Family Pride (Blood of the Pride)

by Nantus, Sheryl

  My knees went weak for a second as my mind finished processing the odor and spit out the result.

  Michael Hanover.

  I was holding Bran’s half brother.

  Chapter Three

  I turned back to Molly, who was poring over the documents. Liam squirmed for a second before settling down, his tiny eyes closing as he figured out I wasn’t going to be feeding him.

  “Liam...” I paused, trying to find the right phrasing. “Brayton is his father, right?”

  She glared at me. “Of course.” The pen slammed down on the table as she strode toward me and plucked the baby out of my arms. “What sort of woman do you think I am?”

  Liam let out a soft whimper at the abrupt movement. He scrunched his tiny face, considering whether to cry.

  I held my breath.

  He sighed and fell asleep again, curling into his mother’s touch.

  I fumbled to find the right words, the brain freeze cutting out all coherent thought. There was no easy way to ask if she’d been screwing Bran’s father.

  Even worse, I couldn’t prove anything without a paternity test. Last time I checked, Felis scent identification wasn’t legal in court.

  “I apologize. It’s that I’ve found in some of these cases the supposed father demands a DNA test before paying up. I know Mr. Brayton’s passed on it up to this point but you may want to get one to avoid future complications.” I tried to sound as sympathetic as possible. “Believe me, I’ve seen men demand a test after paying years of support to try and get out of the commitment. The wife finds out and instead of the husband standing up to her he asks for a paternity test to buy time and, if it’s not his child, to duck out on any prearranged payments.” I shot her a wry smile. “You’d be surprised at how intense a woman’s emotions can get when she feels slighted.”

  “I see where you’re coming from.” She turned her attention to the half-asleep baby in her arms. “But David’s accepted Liam as his son. That’s all that matters.”

  I held up my hands. “No problem. I understand.” I picked up the documents and scanned them. “Good choices here.”

  She’d upped the numbers, as I expected. Everyone likes to lowball on the first estimate on anything, including child support. It wasn’t a huge increase but enough to allow for cost of living and plain old life.

  A smile replaced the frown. “I want to do what’s right for Liam.” She looked down at the sleeping baby. “David’s stepping up to support us and that’s all I wanted. Enough to start a new life out west and give us a chance to start over.”

  “He’s a good man,” I said.

  I wasn’t lying—it took a lot of guts to claim a child that wasn’t his. I wasn’t sure if Brayton was in the same situation as I was with Hanover blackmailing him, but regardless of the situation Brayton was stepping up to care for what wasn’t his.

  Molly nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  I put the papers back in the envelope and into my messenger bag. “Let me run these back to the office and have him approve them—it shouldn’t take more than a few hours for me to be back with signed copies. You give a final set of signatures, I give you your copy and you’ll be all set.”

  She sat down on the couch and rubbed her face with one free hand. Liam smacked his lips but stayed silent. “Sorry for snapping at you before. I know no one cares these days about single mothers and paternity but...” She sighed. “I’m a bit old-school. Should have known better and all that.”

  “At least the little one’s going to have a good life.” I headed for the door. “And that’s all we can ask for, right?”

  Molly shot me a wide grin. “He deserves the best. And I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

  I stepped outside into the corridor and yanked hard on the doorknob. It took me a few minutes to flag down a cab, during which my mind spun faster than a Ferris wheel on overdrive. I slipped into the backseat and barked the address before falling silent, trying to quell the confusion threatening to overwhelm me.

  Nausea burned my belly. I’d thought this was going to be a quickie and I’d be able to meet Bran for lunch. In retrospect, not eating had been a good decision; the driver didn’t need to worry about cleaning up a mess on his backseat.

  The cab driver kept looking in the mirror as we headed back to the glass towers. It might have been because I kept putting my head between my knees, trying not to throw up.

  There was no doubt in my mind this was Michael Hanover’s kid. He’d slept with Molly Callendar and he’d asked David Brayton to take the fall for it, then financed the payoff to get her and Liam out of town.

  The problem was there was nothing illegal here.

  Immoral, possibly. It depended on your point of view. But at least Hanover was taking care of the kid via Brayton. Callendar seemed happy with the arrangement; Brayton didn’t mind playing surrogate daddy and Hanover got rid of his messy affair.

  My mouth tasted like I’d swallowed a bucket of sour candies as I argued with myself.

  This wasn’t my business.

  I was just a courier running papers back and forth so no one could connect Michael Hanover to Molly and Liam Callendar. My part was almost done and I’d secured the safety of all the Hanovers and my Felis family with a simple taxi trip.

  Problem was, it became my business when Liam became Bran’s little brother and not a faceless statistic in the unending list of bastard children fathered by ignorant men.

  * * *

  The receptionist offered me a cup of coffee as I waited for Brayton. Her attitude had changed a hundred and eighty degrees from my visit an hour or so ago and part of me relished the star treatment. Brayton must have made it sound like Dad’s inheritance was pretty substantial based on the way she fluttered around me like a moth dancing to my invisible flame.

  “You’re sure about the coffee? Tea? We have some lovely herbals,” she murmured in a soft tone. “Maybe some bottled water?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I returned to chewing on my lower lip, working through a thousand options and finding them all unacceptable.

  If I told Bran he’d be sure to want to confront his father. Not that I was against it but it’d set in motion the exact events I had been trying to avert with this job. I had no doubt Michael Hanover would set his dogs on my past with horrible repercussions for all of us.

  But I’d just lambasted Bran about keeping secrets. And this was a biggie.

  David Brayton poked his head out of his office and gestured for me to come down the hall. I waved to the attentive receptionist and walked down the hall at a leisurely pace—winning me more time to weigh options.

  He closed the door behind me and retreated to his desk. “Did she sign?” His voice went up an octave on the last word.

  “She requested some changes.” I plucked the envelope out of my bag and slid it over. “Seem reasonable enough to me.”

  “How much did you talk to her?”

  I put up my hands. “Just enough to make sure she was comfortable with the deal. There’s no point in the two of us going through this if she’s going to call a lawyer tomorrow and try and have the entire deal rewritten.”

  Brayton grunted his approval. He pulled out the folder and scanned the pages, giving a noncommittal snort at each pen-marked paragraph.

  I waited, standing in front of the desk. There were no pictures of friends or family on the walls or on his desk. It could be anyone’s office.

  He closed the folder. “I agree. Let me initial these changes and get it finalized. Make another set and we’ll finish this up.”

  I watched him scribble on the pages, pondering my next move. I couldn’t come out and call him a liar. I wasn’t sure if he was even a victim—maybe Hanover had offered him something he wanted or needed to have him take responsibility for Liam. I couldn’t assume he was
in the same place as I was, blackmailed into staying silent.

  “Molly and I spoke while she was going over the documents. She seems like quite a nice woman.” I ventured forth, choosing my words carefully.

  Brayton smiled as his black pen leaped across the pages. “She’s a gem. I have no doubt she’ll be a fantastic mother.” I could hear the honesty in his words. He knew Molly, if not in the biblical sense.

  I shifted my feet against the gray shag carpet. “How much does Michael Hanover know about all this? Does he know Molly?”

  Brayton didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head. “He might have seen her on the floors—as I said, she worked here as a temp for a few months. I doubt he even knows her name. I only approached him when I found out she was pregnant and needed some, ah, neutral help.”

  I didn’t have to be an investigator to pick out the lies in the statement. His body language screamed it loud and clear—the nervous tic in one cheek, the constant wetting of his lips. He was already fumbling the cover story, changing it from what he’d told me earlier.

  I gave him my most comforting smile. “He’s a good friend. Someone you can count on.”

  Brayton nodded, focused on the documents. “Fortunate for me and for Molly.” He closed the file folder. “Stay here for a few minutes, please. I’ll run this down to Legal, make copies, and you can head back to the hotel. I’d like to get this over and done with today.” His stare darted past me to the windows and the skyline, dotted with power towers. “I’m sure you’d like to get back to your other assignments as well.”

  There was a note of curiosity in his voice that hadn’t been there before. He suspected I knew the depth of Michael Hanover’s involvement in this situation but he wasn’t going to ask and risk giving anything away.

  I waved an invisible fly away. “I’m clear for the entire day. I’m here for as long as you need me.” I stood up, feeling the coiled tension in my legs. I wanted to scream, to kick down a door, anything but sit here and play dumb. “How many people know about this situation?” I didn’t say the word “baby”; I figured playing it safe was the best road to take for now.

  He paused at the door, his hand on the doorknob. “As few as possible. Legal knows it’s an arrangement for a client—they don’t get to look at names, just numbers. We value the privacy we give our customers.”

  Brayton slipped into the hallway and out of sight.

  I walked around the office, considering my options. They ranged from few to none. I couldn’t confront Michael Hanover with the truth because it’d tick him off and he’d investigate me more, resulting in the Pride stepping in. I couldn’t even tell him why I knew it was his baby and not Brayton’s.

  I had no idea what to tell Bran. It was one thing to run out and do a fast favor for his father but another to participate in a huge cover-up, something that directly affected Bran’s life and his future. I didn’t want to be there in twenty years when Liam came a-calling at Bran’s door announcing his half brother status. Sure, it might not happen—but it could. And I’d be part of this horrible secret, an unwilling participant but guilty as hell of helping making it happen.

  I couldn’t keep this a secret from Bran, not with what we’d gone through in the past. We’d agreed to keep no secrets and this was about as bad as it could possibly get. From what I’d observed his relationship with his father was complicated, to say the least, and I didn’t know what Bran’s reaction would be. All I could do was be there and support him.

  I didn’t even want to start guessing about Bernadette and how she’d react. Maybe this was the latest in a long line of illegitimate children. Maybe Liam was the most recent half brother Bran did or didn’t know about.

  I just didn’t know.

  Brayton came back into the room. There was a lightness to his step, a definite change from the rapid stomp he’d left with. He smiled and handed me the folder.

  “All cleaned up and ready to go. All you need is to get her signature on the last page, initials on the changes and we’re done. There’s a second copy in there for her to keep—I’ve already signed off on both copies.”

  I tucked the papers into my bag. “Is this the first time you’ve covered for Michael? Do you owe him something or is he blackmailing you?”

  He drew back as if I’d slapped him.

  “I know it’s his baby, not yours.” I kept talking, trying to get it all out before he could stop me. “You’re taking the hit for him and so is Molly—she’s going along with the arrangement to make it easier for everyone. But the baby is Hanover’s and sometime in the future Liam’s going to figure out the truth and want to know where he came from, who’s his real father. Did Hanover and you plan for that?”

  A feral look came over him, replacing the weak and mellow man I’d been dealing with a few minutes ago.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You are here to do a job, to do a simple courier job, and that’s all you need to know or do. I don’t want to tell Michael you’ve been more trouble than it’s worth. Deliver the damned papers and get the fuck out of my business.”

  A growl started in my throat, threatening to break free if I let go for a fraction of a second. I envisioned leaping over the desk and grabbing that scrawny tie. I wanted to snarl into this jackhole’s face I wasn’t one of his slaves, not one of the indentured souls who groveled for crumbs falling from his financial table.

  Jess’s voice snapped at the back of my mind, reminding me to keep control. Protect the Pride, protect our secret.

  Protect my mate.

  I took a step back and bowed my head a fraction of an inch, glaring at the carpet.

  Some Felis traits worked just as well in the human world. Submission being one of them.

  “I’m glad we understand each other. I appreciate your good intentions about the baby but there are some areas you shouldn’t venture into.” He cocked his head to one side, the sweaty skin slick and gleaming in the artificial lighting. “Thank you for your help.”

  I resisted the urge to slap the satisfied smile off his face. “I’ll be back with the signed documents as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  My cell phone hummed again on the elevator ride down.

  FREE YET 4 LUNCH?

  My fingers were shaking as I tapped on the minute keyboard. One of the businesswomen standing next to me moved closer to the sliding doors for a faster escape.

  NO I B HOME SOON. YOU BUY STEAK DINNER

  I’d need to tear into some raw meat after all this.

  OK. LUV U

  The cab ride wasn’t long enough for me to list the various ways I wanted to kill Brayton.

  Disembowelment was high on the list.

  I flexed my fingers and studied the space between my knuckles. The wounds had healed over since the last time I’d been able to manifest my claws, albeit without control.

  I really wished I had full control now.

  I’d have loved to scratch up Brayton’s expensive desk, scar the lovely varnished dark wood with the wonderful screech of destruction.

  When we pulled up in front of the hotel, the doorman waited patiently as I hopped out, recognizing me from before.

  “Wait here,” I instructed the cab driver. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

  The elderly man shrugged and tapped the meter. “Take as long as you want. She keep running.” He grinned, showing off a pristine set of blinding white teeth. “I got no place to be.” He waved at the doorman before parking off to one side of the long driveway.

  The lobby was jammed with tourists, this latest swarming consisting of chattering teenagers out to take pictures of anything and everything Canadian. Cell phones bobbed above the crowd as the desk clerk attempted to translate from French to German and back again for the lone chaperone. I slipped by the commotion and headed for the stairs.
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br />   Different smells and sounds assaulted my senses as I walked down the hallway, more than on my previous trip. Wound up from my confrontation with Brayton, I felt more and more of my Felis senses coming out.

  Especially the urge to kill.

  A moan from behind a door, matched with a gasp. The sharp, almost acidic smell of sex.

  Crying behind another. Sobbing, muffled with a pillow or clothing.

  A childish giggle at the third. Boyish, high-pitched. Low whispering, another male.

  By the time I got to the end of the corridor my senses were saturated, the virtual pool overflowing with what I could smell and hear. It took a concentrated effort to clamp down, get control and restrict my intake to what I wanted. I’d learned hard and fast the first day I’d landed in Toronto how to pick and choose what I wanted to experience. It’d proven to be an asset to my livelihood but still a sore point at times when I lost control.

  I paused in front of the hotel door. There was no use in taking my anger out on Molly—whether I agreed or not with what she was doing she was Liam’s mother.

  A slow, deep exhalation brought me down to earth. All I needed was a set of signatures and this would all be over.

  I rapped at Molly Callendar’s door with short, sharp bursts.

  The door shifted under my touch. I touched the white painted wood with my fingertips and pushed it open.

  At first I didn’t panic. The thick carpet in many hotel rooms made it hard to shut the door enough to have the lock catch. It looked closed but it only took a fraction of an inch to keep the lock from grabbing. It’d happened before when I’d left.

  The coppery scent smashed into my mouth as I stepped inside. I knew the smell, knew it intimately.

  Blood.

  Another sharper, more pungent smell rose up. I didn’t need to be Felis to recognize that one.