by T. S. Joyce
Her stupid lip trembled.
He slammed his hand on the door, and she jumped. He screamed, “Do you understand?”
And the weak woman in her nodded to something she didn’t agree with. She never hated herself more than in this moment.
“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing her jaw as he shoved her face away. “Now, get on to bed. You have work today, and me and Cal need you to earn lots of tips. Cal dropped his rifle in the water and lost it tonight while we were hunting the big gator. You know the one I’m talking about, don’t you? Not Holt. I mean the big-big one. Couldn’t find him, but we will. Don’t you worry, Morgan, we will. We got new information about him. Someone close to him has been giving away information. Betraying him. We know where he Changes into the gatah now. Got traps all set, and they ain’t nothing you ever seen. He can’t escape long. Need a new rifle, though. A bigger one so it hurts more when we close in on him. The way I heard it, if you kill them shifters when they’re turned into their animals, their carcasses stay animal. Gonna skin us a fourteen-footer.” Dad twitched his head toward the big tree in front of the house, the one with the ropes hanging from a thick branch. “Just imagine it, baby. Him all strung up, never to bother these swamps again. Bleedin’ as we take his hide from him. He gonna make us rich. You know how much a shifter gatah will go for on the right market? Gatah boots from a shifter. Bones for the dark magic. Teeth for the bayou witches. Meat as a delicacy because it has to taste different…right? It has to. I’ll let you try some. Go on in, honey. We all gotta big day tomorrow.”
Those tears she’d held in all this time didn’t stay put any longer. Two of them trickled down her cheeks as she fought not to retch. As she fought to keep her face straight, because that’s how she protected Liam, by acting like she didn’t know anything about anything. “Okay,” she whispered brokenly. And then she pulled open the door and made her way numbly to her room, her dad’s attention boring into the back of her neck until she closed the door softly behind her. And locked it.
Her timeline had changed.
Tomorrow was a big day, but not because of work, and not because of Dad’s planned shifter hunt. It was because she would figure out a way out of this Hell. Tomorrow was day one of the rest of her life.
She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but no matter what, one of these nights real soon, when all the boys went on their night hunt, she was going to leave this place and never look back.
Over her cold, dead body would she ever see Liam’s gator hanging from the killing tree.
Chapter Nine
Money was the problem.
Morgan rested her elbows on her knees as she cleaned another fish on the front porch. Cleaning fish was one of her least favorite chores, but she had lots of experience doing it.
How could she get out of here as soon as possible? She could leave this house, sure, but she couldn’t post up anywhere in town without enough for a deposit. If she stayed in the motel a couple towns over, she would eat through all the money she saved in a couple of weeks. And as tempting as it was to drive as far as her gas would get her and settle in the farthest place away from here…she still needed money to start her new life.
And then there was Liam.
Now, it stole her breath away just to think about never seeing him again. What did that say about a girl like her? Getting attached to the first man who was nice to her?
She could hear her dad shuffling around inside, moving around dishes in the kitchen. Oh, he wasn’t cleaning them. He never did that. Cleaning dishes fell under her list of a million jobs. Like right now? She was supposed to be getting ready for work, but he’d caught a string of catfish this morning and tossed them on the porch while she was pulling on her shoes. He’d grunted out, “Clean them before you go.”
Sometimes, she strongly disliked him. The last thing she needed to make big tips was to smell like a dead fish.
Whatever notions she’d had of getting out of here clean and easy was squashed the second she heard a loud engine rumbling up the long drive.
It couldn’t be.
Morgan gripped her knife harder and wiped a flyaway wisp of hair from her forehead with her wrist. And sure as shit, here came Liam’s mustang, roaring up the last stretch of dirt driveway like he didn’t give a single care if her dad heard him.
Shocked, all she could do was stare in horror as he stepped out of the car and grinned at her. He even did the hot-boy, two-fingered wave. He wore sunglasses over his eyes and a thin white V-neck shirt that showed the top of the perfectly chiseled line between his pecs. His strong, long legs were encased in jeans that hung juuuuuust right on his hips. And that smile… God damn, the smile on that man. This was very very bad, but don’t tell that to her hoo-hah. Her lady bits were slow-clapping as she stared at that sexy man walk toward her with the confidence of a predator.
“There isn’t much else sexier than a woman who knows how to clean a fish.”
With a slow blink, Morgan looked down at her hands, one holding a long knife, the other holding a five-pound, half-cleaned catfish. She was covered in blood and guts and sweating, her tank-top sticking to her like a second skin. It was literally the most unattractive she could imagine looking or smelling.
“Yeah right,” she said low, hiding a smile.
“I’m serious,” he said, striding up the porch stairs to her. “You keep surprising me. The more I learn about you, the more I like you.”
She swallowed hard and ducked her gaze, hiding the fire in her cheeks. “You like me?” Good grief, she sounded too hopeful. Be cool.
“You know I do,” he murmured, hooking a finger under her chin. “You don’t have to hide those eyes from me.”
“My dad is here,” she whispered.
The smile dropped from his face in an instant. “Good. He’s the one I came to see. Cal, too, if he’s around.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she hissed.
“He can try,” Liam rumbled. He pointed to the door. “Are they inside?”
“Just my dad. Cal is at his place, probably sleeping off a hangover. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t need to know about his habits.”
“Actually, I do, so I appreciate that.” He yanked open the screen door and gestured for her to go first. “I’ll let you introduce us. Manners and all.”
But Liam didn’t care about manners. She knew he didn’t. Not with her dad. This man had marched into poacher territory with both middle fingers up.
This was a dare, not politeness.
Liam held the door open for her gallantly.
“Oh my God, this is happening,” she muttered to herself as she dropped the fish in the bucket and wiped her knife on the towel she had draped over her knee. With a huffed breath, she stood and made her way inside, wiping her hands on the towel.
“Dad,” she announced loudly, because if they were going to Hell, they might as well do it thoroughly, “This is Liam Lachlan—”
A frying pan came sailing right at her face, and before she could do more than squeak in fear, Liam’s giant hand plucked it from the air easily. And then he chucked the pan right back at the man who’d thrown it. Dad barely ducked fast enough, and it crashed through the window over the sink. And Liam wasn’t done. He barreled down on her dad so fast he blurred from the living room to the kitchen. Liam was just a streak. Just a smear. And then his hand was around Dad’s throat and he’d slammed him up against the wall. “You could’ve hit Morgan, you fuckin’ asshole.”
Dad blasted his fist against Liam’s face, but all that happened was his sunglasses flew off and Liam’s gold gator eyes bore holes right through Dad.
She’d never seen fear in her dad’s face before this moment, but staring into the feral eyes of his demise, he looked like he would piss himself. Liam dragged him upward against the wall until Dad’s boots left the floor and he made choking sounds.
Morgan tried to find a shred of pity for the man who raised her, but couldn’t. “Daaad…this is L
iam Lachlan. Liam, my father, Seamus Holland.”
Liam’s voice couldn’t be mistaken for human when he growled, “Pleasure to meet you.” He released his iron grip on her dad’s throat and let him fall to the floor in a gulping, gasping pile. He yanked him up by the shirt collar and dragged him to a chair, dumped him unceremoniously onto it, and then jerked the chair next to him out from under the table. With an empty smile, he sat down next to Dad.
“Get my gun!” Dad shouted at Morgan.
But something had changed from last night to this morning. She wasn’t alone to get bullied right now. She was about as safe as a person could be with her own personal bodyguard shifter staring down her father.
“Polite decline, Dad.” She wiggled her fingers. “I got fish guts on my hands. Don’t want to mess up your weapons. Y’all need anything, you let me know.”
She made her way into the kitchen to wash her hands, her ears trained on the boys.
“I just wanted to introduce myself so you could see the exact kinda man talkin’ to your daughter.”
Dad lunged again, swung his fist, but Liam easily avoided him, and with the momentum, Dad went flying forward across the table. Liam grabbed his shirt and shoved him back in his seat so hard it rocked back on two legs. Splaying his legs and arms, Dad barely caught his balance before he hit the ground. “Fuck!” he screamed.
Liam slammed his open palm against the table so hard it split right down the middle and sagged in the center. “I can’t wrap my head around how a prick like you raised a woman like that,” Liam said, jamming his finger at Morgan.
Both boys glanced over at her, so she did the only thing she knew to do. She waved. Everything was on fire, nothing was okay, the swamp was going straight to Hell. “Honestly, I mostly raised myself,” she offered softly.
Dad’s face went a shade of red she’d never seen before. “You fuckin ungrateful bit—”
“Finish that insult, and I’ll eat you where you sit, old man,” Liam growled in a terrifying voice. “Think I won’t? Fuckin’ test me.”
Dad sure looked furious, but he didn’t finish the last couple letters of his favorite cuss word, so there was progress. Looky here, maybe an old dog could be taught new tricks after all.
“Now, I’ve known about you for a long time,” Liam said, relaxing back in his chair. “My whole family knows your name.” He snarled up his lip and said, “That’s not a good thing, Seamus. And now I’m in a conundrum because you’re in my swamp, hunting me, aren’t you? I’ve been watching you and your friends setting your pathetic traps, out there in the dark trying to avoid the game warden with your little pea shooters trained on my waters. Do you know how many successful shots you would need to actually kill me? Way more than you would ever get off before I snapped your fucking boat in two and dismembered every one of your trash friends. I could fill these swamps with your blood and have the gators destroy the evidence, and do you know what the police would do?” Liam leaned forward and whispered in a dangerous voice, “Absolutely nothing. Do you know why? Because you are nothing, Seamus. You are scum. You and your friends and Cal are thorns in this town. No one would miss you when you’re gone. The world would be a better place.” His face lost its hardness, and he gave him an empty smile. “Now, if you want to test my theory, you go on, keep messin’ with your daughter. Keep poaching. Keep doing your night hunts. Keep getting closer to me. But I promise if you find me out there, the last thoughts you’ll ever have are deep regret. And no one will avenge you when you’re gone. Your life has been a waste up until now. Your death would be a waste to.”
“Get out of my house,” Dad snarled.
Liam cocked his head and studied Dad, then nodded. “Morgan, you ready for work?”
“She ain’t goin’ with you!” Dad screamed.
“Hmm. Seems that would be up to her, not you. Morgan?” Liam asked her directly. “Would you like me to give you a ride to work?”
She tried to answer with a strong “yes,” but her voice broke and sounded weak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes. That would be nice.”
“It’s a date then,” Liam rumbled.
She could practically feel the fury coming off her dad in waves. She should be scared of the consequences of this little meet-up, but right now, she was so damn attracted to Liam the Badass-Gives-No-Fucks-and-Threatened-To-Literally-Eat-A-Man-For-Her Lachlan. She would have, like, eight of his babies right about now. So she put on her bravest face and nodded. “It’s a date,” she repeated. And as she walked to her bedroom to grab her work clothes, she uttered over her shoulder, “If you need food tonight, you can make it your damn self.”
“Bring an extra pair of clothes,” Liam called out.
Okay. Her hands shook as she grabbed her Tacky’s work shirt, her serving apron and purse, a pair of cutoff shorts, and an extra T-shirt. It had a picture of a mosquito with the words Bite me and had only cost $3, but if Liam thought she was cute gutting a fish, she was pretty sure she couldn’t un-impress him. What else did she need? Her thoughts were frazzled as she looked around the room. Okay. Purse, keys, check, check. She still smelled like a fish so she sprayed on some fruit spritz she’d bought at the dollar store and made her way back to the living room.
“You’re going to regret this,” her dad said lightly. His demeanor sure had changed. He was leaning back in the chair, his hands linked behind his head, a cruel smile twisting up his lips. His throat was still bright red where Liam had choked him, but Dad didn’t seem to feel it. “You’re both going to regret this.” There was a promise in his voice that scared her. She’d never known her dad to quit a hunt. Not ever.
Hand gripping the door handle, Liam stood half-in, half-out of the open doorway. He murmured, “She isn’t alone anymore.” He brushed her elbow and waited until she stepped onto the front porch to tell him, “If you fuck with her, you’re fucking with me.”
Dad’s smile grew bigger. “Good to know. We’ll be seein’ you real soon.”
Liam shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Do what you want, Seamus. I won’t lose an ounce of sleep over the outcome.”
Liam let the door bang closed behind him, and to steady herself, she took his offered hand, slipped her palm against his strong one, and intertwined their fingers. It felt so good, she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed at the relief. Safe. She was safe. It wasn’t just her against the world or her against her lot in life. He’d come in and backed her up, made it clear she wasn’t to be messed with, or the consequences would be brutal.
The gator in him was rumbling now, the feral sound joining the song of the cicadas. He opened the passenger side door for her and waited until she was buckled before he shut the door. The independent woman in her sure didn’t need a man to coddle her, but truth-be-told, it was kind of nice to have someone care about her comfort.
The two bucket seats in the back of the car were full. There was a blue cooler, and in the other seat was a duffle bag. “What’s all this?”
He shifted into first gear and eased out of the dirt driveway, then reached behind his seat to the floorboard. He set a brown paper bag in her lap.
“What’s this?” she asked.
His eyes sparked a brighter gold, and his pupils got even longer. He was excited. “Presents.”
“Liam Lachlan, I’m not the kind of girl who needs prese—oooooh,” she crooned as she saw the food container from the best damn pancake restaurant in the world. MommaCakes was printed on the top of the Styrofoam box. MommaCakes was a couple towns over, and she rarely got the chance to go out there.
“Didn’t seem like flowers would be your thing,” he muttered, shifting gears and giving the mustang some gas. Her stomach dipped a little.
“Pancake presents are definitely my thing,” she said, popping the lid. She sniffed it and groaned, rolling her eyes heavenward. Even the butter smelled like heaven. There were little containers of syrup, and she already knew the flavor just from the color. MommaCakes made a special vanilla and brown sug
ar syrup that was to die for. It was the color of whiskey.
And underneath the box of food was something else in the bag. She pulled out the small black box and opened it up. A little cell phone sat inside.
“Wait, what is this?”
“It’s not charity, so get that mad look off your face, woman. I had to watch you walk away last night when you were sad and scared, and it took everything in me not to come kidnap you last night and get you out of that damn house just so I could get a few hours of sleep, knowing you were safe by me. I don’t like when you’re scared. It makes me…protective. The phone is more for me than you. I just want you to be able to call for help if you need to. Just…please don’t fight that one. It’s a little burner phone. It’s got thirty minutes on it. Dirt cheap, but it’ll put my instincts to rest a little. The gator…” He inhaled deeply and shook his head. “He cares very much.” Liam looked over at her with such seriousness in his blazing eyes. “So do I.”
She gripped the phone. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Well, that’s sad.”
She giggled and shook her head. “No, not just the phone, the pancakes and picking me up for work. What you did back there?” Morgan jammed her thumb at the back window where the house was disappearing into the woods. “With my dad? No one has ever stood up to him before. And you came in like a damn stick of dynamite and didn’t back down an inch. It was…it was…”
“It was what?”
“Important. Seeing you have no fear with my dad…makes it easier for me to see him differently. It makes him less intimidating.”
“Good. You shouldn’t ever have to feel scared, Morgan. No woman should. Now, I have an important question.”