Maxim's Mate

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Maxim's Mate Page 14

by Selena Scott


  He was sick of being carted around by his wife, but he was glad as hell that he was out of the damn hospital and back at home. He was even more glad that while he’d been in the hospital, Ivy and Linc had moved all their things into his house.

  The gunshot wound had been bad. Punctured a lung, required two different surgeries. And even with his awesome bear healing skills, he was still very much in recovery.

  “I know you’re fine,” she grumbled right back. “But at your pace, Anton is gonna get bored and leave before we even get out there, so just let me help, okay?”

  She wasn’t wrong. He was moving a lot slower than usual these days, and he was anxious to get out there to Anton.

  They had some major stuff to talk to him about.

  When Ivy slid open the screen door with her foot, Anton automatically rose from where he was playing with some Wonder Woman action figures with Linc.

  He didn’t ask if his brother needed help. He just took him by the arm and sat him down in the nearest chair. He’d never forget watching Maxim stop that truck. It had really been something. Some real papa bear shit. Anton felt a stab of sadness when he realized that he’d never feel that way about somebody. He’d never have a cub of his own. He couldn’t afford to. Not with the monster that lived inside him.

  Ivy darted back inside and came back out with three snifters of whiskey and an apple juice for Linc.

  Anton lifted an eyebrow at the drinks. “You told me this was not bad news. So we are to celebrate something?”

  “Yes,” Ivy said definitively, drawing Linc up onto her lap and pulling out a chair for Anton. “As you know, after the wedding-”

  Anton growled a little, frowning. The Malashoviks had all been a little put out that Ivy and Maxim had gotten hitched at the hospital, just the two of them and Linc there. But none of the three of them could wait another second to be a family.

  Ivy had just watched the man take a bullet for her and then nearly kill himself keeping her son from being abducted. Yeah. She’d needed to be married yesterday. But still, the wedding hadn’t had quite the pizazz or fanfare that the rest of the Malashoviks might have wanted. She didn’t care, though. It had been perfect for her.

  She cleared her throat and continued. “After the wedding, we started Maxim’s formal adoption process of Linc.”

  Anton nodded.

  “He’s my real papa. Which means you’re my real uncle. Right, Uncle Anton?”

  Anton nodded, leaning forward and flicking one of Linc’s Wonder Women over. “This is right, Nephew Linc.”

  “You wanna ask him?” Ivy asked Maxim, but the big man just smiled, waved his hand for her to do it.

  Anton looked back and forth between them. “Ask me what?”

  “Well,” Ivy gathered her thoughts. “Maxim told me what you said to Lana that night in the woods. I couldn’t understand, because of the Belarusian and all. But apparently you offered to go in Linc’s place. Back to Navuka.”

  Anton said nothing. Barely acknowledged the words. He felt something hot in his throat and swallowed past it. He merely raised his eyebrows.

  “Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t a big deal to you,” Ivy continued, “but it was a big deal to me. I know how much you hate them. And to offer to go back…”

  “Linc is tiny child. I am grown man. No question who should go,” Anton spat the words out. He was being rude, he knew, but there was no stopping it now. He was all twisted up.

  “I’m not tiny! I’m five and almost six!” Linc squinched his face and bunched up his muscles the way Maxim had shown him how.

  “You are tiny,” Anton waved his hand through the air dismissively. “And you will be until you are man.”

  Linc took the opportunity to knock over the Wonder Woman figure that Anton had been playing with and the two of them grinned competitively at one another.

  “See! Right there. That’s exactly it,” Ivy motioned between the two of them. “That’s why we want you to be Linc’s godfather.”

  “What?” Anton’s stomach tightened.

  Maxim leaned forward. “If anything happens to me or Ivy, we want you to take Linc. To raise him and take care of him.”

  “But,” Anton started. He had a million ways to finish that sentence, but none of them could he say out loud. But I’m damaged. But I’m a monster. But I’m no good. He clapped his mouth closed.

  “You’re a good man,” Ivy said, leaning forward and clasping his hand. “And we love you. And Linc would be lucky to have you for a parent. Hopefully, we don’t kick the bucket anytime soon and Linc can enjoy the benefits of having two parents and a godfather for a long time. But, yeah. We want you to sign the paperwork just in case.”

  “Danil drew it up,” Maxim said, sliding a trifold and a pen across the deck table. “You can take time to think if you want.”

  But Anton was already signing. He had to sign four different times and each time he felt something within himself change. Something softened.

  Maxim had to love him, that was nothing new. They were brothers. But to have Ivy and Linc love him by choice. To have them choose him for their family. Well, he didn’t even know what to think about that.

  “I go now,” Anton said gruffly. Standing up, he shoved the papers back toward them. “I come to see boy again tomorrow.” And then he was bounding off of Maxim’s back deck and disappearing into the woods.

  “Well, for Anton, that was positively gushy,” Ivy remarked, shrugging her shoulders and polishing off her whiskey. They had one of their last summer weekends stretching out before them. And she imagined they’d spend it the way they’d spent the last few. Maxim resting and recovering, Linc playing the crap out of his new toys from Ilya and Katya. And Ivy living. Just living. Alongside her two men. Her family.

  “Either I drag you two onto my lap or you come here.” Maxim’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

  Not wanting him to strain himself, and taking him at his word, Ivy scooped up Linc and arranged them over Maxim’s lap. His hands came around both of them.

  “Two bears and a mermaid,” he murmured into her hair.

  Ivy laughed, leaning back into his neck. “Who’d have thunk?”

  “I did,” Maxim said. “Right from first second.”

  Ivy turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, is that right? When you were,” she covered Linc’s ears, “picking me up in a bar? You thought ‘wife’?”

  “Well,” he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “Maybe not first second. More like,” he added his hands over top of Ivy’s and covered Linc’s ears even more, “first time seeing you naked, I knew.”

  Ivy threw her head back and laughed. Linc, sick of whatever grown-up thing they were talking about, wiggled his way down and sprawled himself in the grass, his little feet kicking through the air. They both watched him play with twin contentment in both their hearts.

  “Thank you for teaching our son how to be a bear,” Ivy whispered, planting a kiss on Maxim’s lips.

  “Thank you for letting him be my son, rusalka,” Maxim whispered back. He kissed her and tangled his hand in her mermaid hair. He leaned back, ignoring the healing ache in his back. Not on his back porch, with the late summer sun shining down and his family safe and sound.

  The End

  If you are yet to read book 1 and 2 in this latest series, Secret Shifters of Spokane, just click on the covers below to read now

  Book 1 – Danil’s Mate

  Book 2 – Emin’s Mate

  Click here to see all of Selena Scott’s books, including the full Dragon Realm Series, available on Amazon

  Bonus Book – The Wolf Within

  CHAPTER ONE

  Will Sidwell tried to keep his temper in check. He knew the consequences if he didn’t. His blood simmered as he walked with a purposeful pace from Foxfield Shopping Mall’s main entrance. His shift had ended. But he wasn’t going anywhere yet.

  Will’s restraints and communications radio sat back in the compact office that doubled as a changing
room for the Foxfield Security Staff. He didn’t have time to go back for anything.

  He never packed a weapon. Out of choice.

  But he needed to stay calm. He could feel the urge.

  Cup Character never opened late. Not on a Thursday. Not any day. Andrea Shore made sure of that. No coffee shop in New Hampshire served their brews with such affection. But she was efficient. At 6pm the shutters were down. Always.

  Not today, though.

  The sweeping beauty of the owner was the primary reason Will got his first and last Americano of the day there. It had been for the last thirteen months. But still he held back from asking her out.

  He had good reason to.

  Will pulled his black security cap from his closely shaved head. He creased it in his right hand, and forced it into his black, watch-guard bomber jacket. The reflective security ID was still enough to give it away if it mirrored off the stark beams of the floodlit carpark. But time was of the essence.

  Cup Character was sedate in appearance. Warm. Like Andrea, Will often thought. Sally, too, her loose-lipped shop manager.

  The county-red, rustic brickwork was in keeping with the jaded,

  serrano façade of the Foxfield Mall. The black metallic double-door at the shop’s front was the lesser-used one. It was the side door that was over-used. It jutted out onto a small sidewalk which led straight into the mall. And it was the side door that caught Will’s attention.

  The man sitting on the small timber bench wasn’t waiting on a double-espresso to go. He was waiting on his accomplice to empty Andrea’s store of her takings.

  He was trying too hard to look at ease. That was the first thing that Will had noticed.

  Will slowed his pace. “Panicking is your primary enemy to survival.” He remembered those words. He was trained to live by them.

  Once a Navy SEAL, and all that.

  Will pulled a carton of Chesterfield cigarettes from his charcoal cotton pants. His walk towards Cup Character continued. With a cigarette resting between his index and middle finger, he feigned efforts to unsuccessfully light it with his disposable lighter. His right hand covered his ID. His left hand camouflaged the gold “Security” lettering.

  “Light?” Will called from fifteen meters.

  The man on the bench turned sharply and rose to his feet with haste. He looked thrown.

  Hide in plain sight.

  The element of surprise.

  “What?” He was red-faced for such a brisk evening. Dutch courage, Will thought. With his sense of smell, he could already tell this fool was more than halfway to tipsy, with a few Rolling Rocks inside him. It was easy to distinguish, even from distance.

  Ten meters.

  “A light?” Will called.

  Five meters.

  “No man, I...” but this wasn’t a sentence he was going to finish. As Will grabbed him by the throat he saw the other, marginally older of the two men, through the glass-plated side door. He tapped his gun with menace on Andrea’s back.

  Will smiled. He felt relief at the specifics of what he saw.

  But first he introduced his new acquaintance to the side door. To it, and then through it.

  It was the glass showering down on him that was going to make for an unpleasant hospital stay. In cuffs.

  Will pushed the door open with speed. His hard-wearing duty boots crushed the broken glass.

  “Andrea,” Will grinned, “you still serving?”

  Andrea’s fear, while not appeased, settled a little. Her dark brown hair was tousled. She had been grabbed roughly by this goon. Her pretty face, usually so vivacious, was drained.

  The shyness Will usually felt around her dissipated. Maybe because he felt in control. Maybe because this was his thing.

  But there was no doubt. Something in him, Andrea felt, indicated she was going to be safe.

  Andrea was always happy to see Will. If he was off duty, she’d miss his early morning visit for a tall Americano. His quietness took time to cede. But he was warm. Her attraction to him was palpable. His physique was remarkable but he wore it lightly. His beautiful brown eyes were filled with a mixture of distress and a desire to nurture. But despite this, he held back.

  The man holding the semi-automatic pistol grabbed Andrea mid-thought from the till, and dragged her by her right arm. He smiled at Will. His worn face, contorted by age and hard living, was intended to intimidate.

  Andrea tried to speak, but couldn’t. Will held his hand aloft.

  “Andrea, do me a favor. Look at me. Just me.” Will stood. He felt in his element. But because of what he saw, he knew he was the one in control. “What does Sally say?” The lookout moaned as he came to. Will pressed his boot into his lower back. His moan grew to a wail. The gunman pulled Andrea closer, as if to reciprocate. Will kept calm.

  “I don’t know, I don’t, I don’t…” Andrea struggled. The gunman laughed and cocked the pistol at her head.

  “Look at me, Andrea. Look at me.” Will pointed his two fingers at her eyes and back to his. “Look at me. What does Sally say to every blue, down-in-the-dumps customer you guys get in here?”

  Andrea looked with intent. “Bad things. Bad things ain’t never what they seem.” Andrea felt at ease. She knew something. She didn’t know what, but she knew this was going to be okay.

  “Oh, shut the fuck up.” The gunman pointed the gun at Will. “Now listen, Superman. I’m in a good mood. I take the rest of the takings, I take my glassed-up friend here, and we go. And you two live. Get it?”

  “No.” Will stepped closer.

  “You kiddin’ me, man?”

  “No, this is what we gonna do. Man.” Will took another step. “What you holding there?”

  “It’s a gun, dickhead.” He knew. He knew Will knew. His words couldn’t betray his obvious fear.

  “It is, all right. You gonna do a job like this and bring that with you?” Will stepped closer. “Pull the trigger.”

  Andrea pulled her head back marginally, her eyes widened. But she knew somehow Will knew what he was doing. In this moment, she realized she trusted him completely. She felt an unorthodox fusion of fear and security.

  “Pull it.” Will’s voice was now raised. Amidst all this, he had to tell himself to stay calm. To not shift now. Well, it just couldn’t happen. And it was raw anger that could bring it on. It often did.

  “Don’t think I won’t pull the trigger.” There was nothing left in his voice to convince Will. His tired eyes now held fear.

  “What you’re holding in your hand is a replica gun. A 19911A1 replica, to be exact. Probably paid what, $130? An ass like you, probably forked out twice that.” Will stared with such intensity that Andrea thought she sensed something surreal. She didn’t dwell. She took the opportunity to step away from her attacker.

  “So, what you are going to do now,” Will continued, inches between the two faces, “is run.”

  Unsure, the assailant stepped back, dropping the replica to the ground. He turned instinctively to the double-door. Then stopped. It was bolted shut. As he turned back into Will’s path, he didn’t even have time to anticipate. Will’s fist surely broke his nose, but he didn’t get an opportunity to consider this. He slumped to the ground, a weathered white-wood table breaking the fall.

  Andrea and Will intuitively moved towards each other. Will held Andrea briefly, before parting quickly, apologetically. Andrea wished he hadn’t. The brief interaction was charged. Charged by the heightened emotions of the situation, but also there was a yearning. She felt it. He surely did, too.

  Will pulled out his black Galaxy S6 Edge and swiped the screen. He dialed Jay’s mobile and told him to get over there. Then he dialed 911. He surveyed the scene and he willed either man to dare move.

  But his heart was beating. Racing. He had controlled the situation and himself. But the brief embrace with Andrea, it surprised him.

  He hadn’t time to consider and when she held him, he felt so alive. His body brimmed with warmth, her warmth. Hol
ding her made his chest flutter and his legs weak. Instinctively he had pulled away.

  It didn’t matter how great Andrea was, she would and could never accept what he was.

  As the sirens of the black and whites sung in the distance and Jay made his way into Cup Character, Will looked at Andrea and smiled. He wanted to hold her again. Andrea wanted him to, too.

  But they wouldn’t.

  As Jay entered the coffee shop, Will felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He didn’t have time to check it.

  He should have.

  Will and Andrea were in more danger than they could have thought possible.

  Their night was only beginning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jay arrived and, rather bizarrely, endeavored to enter Cup Character through the front door, when it was clearly the less feasible option.

  That was Jay’s way, though. He was awkward and absent-minded, but often it was more to do with sailing away into his own world. Jay was far from a fool, though. Will had worked that out the day Jay interviewed him. He acted distracted, and sometimes he was, but he was aware.

  “What the hell happened here?” Jay asked as he crushed his way around the shattered glass.

  “Ah, nothing,” Andrea managed to throw him a warm smile, “just hangin’ with a couple of the regulars.”

  Jay tried to smile back but he was letting everything sink in.

  “You!” Jay started at the lookout, who at this stage had pushed his body into the side of a deep-brown leather seat, and clung to his knees as if to stifle the pain. “I know you.”

  “Well, so you goddam should, boy. What in the name of the lord has happened here?”

  Jay rolled his eyes to heaven when he turned and saw Sally standing at the door. She had just left Hannaford’s on the far side of the mall and had raced across when she noticed the commotion.

 

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