him with a grin of his own.

"Not until the bacon's done." The wolf winked with a toothy grin, tail wagging lazily behind the baggy, raggedly cut off denim shorts he was wearing. They hung low on his hips, human style, doing nothing to hide the fact that the wolf was male. "How do you like your BLT? Toasted? Rye or white? Or cinnamon raisin, that's my weakness."

"Make mine rye, toasted. Actually, you know what, let's try the cinnamon raisin. That sounds different enough it might actually be good." Sean glanced at his watch; it was just after six in the morning; four hours before he was due at court. Four hours before he would be brought face to face with the master of his mental demon.

Quashing the thought for the moment he sat on the arm of the couch and watched the wolf cook. Oda's skills were certainly far inferior to Sean's, but he moved with a prancing almost half dance as he went from flipping bacon to slicing tomato far faster than Sean would have ever dared. But then, Sean did not have claws to guide the knife. Those claws also made short work of a head of lettuce, flattening the cupped leaves between two heavy, fired ceramic plates. They chatted about inconsequential things, studiously dancing around the looming topic of the summons that Sean would be answering.

About fishing, which Oda enjoyed when he could and Sean would only if dragged into it, laughing at each other's big fish tales. Sean could only offer anecdotal commentary about what not to do when presented with his first 'big catch', a mere three pound catfish that managed to stick him twice before being subdued. Oda laughed with wolfish howls as Sean recalled the unfortunate event. After assembling their sandwiches they moved to the back deck under an awning of heavy rough-hewn beams to eat at the small table between heavy lounge chairs. The sky lightened from indigo toward blue, with a momentary wash of pink while they ate and talked. The conversation touched on many subjects beyond fishing; Taws' new project advancing the Equal Rights in Marriage movement. Sean had made himself familiar with it since meeting Taws, but he found that Oda knew far more on the matter than he did. The wolf wasn't only concerned with human-non-human, he also followed the progress of same-gender marriage as well. Oda was surprisingly knowledgeable on the whole subject, since he was gay, and was not averse to the idea of marrying a human if the love was there. Sean just hoped Taws had similarly knowledgeable people working on her team.

It wasn't one of those law violations that was often prosecuted, but there were almost none who would conduct a proper marriage, and no justice of the peace who would sign off on it anyway. He observed that his home country of Canada had fully legalized it almost seven years ago with virtually no consequences. Canadian marriages were being grudgingly accepted, but not granted legal status in the States. Under the current federal laws non-humans were still classified as 'livestock'; an archaic law that had yet to be overturned. While they enjoyed personal freedoms, that cloud hung over them like a pall in relation to legal disputes with humans. It was not only illegal for a non-human to marry a human, but to marry outside their species whatsoever; dogs could not marry cats, or horses, or even foxes as they were not reproductively viable. The basic tenant of current marriage laws required that the pair have the ability to produce offspring. California's marriage ballot was dragging all of the old laws out into the light, as they were being thrown about like artillery shells by the opposition, and they were coming under ever closer scrutiny. If that state passed a law observing and sanctioning mixed-species marriage, in particular involving humans and non, the old livestock definitions would come under fire as well.

Retiring back to the house Sean went to take a shower while Oda cleaned up in the kitchen. He emerged a few minutes later, sans robe and briefs, and thrust something toward the wolf.

"What the merry hell is this, wolf?" Sean snapped, pointing to the container in his hand.

"Shampoo?" Oda raised an eyebrow, arms soaked to the elbows as he washed the few dishes they had used.

"Damnit, it's my shampoo! It's my toothpaste, too, and body wash!" Sean waved an arm back toward the bathroom, then toward the kitchen, "And the stuff for my coffee! Did you go through my entire house while we were out?"

Oda shook his head while he wiped the skillet dry and hung it from a hook above the stove, "No, just your kitchen and fridge. Saw what was in the guest bathroom later that night. I never went into your study or bedrooms." Wiping a plate dry he bobbed his nose toward the bottle of shampoo in Sean's hand. "Grabbed that stuff at the glutton mart last night while you were juicing up. Figured you'd like the familiar stuff."

Sean's arm dropped to his side, "Well.... Fuck." He spun and marched back toward the rear of the house.

"Now now, that only comes after you buy me dinner." Oda quipped. Sean raised one hand to flash a single finger salute over his shoulder. "Nice ass." With an inarticulate snarl Sean spun and extended his arms in that single finger salute with both hands. Oda howled a raucous laugh and leered, "Nice package, too."

"Jesus!" Sean retreated to the bathroom and kicked the door shut with a slam while Oda continued to snicker.

For all of his humorous banter and easy smiles, the Oda that walked into the federal court house at Sean's side was an altogether different beast. His shoulders squared, his back straight, Oda stood an easy inch taller than he did when relaxed. His jaw was set in an implacable line and those golden eyes pierced everyone they crossed. His walk, too, became once more that easy gait of deadly potential. Under his crisply pressed suit was a shoulder holster carrying a hand cannon that made Sean's home protection piece look like a cap gun.

Entry into the building was a slow affair through the security checkpoints; one at the door and still another one on the level where their courtroom was. Each time Oda flashed his badge, added his sidearm to the screener's bin, and retrieved it on the other side.

Sean was surprised at how spacious it all was; the hallways were unexpectedly wide and there was a huge atrium just outside the elevators. And, yet, it was still thronged with crowds. People in overpriced, hand tailored business suits rubbed elbows with those from every other tier of society. Sean, with his own well-tailored suit, was only somewhere in the middle. "Thirty four." Oda rumbled flatly, touching his elbow to lead him through the crowds. Humans and non-humans mingled here just as they did everywhere else.

Oda lead Sean down one of the broad hallways and stopped in front of a door with the small bronze number thirty four on it. A slide-plaque to one side of the door gave the name of the presiding judge and the docket number. Another on the center of the door read 'closed session'. A bailiff stood in front of the door and eyed them as they approached.

"Sean Adam Garret." Oda announced in that same flat baritone as he stared down at the slim middle aged man.

"Summons?" The man asked, unruffled, holding out one hand. Sean dug the summons from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it over. The bailiff scanned it quickly and handed it back, then turned to draw the door open. Sean took a step, then stopped when he saw that Oda did not.

"It's a closed session, Sean. I cannot enter." The wolf rumbled gently with a slow bob of his head, maintaining his inscrutable character. Sean felt his heart sink like a lead weight in his breast.

"So I'm going to be on my own?" Against the cat?

Oda shook his head, "The DA and state prosecutor will be there, and the rest of the state prosecutor's team. You'll have all the support you need."

"Where will you be?"

"I've got to go to the Vegas field office, which is a few miles away. I'll be back in a few hours. DA Sammuels is one of the prosecutors, you should recognize him. He came into your room at the hospital."

Sean fought down the surging tremor of terror that blossomed up from deep within his breast and huffed out an unsteady sigh, "Yeah, I remember. I guess, well... I guess I'll see you in a few hours."

With a short nod Oda took a half step back, turned crisply, and strode down the hallway. The bailiff watched him go before opening the door. "If that one's on your side, remind me to be there too." The man offered with a flat expression as Sean passed.

The room within was as spacious as it was spare. The floor in the observer's gallery was carpeted with a thick red pile showing only minor wear in front of the seats. The entryway stair-stepped down to the courtroom floor in a series of long risers that would give those who might be seated in the gallery a little better view. Other than the three men and two women, one of them a lanky leopard patterned feline, the room was empty. They looked up as the door quietly opened and then closed with a muffled thump.

"Mister Garret, good to see you." One of the men, whom Sean passingly remembered, stood from his chair. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Agent Odayin was able to secure you a flight, it seems."

Walking down to the courtroom floor Sean pushed through the swinging gate that stood in the low wall separating spectators from participants. "He was. Mister Sammuels, if I recall? Who are these others? And where is everybody else?"

"State's Prosecutor Libengood," Sammeuls nodded to the man on his left, "Special Prosecutor Amos," a nod to the feline, "And their associates, Liam, Sharell, and Lethal."

"Le'thal." The man muttered good naturedly with a distinctly foreign accent; French, Sean assumed. "Sorry, so many forget how to spell it so much I just accept it." He shrugged, being the first to offer Sean a hand. They shook hands all around, making introductions.

"Sean here was one of those that blew the Diamond Mine wide open." Sammeuls offered to the others who, Sean expected, were more familiar with the case than he was, himself. "As for the others... the courtroom is ours for today. This is strictly a pre-trial testimony strategy session. Tomorrow we'll be continuing the State's case against Duarte Montane, the puma you shot."

"With spectacular aim." Quipped the man named Lethal. Sean snorted a half-laugh and nodded.

Sammuels' lips twisted in a sinister grin and he nodded, "Indeed. The phase of the trial we're in now involves several charges of sexual assault -- yours, Sean, being a capital charge. Turns out our Mr. Montane has quite a history in that area. We didn't know about any besides yours, so it was all conveniently neglected from the initial immunity plea for his State's Witness testimony." He crossed his arms with a displeased expression, "But things have changed since the DNA testing we had done came back. It'd 'pop' on an old case or two, it popped on a couple dozen old cases. Unfortunately we've only been able to track down a few complainants to bring in as additional witnesses."

The leopard nodded as Sammuels spoke, "Now, consider that there may be five sexual assaults committed for each one reported, or more, stop and think how much damage he has wrought to have accrued a couple dozen reports." Her voice was a smooth, bedroom purr that went in line with the snug form-defining white over gold suit dress she wore, but the gleam in her eyes was pure predator.

Sean tried to soak it all in, "Capital assault? Immunity?" That last word left him with a deepening sense of dread; the idea that the puma might walk out of the court a free man left him cold.

"Capital, as in, he used a weapon in the commission of a felony, elevating the offense." Sammuels returned to his seat. The large, ornate, blindingly polished wooden table was covered almost completely with folders, papers, briefcases, and portable computers. "He entered into an immunity plea, concerning his activities in Sharpson's employ, to help the State's case against him and the Mine's operators. As did Mister Bryant, the Mine's security chief." Waving a hand at one of the other huge chairs he invited Sean to sit, which he did. "But two offenses were not on the table when he made that deal. His sexual assault against you, and potential attempted murder, and the attempted murder of a federal agent."

"Attempted is not as solid as actual murder, but at least the guy survived." Sean observed.

"He did, and he's doing well. Back in the field, in fact. He'll be here tomorrow. Luckily the pistol was low caliber and was stopped by the poor fellow's ribs. Not that he was terribly thankful."

"So, now what?"

"Now, Sean, we grill you worse than the defense attorneys ever imagined." The female feline purred, almost seductively, with a gleam of teeth and a piercing stare of her green eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"She's just being a cat, Sean. What she means is we have to shred you, here, in private, so that nothing the defense can throw at you will rattle you. We can't coach you or tell you what to say, but we can clue you in on what we expect to be asked, and how it will be asked. They're going to attack you in every way they can think of to discredit your testimony. Much of it will be very personal, such as your relationship with the collie bitch, Taws, her brother, and the woman you rescued."

"Ashley." Sean scowled at the easy way the man called Taws a bitch, but that's what she was, biologically speaking.

"Was any part of your interaction with the puma consenting?" Lethal asked softly, catching Sean like a drive out of left field.

He poked a finger at the pale scar that still transected his brow, past his left eye in the hollow of his nose, and down to his upper lip. "Does this look very consenting?"

"Good answer, but the court wants definite yes or no answers. Any time you can give either, without elaboration, do so. Your words can and will be thrown back at you in attack." Lethal replied without rancor.

"No, then." Sean scowled.

"And the gym bag that was taken from the scene?" From the other female, one of the prosecutor's aides.

"What gym bag?" Sean asked, "Should I answer yes or no to questions that don't leave the option?"

Sammuels grinned when Sean answered without missing a beat. "Just as you did, with a question or request for clarification, or just silence until the question is phrased in a manner you can answer. You're going to be asked to re-live the entire experience, blow by blow."

"Thrust by thrust." The feline amended.

"Lady, you're seriously getting on my nerves."

She merely grinned and sat on the edge of the table, one leg cocked and showing a whole lot of it despite the length of her tawny gold skirt. "That's what I do, honey, now don't you fret. I've got to rattle your cage before the defense does."

"What she says is, unfortunately, very true." Lethal added from his own chair, dragged over from the defense side of the courtroom. "You're going to be asked to recount it in excruciating detail. Can you do that?"

"Thrust by thrust, if that's what it takes to put him away."

"Glad to hear it. You showed incredible bravery rescuing that woman, Sean, but in this room you will have to show a completely different kind of bravery."

"So... it's a program teardown. I can handle that."

"A program teardown being?"

"I work advertising. When we get a client we put several teams to working up different approaches to their product, campaign, or what have you. Then we all come together and, well, shred each other's work. Viciously. From that we form a gestalt, finding what we feel will work and going from there. I'll just look at it that way; only it's my work alone that's being picked apart."

"If that works for you, roll with it. Now, shall we get started? I will recap the case so far so we can bring you up to speed on what has already transpired. As to the first note, Montane has attested that your liaison was entirely consensual, and has not wavered from that stance, until you flipped out and shot him."

"With, as he also attests, your own sidearm." Lethal interjected.

Sean blinked, holding up a hand, "With my gun? I got it from him, but you already said my prints were on it. Doesn't that also link me to the DEA's shooting if they try to push that?"

"Oh, they already tried, but the agent's camera caught Montane's arm as he took those shots. Unfortunately he did not come past the entryway so we did not get a full body shot, but the arm was most definitely not yours, nor even human."

"Unmistakably feline." Tracy offered.

"So we put that to bed quickly."

"And the bag?" Sean asked.

"What bag?"

"The one I supposedly took. How are they tying that in with the shooting, and my assault?"

"Due to the complexities and unknowns, the defense team suppressed it early in, and we did not contest them. So it's out, entirely. They cannot even mention it during your testimony. Nor any testimony unless they can get it reinstated."

"Can you positively identify him?" Tracy asked. Her accent was distinctly Midwestern; not quite a twang, and rather easy on the ears. As she, herself, was on the eyes.

"Hell yes."

"Good."

And so it went, for hours upon exhausting hours. By the time they decided to wrap it up Sean's watch read well past six in the evening and he was a sweaty, disheveled wreck. Despite the late hour Oda was there when they emerged, standing outside the door as if he had just arrived. A new bailiff was posted at the door and the two of them were talking baseball when the prosecutor's group came out. Sean was exhausted, agitated, and so tense it made his neck ache.

Neither of them noticed the sharp dressed man seated just within the atrium as they walked past, Sean following in the wolf's wake with his eyes cast at the floor ahead of him. Only the sway of the wolf's white tail kept him on track. The unnoticed man, however, took immediate and keen interest in them, Sean in particular. As they stepped onto the elevator he tapped the Bluetooth secured in one ear.

Sean said not a word as they got to the car and headed out, pausing at a busy intersection for the light to change. Crowds coming from the court house streamed around the car while Oda leaned back and glanced aside at his charge. "Rough day?"

"Holy fuck, yes." Sean muttered, rubbing his temples. Neither took note of the pedestrian traffic mobbing around the cars at the intersection, nor the quiet click as a passing coyote brushed a hand along the inside of a rear wheel well. "I feel... god, I don't even know. Wrung smooth out and run over by a locomotive. They fucking tore into me!"

"The prosecutors?"

"Yeah." The light turned green and, after waiting for the last pedestrians to clear the crosswalk, Oda continued forward into city traffic. "They warned me that they would have to, but shit it was rough."

"The defense team will do worse." Oda warned as well.

Sean snorted, "Oh, I have not a doubt in the world that they will try, but if they can top that snarky feline bitch I'll be a monkey's uncle."

"Tracy was in there, eh?" Oda growled a laugh, "I've been grilled by her a time or three. She's good. Pure evil if you're sitting in the defense box, but if you're on the prosecuting side she's one of the best in town. She's already tore gaping holes in the defense on this case. She's working every approach on Sharpson's crew, first or second chair on almost every case."

"I don't envy them. Glad she's in our court."

"She's still a bitch."

"That she is, hard core and stone cold."

"Easy on the eyes though."

Sean grunted and cast a sidelong glance at the wolf. The highway flashed by beneath the car with rapid fire slap-whacks of the expansion cracks. "That, coming from you?"

Oda glanced at him with one lupine gold eye, "Hey, I never said I didn't like the ladies, now. I just prefer 'em long and strong in my bed." Sean gaped, then laughed with a shake of his head. A semi flashed past on the right as if going in reverse. "Taws, now, she's quite a looker too."

"Hey now, that's my bitch!"

"Hah, any idiot could see that."

Chapter 1 < > Chapter 3