Battle Scars Read Online Free PDF

followed. “It’s time for work.”
    “Your call.” He trotted into the kitchen, where the kettle had just started to scream.
    “I figure we’ll start at the bus station.” I threw a handful of cat treats on the floor as Jazz padded down the stairs toward us. She trilled as she dove on the tiny brown nuggets. “They’ve been in town at least a day or two but I’m hoping someone saw them, maybe pointed them toward a shelter.”
    “Even if they hit the shelters they’ll be trying to get some money for food and maybe a hotel room to stay off the streets. It may be summer but it’s still nicer to sleep on a mattress instead of the ground. Whatever cash they brought won’t last for long and they’ll end up begging on Yonge Street for spare change.” Bran poured the hot water into my fat Brown Betty teapot. “That or busking. Any skills between them?”
    “Busking?”
    “Singing, dancing, whatever brings in the money.” Bran smiled as he prepared two mugs for us, adding a dash of milk to each. “Harder than begging but it has a bit more validity. Actually doing something for the cash and all that.”
    I studied my notes. “I just call it panhandling. Evan took his guitar when he split. Not sure about Lisa.”
    Bran nodded. “Busking, then. He’ll sing and she’ll either beg for cash or grab a bucket to bang on and supplement his songs.” He picked up the bag of cat treats and opened it. “Working together to survive.”
    Jazz did her best impression of a feline ghost, appearing at his feet with a loud trill of starvation despite our previous interaction. I rolled my eyes as Bran dropped another handful of treats into her already-full bowl, ignoring my comment.
    “She’s going to get fat.”
    “Fatter.” Bran held up a finger. “And I like my women to have a little meat on their bones, thank you very much.”
    I placed the file on the counter and busied myself with pouring out the tea into the two mugs. “I’m okay with you sitting out this one. If you’d rather work on your article—”
    “I told you I’m fine.” He slammed his hand down on the countertop. The Brown Betty teapot shook and clattered.
    Jazz vanished from the room in a white blur.
    “I’m fine,” Bran repeated in a lower, softer tone.
    I crossed my arms and waited.
    “I’m going to be fine.” He lifted the lid off the teapot and peered inside. “I’m not going to sit at home here and let you run out there with the wild dogs. Some of those kids can be nasty and mean and a lot of them have more than just a sharp tongue to defend themselves.”
    I could smell the sweat gathering on his forehead. Musky, tingling smell speaking of fear.
    This was not going well.
    “I can take care of myself. I was doing this before you came along, remember.” I tried to sound lighthearted, take the edge off. “You can stay here, work the phones. I expect you can run through the list faster than I can physically visit each and every shelter.”
    He didn’t take the bait. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger unnecessarily. You don’t know the streets like I do.”
    “Really.” The throbbing behind my eye increased ten-fold. I was tired of playing nice. “What the fuck do you think I was doing for years before you came along?” I grabbed the teapot. “Do you think I’m some helpless woman waiting to be saved?”
    The pot swung around in my hand, steaming hot liquid shooting out the spout as I aimed for the mugs.
    And missed.
    I jumped as a splash of hot tea hit my hand. “Fuck.” I dropped the teapot back on the counter.
    “Damn it.” Bran flipped the cold water on and grabbed my wrist. “You’ve got to be more careful.”
    My first instinct was to pull away and bare my teeth, snarl at this man trying to dominate me.
    His grip tightened. “Don’t fight me on this.” His jaw tensed up, his lips pulling into a straight line.
    He yanked my hand under the flowing water.
    I winced at the shock, the light burn now drowned out