by C. C. Hunter
Perry clenched his fist. “I’ll take care of Caleb.”
“You can’t…”
He would.
A phone rang behind the bar. They both looked back. Perry remembered Bell putting her phone down.
Someone needed to tell the babysitter that Bell wasn’t coming to pick up her baby. That she’d never be back.
“They’re almost here! Leave. Call Burnett!”
“You call him,” Perry said. “Tell him that Chuckie is the one who shot Lily Chambers and he’s headed back to Fallen to finish the job.”
Perry darted past the bar into the back room, where he’d kissed the same girl who now lay dead. He snatched up her ringing phone. The back door was ajar. No doubt the owners of the bar had escaped because the place wasn’t registered with the FRU.
Voices echoed from behind him. Perry morphed and took off.
* * *
“Miranda, I need some help.”
Miranda’s eyes popped open. She’d heard the voice. Perry’s voice. Heard it as clear as day.
Blinking, she cut her gaze around to confirm he wasn’t there. Nope. Then she glanced toward her bedroom window that faced the east. Darkness greeted her with only the slightest hue of purple.
A dream. Wasn’t it?
She slumped back on her pillow. Had she even slept an hour? Right then her cell beeped with a text.
Tabitha? Miranda rolled over so fast to get her phone that she almost fell off the bed. Looking at the screen, she saw Perry’s number. She read the message.
Miranda, I need some help.
Her breath caught when she realized she’d dreamed, or somehow heard, those same words.
She typed in. What’s wrong?
The three dots appeared. Then his text flashed across the screen.
Meet me at our spot by creek. The one beside the fence. Alone … if possible.
Alone? Right. As soon as Miranda got up, Della would be asking questions. Heck, the beep of the text probably already roused her.
Then Miranda recalled the vamp had said she had shadowing duty. She noted the time. Della should’ve already left.
If Kylie wasn’t in vampire mode, with sensitive hearing, Miranda might …
Curiosity almost had her typing questions back to Perry, but the urgency she sensed had her typing in two letters: ok.
Easing out of bed, she decided changing clothes might be too noisy. So holding her phone, wearing her Batwoman pj’s, and her Mickey Mouse house slippers, she eased out of her room, out of her cabin, and into the darkness.
Once away from the cabin, worry almost choking her, she started speed walking as fast as her Mickeys could go.
The Texas morning air felt fresher, but still muggy. A small drop of sweat eased down between her breasts.
Before entering the cove of woods, she saw the moon, a sliver from being full, hanging low. In the eastern sky, the slow-to-rise sun had painted strips of color on the horizon.
It wasn’t until she felt the darkness of the trees close in on her that Miranda stopped and thought about being alone.
Or rather about not being alone. She felt … watched.
She searched the dark shadows for the armadillo. No gold eyes peered back at her.
She paused. All she could hear was her heartbeat swishing in her ears. Silence was wrong. The night always sang, unless something startled it.
Or someone.
Looking at the trees surrounding her, she got the eeriest sensation as if they’d leaned closer.
What if … this wasn’t Perry? But a trick? She pulled her phone up to make sure it had really been Perry’s number sending the text.
It was.
Of course, just because it was his phone, didn’t mean it was him texting. In the corner of her eye, she saw a tree branch dip down.
Sure it was only paranoia. She kept walking, ignoring the feeling that the trees were reaching for her.
Right then her mind flashed the scary image from earlier. The girl. Dead.
Then she heard it. A cry.
Not too loud.
Not too low.
But a profound sound that echoed with such emotional cadence that even the leaves on the trees seemed to quake.
Following the sound, came a breeze. Cold. Ghostly cold.
* * *
The sun hadn’t risen when Shawn walked into the hospital. He’d stayed out past midnight trying to find anyone who’d witnessed the shooting. And failed.
Now, with less than two hours of sleep, he felt empty. Empty from all but the raw guilt over Lily. First he’d allowed her to be zapped by the cuffs, then he’d made her target practice for some asshole by stopping at the drugstore.
He’d made mistakes in the past, but never any that resulted in real harm to an innocent. Anger coursing through his muscles, he gripped tighter on the stems of the semi-wilted flowers he’d picked up for her last night. Then Burnett had given him assignments. When he’d finally gotten home last night, he’d almost tossed them away, but guilt had him sticking them into a jelly jar with water. Guilt also had him calling the hospital to check on her.
She’d skated through surgery. Doctors expected a full recovery. Not that Shawn doubted it. She was too much of a spitfire to stay down. Chances were that spitfire held him responsible. Chances were he was about to get an earful.
He deserved it, but God, he hated listening to angry women. Which was one reason he liked Miranda. She seldom got mad. Not that she was a pushover, but she held her temper in check.
Stepping out of the elevator, a few nurses moved around the dimly lit floor. He spotted Chase Tallman talking to someone in a waiting room. Chase acknowledged him with a nod, but Shawn kept walking. He stopped right in front of her door, suddenly concerned. Just because he couldn’t sleep, didn’t mean Lily shouldn’t.
The door swung open and a nurse walked out. Startled, she glanced down the hall to the waiting room.
“Have … have you been cleared to enter?” she asked. “The last time I allowed someone inside I was given hell by someone else wearing a black suit.”
“I’m FRU.” He showed her his badge.
She glanced at his wilted bouquet. “Nice,” the nurse said.
Shawn nodded, half ashamed of the droopy peace offering. “Is she awake?”
“Yes. I just gave her another injection for the pain. Shoulder surgery is the worst.”
He grimaced. The nurse left, leaving the door open. Her footsteps echoed in the sleepy-morning ambience of the hospital.
Inhaling, preparing himself for an ass-chewing from a pissed-off girl in pain, he walked into the room.
Her eyes were closed. He let himself study her. And like the first time he’d seen her in the jewelry store, he noted how pretty she was. She was … feminine without being fancy, pretty without being gorgeous. He stood there, unsure if he shouldn’t leave his peace offering and go.
He looked at the bedside table debating where to leave the flowers.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, he looked at her face. Her eyes remained closed.
“Just wanted to check in.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. I barely know you and already you and pain are synonymous in my mind.”
He flinched. “I brought you flowers.”
She lifted her head an inch off the pillow and studied him. “So you fry my ass, get me interrogated, accuse me of robbing people I love, get me shot, and you think bringing me a”—her eyes went to his offering—“a bouquet of flowers that you picked up on the clearance rack will make it okay?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Stop right there! An apology should never come with a ‘but’! You’re either sorry, or you’re not.”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry.” But I was just trying to do my job.
“Good, now leave.” Her head dropped back on the pillow.
He turned to do as she requested, then frustration had him turning back. “Are you always this easy to get along with?�
��
She lifted up again. “When someone gets me shot. Yes. Now go.” Her gaze shifted beside him. “And … take that pink kangaroo with you.”
“Kangaroo?”
She dropped her head. “Every time they give me a pain shot she pops in. And she can’t sing or dance worth a flip.”
Shawn chuckled. “Can I put your flowers in water before I go?”
“Yeah. I think I saw a urinal in the cabinet.”
He went to the cabinet to see if he could find anything, besides a urinal, to put the flowers in. “I didn’t buy them on the clearance rack. I picked them up last night, but had to investigate your shooting first.”
“Did you find Chuckie?”
“No. But we will.”
Her soft brown eyes tightened. “Someone’s watching the Crows, right?”
“We’ve got it. Nothing’s going to happen to them.”
“Excuse me if I don’t trust you.”
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” He found a plastic cup that would work as a vase.
“Maybe a dozen.”
He smiled, even though he wasn’t sure she meant it to be funny. Adding water to the plastic cup, he sat the arrangement on her bedside table.
When he looked up, she was staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Your eye’s a very pretty purple color.”
He touched his shiner. “Yeah, you did that. I assume you don’t think you owe me an apology.”
“Nope.” She giggled. It sounded pain-med induced, but still nice.
Their gazes locked.
She glanced away. “Did your girlfriend like her bracelet?”
“I haven’t given it to her yet.”
The room went silent. The emotion crowding him felt too big. “I should go.”
She nodded.
He started to turn away, when she spoke up. “Wait.”
“What?” Their gazes locked again. Something in her eyes drew him closer.
Chapter Nineteen
Shawn waited for her to say something.
“I remembered something else … about Jax.”
“Yeah?” He moved closer.
“I got a text from an old friend of mine a few months ago. She said something about a rumor that Jax was going to be a daddy. I didn’t answer her ’cause … I didn’t want contact with anyone who had contact with him. But if she heard rumors, she might know where he lives.”
Thrilled he’d gotten something to report back to Burnett, he asked, “Do you still have her number?”
“Yeah.” She reached for her phone and flinched in pain.
“Let me.” He handed her the cell. Their fingers touched and Shawn felt the spark. And apparently so had she, because she glanced up.
After swiping the screen, she said, “Here.” She called out the information and he typed it into his phone.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Do everything you did to me, to him okay?”
He smiled. “You’re kidding? I went easy on you.”
Her gaze went to her side table. “Thanks for the flowers. Even half dead, they’re pretty.”
“I could say the same about you,” he said and flinched because it sounded, too …
He turned to leave but stopped when he saw Della Tsang perched in the doorway.
He wasn’t … doing anything wrong, but his last comment rang in his head. He walked out. She followed.
“She gave me a lead,” he said, hoping that explained it.
“Good.” One word and it didn’t sound friendly.
“I should go let Burnett know.”
“Yeah.” Her second word sounded downright pissy. He got about two steps away when she added, “She’s fine, by the way.”
He glanced back.
“I’m sure you wanted to ask about Miranda.” The vamp put a hand on her hip.
I texted her to call me and she didn’t! And I think it has to do with a damn shape-shifter showing up. He almost defended himself, but didn’t.
“Thanks.” He walked off, pretending he’d missed her real meaning.
* * *
The odd mew-like cry faded in and out several times. The closer she got to the creek the louder the sound of water, rushing, splashing. The only thing that had her putting one foot in front of the other was … Perry.
The peculiar chill hung on and created a fog rising from the dew-covered ground. She kept walking, pinky ready. Her gaze shifted left then right, searching for the gold eyes of the armadillo.
No eyes—just dark shadows playing peek-a-boo through the mist.
Above, through the leaf-filled branches, slivers of sky grew lighter, but beneath the umbrella of the forest, the blackness clung to the misty gray fog. And suddenly it felt colder.
She’d felt this before. This kind of chill. Death?
No! She was wrong. This happened to Kylie and Della. Not her.
She considered running the way she’d come, diving back in bed and covering up her head. The consideration died a quick death. Perry was in trouble. She felt it.
Only when she moved to the edge of the property where the trees thinned, did the moon add a silvery light. Light was good but it only made the fog more pronounced.
Relief washed over her when she spotted Perry standing on the other side of the fence, partially hidden in a wall of fog. She edged closer, the fog lifted, and before he saw her, she saw him. His expression. His black eye was now more pronounced. His shirt was ripped open with stains that looked like … blood.
“You okay?” She ran those last steps, wrapping her arms around herself to fight the cold.
“Thank God.” He turned. “Thank you for coming.”
“What’s happening?” Then she saw what he cradled in his arms. “Is that a…?”
The soft cry came again.
“A baby? I need you to take him to Holiday. He keeps crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. He could be sick or—”
“Sometimes babies just … cry.” Miranda inched closer to the fence and stared at the red-faced infant, who looked more like a little old man. “Sometimes they miss their parents.” She tightened her eyes and saw it was half vampire and … mother cracker … half shape-shifter.
Lifting her eyes she froze, her heart swelled. “Is it … yours?”
“Like my kid?” He looked insulted. “No. I went to see the sitter to explain … She gave him to me and wouldn’t take it back.”
“Why would she do that?”
“The mom … she…” He closed his eyes as if searching for words.
“You know the mom?” Miranda asked and the air grew colder.
“Yeah. Not really. Barely.”
He wasn’t making sense. Nothing did. Yet for reasons she couldn’t explain, part of the puzzle started coming together. “You kissed her? The mom?”
He blinked. “I did.” His eyes widened. “Not because I wanted to. And that’s not important.”
“Really?” The one word slipped out. Her heart felt scratched.
The baby’s cry leaked out into the dark. Perry rearranged the loose blanket around the tiny being and he juggled it in his arms. “I only kissed her because I needed an alibi.” His words came out jolted with his movements to comfort the child. “I was out eavesdropping, hoping to hear news about your sister. They suspected I’d been there. I needed it to look like I hadn’t.”
His words, the raw panic in his tone, ran laps around Miranda’s brain, almost making her dizzy. Finally she latched on to one thing he’d said.
“You know something about my sister?” she asked. “I thought you were trying to figure out what your parents were up to.”
“I am, but … I don’t have time to explain everything, but it’s connected … The guy who my dad is taking orders from is mixed up with everything else.” The baby stopped crying. He looked down with relief and concern.
The sight of Perry, bruised and hurting, holding the baby so protectively against his bare abdomen sent emo
tion right to her heart.
“I need to go before I miss a meeting.”
“Why isn’t the mom taking care of the baby?”
He closed his eyes tight. “She’s dead.”
The image of the dead girl flashed in Miranda’s mind. Once. Twice. Three times.
He grimaced. “It’s my fault. I should have—”
“No.” Miranda heard his pain. Her need to console him suddenly came stronger than her confusion. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you’d never…”
“I didn’t do it, but I didn’t stop it.”
He tried.
The two words echoed, but she didn’t know if they’d come from within or from the patchy fog.
Oh, crap! The armadillo?
Startled, she glanced around. Saw nothing. No one.
No one except Perry. Pain and guilt bright in his eyes. The voice felt less important.
“I’m sure you tried—”
“It’s not important now.”
Yet Miranda instinctively knew it was. He blamed himself for someone’s death. She knew Perry, knew his moral compass, knew this was killing him.
“Look,” Perry continued. “As far as I know there’s no one to take the baby. The babysitter refused to keep him. Tell Burnett to please not put him in foster care. Find him a home.” He motioned to the fence. “It’s loose at the bottom. Come out then take the baby around to the front.”
“Why…” Right then something else didn’t make sense. “Why don’t you take the baby to Holiday?”
“Burnett won’t let me leave again. I have a meeting with Jax this morning. I’m hoping I’ll get answers that’ll help find your sister. Then I can take care of the piece of shit who killed this baby’s mama.”
“But…”
“Please, come get the baby. I’d come in, but Burnett would be here in seconds.”
Her brain snatched the words, trying to understand but … One thought eked out. “The alarm works both ways. Burnett will know—”
“Yeah, but because it’s close to a full moon he’ll think it’s a were. He accepts they refuse to be caged up this close to a full moon. This is where they leave from. Pleeease. I’m running out of time.”
She knelt, pulled up the fence, and crawled under it. The moist, gritty dirt, somehow hotter than the air, clung to her palms. Standing, wiping her hands on her pajama bottoms, she got a close-up view of the anguish in Perry’s eyes.