by Neely Powell
Stirling’s face went red, and he snarled a curse. “Oh, right, because he was the great shapeshifter, sworn to protect the family’s secret. And now it’s your job.” Spitting out another curse, he threw his crystal glass to shatter in the fireplace.
The move stunned Hunter. His father never lost that steely control. Was he angry that Hunter about the will? In silence, Hunter watched Stirling stalk to the bar and pour himself another drink.
“You know what happened to Grandda and Shamus,” Hunter said quietly. “We have to take control of this situation.”
“If Father had let me deal with Michael Killin, perhaps I could have bested him in the boardroom. If he weren’t so successful in both worlds, would he pose such a threat?”
Hunter paused, surprised by the bitter tone in his father’s voice.
“We’re in trouble now because your grandfather was too stupid to kill Michael Angus Killen, Chymera’s grandfather, when he had the chance,” Stirling said. “When your grandfather and Angus fought, they were true gentlemen. Each allowed the other to walk away. Now the Killins have multiplied like animals, their leader is ruthless, and our backs are against the wall.”
Stirling surprised Hunter again as he set down his drink and reached for one of the Bradmore swords on the wall. He took a fighting stance, waving the sword through the air with a skill that Hunter had never seen.
“I was a fencing champion at Harvard,” Stirling said.
“You never told me that.”
“I do most of my thrusting and lunging with words and money now, but at one time, I was the national champion.” He moved out of his stance and studied the sword.
Hunter saw such sadness in his father’s eyes that he felt heaviness in his own chest. His father was grieving just as much as he was, only he couldn’t let loose of his control in order to show it.
When Stirling looked back at Hunter, he picked up his drink again. “Go play soldier with your little friends.” He toasted Hunter with his glass and returned to his seat in front of the big television.
Hunter wondered if he should suggest his father come with them. He couldn’t imagine such a thing, however, so he left, calling Craig as he walked toward the kitchen at the rear of the house.
****
Hunter could smell Chymera, but tonight there were no cries rending the air. He didn’t feel the dark presence of evil as he had before. But still, there was…something out here in the night.
His security force was dressed in black. Many had blackened their faces in order to blend with the night. They looked menacing. Hunter felt confident. Evan carried a formidable looking crossbow.
Hunter now knew the Egans had worked for the MacRaes for centuries. Their roots went back to the same little village in the Highlands, though they were not shapeshifters.
The Egans and their descendants lived according to the Marcian Statutes, handed down from the goddess and warrior, Marcia Proba. She believed in equality and knew that women were truly as strong as men. A Celtic warrior queen who lived around the third century, BCE, her Statutes were purported to be the guide for the Magna Carta, though the latter document refused to recognize women as equals to men.
The two families joined forces when the big cats of the MacRae family saved the Egans’ homeland from being seized. In return, the Egans promised to be warriors and protectors of the MacRae secrets. There were three husband-and-wife teams in the security force.
Hunter had complete faith in Craig Egan, knowing Craig and his wife Bree knew the estate well and supervised the guards with a ruthless discipline. Craig handed out assignments for the two-person teams as they began their search.
Partnered with Craig, Hunter stayed close. The night was cold and cloudless, the moon rising in the sky. They walked cautiously through the dense greenery, making as little noise as possible. Night vision goggles made it easy to see. Occasionally Hunter heard whispered reports in his earpiece, but he didn’t use the mic on his jacket lapel.
Hours passed. At the west side of the estate, Hunter stilled when he heard movement in the nearby bushes. He was alone. Craig had moved to the left. He raised his rifle, focusing on the spot in the thick shrubbery. The bushes moved again, and Hunter watched in horror as an angry beast rose up on two legs. With its teeth bared and its claws released, it reminded him of nothing less than a demon.
Though it had stocky human legs, the upper body was covered with a shaggy mane and the blonde fur of a full-grown lion. There was a rumble deep in the animal’s chest as he gazed at Hunter hungrily, licking his lips with anticipation.
There was no roar as the animal advanced on him. Hunter froze. Hearing stories of this beast had in no way prepared him for seeing it live in front of him.
A tiny movement to the left put Craig in Hunter’s peripheral vision and he stole a quick glance at the other man. Though Craig showed no shock at what he was seeing, Hunter’s stomach clenched again.
They were facing his grandfather’s murderer.
Chapter 13
I was having a good time. I was in a restaurant with a very good-looking man who wasn’t my best friend.
I admit it. I was pretty turned on.
It had been a long, dry spell. I mean, the last time I felt this way was when I was watching a Ben Affleck movie. You can guess how that ended. But as I sat beside Mike Scala, enjoying food and some sexy repartee, I sensed my luck was about to change.
The evening had started well. I had time after leaving Lydia and the girls to go home, shower, and do my make-up and hair. This was a definite improvement over my previous meetings with Mike. I dressed in my best and tightest jeans and the red cashmere sweater Margaret gave me for Christmas. I knew her personal shopper had probably picked up one in every color for the unimportant people on her list, but this color looked good against my fair skin and dark hair.
Maybe it was the clothes, maybe it was the mascara and red lipstick, but Mike seemed to be enjoying the view. I beamed in return, because he looked nothing short of delicious in black jeans, a cable knit sweater, and a bomber jacket. He was sexy, confident and tough. I liked that combination, especially in a real man instead of an image on the screen.
He was sitting close, helping me finish off my Pollo Parmigiana. We were at an intimate restaurant called Gabriel’s instead of the casual place he mentioned last night. It was a more romantic setting. Gradually, while we drank wine and made our way through bread and salad and entrees, his chair had moved closer to mine, until the side of his leg was pressing against my thigh. I normally don’t share food with strangers, but the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering so hard, my appetite was off.
“You look nice.” Mike leaned in closer. “And you smell wonderful.” He had been saying things like that since he picked me up.
“I think that’s the garlic,” I joked in return. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”
“So, not sorry you came out with me?”
“I love Gabriel’s. Thanks.”
He slanted a sideways look at me. “I was wondering if you liked the company.”
I’m really not the best at romantic chitchat, which might explain my dry spell. Instead of cooing something back Mike’s way, I said, “I thought we’d talk about Kinley’s case.”
Mike burst out laughing as I blushed almost as scarlet as my sweater.
He made me feel better, however, by teasing, “So you’re just going to use me for information?”
“Of course not,” I said, still flustered. Where were the witty remarks when I needed them?
“That’s good” He leaned back in his chair to study me. “You know I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”
“I know Eric killed her. I’d like to help prove it.”
“Leave the investigation up to us. We’re doing everything we can.”
“I’m sure you are,” I replied, already regretting losing the flirtatious mood. “But I feel responsible.”
His gaze sharpened. “Why?”
�
��Hunter and I promised to keep her safe.”
“We’re pursuing any and all leads, including Eric.”
“Other leads?” My interest quickened. “You can tell me about them. It’s not like I’m just a civilian. I’m a licensed investigator.”
“In my eyes, you’re a civilian. I’m not discussing the case with you.”
“I had a professional relationship with Kinley.”
Mike leaned forward and took away the knife I was waving around. “I asked you out because I felt a special connection with you. I thought you were interested, too. Did I read you wrong? Are you and Mr. MacRae more than just business partners?”
It was a minute before I realized he was asking about my relationship with Hunter. I wasn’t used to anyone calling him Mr. MacRae. Now I laughed. “Oh, we’re much more than business partners.”
The detective frowned, not reassured.
“Hunter’s my best friend,” I explained. “We’ve been a dynamic duo since middle school. A nerd and nerdette who became business partners.”
“I can’t imagine you as a nerd,” Mike replied.
“Oh, I had the braces, the wild hair, and the thick glasses.” I bit my lip, willing myself to shut up. Why in the world would I paint myself as a dork to this man?
“Your partner definitely grew out of his nerdiness. Word around town is that he’s quite a ladies’ man. Rich, too.”
I took a sip of wine. Just as I feared, Mike had investigated Hunter thoroughly.
“Yes, Hunter’s family is very rich.”
“And he practices family law just for fun, right?”
“Hunter enjoys his work.” And meeting attractive women.
“But he doesn’t have to work.”
“No.”
“Must be nice.”
“He works hard.”
“He left town and hasn’t returned.”
“His grandfather passed away unexpectedly.”
I felt my confessing compulsion come to life. If I didn’t shut up I’d be telling him everything about a shifter and a seer. Shit, what was I doing here with a cop?
“Naturally, I ran background checks after Friday night,” Mike continued. “I knew about his grandfather’s death.”
I shot him a look.
He had the grace to squirm under my stare. “That sounded like I’m a stalker. And I’m not. I just…” He paused and grinned at me. “You found a body. I had to check you out.”
I nodded. I knew about the details of an investigation. “Anything more happen with that poor guy we found? You said his name was Dugard.”
“His family arrived yesterday and made arrangements to take him home.”
I frowned. “That’s kind of quick to release a murder victim’s body, isn’t it?”
“I told you he had connections to law enforcement.” Mike frowned. “Orders to release the body came straight from the top. The autopsy was complete, so we let it go. Cause of death was evident.”
I shivered at the memory, but before I could reply, Mike leaned in close again. “You know, this is my first night off in eight days, and I wanted to spend it with a gorgeous woman. Not talking about murder.”
“A gorgeous woman, you say?” I glanced over my shoulder. “When’s she going to join us?”
He kissed me, leaning over to cup my face, draw me close, and fasten his sexy mouth on mine.
God, I wanted him.
We gazed at each other. Then Mike moved back and raised his hand for our waiter. I thought he was going to ask for the check and we would do the horizontal bop in the backseat of his SUV. Instead, he said, “Coffee, please. Black. How about you, Zoe?”
I ordered a cappuccino and sat back, thinking, oh, but this man is really smooth, playing patient and controlled. I liked him and his style.
We sat close together, talking easily—movies, pop culture and books. I was excited to learn Mike was addicted to the cable series “Justified,” was a rabid Robert B. Parker fan, and loved Stephen King as well.
“My last Stephen King was Cujo,” I said with a laugh. “I saw the movie, but it scared me to death. I slept with the lights on for three nights and swore I’d never have a dog.”
Mike laughed, and I enjoyed the way his face changed completely. “I guess I’d better keep Barney in the garage if you ever come to my place.”
“Barney would be your dog, right?” I said, disappointed. I was, for obvious reasons, a cat person.
“Don’t worry. They don’t come any friendlier or dumber than Barney. I’ve seen him lie still for thirty minutes while my eighteen-month-old nephew hit him with a stuffed hammer. I think Barney would rather be hurt himself than do anything to anybody else.”
Mike told me about his family. There were three sisters between him and his older brother. “Lots of estrogen in the house,” he said. His brother, Dominick, had been a member of the New Jersey Army National Guard. Dom, as he called him, had died in Afghanistan protecting a wounded buddy during a firefight.
The open admiration and pure love in Mike’s voice touched me. He said he spent many of his days off at Dom’s house doing odd jobs for his sister-in-law and two nephews.
“I feel like I need to be their male role model,” he explained. “They’re great kids. Anthony’s fifteen and Michael’s twelve. They both play basketball and hockey and love the Yankees. We try to get to at least two or three games every year.”
“Kids definitely get under your skin,” I agreed. I told him about my visit that afternoon with Kinley’s daughters.
“I want to try to help Kelly.”
“So she’s still not talking.”
“All she did while I was there was draw pictures. She used a lot of red, pressing down on the crayon like she’d never get enough color on it.”
“Expressing her anger, maybe?”
I shrugged. “I promised Lydia I would go over to Kinley’s and pick up a few things.”
Mike glanced at his watch. “It’s not quite ten. How about we go by tonight? I can help you.”
I hesitated. This was not the sexy end to the evening I had in mind. On the other hand, his company would be nice on this difficult task.
****
Kinley’s little house looked lonely in the moonlight as we pulled into the driveway. I closed my eyes. Unfortunately, all that did was make me think of the vision from Fraser. I hadn’t thought about Hunter in the last two hours. But now, very clearly, I could hear Fraser telling me to protect him.
“You okay?” Mike asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it would bother me so much to be here,” I lied.
“If you need to wait out here, I’ll get the stuff Lydia wants.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I immediately felt better. There is great value in human touch. I handed him the house keys while we walked up the steps. I waited while Mike cut the crime seal and unlocked the front door.
I felt Kinley’s presence everywhere, and I was filled with a suffocating sadness. Mike put his hand in the small of my back, and we stood, absorbing the grief that surrounded us.
Mike flipped on the lights as we went upstairs. I read off items on Lydia’s list and he gathered. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about kids’ toys and clothes. He told me he had six nieces as well as the three nephews he had already mentioned. Together, we packed a couple of suitcases we found in the hall closet. He helped me fold the quilt from Kinley’s bed, and we carried the bags downstairs.
Mike did a quick walk-through of the house. As we passed the kitchen, I glanced inside and noticed the refrigerator was covered with childish artwork.
“Hang on a second.” I stepped into the room to study the pictures.
Most of the drawings were done by Kelly. They were actually a story of her family. There were pictures of a house with the mom, dad, and two little girls standing in grass with flowers at their feet. At the top was what I assumed was a newer picture of a mother and two girls standing by the same small house, wit
h the flowers and grass in place.
These pictures were a stark contrast to the ones Kelly was drawing now.
“Something wrong?” Mike asked from behind me.
I turned and headed for the living room. “I’m sorry. This is such a sad place now. Kinley wanted it to be a happy home.”
As I walked down the sidewalk to the car, I looked back and shivered. Mike locked the front door and put the police seal back in place. I hoped I never returned here.
We put the bags in the backseat of Mike’s car. “Why don’t I take these over to Lydia’s in the morning?” he suggested. “I need to talk to her anyway.”
I agreed. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something. A man?
I whipped around and saw Hunter’s grandfather standing just at the rear corner of the garage. Gasping, I ran forward.
“Zoe?” By the time I reached the spot where Fraser stood, Mike was at my side with his gun drawn.
And there was nothing and no one there.
“What is it?” Mike asked.
“I just thought—”
A bolt of silver shot past us, and we jumped. Then a cat’s plaintive meow sounded from the darkness.
“Hunter?” I murmured, stepping forward again.
“What?” Mike touched my arm. “What about Hunter?”
What was I supposed to say, something like, “Hunter becomes a cat all the time. I thought he might be checking up on our date.” Instead, I just shook my head.
Mike walked around the garage but found nothing, of course. He paused and looked at me but said nothing as he holstered his gun. He took my arm. “Let’s get you out of here,” Mike said. “This place is nothing but bad memories.”
Maybe that’s all it was, I thought on the drive to my house. Perhaps being back at the scene of Kinley’s murder made me jumpy. Just to be sure, I pulled out my cell phone and checked. Nothing from Hunter. No phantom texts from Fraser telling me what to do next.
“Expecting to hear from someone?” Mike asked.
I put the phone away. “Just a client.”
I don’t think he believed me. He was quiet when we got to my place.
But as we stood in the circle of light from the lamp beside the door, his expression softened. He put his arms around me and pressed a kiss along my jaw line. His voice was a deep caress against my skin. “I’m really glad I met you,” he whispered.