by KH LeMoyne
Detective Leggett inhaled and dropped her arm. “Essence refused medical help, which we encourage to rule out cases of potential—”
No! His gaze whipped back to his daughter, searching her again for any hint of abuse: a haunted look, a tremor, anything to confirm some scum-sucking male had dared touch his child. Vibrations rose in his chest as air expanded painfully in his lungs.
Someone would die tonight.
“I’m fine, Dad. Nothing happened.” Margaret dropped her gaze. “Well, not much.”
The red film covering his eyes dissipated. Not much wasn’t an answer. Grasping for focus, he sniffed again, closer to Margaret. Fatigue and illness, yes. Again, no fear or pain. Setting aside the horrid conclusions his mind had jumped to in the last few seconds, he managed a slippery hold on his reactions and fisted his hands. The claws he restrained dug into his palms, but he felt mere pinpricks. More importantly, he kept his face a rigid mask.
He flicked a gaze toward the detective. “I need to speak with my daughter. Alone.”
“Dad, she should stay—there’s more.”
More? Whatever she’d planned to say evaporated. She turned from puke green to paper white and hunched over. Scooping her into his arms, he made it to the bathroom in time to kneel with her on the floor. How could this have happened? He held her head as she retched without much to show for her efforts.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Margaret dropped against the toilet seat and wiped her mouth. His vibration echoed, and her skin shimmered. Blonde fur rippled for a second along her form, then vanished. “I lost control and slugged him.”
Shocked, he swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. Those bastards deserved whatever she’d done because his baby girl wouldn’t hurt a soul. Not without damn good reason. And from the detective’s description, if they were still alive they’d gotten off too easy.
“I locked myself in the bathroom while he was crying on the floor.” She groaned and accepted the wet cloth he’d managed to snag for her. Making eye contact, she winced. “I slammed the other one pretty hard in the jaw. But you’re right, I’m getting stronger.”
He brushed her hair away from her face and squeezed her shoulder gently. He’d have given anything for this not to be the night she learned to shift. Thank heavens she’d arrived home first, where he could help her. “I want you to remember tonight.” He leaned closer and cupped her face. “I’m proud of you. Don’t ever let somebody do anything to you without your approval. I can kick their ass from here to kingdom come, but it’ll always be more effective if you do it.”
Dani closed the front door and walked toward the bathroom, where the two had disappeared. Uncertain whether or not to leave them alone, she tried not to concentrate on the brief vision of Chisholm Barduc’s retreating figure as he’d rushed his daughter from the room. It was hard to do since he’d presented a mesmerizing larger-than-life image.
She shook her head. An illusion surely. He’d towered over her five-foot-four height by at least a foot, enough to qualify as imposing.
Searching for a distraction, she checked out the living room. Her normal approach of profiling the victim and their family didn’t settle this evening’s events into a normal semblance of reality.
Two large couches, a coffee table littered with books, two executive-size drawing pads, and a colored chalk set absorbed the space between bundles of shirts, jackets, and sneakers. The casual atmosphere claimed it to be a well-used home and comfortable family—too normal. Not what she’d expected. But she hadn’t expected tonight’s call to place her in a confrontation with a shifter and her father either.
Distraction failing miserably, she turned back and forced herself to analyze her reactions to the last few minutes. While Chisholm had loomed over her, he hadn’t encroached on her space. She didn’t really consider him a threat any more than she did his daughter. Big and attractive didn’t mean dangerous. In her work, she’d run across plenty of big, strong, and unarguably sexy men. She’d trained with too many to count and had learned a bit about enticing male proportions and her own sexual restraint.
However, Chisholm Barduc defied proportion and somehow challenged her restraint. Her thoughts wandered down wicked paths. She doubted her arms would even reach around Barduc’s shoulders. And his backside displayed a beautiful symmetry of narrowed hips and firm ass. Whatever it was about him, it was impossible to ignore the quick burst of lust tightening her nipples and clenching her belly. Even his flaring nostrils and the blazing inspection by his vibrant amber eyes hadn’t fazed her. Okay, it had sent her body heat soaring.
Her reaction to the man unsettled her, but what stunned her was a feature only she could detect—the gold outline around him. She typically didn’t read colors or sound in adults. They were too far past her abilities to help, as if the colors dissipated from her view once the individual’s personality matured and solidified. Barduc didn’t fit that mold or any other in her experience. His radiating color provided enough distraction without the added enticing thrum she now also connected with him.
Margaret’s issues should have required Dani’s full attention, but it had been hard to stay focused. Deep and sultry, Chisholm’s vibrations mimicked sensual Latin music, punch and rhythm combined with guitar strings plucked and strummed with the sole purpose of driving a woman wild. With each word he’d spoken, she absorbed the sensation. And while she’d learned to mute her ability, his impact still vibrated along her skin.
She inhaled and struggled for equilibrium. Perhaps her reaction wasn’t isolated to Barduc. It had been a long time since she’d encountered someone with his appeal. If ever. Not that she considered herself a woman easily influenced by testosterone.
Hardly able to believe her mind’s direction, she winced. She considered herself calm, cool, collected, and cerebral—or at least that was her best excuse for her nonexistent libido. Heated shame rose to the tips of her ears at her reactions to Essence’s—no, Margaret’s—father. She rubbed her fingers across one to dispel the telltale sign and rearranged her hair to cover it.
If she didn’t need a formal statement and the resolution of a doctor’s exam for Margaret, she could leave everyone to their own business. But there was also the delicate issue of the feline shifting.
While she loathed weird discussions, she still needed to come to some agreement with Mr. Barduc about Margaret’s condition. Dani had no experience with people who turned into animals. She needed more than a quick handshake and dismissal to confirm everyone’s safety. Yet even with Chisholm Barduc’s assurances, could she believe Margaret and the local residents were out of danger? Police regulations sure didn’t cover this.
Chisholm’s voice echoed in the hallway. “I want to you remember tonight.”
Dani strained to hear the rest, but his voice dropped for a moment, then came back stronger. “Take a shower and come out when you’re done.”
She didn’t have time to retreat. He appeared from the bathroom and passed her on his way back to the living room, his arm brushing hers with an electric shock that had nothing to do with static discharge. She glanced at her feet for certainty—hardwood floor, not carpeting, extended the length of the hallway. No, her jumping pulse owed everything to the powerful, sensual male too close for comfort to her attention-deprived body.
From anyone else, she’d take his contact as intimidation. But Margaret’s father didn’t strike Dani as the type to use his large frame to diminish or frighten. He’d barely glanced at her. In all fairness, he just didn’t fit through the hallway with anyone else there.
Entering the living room again, he rounded on her and crossed his arms as she approached. “Would you please explain to me what happened? From the beginning.”
Dani nodded. A calm, logical request, and one she could address. “An hour ago, the precinct received a distress call. Two college-age males had approached two underage girls at the library, encouraged them to come outside and have a drink from the soda shop. One retrieved the drinks, while the other male
stayed with the girls.”
Chisholm’s brows drew together, but he nodded for her to continue.
“When the girls became groggy, the men proceeded to escort them to their vehicle with a promise to take them home. Instead, they took them to a house on the outskirts of town. Your daughter indicated she helped her friend run for protection in the house. Her friend locked herself in a bedroom. Margaret locked herself in the bathroom and called the police. I was the closest female officer to the location and arrived to assist. I spoke with Margaret and offered to bring her home instead of going to the precinct. I still need her statement to charge these boys. They were both over eighteen, and we need evidence to ensure they don’t try this again.”
There, a tidy summation in keeping with her promises of non-disclosure to Margaret on the subject of shifting.
He didn’t reply. Instead, amber eyes regarded her without blinking.
In the background, the shower shut off. Dani reached into her jacket pocket for her notepad. “I can take her statement here if that helps.”
“Why did my daughter need clothes?”
Thinking quickly, Dani said the first thing that came to mind and gestured toward the bathroom. “She’d vomited. Several times. The drugs obviously caused a bad reaction and wreaked havoc with her system.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Officer. Drugs and a little vomit don’t explain why my daughter isn’t wearing her clothes.”
“It’s Detective Leggett,” she ground out. His brows rose, and the stern lines of his mouth eased for a moment. He’d taunted her on purpose and had the audacity to smile at her as if he’d forgotten her title?
“Detective, then. How about you give me the whole truth?”
“She promised me, Dad.”
He turned on his daughter, one brow raised again. “Promised what?”
She scowled but moved in front of Dani and lowered her head. The subservient gesture sent concern prickling down Dani’s spine.
“I shifted in front of her. More than once.”
His jaw dropped. Before Dani could move, he stepped forward and grasped his daughter’s chin, raising it so she couldn’t avoid looking at him. Concerned, Dani shadowed his movements and almost interceded. Margaret’s acceptance and the deep worry lines around Chisholm’s eyes stopped her.
“Did anyone else see?”
Margaret shook her head and glanced her way. “Only Detective Leggett.” She grasped her father’s hands. “She wouldn’t let the others in the bathroom. And she took care of me. I’m fine.”
The fierce glare turned on her, and Dani considered edging toward the front door. Ego and pure defiance rooted her in place.
“What exactly did you make the detective promise, Margaret?”
The girl shrugged away from her father and, arms over her chest, moved toward Dani again. “I hate that name. It’s so stupid.”
“Margaret. Answer me.”
“I asked her not to tell anyone. I didn’t say you, but she knew what I meant.” Her chin lifted a fraction. “And before you lecture me, my scenting kicked in with the change too. She wasn’t lying to me. I could tell. You trust her too, Dad, or you wouldn’t have left her alone in the house without watching her.”
Caught between offense and intrigue, Dani watched Chisholm’s nostrils flare again. Damn, if his eyes didn’t brighten from amber to copper. Her heart raced. Just as quickly, the illusion was gone.
“Would you have admitted my daughter shifted in front of you, Detective?”
A great question. “I was hoping not to have that discussion. Fortunately, Margaret came clean, and you have her situation in hand.” She hesitated, not breathing as she waited on him.
After his brusque nod, she pushed past the topic’s awkwardness and continued. “However, the problem of getting her statement remains. And I advise medical care for the drugs. Unless you have special resources for shifters?”
Eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched, he ran his fingers through his hair, leaving ragged peaks of thick blond. He shook the unruly mane back into submission with an exhale and stared at her. “Fully mature shifters don’t absorb drugs into their systems. But until she can maintain her alternate form for a few hours, the vomiting is the only way to purge whatever they gave her. She’ll be fine.”
“So you agree she and her friend were drugged and charges should be brought?”
“I need my daughter’s ability kept private, and I am not confirming anything on the record.” His voice rose, but she noted he didn’t step closer or posture over her.
“I’m not suggesting you tell anyone, much less call a press conference on your front lawn. My job is to help Margaret. I want her assailants prosecuted for what they intended to do to her.”
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t about what you want, Officer.”
God, she hated when people arrogantly toyed with her title. From his smirk, he intended to push her and test her resolve. Well, a petty annoyance didn’t qualify as a test in her book.
“Most people feel compelled to share private details about work with their best friends…or loved ones,” he added.
“That wasn’t even subtle, Mr. Barduc. I’ve done nothing to make you to believe I’d betray Margaret’s secret or her trust.”
He leaned forward with what she could only describe as a growl. It vibrated through her body from toes to hair follicles. Pitifully, her nipples detected it as well, and for some reason, her hormones only wanted him more.
“I didn’t intend subtlety. I want assurances you won’t tell anyone what you’ve seen. Margaret’s life will become a nightmare if anyone finds out.” Ferocious gave way to exasperated as he exhaled and closed his eyes again. Every chiseled plane and angle on his face stood out in sharp relief. Those blazing eyes focused on her again. “Despite my instincts to trust you implicitly—I need solid assurance. As a woman burdened with delivering justice, your word will suffice.”
Stiff and furious as well, she snapped a business card from the back of her badge holder and slapped it on the coffee table. “I promise.”
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny this conversation. And because she is a minor and for her safety, I will not allow her to give a statement.” At the sound of a young child’s cry, he glanced over his shoulder before moving to the front door. “Don’t misunderstand me. I owe you for her care and bringing her home, but I can take it from here. I’d also prefer not to have the rest of my family know what happened.”
He swung the door open and waited, discussion evidently ended.
Taken aback at the quick turn from open disclosure to complete shutdown, Dani walked to the door. She recovered quickly enough to try another option. “Please give me a call if you reconsider in the morning. If the boys get away with this, they’ll do it again.”
The door closed without a sound behind her. She stood for a second, wrestling her body back into its normal calm and unaffected state. It didn’t work. In spite of his absence, a compelling male musk lingered beside her and sexual frisson prickled along her skin. With all that gold and rhythm going on around him, he was like some foil-wrapped confection.
She gripped her car keys tight and shook her head. Son of a bitch. She needed a vacation.
Regret registered from her father as an oppressive weight in the air and a sickly sweet smell. Margaret watched it pulse around him in clinging clouds as he closed the door and disappeared down the hallway toward Charlie’s room. Her two-and-a-half-year-old brother’s waking cries held the familiarity of nightly ritual, and for a moment, she focused on the calming house noises. But peace didn’t trickle back. What had happened this afternoon combined frightening with awesome.
Out of habit, she followed her father down the hall, pausing to peek into Cabot and Samuel’s room. Her ten-year-old brother, Cabot, immersed in something on his laptop, earbuds wedged in his ears, didn’t even raise his head. She doubted the brief drama with the detective and Dad had even registered through his scholarly fog.
She couldn’t achieve his twisted posture anymore. The last several days before her transition, no position had eased the ache in her joints. Afterward, she felt like she’d grown an inch and added several pounds of muscle. Big and awkward didn’t really accommodate pretzel positions.
With a wave to dismiss Cabot’s too-mature glance, she closed the door. Her silent tread didn’t help her as she sidled into Charlie’s room. Her dad held the toddler, awake and wrapped around his neck, as he had every night since her mother’s death. Both stared at her.
Her dad motioned toward the wide-open space on the carpet. “I want to see you shift. Doing it slowly will hurt a bit more, but I want you to concentrate on the sensations. Catalog them from your feet to your head and be ready to tell me what you feel.” She hesitated, and he glanced at the handcrafted clock he’d made years ago, featuring Snow White and her seven cats, then back at her. “I want you to hold your shift for fifteen minutes.”
Sucking in a breath, she glanced at Charlie. Incited by anger and frustration with the boys after the library, she’d only lasted for a minute or two with the detective. If she messed this up, her baby brother would never want to shift. Worse, what if she hurt her family?
“I’ve been there, Margaret. You can do this.”
Her tight throat didn’t let her swallow. She sank to the rocking chair in the corner and focused on untying the sneakers. Detective Leggett would need her clothes back. Shoes too. Eyes closed, she lifted the sweat jacket off, leaving on the police-issue T-shirt beneath. “The police officer was nice.”