The Wild Card (Vancouver Storm, #5) — Chapter no 4

CHAPTER 4

JORDAN

AFTER EVERYONE HAS LEFT and I’ve locked up, I set another plate of eggs down on the pavement in the alley.

This plan is risky, dangerous, and stupid—but I’m going to do it anyway.

“Here, ugly kitty,” I call quietly, backing up, cardboard box in hand.

She appears, and I flinch. She really is hideous. Her eyes have a googly quality, kind of lopsided. She drops her face into the eggs, eating sloppily.

Now’s my time to act.

“Hah!” I lunge with the box, but either I’m too slow or she is way too accustomed to protecting herself, because she makes a horrible screeching noise, and all I see is fur, eyes, and claws before I feel a searing pain across my wrist and she streaks away.

In the dim alley light, I can see the red scratch. That bitchy little cat made me bleed.

A moment later, she reappears under the alley light, eyes on me, dumb little tongue hanging out and fur standing on end.

I take a step toward her with the box and she takes a step back.

We’re in a standoff, staring at each other.

“You’re going to get eaten by a coyote. You’re the perfect little snack.”

She glares at me, and I throw my hands up. She isn’t coming with me.

We’ll be here all night. I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave her alone.

“You want to stay here? Fine.”

I toss the box down on the cement and fold my arms. She takes one look at me before waltzing over to the box, climbing in, and curling into a ball.

Well, then.

“Seriously?”

She opens one weird eye before burying her head in her dirty fur.

Before she can change her mind, I close the box and pick her up.

It rattles and she lets out another pissy yowl.

“Come on, dumpster cat. I’m taking you home with me.”