“Why would I do that?”

“Because when it all blows up, you can tell Daddy and the Elders that Travis started it. When the time comes, that’ll work in your favor.” He placed the spoon back in her hand. “Now feed that boy before he starts whining.”

Sissy stood in the doorway of her room, wondering where the hell Mitch was. Then she remembered that Sammy had put him to bed. No way would he have put a male in her bed.

Smiling, she headed down the hall, checking rooms as she went.

She found Mitch asleep in Bobby Ray’s room. Well, asleep or out cold. She really couldn’t tell at the moment. He’d been in and out of consciousness since his mother had patched him up. Roxy had warned Sissy then that Mitch might or might not get the fever that most shifters got when seriously ill or wounded. It wasn’t an easy thing to go through, but those who survived the fever usually felt stronger and healthier than they had before they’d been hurt.

More importantly, it was over in twenty-four hours. No fever for Mitch, which meant longer to heal until his return to full strength.

“Hey. Shithead. You awake?”

Frowning, Mitch opened his eyes and looked at her. If she hadn’t known him and been a predator herself, Sissy probably wouldn’t hang around with that frown.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll put a pillow over your head and end this right quick.” She held up the tray holding his soup and toast. “You wanna eat, or you just gonna keep glaring at me?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her by surprise. “I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

She successfully resisted the urge to say, “And yet you’re succeeding quite nicely.” Instead, she said, “You’re just in pain. When you’re feeling better, you’ll be your much more jovial asshole self.”

She put the tray on the dresser and helped Mitch to sit up. Once settled, she put the tray down so it rested over his thighs.

“Can you eat with your left?” she asked when Mitch only stared at the food.

“Yeah. Sure.” But he still didn’t go for the spoon. He looked so tired.

Glad no one could see her, Sissy sat on the side of the bed, grabbed the spoon, and scooped up some soup. “Here. I’ll help.”

Mitch stared at the spoon, then said, “Aren’t you going to make choo-choo sounds?”

She snorted a laugh. Even at the worst of times, the man never failed to keep that sense of humor.

“Open your mouth before I give you a reason to cry.”

He did, and Sissy fed him a spoonful of soup.

“Good?”

Mitch nodded even as he looked ready to go back to sleep. Sissy had rarely seen Mitch without his clothes on, and now she knew what his sister and mother saw. He was too thin. Too thin for their kind anyway.Compared to a full-human, Mitch was still huge, but Sissy knew better. She’d seen Brendon walking around his hotel apartment in a pair of jeans only, and the boy had been built. But Mitch had always been more the athlete of the pair. He should at least match his brother in size, if not be a little bigger.

She’d have to work on that while he was here. Get him to eat more. A few deer, some wild boar, and he should be right as rain. Of course, that was later. Right now, she had to make sure he got stronger. She’d never seen him so weak before. So…fragile. That simply wouldn’t do. Not for her feline.

“Come on, another spoonful.”

He took it, swallowed, and asked, “Where is everybody?”

“That can wait.”

Sissy tried to feed him again, but he turned his head. “Answer me, Sissy.”

“Everybody is back home. And let me tell ya, convincing them to not come with us was one of the hardest things I had to do. I had to be my most persuasive, which says a lot.”

“I’m surprised you managed.”

She chuckled, offering him another spoonful. “Yeah. Me too. I told Brendon he had to stay in New York. Whoever did this, I want them to think you’re still there, recuperating. If he leaves, they’ll know for sure you’re not there. But your momma was a little easier to manage.”

Mitch shook his head. “Only because she’s plotting something.”

“Yeah. That’s what I figured. I told her not to do anything. I told her how it would piss you off.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“No. But you can’t say I didn’t try. Anyway, she went back to Philadelphia with Gwen. They’re fine. And so is Brendon.”

“What if the ones who did this know I’m here?”

“We didn’t file a flight plan for the jet, and I left our cell phones with Ronnie.”

“No cell phones?”

“Don’t worry. We have phones here in the sticks, too. So you can get that look off your face. Some of them even have push buttons.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Your Yankee face said it all. But no calls for you or me. I don’t want anything traced. No e-mails either.”

“What if you need something from Bren or Ronnie?”

“Don’t worry. There are other ways to handle this sort of thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, once my granddaddy learned that the government could tap phones, we had to come up with another way of getting information to each other without them bastards knowing or understanding what was being said. We’ve got code words and a process. It’s real intricate. So Brendon will know you’re fine.”