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[Author's Note: Not my best chapter, since I think one of the intros is rushed. However, three new characters introduced, one of whom is used prominently in Part 16. Enjoy.]

Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 15.

"There's no longer any reason to be angry."

The time strikes 9:00 on the desk clock of Vivian Cross. Normally at this time, she would be meeting with the first loan borrowers of the day. However, she is tending to other matters at the moment. She has just "hired" Rapid Recovery's newest killer and set her up with a teacher who knows the ropes. If the first few minutes of their introduction are any indication, Tivoli and Paraná will have a smooth master-student relationship. She had just looked at his personal information from the file given to her. Now, he is trying to learn more about her.

The banter between the anthros is friendly to the point of being flirtatious. He keeps raising his eyebrows at her; she keeps straightening her hair. The chief tries to dampen the mood with serious anecdotes meant to remind them what they are there for. It does not seem to be working, so Vivian starts to chase them out of her office.

Once they stand, Tivoli shakes her hand again. "Thanks again, Mrs. Cross. I can't tell you how happy this makes me."

The chief scoffs. "Are you happy because you're about to be hired, or is it because of the guy standing next to you?"

Tivoli's smile vanishes. "Um...both?"

The boss laughs in response. She cannot help it; the ocelot's cheerful innocence is inadvertently funny. She comes from behind her desk and opens the door for her guests. "Let me walk you to the conference room. I'm afraid you'll be too busy looking at him that you'll get lost on the way."

As they step out, the jaguar places either hand on the shoulders of the females. "I just want to say again that I am sorry for my behavior earlier. I had forgotten that being a handler is a very important job. Of course, I had never had an apprentice before, but I promise to do the best job I can."

"Bullshit. You're only saying that because the apprentice isn't a man."

Paraná inhales deeply. "Well, yes."

Tivoli bursts out laughing. It is the loudest she has laughed today. It can probably be heard across the hallway. She is extremely flattered by the attention being given to her. In response, she sidles closer to him as they get to the conference room door.

Vivian exhales with relief. "Okay people. Time to get serious. Wait here." She enters the conference room and greets the man inside.

The ocelot sighs. Her handler no longer has his arm around her, but she gets close enough to touch him, rubbing her right shoulder against his side. She clears her throat, as if about to make an important announcement. "So...."

The jaguar chuckles. "So?"

"So, what's first?"

"What's first?"

"What's the first lesson? Will we be going on a field trip? Am I gonna get homework?"

"No, but there is a quiz."

"Already?"

"First question--do you own a weapon?"

"I own a knife."

"Do you have it with you?"

"Yes. You wanna see it?"

He shakes his head. "No, I trust you."

"If I may ask, professor, what weapon do you use?"

"Weapons. I use my hands."

Her eyes widen. "Your hands?"

"Just like the good old days." He holds them up to her eye level. "See? Good enough to do the job. Don't you think so?"

Tivoli releases another chuckle. This one seems forced and unsure. "Wow. I'd like to see them in action."

Paraná takes this time to put his hands on her shoulders, gently gripping them. It was unexpected, and she gasps at being touched. However, she sees his broad smile shining down on her face. It gives her permission to sigh and smile right back at him. She looks at his muscular arms and blinks a few times.

He moves closer to her, bending his elbows and giving her a good look at his biceps. She raises her left hand in an attempt to touch his left arm. A soft "Mmm...." escapes from her throat.

Without warning, Paraná gently moves his hands up to her neck. He softly laces his fingers on the back and brings his thumbs to her throat. She smiles and closes her eyes, calmly enjoying the tender massage. Suddenly, her eyes widen and her mouth urgently opens. She is being choked. She gasps. "Wait...wait!"

"Shh. Like this, see? I do it like this." His thumbs rub the area on her neck that houses her windpipe. "If you had an Adam's apple, you would be in real trouble."

Tivoli swallows as he lets her go. She clears her throat again and looks away.

"You all right?"

"Why did you do that?"

"To show you what I do, and how I do it."

"But you didn't have to--"

"Don't yell. The waiting room might hear you." He raises his hands again. "First lesson you must learn is never, ever, give your weapon to anyone. You can show it to anyone who asks, if you want to. But your weapon is your livelihood. Don't just give it away. More importantly, don't ask to see another's weapons in action, like you just did." He chuckles as she nods in agreement. "The second thing I teach you is this--how to gain trust. Since you will be using your knife, you will have to get close to your victim. It goes without saying. You can do it any number of ways. I will show you some of my favorites."

Tivoli massages the nape of her neck with her right hand. "Did you just do that with me?"

"Did you see how I drew you in? How I got you to look at me and away from my fingers? You were looking at my muscles, weren't you?" He chuckles again as she looks down. "Don't be embarrassed. We're the only ones here. Nobody saw you." He pauses, getting her to look at him again. He adds, "I'm sure he didn't see you."

She sees that Paraná is pointing behind her, then turns to see someone there. She quickly backs away, bumping into her handler. He puts his hands on her shoulders again, keeping her from falling. "You're all right," he says.

The furries look at the stranger in front of them. He is a medium sized, light-skinned human being, just shorter than Paraná. He looks very young, probably not yet twenty. He has dark, shoulder-length hair, freckles on his cheeks, and rimless glasses on his face. He is wearing a casual T-shirt and blue jeans, looking a lot like the typical customer that the building gets on a regular basis. Like a dog about to bark, the ocelot leers at him.

The stranger waves. "Is the boss in?"

"Where have you been?" The jaguar folds his arms condescendingly. "Mrs. Cross is not going to like seeing you today."

"Hey, I'm here now. Is she in?"

"We thought you finally ran away after all the abuse you have been taking. Come back for more, have you?"

The conference room opens and Vivian steps out. Ted follows her, buttoning his suit. They are ready to start the working day. "It's all yours," Vivian says. "Don't be too long, though. We might need the room soon." Her smile disappears when she sees the bespectacled young man looking at her.

The boy has four people staring at him. He shuffles his feet nervously, as if waiting for a scolding. While Tivoli and Paraná look on, the chief approaches him angrily. "Where have you been?" she asks.

"I just wanted to take a little time off."

"A little time? You've been gone for two weeks!"

Now Ted strolls to the young man. "You didn't come in through the front door, did you?"

"Why not? There's nobody out there. No customers. Just the wolf at the front desk."

Ted moves closer to the boy in an attempt to respond. Vivian reads the situation and pulls him back. She then turns to the ocelot. "Tivoli, this is Tobias Haggard. He is our esteemed sexton. That is, he cleans the place."

The boy reaches his hand out, but Tivoli ignores it to ask, "He cleans the place? I thought you had a janitorial service."

"He is the janitorial service."

Ted shrugs and walks away, entering one of the offices. Tivoli points at the boy. "Just him?"

Paraná laughs. "Well, you didn't expect it to be a cleaning crew, did you? It has to be one person, for the safety of the workers."

Vivian nods. "He's a bit of a bother, but he dutifully makes up for it. He gets high praises from the workers for his work."

Tobias scoffs. "Yeah, when they're not making fun of me."

"Shut up!" Vivian stands up to the kid. "You don't talk to her! Just go to my office!" In the most standoffish way possible, Tobias obeys. Once he disappears, Vivian heaves a sigh of relief. "Sorry about that. He's not usually gone this long."

Tivoli shrugs. "Maybe he was on vacation? If I were the only one cleaning this place, I'd definitely use one."

"If he goes on vacation, who would we get to clean the place? I mean, can you recommend anyone who would clean these rooms and keep our secrets?"

Paraná shakes his head. "That boy is just like his uncle--inconsiderate and childish. Then again, Mr. Crevecoeur can't clean as good as he can."

"You two get inside. Get acquainted and start a game plan. It's too late to choose marks today, but plan to be here tomorrow, bright and early." Vivian nods and heads to her office.

"After you, senhorita." The jaguar smiles and allows his student to pass him. Her face lights up as she sees the soft, velvet chairs once more. She does not hesitate to take a seat. It is the same chair she sat in when interviewed last week.

"I'm glad you're comfortable." He sits next to her. "It will make this process move quickly."

"I should be mad at you," she says with a smile on her face.

They look at each other with willing eyes, as if they are opening for the first time this day. His sense of discovery matches hers. He cannot stop smiling, even though he mulls over what she has just said. "I'm sorry about that," he says. "I like to display my skills. It's not the same if I just told you how I choke someone. Also, I'm sorry I led you into a false sense of security, but--"

"But that's how it works, right? You put your hands on my shoulders and hold me close...and then you strike."

"It works on most women, most gay men, a few straight men. I am quite handsome." He chuckles smoothly.

"Do you have any other weapons?"

"You can choke anybody with anything."

"Do you kill by other means?"

Paraná sighs and picks up the folder in front of him. "I used to own a gun, but I don't like loud noise." He opens the folder and takes out a couple of sheets of paper. "You don't have much in your file."

Tivoli turns serious. She clasps her hands and puts them on the table. "Yeah, I know. I don't have much of a life."

"Nonsense. I'm sure there are some things you just don't want to share. It's a good reason not to write anything down."

"But I want to share. I want to write down the information that's asked of me. But I don't have a house of my own, my parents want nothing to do with me, and...I don't have a social security number. So, those sections are empty in that form. There isn't much to tell." She moves her chair, getting as close to him as she can. "I'm really glad I found this place. Before that, I was volunteering in a food pantry. Now, I can really give myself a chance to live."

The jaguar nods with understanding and sympathy. "I know what you mean. I am also working to give someone a life."

"Really? Who is it?" She puts her hands on her lap. Immediately, she seems to regret asking the question.

Paraná, however, is quick to answer. He takes out his wallet from the left pocket of his trousers. "I'll show you." He removes a small photograph from its compartment. It is an old one, with significant signs of wear and tear. Despite its rough looks, the subject in the picture is still visible. It looks really fragile, so Paraná handles it carefully. It barely fits the palm of his hand. "This is Dragao, my baby brother. He's eighteen now."

Tivoli smiles as she gently touches the photo with an index finger. "He looks nice. He's got your smile."

"He is the reason I do this. I send money to him back in Brasilia. When other workers were having summer vacations, I stayed behind and made more money." As he puts the picture back in its place, he sighs wistfully.

Sensing sadness about to creep in, Tivoli clears her throat. In an attempt to change the subject, she grabs the folder that contains her file. "Let me just try filling this in right now." She smiles at Paraná's reaction. He is not sad anymore. "You know, I like your name. I saw from your file that it has an accent mark above the last a. I've never known anyone with marks on their name before."

He chuckles. "Yeah. I put it there. People kept calling me 'piranha.' So I fixed it." He attentively watches her put pen to paper. "Hey, if there is nothing about yourself to write about, as you say, then what are you writing?"

"My future. Thanks to you, I now have one."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Winter had left for Chino Hills on Tuesday. With the money and provisions that her boyfriend gave her, along with her will to survive and thrive, she had traversed this particular Los Angeles suburb looking for her mark. Thanks to the printouts from a local library and maps of both San Bernardino County and Riverside County, she had a starting point. Thanks to the picture of the mark, she had a reference. She looked prepared; all of her belongings were in the backpack she was lugging behind her.

Despite all of the tools at her disposal, there was one more thing she had that hampered her progress. She was a wolf; therefore, she had teeth, claws, and a bad reputation. Her wolf features did not stop her from entering important buildings and doing research. They also did not stop her from entering restaurants for food and drink. But after confirming through newspaper clippings that Chino Hills is where her mark, Matthew Ambrose, was last seen, she decided to ask people if they recognized him through the picture she was carrying.

Thus appears the negative effects of her physical features. She is a wolf in a city that apparently has no wolves. As a matter of fact, anthropomorphic beings are few and far between here. Whenever she showed the photograph and asked people if they had ever seen "this man," she would get angry looks, frightened looks, threats, rebukes, and in two cases, screams of terror. Chino Hills was not exactly secluded from the big city, but it does not seem to share L.A.'s big problems. It also does not share much of its citizenry. Many of the people here are not used to seeing furries up close, especially those with the potential to kill. (Unsurprisingly, feral wolves are also looked down upon in these parts.)

In summary, not many were willing to talk to her. Those who did had no information about Mr. Ambrose. After hours without much success, she decided to find a place to sleep. The backpack was starting to weigh her down. She was tired and angry, which made standing or walking next to her a terrifyingly eye-opening experience. It was about six in the evening when she came upon a group of houses that made up a motel. She approached the structure with the intention of checking in. Before she could go inside, she was spotted by someone nearby. It was a young man, a teenager, who recognized the man in the laminated photo she was holding. The rather brave boy simply walked up to the angrily dismissive wolf and asked, "Why do you have a picture of Mr. Doyle? Who are you?"

The wolf and the boy talked for a few minutes; Winter tried to smile as brightly as she could considering that she was still mad. However, she was finally getting some important information. Matthew Ambrose is living under an alias and has somewhat changed his appearance.

The boy told her that "Mr. Doyle" has blonde hair now, with no mustache or goatee as in the picture, and that he works as a custodian at the high school close by. He was able to recognize the man from the photo because of his nose. Winter tells him that the man is a friend and the photo is an old one. Without hesitation, she bribes the boy into telling her where he could be found.

An hour has since passed. Winter is now outside the apartment complex where Matthew Ambrose lives. Her journey finally over, she stands outside the group of homes, admiring her surroundings. This is the kind of place that has fancy patio furniture and swimming pools, the kind of place she has wanted to live in all her life. She looks around her, probably wondering why there was nobody outdoors at this time.

Suddenly, it starts to rain. There were small beginnings of a drizzle minutes ago--no problem for an intrepid she-wolf. Now, however, the skies have opened up. Winter shivers as she runs into the complex.

She starts to repeat a few numbers to herself; they make up the address of the apartment that Ambrose lives in. She runs to its front door, which suddenly opens; a young couple appears through the opening, beckoning her to enter. It is a pair of humans who are quite definitely younger than most other people the wolf has seen today. Winter smiles and enters, ducking to avoid hitting her head. "Thanks," she says.

"No problem," the woman answers. She is wearing a bathing suit and has a small towel hanging over her left shoulder. The male is wearing nothing but swimming trunks. Obviously, their plans have been put on hold.

"Are you all right?" the man asks.

Winter chuckles. "Sure. I'm just fine. I just made it."

The woman chuckles in return, scoping the wolf from top to bottom. "Are you visiting someone?"

"Yeah, I'm friends with Matt...I mean, Mr. Doyle. He lives here?"

"Thaddeus Doyle. We know him. He's right upstairs." She continues to look the wolf over. "Forgive me. We don't see too many furries around here."

Winter nods. "You're not from around here, are you?"

The man shakes his head. "We're from San Diego. But how could you tell?"

"Because you talked to me; you let me in. Most of the people here have either been yelling at me to get lost or just running away. You'd think they'd never seen a wolf before."

"Pretty much no one here has." He laughs. "But we're used to them. We know at least three white ones. My name's Daryl."

A huge thunderclap echoes through the atmosphere as Winter and Daryl shake hands. She shivers more vigorously as she tells them her name.

"My wife, Erin. We've been living here for a week now. This place is great, but I miss the city. I can't get used to all this peace and quiet."

"If I may ask, what brought you here in the first place?"

Erin scoffs. "He'll tell you it's because of the hunting and fishing. Don't get me wrong; Chino Hills is a nice place to visit. But truthfully, the restaurant bombing...you've heard of it, right? It scared the hell out of us."

Daryl puts his arm around his wife. "Aw, come on, don't tell her that."

"Please. You know as well as I do that the people we saw on TV were just like us--business people in the middle of their daily lunch meetings." She turns to Winter with disdain. "Sure, the chances of us being blown up are like a million to one, but we decided right then and there that it could have been us, and that we've been working too hard. We planned our vacation the very next day."

"That's great," the wolf says. "But you realize that you're in a suburb of the very city where the bombing took place. Why didn't you take your vacation closer to San Diego?"

"We've been vacationing for two weeks, travelling up the coast. We've heard good things about Chino Hills, so we thought...what the hell. Let's just do it."

"We were about to go swimming." Daryl looks at the door, behind which heavy rain is pouring. "Not anymore."

Erin sighs, still disappointed. "So, what brings you to Chino Hills?"

Another thing that Shiloh has been teaching Winter to prepare her for her line of work is how to lie. Not just how to make up something believable, but also how to stretch the truth enough to make the lie last. If done well, telling a lie could make people comfortable enough to accept the situation without asking further questions. The wolf makes up a short-sentenced fib. She and "Mr. Doyle" are old acquaintances and she is here to surprise him. The couple accepts it and says goodbye.

Once they make it back to their floor, Winter forces her smile away. "It's a surprise, all right," she says. She takes down her backpack and unzips one of its compartments. After fumbling quietly for a couple of minutes, she removes a sliver pistol with a black handle. (It is a Beretta 9 millimeter--Shiloh's gun. It is his preferred method of killing, when he is not using his mouth.)

She lifts up her denim shirt, exposing her smooth, white midriff. There, she holsters the gun into her pants--it presses up against her fur coldly and forcefully. She closes her eyes tightly and lets the firearm sink in. She seems to be fighting a case of nerves, even though she has used this gun before. After a couple of minutes, she looks around her quickly. Leaving her backpack behind, Winter finds the door that leads to the staircase. She chooses to walk to the second floor rather than take the elevator.

It is a slow walk up the stairs. Her pace is so deliberate that she nods every time she hears any small squeak coming from her shoes. As she walks, she puts her hand on her abdomen, feeling for the Beretta. She seems afraid of something, probably of the gun going off while it is on her. The entire time, her hands are closed and rigid at her sides. Her ears are open to any sound. Her piercing eyes take in every sight. Nothing exciting is happening yet, but she prepared just in case Mr. Ambrose happens to be coming down this staircase.

It would take only a half minute, normally, to climb this flight of stairs to the second floor. Winter reaches the second floor in a little over five. She exhales in readiness as she opens the door leading to the hallway. It is brightly lit and virtually soundproof; the sounds of the rain cannot manifest here. The brightness from the electric chandeliers starts to affect her. She closes her eyes again, this time because of the pleasurable feeling of warmth.

As she warms up, she sneaks through the hall, looking at each number on every door. It does not take her long to find Matthew Ambrose's numbered door. She puts on her best "this is it" look and makes a fist with her right hand, ready to knock. As she holds the fist high, she observes the door carefully. It is already open.

It is only open slightly; the sitting room is barely visible. However, from the opening, it is easy to see the brightly lit room. Looking through the gap, Winter can see nobody inside, so she boldly pushes the door open--just wide enough for her to enter the room. She looks it over carefully. The room is not only empty, but it barely looks lived in. The couch is nice and straight, hardly used. The carpet looks new; there are no signs of wear. There is no television and, besides a few small, potted plants, there are not too many decorations. It has the makings of a hideout.

Winter lifts her shirt in order to look at the gun. It is still there, waiting and ready. Satisfied that she sees it, she traipses through the room. At the center, she stops and sniffs. There may not be anyone visible, but she senses the presence of someone. She cannot delay it any longer and lifts her shirt again. This time, the gun comes off. She carefully puts her white, right index finger on the trigger and holds the weapon at her side.

(Winter is holding it like she is on a television drama; Shiloh holds his gun like someone who has been handling weapons for a long time, more like a cop than a novice. Compared to her boyfriend, who respects his weapon, she seems overanxious and ready to go, even though there isn't anyone there at the moment.)

A small, sharp knock hits the floor in another room. Winter quickly squats, lowering herself below the top of the couch. As tall as she is, she probably could still be seen; there are not too many hiding places in this room. She moves slowly to the area from where the sound came. In front of her are two doors, both closed. The sound could have come from either room. There is simply no way to tell. She stands up straight and tries to listen for more clues. At the same time, she slowly creeps toward the doors.

Another knock--this time much louder and at a little higher level. It was not the sound of something dropping. It came from behind the door on the right. Breathing heavily, she raises the weapon with both hands. Her hands are shaking and her footsteps are heavier than before; they are now making noise. Whoever is behind the door should now definitely know that someone is here.

Another noise. This time it is louder and messier, like a loud crash. Some glass has just been broken. The noise startles the wolf into dropping the gun. Cursing at herself, she picks it up and bounds to the door. She presses an ear against it, listening for anything. Her face tightens in anger as she cocks the gun. Another sound comes through--more breaking glass, then the sound of rain. Without much hesitation, she breaks the door open.

Winter bursts in with the gun leading the way. Filled with panic, she looks around. It takes her a long five seconds to notice the open window, even though it is right in front of her. It is about a foot over the bed. She jumps on it and looks outside. Through the whipping rain, she can barely make out a figure running away from the building.

"No you don't," the wolf whispers. She quickly runs out the open door and into the living room. Before she could open the way out, another crash comes from behind her. She almost twists a knee turning around. She points the gun toward the unopened door next to the now open bedroom and creeps forward.

Some more sounds emanate from the closed room. Her ears perk up and she licks her muzzle. Seconds later, her back is against the wall and her gun is ready to be fired. Her shaky breath is loud enough that it could attract whoever is in the room. She tries to cover her mouth when the door suddenly opens. The light in the room flickers off.

Winter raises the gun, pointing it at empty space. Matthew Ambrose is as good as dead. As soon as he pokes his head out, she will fire. Her tail hangs rigid between her legs and her hands squeeze the weapon tightly. Suddenly, the room occupant shows his head. Winter's fingers touch the trigger.

The stranger looks at her, first surprised, then agitated. It takes him a few seconds to see the gun pointed right between his eyes. Startled, he drops the plate of food he is holding. He has a carrot stick in his mouth. That also drops. He raises his hands carefully, getting a good look at his potential killer. For some reason, he smiles.

This is not Matthew Ambrose. He is not even human. He raises his hands high, showing off his broad, well-built figure. It appears that he knows who Winter is. His smile widens. "Please. There are already so few feral tigers left on Earth. Do I have to die to?"

He is a Bengal tiger, about as tall as Winter is. His accent is thick, but smooth and understandable. Wearing traditional Indian garb with intricate floral patterns, he looks like he is all dressed up for a party. He has a couple of decorative piercings on his ears and rings on every finger except his thumbs. His tongue is also pierced. He looks carefree and extravagant, and clearly loves that Winter is looking at him.

The wolf is not so happy. She lowers her pistol for a short second, then raises it up to the stranger's face. "Ravi, what are you doing here?!"

He shrugs. "Well, at the moment, I have my hands up. But a few seconds ago, I was in the kitchen eating some of Mr. Ambrose's food. I figured that--"

She gasps. "Shit!" She runs back to the bedroom with the broken window. She now realizes that Mr. Ambrose is gone. Even if she could pick up the scent again, the rain would only wash it away. She pouts as she looks out the window. The cold air blows inside, stinging her face. She closes her eyes tightly, looking for a minute like she was crying. With furious eyes and a livid temper, the white wolf leaves the bedroom.

Ravi is still standing outside the room he came from, eating the sandwich that he dropped earlier. "You know," he says, "I've realized something. The five-second rule doesn't hold water if you're really hungry."

"What are you doing here?!"

"Well...I'm here to catch, that is, capture Mr. Matthew Ambrose. I can only assume that you're here for the same reason." He swallows what he was chewing. "So, did you get him?"

She raises the gun yet again. "You son of a bitch!"

"Whoa!" He backs away slowly. "So the answer is no then."

"I thought you were him! I was about to kill you! I still might!"

"Don't blame me if you lost him."

"Matthew Ambrose was mine! I chose him as a mark days ago!"

"Oh. Um...sorry, I didn't know. Then again, I wasn't here to know. I just came back from vacation in Calcutta, just two days ago. I had the chance to go back to work...I haven't seen Mrs. Cross in a long time...but then this opportunity came up. I found it while reading the local paper. Matthew Ambrose wanted. Drug trafficking, embezzlement, money laundering, insider trading. Master of disguise. Seventy thousand reward from the feds. I knew he was last seen in Southern California. How could I pass it up?"

Winter's angry face softens and she lowers the gun. "Not again," she whispers.

"I'm sorry?"

Her right hand goes limp, almost dropping the firearm. Her empty hand covers her face. Anguished and hopeless, she searches for the couch. "This is the second time this has happened! My last mark was also an FBI fugitive, but he was my mark. I have already been through this, and it ended poorly. But this--"

"Did you catch the first one?"

"Yes."

"Well, then I'd say this one ended worse." Ravi chuckles, but then calms down when he sees the wolf's demeanor. "Sorry. You know, we almost had him. We knocked on the door, he answered 'Who is it?' and we tried to get in without scaring him." He stops to watch her sit on the couch. "We spent a couple of minutes outside the door, negotiating with him. It took us a while to realize that he spent the entire time planning a means of escape. So when we entered, we couldn't find him. We should have looked harder." He laughs. "In hindsight, maybe we shouldn't have said we were police."

"Asshole." Winter leans her head back on the couch, trying to figure out what to do next. Abruptly, she stands. "Wait. You said we. What does that mean?"

Before Ravi can answer, a voice screams out from behind them. Winter grabs the gun from the couch and is about to rush toward the voice. Ravi reacts quickly, grabbing her waist and holding her back. "Stop! Don't do anything. It's okay."

"Let go of me!"

Ravi does as he is told. Winter is about to go after the noise again when the source--another tiger--comes out from a different room. He quickly bolts toward the couple and, in the same loud voice, yells at Ravi and opens his hands. A couple of hundred dollar bills fall out. He yells again, speaking in a foreign language. Ravi nods and smiles, bending down to pick up the money.

Still incensed, Winter looks on while the tigers communicate. They do a lot of laughing and nodding. Through it all, Ravi's breath quickens until he is basically panting with delight. Once the talk ends, the other tiger leaves with Ravi quick at his heels. Winter tries to follow.

Ravi holds out his hands, stopping her. "Sorry, Hindus only." He watches the angry wolf's reaction and laughs hysterically. "Just kidding! Come on! You have to see this!"

"Your brother's here too?"

"Well, he was rather insistent. He hasn't hunted in a month, so he was not going to let this moment pass by."

Ravi and Winter follow the excited feline into another bedroom. There, they see an unkempt and disorganized pigsty. Books and clothes are all over the floor. All of the dresser drawers are open. The closet has open boxes, hangers, and shoes spilling out from inside. The curtain that hung over the only window in the room has been torn down. It looks like Matthew Ambrose was really in a hurry to leave.

The most interesting thing about the room however, was the bed. Ravi and Winter look on as their excited companion pulls the top mattress away from its place to reveal where he got the hundred dollar bills. In between the mattresses are hundreds of stacks of hundred dollar bills. It was not a single layer of stacks. There are stacks upon stacks upon stacks of money. There are enough bills to make up a green mattress.

The excited tiger says something else to Ravi, who nods emphatically while looking at the money. He then unbinds one of the stacks and throws it up in the air. The bills flutter all around him.

Ravi's smile has been frozen to his face for quite some time. He turns to Winter. "Gonal says dig in!" Wasting no time, he jumps on the money, landing on his back.

Winter is not at all fazed. He puts her unarmed hand on her hip, looking at the tigers like an angry mother. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What do you mean? Mr. Ambrose is gone. This money is ours. All of it. The man got away, but we're apparently going to get something for it after all. There's no problem."

"This is evidence! It's obviously some of the money that the mark got from the people he embezzled. You need to put it back."

"No we don't." Ravi looks at Gonal who is pointing at the wolf and yelling something angrily. "My brother agrees."

"It's not yours! You don't know how many people he's swindled. Those people need to know that their money is--"

"Blah, blah, blah. Listen to me." He stands and faces his adversary. "Mr. Ambrose is gone. In his place is Mr. Doyle. From the information Gonal and I were able to attain, he's a janitor in some high school not far from here. Nobody knows that the two are the same man. They don't even look alike. Now, Mr. Doyle himself is gone. He's not coming back, not if he thinks the police are after him. He's not coming back for this money. It...is...ours." He returns to the bed and sits down next to his brother. "You know, it could be yours too."

Winter spits and holsters her gun in her trousers. "No thanks."

The tigers look at each other. Gonal whispers in Ravi's ear, telling him something that makes him slump his shoulders. His earlier happiness is tempered. He stands again and walks toward the wolf, putting his hands in his pockets. After releasing a loud breath, he says, "I'm sorry, okay? Your mark got away from you and I'm sorry about that."

"You are, huh?"

"I didn't know he was yours, but I've already said that, haven't I? So there's no use in repeating myself. Look, how much was he worth? Mr. Ambrose?"

She turns away from him as if embarrassed. "I...don't know."

"You don't know. But we know he has a seventy thousand reward on his head. That, I'm sure, is more than you would have made if you killed him. And this money on the bed...well, it is an obscene amount, isn't it? There's more there than either of us would have made today if we caught him. Now, you can't ignore that."

"Yes I can. It's dishonest."

"You're a killer! What do you care?!"

"Money earned is good money. Money stolen is not! That's the most important principle I go by. When I finish Mr. Ambrose, what I get for it will be well deserved payment, not someone else's ill-gotten gains."

Ravi scoffs. "Something you've picked up from your boyfriend, no doubt."

"What about it?"

"It is admirable. It really is. He has taught you well. But I know him. I know he loves money, and he would never pass up all of this. What we have here is easily a hundred times the money he makes in a month. If your boyfriend saw this, he would--"

"Stop it!" She runs to Ravi until they are nose to nose. "You don't know Shiloh. Don't you dare speak for him!" She looks at him for a few seconds before turning away in disgust. She walks out of the bedroom, planting her hands on her face.

Gonal shouts at Ravi again. In response, he holds up his right hand, silencing his brother. He then picks up a bundle of bills from the bed and approaches Winter once more. He gains her attention by tapping her left shoulder. "Look, I'm trying to apologize." He throws the money at her; her instincts cause her to catch it. "Take a look at that and tell me you don't want some."

The wolf tosses the stack in the air and catches it halfheartedly. Her anger turns to gloom as she turns away and drops it. "I pride myself on my abilities. I don't take easy rewards. Thanks to you, my hunt's a failure. This shit won't make up for it."

"But think about it! The hunt isn't important anymore. You have your money on that bed. You can just take it now and be done with it. Also, Mr. Ambrose will relocate somewhere else. You'll eventually find him and kill him. You'll have your reward plus some of the money left here. You could be rich overnight! There's no longer any reason to be angry." He looks at her with hopeful eyes, but her demeanor remains the same.

"I wouldn't take this money if you paid me to take it." She turns away again.

Ravi sighs loudly. "You know, I remember when we first met." She stops in her tracks. "You remember too, right? Shiloh told us he was going to bring you and everybody in the office waited with bated breath to see what his girlfriend looked like. I can't speak for the others, but when I saw you, I thought you would make it, and I'm glad to see you have. But I saw something else. I saw the equivalent of a little girl holding on to her father's arms. That's what you looked like when I shook your hand. You were shielding yourself behind Shiloh and even though you are taller than me, you looked small at that moment. The point is that you looked like you had much to learn. It's weeks later and it looks like you still do. Your mark is gone. Your reward, on the other hand, is right there." His broad smile returns. "Tell you what, we'll count it together. You keep half, and Gonal and I will split the rest. You'll come out ahead...as compensation for missing Mr. Ambrose."

Winter continues walking away. She passes the couch on her way to the door.

The Bengal tiger shakes his head. "I think you're making a mistake. Shiloh would think so too."

Winter stops and growls. "Do not say his name again. You thieves don't deserve to."

"Well...at least stay here with us. We'll sleep here until morning, then you can go without the money if you please." Baffled, he continues to watcher as she opens the door. "Exactly where would you go in all that rain?"

Winter chuckles, feeling proud of herself. "I'd rather sleep in the rain than in this place. There's also a nice couple who live below. Maybe I'll crash with them."