by Cecilia Lane
Becca rolled her eyes and shot Leah a mischievous look. “Can’t you see it’s my day off? I’m sitting here, trying to get my new best friend to gossip, and you’re here interrupting.”
Faith smacked her sister gently. “Oh, please. As much time as you spend not working while on the clock, you can help me unpack.”
Leah reached over and eased back one side of the cardboard. “New decorations? I’ll help.”
“Don’t humor her, Leah. She’ll expect hard work, now. I’m going to spend weeks retraining her to accept the bare minimum,” Becca said and shuffled to her feet. She opened the box the rest of the way. “These took long enough to arrive.”
“It took me that long to place the order after the fire,” Faith corrected. “Big fire. Scary ex of Tommy’s. All good now. Same guys cleaning up down the road got my kitchen up and running in no time.” She slid her eyes to Becca and sniffed. “Some people in this town know what hard work means.”
Becca snorted. “Soooo.” She drew the word out and bumped against Faith’s shoulder. Two pairs of eyes stared her down and two mouths curled up in identical grins. “I heard you went home with Callum last night.”
Leah pulled a striped shirt from the box and held it against her chest. “Oh?” she asked innocently. “And where’d you hear that?”
Becca rolled her eyes. “Small town, sweet cheeks. Now give us the scoop.”
“I’m not one to kiss and tell.”
“So there was kissing. Are we talking just lips, or were mouth presents exchanged?”
“Becca!” Faith laughed incredulously. Her voice dropped a fraction. “Did he mark you?”
Leah raised an eyebrow. “Like, give me a hickey? I have a few.”
“No, she means a claiming mark. Faith, she’s human.” Becca waved a hand up and down Leah’s body. “She doesn’t know what it means.”
“Oh, I keep forgetting.” Faith screwed up her face in an apology. “It feels like she’s been part of the town forever.”
“Well, yeah. Because Callum’s going to mate her and fill her with babies. Speaking of, when will you and Tommy give me little nieces and nephews? I need to teach them how to drive you two crazy.”
“You do enough already. I’m never letting you babysit.”
Before the two settled into their usual bickering, Leah snapped her fingers and eyed them both. “Uhm, back to the subject. What’s this claiming business?”
“When a man loves a woman—” Faith began.
“—or two men, or two women, or a whole big pile of shifters get into a love fest—”
Faith tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling until Becca quieted. “When shifters find their mates, it’s like this connection between them sparks to life. There’s no one else. The whole world revolves around that other person. Our animals do the choosing. They just stand up one day and say, he’s the one. I want him to walk beside me for the rest of my life.”
“And that’s it? No problems ever again?” It sounded unreal and too good to be true.
“Oh, there are fights, of course. Every couple fights. But there’s never the worry that everything will break down between you. And let me tell you,” she said, cheeks reddening. “The sex is out of this world.”
“I told you the first day they were disgusting,” Becca interjected. “Because while our animals stand up and decide, it’s not always right. He could be a stupid, horrible, inconsiderate asshole and your fox can be a silly, childish beast and choose the wrong person.”
Faith smiled sadly and wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Claiming works by biting your mate in human form. A mark is left and the bond is formed.”
“Does that also turn you into one of, well, you?”
“Oh, no. That’s only for bites from our animals. It’s not supposed to be done without permission. It takes everyone differently. Some people get really sick and can even die. Ladies tend to handle it better than men, but it can still be risky.”
“No bites of any kind,” Leah said, “but I will say he did not leave a girl unsatisfied.”
While the night had been amazing and followed by another toe-curling, body shattering morning, they hadn’t discussed anything further. Were they dating? Just casually hooking up? He made no mention of claiming her as his mate and she didn’t know if that meant he had no interest or just hadn’t gotten around to asking.
She was usually quick to move on and didn’t need to define a relationship, but Callum felt different. Hell, he’d felt like a looming force from the moment he talked her out of the wrecked car. He drove her crazy, in and out of the bedroom. She just didn’t know where she fit in his life. And maybe a teeny, tiny part of her stung that he hadn’t brought up anything permanent.
Trying not to feel disappointed, Leah helped Faith unload more props from her box and quickly saw the theme. Striped shirt, striped cap, even a plastic sign with a fake prisoner number. The props paired well with the height markers painted in one corner of the cafe. Mug Shot Coffee Bar boasted its own jailbird photo booth for all manner of delinquent customers.
Becca shoved a shirt and cap toward her. “Try it on! It’s your punishment for not giving us the dirty details.”
Sighing dramatically, Leah tugged the shirt over her head and tilted the cap sideways. Giggling, Faith pushed her backward until she stood in the middle of the freshly painted sidewall, where bars marked her height. She took the plastic sign from Becca and scowled at the camera.
It was a comical mockup of the real thing, but close enough to send a shiver down her spine. She’d escaped arrest for all her crimes, but she was familiar enough with the inside of a police station. Grew up inside one, practically. Her father did enough fixes for the local cops and they were always willing to distract her when her father came to call.
The cafe bell rang as Faith shook out the quickly printed picture. “The first for the board,” she said and stuffed the camera in Becca’s hands. “Morning, Callum. Can I get you anything?”
“Just here to see Leah,” Callum said in his deliciously thick, gruff voice.
Her name on his lips jerked her attention right to him. He’d caught her entirely, hook, line, and sinker. One word and he reeled her in.
One of the Holdens said something, but she missed it entirely. They’d been apart only a handful of hours, but the sight of him made her stomach drop and her core clench.
She could feel her cheeks heating. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.
She planted her fists on her hips and stared him down. “Here to lock me up, handsome?”
He cracked a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s take a walk.”
Alarm bells ringing in her head, she stuffed all the jailbird props into Becca’s hands and followed Callum into the daylight. He took long, quick steps that forced her to keep up and his silence hung heavy in the air.
Itching under the oppressive quiet and irritated at herself for letting it bother her, she asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
The words spoiled on her lips and left her tongue tasting sour. She never wanted to be the sort of woman reduced down to nothing by a man. How many times had she heard her mother ask that question before her father turned mean?
Same mistakes, on repeat.
And Callum did nothing to absolve the worry tying knots in her belly. He only grunted and kept walking.
Jaw set, she hurried after him. If he didn’t want to talk, fine. She wouldn’t open her mouth, either. No begging questions. No attempts at luring words from him. Just uncomfortable silence.
He nodded to the crews working the scene at town hall and held the door open for her. They gave their names at a security post for some baby-faced young man to jot down on a legal pad, then continued walking silently through the building, past a reception desk, and through a set of thick doors labeled with ‘Mayor Strathorn’ on a plaque.
Callum ushered her inside, still silent. He shut the heavy doors behind them, making no sound. Even his footsteps
were muted as he crossed the space between door and desk.
She took a look around the office and her stomach sank. She expected it, from his sullen looks and silence. One night of pleasure, one morning of fun, and that was it. She wasn’t his mate, and she wasn’t good enough to mess around with. Why would he want a human when he could have his pick of shifter women? He was cutting her loose.
It was either believe that or panic that he’d discovered her connection to the explosion. But with no one else ready to arrest her and throw her into a cell, she settled on a bruised heart.
“Did you really need the big desk to make yourself feel secure enough to let me down? A quick text would have been fine. It’s not like we were engaged or anything.”
Callum frowned, then shifted in his seat to pull something from his back pocket. He unfolded the sheet of paper and flattened it out on the desk. Only when it no longer curled up at the edges, did he flip it around and slide it to her.
“Can you explain this?” he asked quietly. His dark eyes searched her face for answers she didn’t want to provide and she ducked his gaze.
Her face stared back at her. Picture day of her sophomore year, if she remembered correctly.
May be armed and dangerous.
Wanted for questioning in the murder of Jefferson Alderson.
Leah shook as she placed the sheet on the desk, then folded her hands in her lap. Fucking Jamin. He had to be behind this. It was his insurance that she’d cooperate. She wondered how long it took for him to spread the sheet around after she didn’t answer his last message. Certainly hadn’t been more than twelve hours between then and Callum shoving it in her face.
“I killed my father.” The admission felt almost… good. Four words lifted a weight off her shoulders and wrapped a noose around her throat. Admitting it opened herself up to the judgment of others. Callum, specifically.
She stared at her hands, but when he said nothing, she peeked at him from under her lashes. He was an unflinching stone. No emotion reached his eyes. Nothing twitched on his face.
He wanted more, then. He wanted to hear the entire, sordid tale. She’d give it to him. It was the least she could do after helping Jamin terrorize his town.
“He was the man you went to if you wanted something done. I don’t know how long it’d been going on. My whole life, probably. Had someone you needed roughed up? Needed some extra votes swung your way? He was your man. He had the protection of the police because he helped a number of them, and the sheriff, get their jobs.”
Callum still stayed silent. She found some of her confidence by the end of her speech, but no matter how she laid out the facts, she still had blood on her hands.
The next part was difficult and something she’d never shared. She tried not to even think about it. It was a private affair between her and her mother. She thought she’d done well to hide her involvement, but obviously not well enough. Which mistake in her years since leaving home gave her away, she wondered. Had her mother been the one to name her?
“He was a drinker, and free with his hands. Momma took the most of it. Late dinner, not enough booze in the house, bad day doing whatever he was doing, it all came down to his fists and her hide. That was just the way of things. And when she made the mistake of trying to get help, he laid her up for an entire week. No charges were ever pressed. I don’t think he spent a single night away from home. It wouldn’t look right, you see.
“I don’t know what set him off that morning. I was seventeen, looking to get out as soon as possible. College, even though Daddy didn’t believe a girl’s place was anywhere but taking care of her man at home.”
Her breath hitched in her chest as she was flung backward into her memory. She tried to avoid those images and sounds as much as possible. Sleep brought nightmares, so she worked and partied until she was exhausted enough not to dream.
“I heard his fists before I heard her cry. That sound of flesh thwacking flesh isn’t something I’ll ever forget. Then she started sobbing, just like always. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into his office just two doors down from my bedroom. The rifle was loaded already. The heaviness wasn’t a bother; I’d used it before. Only good thing he ever did was teach me how to shoot.”
Leah could feel the barrel of the gun knocking against her arm as she shouldered it. The weight was familiar in her hands. Shooting cans off the back fence became a hobby. She couldn’t go on dates for fear of her father finding out. She couldn’t stay in that fucking horror of a house. So she shot cans and bottles to block out the noises she didn’t want to hear.
“I walked down the stairs and made sure I avoided the squeaky sides. Knew those from sneaking out at night. Their bedroom door was open and his back was turned. Momma saw me, pointed at me, but it was too late. I took the shot, set the rifle down on the bed, gathered up a bag of clothes while Momma called me a murderer, and left. I haven’t gone back or talked to anyone since then.”
“And then? How did you end up from corrupt Texas town to wrecking your car in Montana?”
“Running,” she said immediately. “Seems it’s all I’m good at. Things get tough and I find the next bus out of town.”
She frowned into her lap. That same instinct to run was kicking into high gear. And she couldn’t. Not if she was being watched. Not if the borders of the town were patrolled. Doubled, even tripled, security was a safe bet after an attack. Jamin made her private, quiet escape impossible with his little stunt.
Self-preservation took control of her then. Callum might as well hear the particulars. If Jamin played his trick with her past, the intermediate years would be next. She didn’t want Callum or anyone else in town to look at her with suspicion because she left out details.
Her insides twisted with hurt and fury and confusion. She wanted to leave. She wanted to stay with Callum. But most of all, she wanted to tear Jamin apart.
“I was always light with my fingers. I picked pockets at bus stops and gas stations, hitchhiked when I needed to spend that money on food. Graduated to breaking and entering and picking safes. I just… roamed. I learned where to buy fake IDs and how to survive on the streets, and when to disappear. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but I didn’t have to listen to my father slowly beat my mother to death.”
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two heavy glasses. Next came a bottle. He slid an amber-filled glass toward her and raised his own in a silent salute.
She toyed with the glass and then downed the whiskey. “So, what are you going to do?”
Callum stayed quiet long enough to make her want to squirm. “You wouldn’t have been placed in that situation if you were born into our life. We have our shit heads, you saw that with Bruce. But a mated man has to be truly, deep down evil to hurt his woman. And anyone who heard he laid hands on her would step in and make it stop.”
One mention of mates and she was sure it was a slip of the tongue. She nearly shook as she considered pressing him for more. Were they mates? Were they nothing at all? But with her instincts screaming for her to run, she knew it wasn’t the right time. He could confirm or deny, and she’d still want to get out of town.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I killed someone. Surely that’s still a crime,” she mumbled.
“Do you want me to send you to jail?”
“No! Maybe. I don’t know!” She tried to find answers in the ceiling above her. “I killed my own flesh and blood and just walked away. Shouldn’t that be punished?”
“Maybe your guilt is punishment enough. I don’t think you did anything wrong. You were defending your mother when she wasn’t able or willing to help herself.” He passed a hand over his face and shook his head, as if he were arguing with himself. “I think you’ve been running for a long time and it scares you that you might not need to run anymore.”
“I’m not scared.” She birthed the lie in her head and hoped it sounded convincing on her tongue.
“Prove it,” he challenged. “Stop running. Put down r
oots. No one is going to come for you here.”
Chapter 17
Leah wiped down the bar and directed another look toward the door. Cole and the other daytime fire crew were all down at one end of the bar, drinking and taking turns shooting darts. No Bruce, thankfully. But also no Callum.
She felt light after giving him her secrets, but she had no idea where they stood. The mate question still loomed in her mind. She could feel a powerful pull to him, more than she’d ever felt toward another individual. But he hadn’t said the word or offered her any explanation of what they were to one another since she left his office and wandered back to the coffee shop.
She’d barely seen him after their chat and her confession. She tried to make a peace offering and test the waters between them by bringing him dinner from Tommy’s Diner, but he only accepted the boxed meal and then shooed her out of his office while another crowd streamed in after her.
“Nolan is out!” Sawyer yelled from the other end of the bar.
“Fuck off. You jostled me,” Nolan growled.
“Next round! Next round! Loser buys the next round!” Cole chanted and punctuated the words with a lifted glass.
Mouth twitching into a smile, Leah scurried down to their side and gathered the empty pints behind the bar. “I’ll add it to Nolan’s ever-increasing tab,” she teased and turned to pull more drafts.
She thought it curious that they’d all shown up every night that she worked. She even asked Gideon if it was normal for them, and he confirmed her suspicions that they were occasional customers, more frequent after a fire, but never an every night crew. And then there was the way one of them always had an eye on the customers who weren’t pleased with her presence. That crowd shot her dark looks, the firefighters shot them warnings to keep civil. She had her own team of bouncers.
She wondered if they were there because they wanted to help her or if Callum set them to guarding her.
As if summoned, she caught him sauntering through the door on her next inspection.