True Nature

by Neely Powell

  The raw emotion in Evan’s tone startled Hunter.

  “Your grandfather died on Shamus’s watch,” the guard continued. “But there were many, many times when he saved the MacRae. That’s my plan, saving you.”

  “I’d like to save myself,” Hunter retorted.

  “Since the end result is one and the same, I don’t understand your resistance.”

  Hunter stood with his arms helplessly at his sides, feeling like his chest would explode. What he began to realize several days ago was coming into focus. The freedom he had relished for so long was gone.

  He looked across the water. Lady Liberty stood with her back to Jersey City. New York spread like a wonderland of lights in front of her. Hunter felt as frozen as she looked. He began walking, forcing himself to cool down. He sensed rather than saw Evan moving behind him, shadowing his every move.

  The silence continued on the elevator and up to Hunter’s floor. At the door to his place, however, Hunter stood back, knowing Evan needed to go in first, in case there were any surprises. He might not like this bodyguard business, but he knew when to back down and accept the inevitable.

  There was a surprise inside. Zoe was waiting for them. “You bastard,” she yelled at Hunter as she leapt off the couch. “You damned idiot. If I’m going to be saddled with knowing every time you’re in danger, then why can’t you answer your damn phone when I call?”

  Hunter was afraid she would punch him. Instead, she threw herself into his arms and burst into tears.

  Chapter 18

  I didn’t cry. Not ever.

  I prided myself on the fact that I kept a tight rein on my emotions. But what had I just done? Had a frigging crying meltdown in front of Evan the Warrior Prince.

  I stared at myself in horror in the mirror in Hunter’s bathroom. He knew how much I hated this kind of blubbering, weak female crap. That’s why he had hustled me away from Evan and into the master bedroom suite. He had left me alone in here for twenty minutes or more, no doubt while he tried to convince Evan that I wasn’t a lunatic who should be banished from the kingdom of MacRae.

  But was that true? Maybe I wasn’t well. Maybe these visions I was having, these spells, were the result of being knocked in the head the night Kinley was murdered. I certainly couldn’t control them. Even when I could see Hunter being stalked, as I had at my house not an hour ago, I couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe I should exit stage left and leave the protecting of Hunter up to those whose forbearers had been doing it for centuries.

  I was beginning to hate Evan Egan.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Zoe, you okay?” Hunter said.

  I opened the door. “I’m fine. Is Evan still here?”

  Hunter sighed. “He’s never not going to be here.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Shit.”

  I sank down on the edge of Hunter’s bed. “What are we going to do?”

  “I have no idea.” Hunter put his hands in the air in surrender.

  “I didn’t think they’d come after you here.”

  “According to Evan, there’s nowhere I can hide. Michael Killin is a clever enemy. He is surrounded by a huge clan that is fierce in its loyalty and its desire to do whatever he wants.”

  “And you’ve just got me,” I said sadly.

  “Along with Evan and others who are prepared to die for me.” Hunter looked as if the weight of that responsibility was shackling him to the ground as he sat down beside me.

  “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Let’s just say I’m having trouble adjusting to my new life.” He filled me in on his attempt to escape from his watchful guard.

  “I saw you running,” I said. I had been at home when I had the vision that had sent me in a frantic rush to his condo. “Something was watching you.”

  “A woman?”

  I frowned and shook my head, trying to see it as it had played out in my mind. “I assumed it was Chymera.”

  He told her about Cyn and how the reporter said she had sensed the monster’s presence as well. “Evan hinted that she…may not be quite human.”

  “Oh that’s just great. All I need is for you to get mixed up with some alley cat that will secretly sell you out to the enemy. Did she lure you down that path tonight?”

  “She’s not like that.” Hunter looked thoughtful. “I think she kept Chymera away.”

  “Then let’s get some of her mojo.”

  “Let’s go talk to Evan about it some more,” Hunter said as he stood.

  I groaned and scrubbed hands through my short, tangled hair. “I wish I didn’t have to see him.”

  “He’s not judging you.”

  “Really? Because I am judging myself. I suck at this psychic guide stuff.”

  Hunter put out a hand and hauled me to my feet. “Neither of us knows what we’re doing. Evidently, Evan’s been training for his role since he was a baby. Let’s go pick his brain.”

  We went into the living room. Evan was calm, almost Zen-like, waiting in one of the deep chairs Hunter’s decorator had arranged in front of the gas fireplace. The fire was on, warming the room. Evan pointed to a wine bottle and some glasses on the coffee table. “I thought you might want some wine,” he said to me.

  Yes, I definitely hated this man, I thought as I picked up a goblet of red wine and took a grateful sip. I reflected on my hatred and Evan’s incredibly sculpted features as I curled on the corner of the sofa closest to the fire. I chugged down some more wine.

  “I ordered pizza,” Evan said. “One of our men will pick it up and bring it here.”

  “Our men?” I couldn’t keep from laughing. I visualized a force of Evan clones, all in steel-plated armor.

  “There are women here in the city, as well,” Evan told her, not cracking a smile. “They’re dedicated to the MacRae’s safety.”

  “Do you communicate with them by phone or through a Vulcan mind meld?”

  Hunter shook his head as he picked up his wine and sat down. “Zoe, ease up. We’re in new territory here.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about new territory,” I said angrily. “I’m supposed to have this gift and yet I can’t even use it correctly.”

  Evan offered reassurances that made me want to slap him. “You have to give it time. You have to cultivate your gift and refine it.”

  “How do you know that?” I demanded.

  “Because all this has been a part of my family for generations.”

  “How special for you, but it hasn’t been that way for me, and I’m scared. What the hell are we going to do if th-that…animal decides he wants to come up here and rip us all apart. If I can’t warn—”

  “Let it go, Zoe,” Hunter said quietly.

  “We’re well protected,” Evan added.

  “Then how did tabby here get out tonight?” I pointed at Hunter. Evan’s face darkened, but I spoke over him when he tried to protest. “I have a right to be upset. Hunter could have been killed again tonight.”

  “This is why he isn’t taking chances like that again.” Evan darted a fierce look at Hunter. “Are you?”

  Hunter nodded and took sip of wine.

  I groaned and laid my head against the sofa’s soft, upholstered cushion. “God, Hunter, as much as I hate agreeing with Evan, you have to—”

  “I’ve had enough of this crap from him. I’m not listening to it from you too,” Hunter said.

  I was relieved that the doorman buzzed from downstairs. The pizza was here. Rather than stay and witness one of Evan’s soldier buddies making the hand-off, I escaped to the kitchen to get plates and napkins.

  “Let’s sit at the dining room table and pretend to be civilized,” I suggested as Evan brought in the pizza boxes.

  The two men agreed, and they sat around the table with two extra large pies, one with anchovies and one without. They tried to stay off the hot button issues. Evan outlined the security plan for the memorial service and reception, and we made plans for
the day.

  It might have been okay. Except that Evan was sitting where I usually sat when I was here with Hunter. It was a small thing, and I was small for not liking it. But I couldn’t help it. No matter what he knew about ancient family feuds or what skills he possessed, I didn’t want him here. Hunter and I had been a team for more than half of my life. I wasn’t sure about a third wheel.

  I felt so disheartened I didn’t even want a fourth piece of pizza.

  “I’ll clean up.” Evan expertly stacked plates and pizza boxes and went into the kitchen.

  I was grateful to be alone with Hunter.

  “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” I said.

  He grimaced. “Can we leave this all alone until after tomorrow? We’ll talk after the services and reception for Grandda. You heard Evan. All of us are going to be well-protected. Nothing’s going to happen. You don’t have to worry about being on guard, as well.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about that again. But it was actually something else I wanted to ask you about. About Kinley’s girls.”

  He sat forward. “Is something wrong? I exchanged emails with Brad today about the hearing next week. Eric doesn’t seem to be pushing for custody, although his mother is having a fit. I’m a little worried, but I think Brad—”

  “That’s not it.” I took a deep breath and told him about my conversation with Lydia and about Kelly whispering to her stuffed cat. I outlined the plan I’d been working on and chewed on my bottom lip while I waited for Hunter’s response.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Are you sure about this? Could it hurt Kelly?”

  “I think it’s worth a try. We’re talking about a little girl who may be holding on to a secret that could damage her for the rest of her life. I think we can find a way to reach her.”

  “I couldn’t forgive myself if anything more happened to either one of those little girls.”

  “I feel very strongly that this could help Kelly.”

  Hunter straightened in his chair. “Have you had a vision or something?”

  I was beginning to hate the “V” word. “Just one of those ordinary, run-of-the-mill hunches I used to have before your grandfather appeared to me.”

  He chewed his lower lip. “Give me some time to think.”

  I agreed but was disappointed he wasn’t eager to help. So much had changed in a short time. Before his grandfather’s death, Hunter was as impulsive as I was. Not now. There was a distance between us and I feared it was growing.

  “I need to go home.” I pushed away from the table. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  “You should stay here.”

  “I want to sleep in my own bed,” I protested. “Chymera hasn’t come after me. I don’t think he will.”

  “You can’t count on that,” Evan said, stepping in from the kitchen.

  I glared at him in resentment. Couldn’t Hunter and I have a private conversation?

  Surprisingly, however, Evan was my ally. “Zoe should go home and be comfortable. She’s being protected.”

  “I figured as much,” I grumbled. I hated, absolutely, positively hated that confident, knowing man. And I especially hated admitting to myself that I was relieved to know someone looked out for me as well.

  He insisted on seeing me to my car, of course. I tried to argue, but Hunter got a stony, weary look on his face. So I decided to give it up. .

  As I pulled out of the parking lot, I wasn’t unhappy to see the long, sleek car that fell in behind me, just as Evan said it would.

  “Help me through this, God,” I prayed as I headed for home.

  Chapter 19

  More than a thousand people attended Fraser MacRae’s memorial service at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Stirling delivered the eulogy with genuine emotion that surprised Hunter. The bishop had conducted the funeral mass.

  Now, for the family reception, several hundred mourners were streaming in and out of the Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria. Hunter sipped club soda and surveyed the opulent room.

  Elaborate floral displays lined the walls. An open bar and hors d’oeuvres buffet were set up. Waiters moved through the crowd serving his grandfather’s favorites wines. A string quartet played quietly in the background. Hunter’s father was at Nana’s side. She was resplendent in a Chanel suit accented with a diamond brooch and earrings. Hunter could see her weariness, however, and he would be glad when she boarded the plane tomorrow for her return to Scotland. She needed to get away.

  His mother was in her element, however, rubbing shoulders with “her” crowd of well-heeled New Yorkers. Meagan was mingling with long-time MacRae employees and sorority sisters. Zoe was talking with friends from their school days. Evan and his group of male and female guards patrolled, looking like Secret Agents in their dark suits and discreet wireless ear pieces.

  Hunter wondered if any of the people here that he didn’t recognize were relatives. Shifters perhaps? He found himself thinking often about those far-flung cousins he hadn’t met. Being the only shifter left in his immediate family, he wanted to connect with others who shared his DNA burden.

  Burden. The word made him sad. What he used to think of as a blessing seemed less so now.

  He was happy, at least, that many of the attendees were people whose relationship with Fraser had sprung from philanthropic endeavors. Hunter had chatted with many people whose lives had been changed by Fraser’s generosity—a doctor who now worked with “Doctors Without Borders” and had recently had built a new clinic in Haiti; a young law student who planned a career in the DA’s office after escaping life in an inner-city gang; the mother of a mentally handicapped child who now had access to badly needed treatment.

  Hunter realized anew what big shoes he had to fill since Grandda was gone. This fed into his anxiety about his future. What was he supposed to do with his life?

  He walked to the front of the room and stood beside a life-sized portrait of his grandfather wearing the kilt of the MacRae hunting tartan. The painting, commissioned three years ago, was being sent to the family home in the Scottish Highlands.

  A sudden murmur in the crowd made Hunter turn from his study. He followed the gazes of others to the main doors, where a group of men stood shoulder to shoulder. The noise of the crowd ceased. The musicians stopped playing.

  Hunter growled when he recognized the man who stood in the center of the doorway with a polite smile on his lips.

  Before Hunter could move, Evan was beside him with a hand on his arm. And a low, terse command, “Stay where you are,” into the small microphone of his headset, he murmured, “Get the music playing again. Now.”

  Hunter fought the rage that swept over him as music once more filled the room. Not that it deflected from the main item of interest—Stirling was striding toward the slick-haired, tall, and imposing Lion of Wall Street, Michael Killin. The murdering bastard had dared show his face at Fraser MacRae’s funeral reception.

  Fury simmering, Hunter shrugged Evan off and moved toward his father. Guards were fanned out on either side of Stirling. Hunter saw that others ranged themselves near his grandmother. No doubt the rest of his family was similarly protected.

  Hunter and Evan reached his father’s side just as Stirling faced Killin in the almost silent room.

  “Hello, Michael,” Stirling said, his tone mild. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I’ve known Fraser all my life. It seemed inappropriate to stay away.” The men behind Killin stood in a small semicircle with hands clasped in front of them. Killin smiled at Hunter. “ I don’t think we’ve formally met.”

  Killin extended his hand but Hunter didn’t move. All he wanted to do was bite the hand and listen to Chymera scream in pain.

  He heard a gasp. Zoe was beside him. Her brown eyes were wide as she touched his arm. She knew what he was thinking of doing to Michael Killin.

  “You’re the reason we’re here,” Hunter said to him through gritted teeth.


  Killin gave him an innocent look. “I’m sorry?”

  Stirling stepped between Killin and his son. “Perhaps you’d like to see my father’s portrait.”

  Nodding calmly to the murmuring crowd, Stirling led Killin toward the front of the room. Killin’s men remained in the doorway. But Hunter caught the faint but familiar scent of rot. Were they all chimeras?

  Hunter spared one last look at their unflinching faces before following his father and Killin. Zoe and Evan flanked him.

  “Would you like a drink?” Stirling asked Killin when they reached the portrait.

  “Do you have some of Fraser’s twenty-five-year-old Macallan’s Scotch?” Killin asked smoothly.

  “I’m sorry, no,” Stirling replied. “But we do have some nice Bella Vida wines from Dundee. Shall I get you a glass? Red, of course.”

  Killin chuckled and nodded as he looked up at Fraser’s portrait.

  Stirling signaled to a nearby waiter while Killin continued, “Fraser was quite a man. I feel honored to have known him.”

  A warning look from Stirling silenced the angry words that rose to his lips.

  “My father was a calculating and intuitive businessman who taught me the value of honesty and integrity,” Stirling said.

  The server returned with two glasses and each of the men took one.

  “To Fraser.” Killin raised his glass to the portrait.

  Hunter noted that Evan’s people had formed a barrier between the crowd and the two men.

  Stirling turned and looked directly at Killin. “Why are you here?”

  “Paying my respects, of course.” Killin sipped his wine. “Excellent.”

  Hunter couldn’t take the bullshit any longer. As he stepped forward, however, he saw his grandmother heading their way.

  Isobel walked up to Stirling and took his arm, keeping her gaze on Killin. “Michael, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “My condolences, Isobel,” Killin said with cold politeness.

  Her eyes flared with anger but she spoke quietly, “How’s Bethia?”

  Killin looked into his drink, his face stiff, the muscles in his jaw clenched. “Mother is not well. She took to her bed after my brother was murdered.”