Page 11 of Hunter or Hunted

Rhiannon waved her off as she strode around her desk. “She works holidays. Here, let me⁠—”

A knock rapped against the door.

“C’mon in,” Rhiannon called, lowering herself to the rolling chair.

It squealed open. Colleen stood in the threshold. The peaks of Junie’s high pigtails reached the center of Colleen’s waist. She gave Junie’s shoulder a mothering squeeze. “This little one just had a quick question.”

“What is it, baby?” Simone asked her.

“Are we gonna be here for a while, Mommy?” Junie asked.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rhiannon said. “Just a little while longer.”

“That’s okay.” Her eyes came to me. “Could you help me with something then, Gwen?”

5

SEBASTIAN

Despite the smell of animals and all the messes they brought, Glenna’s home was exceptionally clean. She greeted me in the doorway. A cat or two stayed at her flank atop the sparkling mahogany hardwood floors. In the distance, whether upstairs or in the backyard, a few barks sounded.

As she led me through the formal dining room to the living room, a black cat, Midnight, rubbed against my calf. Another—Smoky, if memory served—hopped from shelf to shelf, following alongside us. When we made it to the leather reclining sofa, it grew a hell of a lot harder to keep the sting in my eyes at bay.

Beside Buttons, a white long-haired American with black spots, Mittens lay. Purring, she licked from the center of Buttons’ crown to the edge of his ear. She was half his size, even with all the weight he’d lost.

“I can get her out of here, if you need me to,” Glenna said. “Ever since I got her, she’s been glued to him. I’m sure she’ll befriend a few others. It’s only been a couple months, but…” She trailed into a shaking breath.

“Yeah, I remember.” Just last month, I had spayed Mittens. “But it’s alright. She can stay. Might give him some comfort.”

Nostrils flared, staving off a sob, Glenna swatted a tear away. All she managed was a quick nod as she sat down beside them. She stroked down Buttons’ back with tender, shaking fingers.

God damn it, I hated this job sometimes.

I lowered myself to my knees in front of the sofa. Carefully, I reached up for Buttons’ face. I stroked his cheek, then his chin, but his golden eyes barely fluttered.

As sweet as he was at the office, it took two, sometimes three techs holding him in place for me to get a blood draw or vaccination. We resorted to a device I called the cat crusher sometimes. It didn’t literally crush him, obviously. Just a cage with a panel that we could apply pressure to from the outside. Sandwiched between the panel and the metal grate, I’d jam my injection through the bars and into his fur. I hated using it, but with an ornery cat like Buttons, it was sometimes the only way to administer his medicine without my entire team going home bloody.

This time, though, Buttons didn’t mind my touch. Or rather, he couldn’t fight it.

My stomach ached as I stroked beneath his chin. “I’m so sorry, little guy.”

Ever so slightly, he lowered his head. Whether he was apologizing for all those scratches and bites, or too tired to do anything else, I would never know. I liked to think the former.

I cleared my throat. “I can inject the sedative whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m never going to be ready.” Sliding her hand over his spine, Glenna eased out a deep breath through trembling lips. “But I think he is.”

Considering he still had his head in my hand, and he typically would’ve tried to take off a finger by now, I hated to agree. I flexed and released my unsteady fingers a time or two before finding the vials in my bag. With careful, steady breaths to keep the ache in my chest from spilling out in a sob, I completed the first injection. He didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced his skin.

My throat thickened around the knot forming back there. I had to swallow a few times before I spoke. “He’s asleep now. He’s not in any pain. I can give you a couple moments alone with him before the other injection, if you want.”

Trailing one hand over his chest, labored breaths panting in and out of his nostrils, Glenna nodded. Her free hand fell to Mittens’ back. As she stroked her up and down as well, she whispered, “Yeah, I could use another minute, if that’s okay.”

I gave it to her. For fifteen minutes, I sat in the foyer petting Smoky. She was an affectionate kitty, rolling side to side, chasing my fingers. It gave me some respite to sit beside another cat, one who was healthy and young and playful.

Eventually, Glenna called for me. She didn’t say anything when I walked in. Only nodded.

I administered the injection. I checked his heartbeat a few moments later, but no pitter-patter echoed through my stethoscope. Chest tight, eyes watering, I joined Glenna, who still sat beside him, stroking her fingers through his fur.