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Authors: Holley Trent

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She
raked
her
hat
brim
and
her
hair
back
from
her
forehead
and
swallowed.
“No,
Mr.

Castillo.
You
don’t
frighten
me.
You
may
have
been
born
the
way
you
are,
but
I
was
made
to

be
this
way.
I’m
more
worried
about
people
who
have
a
problem
with
that.”

He
stared
at
her
while
her
bones
slipped
back
into
their
natural
configuration.
“That

must
come
in
handy.”

“I
work
undercover
a
lot,
so
yeah.
I
can
only
do
it
with
my
face,
though,
and
I’d
rather

not.
It
hurts,
and
if
I’m
not
careful
it
starts
reverting
on
its
own.
I
haven’t
practiced
with
it

much,
and
my
doctor
prefers
I
keep
it
that
way.
Now,
tell
me
how
to
find
Felipe.
We’re

wasting
time,
and
I’ve
got
were-‐mountain
lion
problem
to
check
in
on.”

His
eyes
went
wide.
“Were-‐mountain
lion?
You
mean,
like,
shape-‐shifting
cougars?”

“That
surprise
you?”

“No,
I
just
never
called
them
that.
We’ve
got
a
couple
of
those
now:
with
the
circus,
I

mean.
Jacques
brought
them
here
about
a
day
after
we
arrived
in
North
Carolina.
Two

young
women.
He’s
been
forcing
them
to
shift.
Hasn’t
trotted
them
out
yet,
though.”

FRAMING FELIPE

19

Holley Trent

“Shit.”
Sarah
reached
for
her
phone.

FRAMING FELIPE

20

Holley Trent

CHAPTER
THREE

Felipe
had
been
moving
from
property
to
property,
all
evening
until
he
finally
found
a

place
far
enough
from
the
view
of
passing
cars
and
pedestrians
to
rest.
He
didn’t
want
to
be

spotted—to
be
remembered
—and
even
if
people
didn’t
recognize
him
as
one
of
the
circus’s

performers,
they’d
remember
his
face,
probably.
His
long
hair.
The
slight
curve
of
his
nose

from
a
break
he’d
earned
as
a
teen.
He
and
Fabian
had
collided
mid-‐air
during
a
time
before

they’d
mastered
instant
phasing
to
invisible.
As
adults,
they
were
masters,
but
that
didn’t

mean
the
shifting
required
no
effort.

Although
he
practiced
being
in
his
invisible
form
as
often
as
he
could,
as
did
Fabian,

phasing
was
a
physically
and
mentally
taxing
ordeal.
The
hard
part
about
being
one
with

the
air
was
calling
all
the
bits
and
pieces
home
when
he
was
ready
to
retake
his
physical

shape.
The
longer
he
remained
shapeless,
the
harder
it
was
for
him
to
coalesce.
If
pressed,

he
could
go
invisible
for
a
couple
of
hours
at
a
time,
but
this
wasn’t
the
time
to
start
that

countdown.
He
needed
to
conserve
his
energy
as
he
didn’t
know
where
the
days
ahead

would
put
him.

The
old
barn
was
dark,
and
although
the
farmhouse
on
the
premises
seemed
deserted,

he
didn’t
want
to
risk
arousing
attention
to
himself.
In
the
morning,
he
could
sneak
over

and
investigate,
but
in
the
dark,
caution
seemed
his
best
bet.

He
unpacked
his
backpack,
rolled
it
into
a
makeshift
pillow,
and
made
a
pallet
with
his

rumpled
clothes.
With
his
weary
body
supine
and
hands
cradling
the
back
of
his
head,
he

breathed
out
a
sigh
of
relief.
Even
with
his
circumstances
being
tenuous,
this
lack
of

structure
afforded
him
a
certain
freedom
he’d
never
indulged
in.
He
could
come
and
go
as

he
pleased,
and
although
there
was
risk
and
uncertainty,
there
were
rewards.

The
night
sky
was
clear
and
starry,
and
Felipe
meditated
on
those
celestial
bodies

through
a
hole
in
the
barn’s
roof.
He’d
never
been
taught
constellations,
or
much
of

anything,
for
that
matter,
and
maybe
that’s
why
they
seemed
so
extraordinary.
He
hadn’t

become
jaded
to
them.
Oblivious.
He’d
spent
most
of
his
life
to
that
point
trapped
indoors,

inside
trains,
tents,
and
trailers.
Maybe
one
day
he’d
sleep
outside.

FRAMING FELIPE

21

Holley Trent

A
long
blink
became
a
short
nap,
and
when
he
opened
his
eyes
again,
morning
was

dawning.
His
body
was
stiff
from
the
cold
hayloft
floor,
and
he
stretched
his
arms
and

yawned
long
and
deep
before
the
prickling
hairs
on
his
neck
gave
him
pause.
He
sat
up
and

pushed
himself
back
against
the
wall.
The
bleariness
of
his
vision
slowly
gave
way
to
reveal

a
dark-‐haired
woman
in
black
leather
pointing
a
gun
at
him.


Mierda.

She
leaned
against
a
roof
support,
calm
and
cold
as
ice,
her
hands
steady
around
the

gun’s
handle.
Her
brown
eyes
held
a
hint
of
impatience—as
if
she
were
annoyed
at
having

to
wait
for
his
waking…at
having
to
be
there
at
all.

He
poised
to
stand,
but
two
things
gave
him
pause:
her
grunt
of
“Nuh-‐uh”
as
she

wagged
the
gun
barrel
at
him,
and
the
sudden
surge
of
blood
away
from
his
brain
to
a
part

that
seemed
to
have
a
mind
of
its
own.

Bad
timing,
but
damn,
what
a
woman.
He
suspected
the
grin
he
wore
had
a
tinge
of

insanity
about
it.

“Sloppy,
sloppy,
sloppy,
Mr.
Castillo,”
she
said.

He
didn’t
know
what
she
meant,
but
he
wasn’t
trying
especially
hard
to
parse
her

words,
either.
She
had
a
nice
voice.
Sultry.
There
was
an
edge
to
her
words
and
her
tone

was
modulated,
controlled,
but
he
imagined
that
same
voice
whispering
into
his
ear,
telling

him
what
to
do
to
her…

He
grinned.

She
rolled
her
eyes.
“Mr.
Castillo,
do
you
understand
English?”

He
raised
his
shoulders
slightly.
He
wasn’t
saying
a
damned
thing
until
she
put
down

that
gun
or
else
used
it.
Didn’t
matter
to
him
either
way,
but
if
he
was
going
to
go,
he
hoped

she’d
at
least
make
it
pleasant
for
him.
His
eyes
trailed
down
to
the
lacy
edging
of
her

camisole.
The
black
of
the
trim
made
her
brown
skin’s
ruddiness
stand
out
in
a
lovely

contrast.
Peanut
butter
with
a
hint
of
chocolate.
He
felt
his
grin
widen
as
he
pondered
how

she’d
taste
if
he
dragged
his
tongue
along
that
teasing
collar.

“I’m
not
here
to
hurt
you,
Mr.
Castillo.”

He
shrugged
again,
and
this
time
let
his
gaze
trail
down
her
torso
to
the
breasts

squeezed
together,
mounded
high
from
the
way
she
held
out
her
gun.
Bit
more
than
a

handful.
He
bet
they’d
feel
like
a
dream
pressed
against
his
naked
chest.
And
when
was
the

FRAMING FELIPE

22

Holley Trent

last
time
he’d
been
naked
with
a
woman,
anyway?
Must
have
been
a
long
damn
time,

because
his
temperature
didn’t
usually
go
from
a
healthy
ninety-‐eight-‐point-‐seven
to

incendiary
in
ten
seconds
flat.

“Your
brother
called
my
boss,”
she
continued,
and
he
struggled
to
focus
on
her
words.

So,
this
was
the
help
Fabian
had
acquired.
Some
help
.
Felipe’s
gaze
trailed
down
her

athletic
thighs
and
slender
calves
to
the
black
harness
boots
she
wore.
Good
leather,

broken
in
and
not
just
for
show.

He
rubbed
his
thumb’s
pad
idly
over
the
long
scar
on
his
waist
as
he
assessed
her.
By

the
time
his
stare
made
it
back
up
to
her
face,
her
gaze
had
locked
on
his
hand,
fondling

that
naked
skin
near
his
waistband.

She
didn’t
stop
staring
until
he
ceased
rubbing.
Given
the
location
of
his
scar,
if
she’d

noticed
that
,
she
very
likely
noticed
the
swell
at
his
crotch
as
well.
The
room
was
bright

with
that
hole
in
the
roof,
and
he
wasn’t
exactly
trying
to
hide
his
aroused
state.
After
all,

she’d
come
after
him
.
She
deserved
whatever
eyeful
she
got.

Her
gaze
met
his
again,
and
he
couldn’t
be
sure,
but
her
face
seemed
slightly
redder

than
it
had
been
before.
Was
this
a
woman
easily
prone
to
embarrassment?
He
didn’t
think

so.
A
woman
who
held
a
gun
with
that
kind
of
confidence
certainly
wouldn’t
be

embarrassed
by
a
stranger’s
erection.
And
even
with
her
standing
there,
aware
of
him,
his

arousal
didn’t
diminish
in
the
slightest
bit.
If
anything,
he
was
more
turned
on
by
their

exchange.
Those
thighs
of
hers
would
probably
clamp
his
waist
tight
while
he
pressed
into

her.
She
wouldn’t
just
lie
there
and
wait
for
him
to
finish.
No,
she’d
ask
for
more.

He
grinned
again.

This
time,
she
didn’t
respond
with
an
eye
roll.

“I’m
going
to
put
my
gun
in
its
holster.”
She
pointed
to
the
empty
holster
with
her
free

hand.

He
didn’t
need
the
sign
language.

“I
know
what
you’re
capable
of,”
she
said.

Did
she?

“Please
don’t
run.
My
job
is
to
get
you
somewhere
safe.”

Just
her?
All
by
herself?
It
wasn’t
that
he
doubted
the
petite
gunslinger,
but
what
had

Fabian
been
thinking?
He
would
have
been
just
fine
on
his
own.
Fabian
must
have
thought

FRAMING FELIPE

23

Holley Trent

Felipe
would
do
something
rash.
He’d
always
been
the
more
risk-‐prone
of
the
two,
but
this

time,
the
thought
hadn’t
crossed
his
mind.
All
he’d
wanted
was
to
put
some
distance

between
him
and
the
circus
until
Jacques
cooled
off.
He’d
go
back
and
bide
his
time,
then
he

and
Felipe
could
get
away
for
good.
This
was
just
meant
to
be
a
scouting
mission.
Of
course,

there’d
been
no
way
to
tell
Fabian
that.
He’d
left
without
saying
goodbye,
and
only
stuck

BOOK: Framing Felipe
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