by Neely Powell
He padded around the bed and bumped against the side of it. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and felt them grow wider and wider as my shock reached epic proportions.
A tiger cub stood beside the bed.
True to my promise, I didn’t move or scream. I didn’t even breathe. However, the thing that mystified me was that I was still looking into Hunter’s sad eyes. It was him. I could see him in the cat’s face.
He bumped his head against the side of the bed, and I gasped. I struggled for control and my breath was shallow. Reaching out, I carefully touched the top of the cub’s head. He blinked but didn’t move.
I stroked him and scratched behind his ears like I would a house cat. The tiger’s eyes closed and he purred so I continued to pet him. What a pair we made—a frightened teenage girl and a sad little tiger in a luxurious suite of a five-star hotel in Washington, D.C. It was weird but the city had witnessed stranger things.
I smiled, remembering that day. Maybe it was strange that I accepted what Hunter was without hesitation. Or maybe I had already known, somewhere down deep, that he was unique.
Sighing, I punched the lumpy pillow Kinley had given me and stretched out on the couch and fell asleep.
The next morning I heard Kinley in the kitchen and stumbled to the bathroom to wash my face and clear my head. I found a towel and bathrobe waiting for me. I made some order out of my wavy hair and pinched a little color in my cheeks. I came out thirty minutes later ready to face the day. All I needed now was the strong black coffee I smelled as I slipped my gun in my robe pocket.
“Good morning,” Kinley said as she set a plate on the round wooden table in the kitchen. “I hope you like your eggs scrambled.”
“They’re always fixed my favorite way when someone else cooks them.” I looked at the small jar she’d placed by my plate. “Are these homemade strawberry preserves?”
“Yeah, the girls and I put them up this summer. They’re very easy to make. I could give you the recipe,” she said with enthusiasm.
“I think I’m missing the first ingredient,” I said with a dramatic pause, “the desire to make them.”
I smeared lots of butter and preserves on my toast and sighed with contentment. Here was more proof Eric Russo was an ass with no idea what a true jewel he had in his wife.
“How are you this morning?” I asked.
“Not too much worse for the wear.” Kinley showed me the bruises on her arms and neck.
The purple and pink marks would mean she’d be wearing long sleeves and turtlenecks for a few days.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to put you and the girls in a place he doesn’t know about until the divorce is final?”
“No, I want this to continue to be our home, and he’s going to have to accept that.”
She moved her food around her plate, but never took a bite. There was a soft knock at the front door. Kinley jumped, and I went to see who was there.
Hunter peeked at me through the lace curtains and held up a bag. I was relieved to see he was fine. My fear last night meant nothing. I unlocked the door and he came in with a whoosh of cold air.
“Man, it’s freezing out there this morning. Any chance a guy could get some coffee with cream?”
“Since you brought my clothes, definitely.” I dropped the bag on the sofa.
Kinley handed him his coffee and pushed her plate toward him. “I hadn’t started on this. Why don’t you eat it and I’ll fix myself a bowl of cereal. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
We ate and talked. Hunter told Kinley she’d be getting new locks today—at his expense. When Kinley protested, he promised it would come out of Eric’s divorce settlement.
Hunter was slathering preserves on his fourth piece of toast when Kinley and I stacked the dishes in the sink. She wiped her hands with a towel and headed toward the living room. “I’m glad I’ve got you both here. I have to discuss something with you.”
Hunter raised his eyebrows at me as she left the room, but I shrugged. I had no idea what she wanted.
Kinley came back with a legal-sized manila envelope. She pulled the contents out and laid them on the table. “Before I started this whole process, I took some steps to ensure my girls could have a good future—with or without me.”
“Don’t worry, Kinley,” Hunter said. “If we need to, we’ll hire around-the-clock security.”
“I know, and I appreciate that, but I knew from the beginning that this wasn’t going to be easy, so I did what was needed for my girls to get the best care.” She handed me one document and passed the other to Hunter. He had to get up and wash his hands so he wouldn’t get preserves on it.
“I did this on the Internet. I kept seeing those commercials about getting legal help and I decided to be brave and try it,” she said. “Does it look legal?”
I read the details of a life insurance policy that named both girls as beneficiaries and Kinley’s sister, Lydia, to oversee the disbursement of the funds. Lydia was the sister closest to Kinley in age, and that was where the girls had spent the night. Lydia had no children of her own so she doted on them.
When I finished looking over the policy, Hunter passed me what turned out to be Kinley’s will, which outlined her wishes to have Lydia named as the girls’ legal guardian in the event of Kinley’s death. “I know you could have done this for me,” Kinley said. “But you’ve already done enough.”
“Well, it’s legal,” Hunter said. “But Eric is still their father. If something did happen to you, he could contest your sister having custody.”
Kinley nodded. “I was afraid of that. But she could use this document to state my wishes, couldn’t she?”
“Of course,” Hunter agreed, but he couldn’t lie to her. “But he might get custody anyway.”
Kinley held his gaze. “I just didn’t want any doubt about what I wanted for my daughters.” Sitting quietly, she gazed out the window of her sweet little suburban kitchen and fought tears. “Eric loves the girls. He just isn’t very patient. Maybe I bring out the worst in him.”
“Don’t say that,” I was furious she blamed herself. “He’s a bully and an abuser.”
“You’re right. He’s just following his mother’s example of what a family should be. She was a tyrant, totally overshadowing his father when Eric was a child. Her advice to Eric on our wedding day was to ‘make sure she knows who’s in charge.’ He took it to heart.”
I grimaced at the sweet honesty in her words. It was her world, and she had come to grips with it and realized she could take control of it. I looked up at Hunter. I was sure he was thinking the same thing.
He confirmed that when he said, “We’ll do everything we can to make sure your wishes are carried out exactly as you want.” He took Kinley’s hand into both of his. “Right now, we’re going to make sure you’re safe.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, but you can’t be with me twenty-four hours a day. I also know a lot of this depends on my own determination, and, by God, I’m as determined as hell to be strong and independent. I want to rescue myself.”
She was such a little thing, and she had such aspirations. Would we be able to help her achieve them?
I shivered as another one of those feelings—another portent?—moved over me.
Chapter 4
A locksmith and his assistant made quick work of Kinley’s front, back, and garage doors. Then Hunter and Zoe talked Kinley into joining her daughters at her sister’s house. If Eric decided to return, she’d be gone, safely stowed for the weekend.
About eleven-thirty, Hunter pulled to a stop beside Zoe’s car. Crime scene tape was plainly visible in the woods, bright yellow against the snow and the bare winter trees. It wasn’t difficult for Hunter to relive the scene he had happened upon last night.
“Something wrong?” Zoe asked as she reached for the passenger door handle.
Hunter forced last night’s carnage from his mind and teased her, “I wonder if the handsome Detective Scala will
be showing up to interview you again. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“No.” She was emphatic. “I want him to stay the hell away. I don’t like lying to anyone, much less the police.”
“So you’d turn him down if he called?”
She started to speak, then gave a reluctant laugh. “Well, it’s against my better judgment, but I’d probably go out with him.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
Not bothering to answer, she opened the car door. “I’m going to spend the afternoon tailing our hospital CEO’s lovely wife. I’d like to put this case to bed.”
Hunter’s cell phone rang. He chuckled as he recognized Mandy’s number. “Speaking of bed.”
Predictably, Zoe got out and slammed the door. Hunter laughed. “Hey, beautiful lady.”
Mandy’s sweet voice purred, “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you naughty boy.”
“I made a clean getaway.”
“Without your clothes?”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mandy replied.
Hunter laughed again. “You’re very talented yourself. I’m thinking we need an encore performance. I’m free now.” The thoughts he’d had last night of breaking it off with Mandy didn’t seem so compelling today.
“Sorry, young stud, but Charlie is due in from golf any minute. He doesn’t have another late-night meeting until next Wednesday.”
“You can come to my place later. I’ll make my famous grilled-chicken salad and homemade Russian dressing.”
“You do know how to tempt me.” Mandy gave a low chuckle. “But whatever would I tell my dear husband?”
“What time does he turn in for the night?”
“Usually around ten o’clock. What do you have in mind?”
“Dessert with lots of whipped cream in my apartment at ten-thirty?”
“How can a girl resist an offer like that? See you later.”
Hunter slipped his phone back into his pocket, content to anticipate the coming attractions. He shifted his car into reverse and pulled out of the office drive. He imagined Zoe glaring out a window at him.
He knew Zoe thought he just jumped from one bed to another to satisfy his own whims. The truth was he loved women, all of them. He’d once had a fling with a voluptuous client whose husband was divorcing her because she had gained weight. To Hunter, she was a gorgeous woman with soft curves and lush, natural breasts. All and all, a wonderful experience, enjoyed by both of them. Remembering, he gave a low growl and hit the CD button. Matthew Sweets’ “The Big Cats of Shambala” blasted through the car.
It was cold but beautiful outside. Perfect for a run. He headed through Wayne to Hamburg Turnpike and Wayne Paterson University. Just outside the campus was the High Mountain Park Preserve. He knew there would be some hikers today, but with the cold weather and wind, maybe he’d be able to run unnoticed. The area protected a great many wildlife species, so no one would be surprised to see a bobcat streaking through the trees.
But first he needed to fuel up. Despite the meal at Kinley’s, he was still hungry. It happened that way after changing as he had last night. He needed a quick hit of sugar and caffeine. At the doughnut shop on Valley Road, he slid into a parking slot. He stopped here several times a week. Already salivating at the thought of a quick half dozen of glazed and filled heaven, he grunted as his phone beeped. He checked the read-out and was surprised to see it was his grandfather.
“Grandda?” he answered.
“I’ll never get used to everyone knowing who’s calling,” the older man replied. “Time was you could surprise someone on the phone.”
“It’s a new world.”
“Aye, but not necessarily better.”
They chatted for a few moments. Hunter was tempted to tell Fraser about the body in the woods and the strange feeling of being watched. He knew, however, that Fraser would not discuss such things over the telephone because he didn’t believe phones were secure enough for some types of conversations.
In fact, his grandfather didn’t call very often. After the summer Hunter had changed for the first time, Fraser gave him a lot of training in the ways of shifting. But as Hunter became an adult, his grandfather had let him lead his own life. Fraser never placed any pressure on Hunter to join the family firm. As arguments raged between Hunter and his parents, Fraser had always been on Hunter’s side. Since the two of them were the family shapeshifters, Hunter felt his grandfather understood the need for freedom and making his own way.
“I’d like to see you,” Fraser said.
“I can come up to see you and Nana in a few weeks. Maybe bring Zoe—”
“I need to see you soon.” Fraser’s tone had shifted. “It’s important.”
“What’s wrong?”
There was a heavy sigh. “There are things we need to discuss.”
Hunter frowned. “What is it?”
“I’m not ready to talk now. I’m coming to the city on Tuesday. I’ll see you at the offices for lunch.”
“I can check my schedule.”
“You will be there.” Fraser hadn’t talked this way to Hunter in a long time.
So Hunter agreed, although he remained puzzled. “Is this business or family?”
“We’ll talk Tuesday.” Fraser cleared his throat. “I hope you’re being careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“With your abilities,” Fraser said, his tone guarded. “You must respect who we are.”
“Grandda, I really need to know what this is about, but—”
“Just be careful.” Fraser clicked off the line.
Hunter stared down at the phone. The body and what he’d been feeling were connected to this, he was sure. It wasn’t like his grandfather to warn him that way. Fraser had taught Hunter how to protect the secret they shared and how to protect himself. Why the sudden concern?
He pushed through the door of the doughnut shop. Instantly, his senses went to full alert. His nostrils flared as he caught a scent. Of her.
The red-haired woman sat at a table facing the door, sipping coffee and working at a laptop. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her here. Several times over the past weeks, he had detected her scent despite the overhanging aromas of deep-fried sugar and rich coffee. She smelled like herbal soap and body lotion, undercut by the outdoors, and a trace of something wild.
Today, she was dressed in her usual jeans, with sturdy hiking boots tucked under the table. They were scuffed but in good shape, the mark of a regular hiker. She wore a flannel shirt over a thermal undershirt. Her heavy fall of vibrant hair was scooped back in a long ponytail. A thick curl just brushed her shoulder. She shouldn’t appeal to him. This outfit was pretty much her standard uniform. And he usually liked his women expertly made up and wearing sleek, sexy clothes. But there was something about her.
She glanced up. A tiny smile curved her lips. Their gazes met, and she didn’t look away.
Hunter’s body responded immediately. He grinned, then went to the counter for coffee and doughnuts. Once he had his order, he headed straight to her table. She watched him approach with an amused expression.
“Good hike?” he asked.
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Your boots give you away,” he replied by way of explanation. “I’ve seen you in here before. I hike nearby, too.”
Her dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she returned his smile. “Yes, I’ve seen you before, too.”
He waved his coffee cup toward the empty seat at her table. “Can I join you?”
“Sure.” She clicked a few keys on her computer before closing the screen. “Are you headed into the woods today?” she asked.
“Depends…” Hunter bit into a cream-filled confection.
“On what?”
He swallowed. “You mostly.”
“I really don’t see how I could possibly figure into your plans,” she drawled.
“You just need to use a little ima
gination.” It was a short stretch for Hunter to imagine what he wanted to do with this nature-loving redhead. “We could head into the woods. Together.”
She laughed, a throaty sound. “I’ve read ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ I don’t mess around with wolves.”
Hunter enjoyed her honesty. “I’m just a big pussy cat. I would never try to take away your goodies like the wolf did.”
“That’s great, because I take care of my goodies.”
He laughed again. “You can trust me. Look, no fangs or nasty claws.” He wiggled his fingers for her.
“My mamma taught me never to go in the woods with a strange man.”
“Then let’s not be strangers.” Hunter brushed sugar off his fingers with a napkin, extended his hand and introduced himself. “I live in Jersey City but my law office is in Wayne, so I like to come up here and take a break occasionally.”
She eyed him skeptically, then took his hand. “I’m Cynthia Donelson. My friends call me Cyn.”
“Sin,” he said with a low laugh. “I definitely want to be one of your friends.”
“That’s spelled C-Y-N,” she said, her eyes darkening as she looked into his.
“Still, a good name.”
She pulled her hand from his, but he sensed her reluctance. However, he scented the slight tang of pheromones.
“I think I’ve seen your law firm advertised,” she said.
“We do some ads in the local paper. What do you do?”
“I’m a writer, working on a new book.”
“Truth or fiction?”
“Depends on who you ask. I’m doing research on the New Jersey Devil.”
Hunter couldn’t have been more surprised. The New Jersey Devil had been a creature of legend in this state for more than 250 years. Supposedly, he had been born cruelly deformed and hidden by his parents until the day he sprouted wings and flew away. Since then, there had been frequent sightings of the demonic creature with the pointed ears, hoofed feet, and a long tail. As much as Hunter had roamed the woods, he had never happened upon the Devil. But who was he to disbelieve the existence of a fellow mythical beast?
He didn’t blink at Cyn. “Are you finding much evidence?”