Battle Scars Read Online Free PDF Page B

by freezing water. The tap sputtered for a second, spewing water over us before settling into a thin drizzle.
    Bran moved in behind me, pressing his chest against my back. His free hand went around my belly to hold me still against the counter. “Don’t try to stop me from taking care of you. It won’t work.”
    I felt his teeth nip at the back of my neck, his tongue running over freshly-healed marks. Marks he’d put there to stake his claim to me, to our relationship.
    I growled. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”
    “Of course not.” His low voice both soothed and annoyed me, the heated air rolling over my ear. “And I don’t need to go out with you on the streets. But here we are and we’re both in agreement now.”
    I squirmed, trying to shake his grip. The iron bar across my belly stayed put.
    “I have faith in you being able to handle yourself,” he whispered. “But don’t blame me for wanting to top you every now and then. It’s an alpha male thing.”
    I huffed and reached for the tap. The light burn had disappeared. “We’ll see about the topping.”
    A soft kiss behind my ear and he released my wrist. “Now I’m hungry for pizza.”
    “Work now, food and kink later.” I finished pouring out the tea into the two mugs, inspecting the teapot for any cracks.
    Jazz poked her head around the corner, obviously more hungry than afraid.
    Bran added a handful of treats to the overflowing food bowl as an apology to Jazz. He took his mug, a pensive look on his face. “Been a long time since I thought about the streets.”
    I didn’t push.
    Jazz plopped down in front of her bowl. She dipped her paw in and flipped one piece of food out before eating it off the dark blue mat we used to try and keep the kibble contained.
    I looked at my watch. “After we finish this, let’s head to the bus terminal and see what we can find. If we’re lucky we’ll trip over the little buggers and have them back to their respective families by sunset.”
    Bran sipped his drink. “I’ve finished the first draft on that article about Pennsylvania and need to let it steep for a bit.” He chuckled. “It’s a piece on small town business revivals. Used the strip club as an example.”
    “Sounds good.” I sipped my tea and watched him.
    He threw a saucy wink my way. “I’ll be fine.” He smiled. “I’m good, Reb. I’m good.”
    The weariness in his eyes told me otherwise. But I couldn’t pass up on a chance to get some help and find these two before any blood got spilled.
    Including ours.
    I looked down at Jazz. “You stay here and guard the kibble.”
    The white cat flipped another piece of food onto the floor and ignored us.
    * * *
    The Toronto Bus Terminal is located right at the intersection of Bay and Dundas, a sneeze’s distance away from Yonge Street, the main artery for the city. Two terminals—one for arrivals, one for departures and a handful of underground shops offering up food and magazines for the weary travelers too afraid to leave the area and go into downtown proper. Regular travelers bypass the snack shacks and go the extra block to the nearest Starbucks to hook into the free wifi between buses heading out to all points from New York City to the Great White North.
    It wasn’t hard to pick up the newcomers hopping off the bus with a backpack and a handful of dreams, the wide-eyed visitors staring up at the towers circling around them. And easy to see the predators waiting in the shadows, watching and judging how fast they could pick up the sweet young things and put them to work in one way or another.
    We pulled into a lot a half-block from the terminal, squeezing the Jeep between two black Hummers. The parking attendant grinned as he extorted three times the going rate for any other place in the city from me, pocketing the bills and touching the brim of his baseball cap.
    I grumbled and led Bran back to the main street. “Highway robbery.”
    He chuckled. “Just put it on your expense