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Leo was why I didn’t have animals.

Anything vulnerable always tended to get hurt in unexplained ways.

Well, I could explain it.

Leo tortured them and then left them for me to find.

Sometimes they were alive.

Sometimes, thank God, they were dead.

There was nothing worse than finding a hurting animal that you could do nothing to save.

“Get it out of my car,” I ordered, finally looking up and spotting the big man that was partially blocked by the shadow of the building.

Leo couldn’t see Black, but I definitely could.

And, since I was always interested in seizing opportunities, I turned back to my brother and said, “What did you do to the cat?”

“Nothing,” my brother lied. “Why are you spending time with Milo?”

What was his interest in Milo?

“Leo,” I said carefully. “I’m not playing this game. Get the cat out of my car.” I paused. “How did you even get my car open?”

“I picked the lock.” He shrugged. “But it was for a good cause. The cat was cold.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Get. It. Out.”

He laughed, but it held no humor.

It never did.

He opened my car door like it had no lock at all and yanked the door open.

He pulled the cat out and said, “I found it this way.”

I nearly screamed when he pulled the dead cat from the noose he’d hung around my rearview mirror.

“And where, exactly, would you have found a dead cat that small?” I asked.

“A friend,” he said.

“Did your friend kill this cat?”

“It’s possible. I didn’t ask questions.”

So. Disgusting.

Seriously.

He was so goddamn disgusting.

I hated him with the power of a thousand suns.

Now I had to get into my car where a dead cat had just been.

I really wanted to eat my burger.