25. Chapter Twenty-Five

"Then it's for later." Miller didn't make any attempt to disagree. Whatever bit of hostility he had for me when we met was gone.

Maybe it's because I got shot, and it's probably their fault.

"We can tolerate that." Collins was more eager to continue talking than his partner. "We just want there to be open communication going forward. If the BSA needs to know anything, we need to trust you to let us know." He nodded to Miller, who picked up the briefcase he had at his feet. "We want to update you before going further. Before this incident, I was planning to tell you we were willing to agree to your terms. You as our liaison with other werecats in the future, keeping your identity and theirs private unless there is a case when exposure is necessary."

"What about the Werewolf Disclosure Agreement?" Heath asked. "Werewolves are required to verify our identity to the public when we own a business. Jacky owns Kick Shot."

"That is werewolf-specific, and it's from the fact your packs would be considered parts of the economy with dozens of werewolf employees. Witches don't follow the disclosure agreement, either. It's not a hard sell to give werecats the same exception, as long as Jacky pays her taxes," Collins said as Miller opened the briefcase and took out a sheet of paper. "This is all tentative, mind you. We're not done negotiating, and this isn't finalized. This is a preliminary write up, but in light of the first attack on you, our superiors wanted to make sure you understood we're negotiating in good faith and want to make this work. Even if we don't get everything we want, having someone we can talk to from any supernatural species is better than not having anyone."

I took the paper offered to me—simple bullet points.

"That's going to piss off werewolves," I murmured, looking at Heath, who only nodded.

"That's something you worry about?" Miller put the briefcase back on the floor.

"It's something I have to worry about but not do anything about." I liked what I saw in the tentative agreement. It was simple. I would provide the BSA with information concerning the basics of werecats, something to help them expand their knowledge base. I would also let them know if there were any werecat-related incidents in the US. I would be accountable for any of the incidents if humans were killed. I would be expected to report conflicts that may endanger the United States or its citizens.

In return, werecats would get their privacy unless public disclosure was necessary and would be free of the Disclosure Agreement. We would be given a seat at the table for all negotiations for future supernatural legislation, just like the NAWC. We'd be granted protections similar to the werewolves and witches in the cases when a human or human organization attacked us. There were even anti-discrimination laws about supernaturals.

And finally, the BSA would confirm the existence of werecats using my photos, but no videos with my identifying features. This was going to be a press conference on national television.

Unavoidable, I guess. If they're making deals with a new species and pass laws, they need to admit the species exists. As long as they don't say my name or try to find other werecats, we'll have to make due.

"What terms would force us into the open? Wrong way to phrase that...What would force me to tell people I'm a werecat?" I asked softly, not finding anything written about it. "And this is all contingent on whether the BSA is the leak or not."

"If the BSA is the leak, we'll adjust course, but I'm positive the BSA isn't the leak. We don't leak."

Special Agent Collins was so damn sure, I wanted to believe him, but damn, it was hard. It was a massive government organization. There was no way they didn't have someone in their ranks willing to out a supernatural to get her killed before a deal could be finalized. As long as the deal wasn't finalized, secrecy was the only protection for a supernatural.

"As for reasons to disclose the identity of a werecat?" Miller shrugged. "Murder and conviction would release a werecat's name if that case landed in our hands."

"I would take care of it," I murmured.

"What if you commit the murder?"

"Someone would take care of it," I said softly. "But I see what you mean. If there's an incident, there's no reasonable way for the BSA to sweep it under the rug. Just means I'll have to work harder to keep you from needing to get involved."

"That's what the werewolves do," Special Agent Collins pointed out. "We let them because it's easier to work with than against supernaturals. We understand there are certain social and cultural guidelines supernaturals have upheld for centuries, and they prefer to continue to manage your criminals in your own ways."

"The United States isn't a perfect country, and there are politicians out there who want to change the laws around supernaturals, become more strict, but the BSA is resistant to anything that might disrupt the peace we've been able to forge with the non-humans of the United States." Miller's words sounded like a written statement just for moments like this. "And peace is the ultimate goal."

"No one wants a war with people who don't die very easily," Heath said with a dark chuckle. "Once the BSA realized just how many of us were hiding, even only werewolves, they decided it was easier to forge a path with peace than hate."

"Yes, sir," Collins agreed. "Less American lives would be lost, practically none. The murder rate of supernaturals on humans is miniscule."

His tune will change if they ever realize vampires are real. Hopefully, none of them slip up in the next decade, so werecats can settle into this new reality.

"I like this, but I'll need time to think it over when this is all said and done." I folded the paper into a small square and put it in my pocket. "We need to deal with the immediate threat on my life."

"All we wanted was for you to see what we were willing to do for you before moving any further," Collins said. "Let's move onto the incident from earlier today." He waited for Miller to get a folder from the briefcase again. "We ran the license plate on the truck. It's registered to a Sam Blake. He's not from around here, actually hails from Boston. Two men attacked you on the road. Can you give me a description of the vehicle? Maybe we can match it to this one."

"Black pickup." I closed my eyes, trying to remember. "Silver grill on the front. You know the thing, like Dirk's truck." I opened my eyes and gasped. "Dirk, you didn't try to kill me, did you?"

He glared at me.

"Jacky, don't mess with him," Heath smirked.

"Yeah, I don't remember anything except a black pickup. I'm not the best with cars or guns. I own a bar, so I can tell you every type of alcohol in stock, but I'm not…a truck girl. Or a gun person."

"Black is on the description. We'll go on the assumption it's the same truck, or there are two. Hopefully, it's the same truck. The last thing we need is to be dealing with more than two to four men. I would need to call in reinforcements. I'm lucky they haven't already forced me to do that, but then again, I haven't told them you were shot yet." Collins shook his head. "Miller and I aren't equipped to fight an army."

"They might find out soon enough," Heath commented. "Ranger tells his Alpha, his Alpha tells the NAWC, NAWC…" Heath looked at me.

Hasan might find out before I have the chance to lessen the blow. Damn it. He would tell me if he's getting on a plane, won't he? I hope so.

"Information moves fast in our world," I agreed. "But you don't need a BSA army. You have one right here. Two werewolves and a werecat can handle a lot. Heath and I have done dangerous things before.

"First, we need to figure out where these guys are staying. Then we strike, and I figure out just who they're getting their information from, who wants me dead."

"It's a simple plan. If we can't find them, we…" Heath growled. "We use Jacky as bait for another attack, hopefully keeping her from getting killed in the process."

"You could have let me say that, so it didn't make you want to gag," I whispered to him, knowing everyone at the table could hear me.

"It would sound even stupider coming from you than from me, so I decided to lessen the stupid factor of the idea," he retorted. "It probably surprises no one that I'm against the idea."

"I'm not too keen on it, either," I replied. "But we have to leave it on the table."

"Sure." He leaned closer to me. "We'll leave it on the table if you let me help you buy a new car beforehand and get a roll cage installed."

"You asked for this," Landon commented softly, looking across his father at me.

"We'll come back to it," I decided, and Heath chuckled softly. I turned back to the agents and drummed my fingers on the table. My side ached uncomfortably, and the pain was further in, that unreachable sort of pain I knew I couldn't rub and hope it would feel better. "Heath told me you were looking into movement from any of the major extremist groups around the country. Has anyone seemed suspect?"

"No, there hasn't been anything to lead us to believe any of the bigger organizations have attacked you. That made us think this might be a local militia, but with Sam Blake being from Boston, that doesn't seem to be the case, either. There's no stronghold there. Most militias that focus on supernatural ‘threats' are in the Midwest." Collins kept his eyes on me, narrowing them. "If werewolves and werecats aren't allies or even close to it, do you think you might have some enemies among them? Maybe someone from the werewolves trying to kill you before you can make a deal with us? They know we're talking to you."

"I know they do, but if they wanted me dead, they probably wouldn't involve humans." Oh, no, he's probably right.

"Humans, no offense, are unreliable when it comes to killing supernaturals," Heath explained. "We're faster, more willing to kill to protect ourselves, and have very few weaknesses. A pack would much rather come into a werecat's territory with a large hunting group and kill the werecat before the werecat has a chance to call for help. It's happened before."

"Or they would get us to leave our territory," I added. "Something that baits us out."

"Territory?" This time, the curiosity came from Miller.

"Another time," I said quickly, a little pissed we had let that slip. Heath, to his benefit, smelled guilty. "I was shot today, so I'm going to head home and get some sleep. We can keep working on this tomorrow."

"Landon and I can keep watch if you need us. Kick Shot was burned down once before, and this group has vandalized it as well. Want to bet they'll consider it again?"

I nodded, liking the offer. "You can sleep in the bar if that's okay. I'm going to go home."

Heath stood and helped me to my feet. Landon was next. Dirk was the only one still seated with the agents, and that didn't last long.

"I'll give her a ride back to the bar," he said in a rush. "She's my boss."

"Okay," Heath agreed, chuckling. "We need to make sure we're ready for anything, so we'll meet you there. Kick Shot is still open, right?"

"Should be. That will keep me out of trouble for an hour or so as the last shift cleans up."

Dirk and I left after that, and once we were out of sight of the Everson family home, he cut off the music.

"We're not telling the family about this, are we?" he asked, squeezing his steering wheel as if it made him anxious or angry. His scent pointed to the former.

"No, not yet," I confirmed. "They'll show up and expose themselves, which ruins all the negotiating I've gotten done. Would I like them here? Yeah, if the BSA wasn't involved, but…" I shook my head. "Everything relies on me being in charge here, and with the family, I'm the bottom of the ladder, not the top."

"Yeah." Dirk nodded. "I'll keep up the story. How's the gunshot wound?"

"Healing." I lifted my oversized shirt and took a look at the bandage. There was some minor red showing through, a spot of bleeding. "It'll heal if I don't fuck with it too much. I got lucky, they only took one shot, and there were people around to help me."

"From what I heard, they only took one shot because they thought they killed you."

"Yeah, I did that on purpose," I said softly, still looking at the bandage. "I fell back and told Carey to scream. It was all I could think of. If they thought I was dead, she would be safe…" I closed my eyes. "I haven't had a chance to process it yet, so…"

We fell silent as he drove until we reached the parking lot of Kick Shot once again.

"You know I'm happier here in Texas than I have been anywhere else, right?" Dirk looked at me from across the dark truck.

"I think you"ve made a friend, and you're away from Niko," I said in return.

"Well, I lose both of those if you die, and you're my favorite person in the family. So please, whatever you decide to do to handle this, don't get killed. Oliver doesn't want to go back to London, either."

"I know. I know you two are counting on me." And so many others.

"Okay." He nodded. "And you can count on us, too. While you were down, Landon and I kept Carey with us and directed the contractors. They're moving fast. You should see all this done by the end of the month. Landon also has me set up." He lifted his hoodie and revealed a new sidearm. "No silver since we're dealing with humans right now, but he knows a guy he's going to hook me up with." He must have been satisfied I saw it and knew he was protected, because he cut the engine and jumped out of the truck. I opened my door but barely got a foot out before he was there, helping me to the ground. His truck wasn't small.

"If anyone comes at you while I'm around, I'm not afraid to shoot them," he said softly as we walked toward the trail to my home.

"Why?"

"You gave me space without making me fight for it, and it's let me grow the fuck up," he said, stopping at the new sign. "I'm going to check in on Oliver and my bartenders. Can you walk home?"

"Yup. I've got this," I promised. I left him there, walking the trail home alone. I didn't smell anything unusual. As soon as I got into my home, I locked the doors and checked the house, paranoia returning in full force now that I was alone.

Getting shot certainly hadn't helped me get over things and find normal again.