by Kit Tunstall
She stiffened as she realized he knew the baby’s gender. The time she had seen the doctor in Italy, she doubted she had been far enough along for the sonogram to reveal the gender, so that indicated he’d been keeping track of her, or had at least looked into her recent past before trying to snatch her back. “He’s not your son. He’s mine and Jackson’s.”
Theo’s face filled with blood as he flushed from anger, and he clenched his fist at his sides. “Your Jackson is nothing now, and he certainly isn’t the father of my child. Give me my son, and stop this misbehavior. You already have enough to pay for. I’m certain you’d like to walk in a matter of days rather than weeks when I’m through with you.”
She edged closer to him, using her body to block his view of Killian, who slept quietly on the floor, unaware of his and his mother’s fate hanging in the balance and dependent on what happened in the next few minutes. Squaring off with Theo, she was startled to realize she really didn’t fear him any longer. She was afraid of his goons’ guns, but the man himself had diminished greatly in her eyes.
She saw him for what he really was—a selfish bully, who took whatever he wanted regardless of the cost or consequences for others. He could be violent and mean, but there was no true strength in him. What strength he projected came from his power funded by money and provided by others. He was a phony.
She stared at him, certain she would never be afraid of him again. She might be frightened if he lifted his hands against her or tried to beat her, but she wouldn’t be frightened of the man himself. Part of his ability to control her before had hinged on her terror of Theo, but now she saw all his weaknesses instead of the façade of strength he had hidden behind.
“Sharp, get the kid, and Owens, grab my woman. If she gives you any trouble, subdue her. Don’t kill her, but feel free to remind her who’s in charge.”
She actually laughed at that. “Yes, we all know who’s in charge. You’re the one giving the orders, while hiding behind your bodyguards and their guns. You’re such a strong, powerful man.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
He stiffened, rage distorting his features. When he drew back his hand to strike her, she braced herself, determined to try to defend herself, but preparing for the pain if she failed.
Instead of striking her, he turned at the sound of anguish coming from one of his goons. He cursed softly, and a shudder ran through him.
Hannah glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide when she saw the cougar clinging to Owens’ back as he slashed his claws across the big man’s neck before jumping off. Her gaze strayed to where Jackson had lain in the hallway, and the only thing remaining was a pool of blood and a misshapen bullet.
Cromwell cursed again as he turned his gaze to Sharp. “Shoot the damn thing.”
Before Sharp had a chance to do so, Jackson was on him, knocking the other man to the floor. His body obscured her vision of what he was doing to the goon, and she was thankful for that as she heard a sharp scream a couple of times before Sharp emitted a gurgling sound.
Jackson got to his feet then, stalking toward Cromwell. Hannah was gratified to see the other man trembling in fear. She recalled he never carried a weapon, relying on his goons to protect him and declaring weapons distasteful for a man of his status. She’d bet he wished now he had a gun, though she doubted a weapon would have done anything to stop Jackson. He’d clearly had been able to heal when he transformed from his human form to the cougar. There wasn’t a mark on the cougar’s chest, though there was blood smeared in its fur.
Cromwell was so preoccupied with staring at the cougar that he had turned all attention from her. Seizing the opportunity, she lunged for the lamp on the end table, wielding it like a baseball bat as she jerked the plug from the wall and swung as hard as she could.
Theo looked over at the last moment, his gaze widening as he realized what was coming his way, but not having enough time to block it. The lamp collided with his head with a satisfying thud before cracking, and he let out a hoarse groaned as he collapsed halfway on the floor and halfway on the coffee table, a still form.
She sat down the lamp and looked at Jackson, who was transforming back to his human form. There was a slight wound on his chest, but nothing to indicate he’d been shot at close range.
His arms came around her, and she slumped against him for a moment, reassured by his touch. It felt good to let him hold her, and she didn’t feel the slightest bit weak as she drew strength from him. She finally knew her own inner strength, and she was simply allowing Jackson to bolster it. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said as she turned her face from his chest to look up at him.
He gave her a tight nod. “I thought you had for a minute too. If I hadn’t been able to get my senses together enough to transform, I would have bled out and died.”
She touched his chest, careful to avoid the remainder of the wound, but unconcerned about the blood on his skin. She didn’t care if it got on her hands. She just needed to touch him. “Is this something to do with your shifter ability? I mean how quickly you healed?”
“Yes. When I transform, it usually heals all but the most serious wounds. One or two more transformations, and I’ll be completely healed.”
She said with relief. “That’ll come in handy, since we have to explain this mess to the police.”
“That won’t be a problem. We have a contact in the department, and she’s a shifter. She’ll help us remove any red flags from the official report.”
She glanced over at the two thugs. “Are they dead?” At his nod, his expression remaining neutral, she said, “I wonder what your friend will do about the claw marks? People are going to know a cougar was involved.”
“We’ll deal with that as it arises.”
She couldn’t be so accepting and go with the flow. Her brain scrambled for an angle, and an idea blossomed. “We can say Cromwell had a pet cougar that he kept on the yacht. I’ll tell them I was always nice to it, and it was affectionate with me. He brought it with him, and it attacked his goons when it realized I was being threatened.”
His eyes shone with approval. “That’s a good idea, but I think we need some witnesses.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He glared down at Cromwell for a moment. “If this piece of crap is still alive, and unfortunately, he probably is, he’ll be able to refute that. He’ll have a harder time convincing everyone he’s not just lying to cover his ass for keeping an illegal pet if other people see a cougar running through the building and on the street. I’m going to take a quick jog and make sure as many people see me as possible. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As he spoke, he moved to Sharp, kneeling down to take the gun that had fallen from the bodyguard’s hand. He brought it back and handed it to Hannah. “If he so much as moves, I mean if his eyelids even twitch, you shoot that bastard.”
She nodded. “Can I shoot him anyway?”
Jackson laughed. “Personally, I wouldn’t care, and you’d probably get away with it, but you don’t need to deal with being investigated before they clear you. So only shoot him if you have to.”
“Fine. Stay safe, and while you’re letting people see you, don’t let any of the wrong people see you, like a police officer with a gun.” She leaned closer to him, pressing her lips to his for a soft kiss. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“It’s the same for me. You and Killian are my whole world.” He stepped back, moving away from the tight area between the coffee table and the couch as he stepped over Cromwell’s form before turning into the cougar. He went running through the broken door, and she let out a startled laugh when she heard Mrs. Henning shouting. She hoped he’d given the old bat the startle of her life.
She bent down to pick up Killian, holding him carefully in one arm while keeping the gun pointed at Theo as she took a seat in the armchair positioned at the perfect angle to allow her to shoot the other man if he moved. He seemed solidly unconscious, and she clung to the hope that maybe he
had severe brain trauma and would die from the injury.
She probably wasn’t that lucky, because she’d only hit him the one time, and though it had been with all her strength, that probably wasn’t enough to kill him. If he died, she’d have no remorse or regrets. She’d feel safer knowing he was in the ground rather than in prison, but after the things he’d done, she was certain even with his money, he wouldn’t be able to buy his way out of trouble.
Jackson returned less than ten minutes later, slipping into the apartment in his human form, stark naked. She grinned at that. “Did you startle Mrs. Henning again with your nakedness?”
He shook his head. “She’s hiding in her apartment as far as I know. You wouldn’t believe how people freak out when there’s a cougar running through the apartment building and in downtown San Diego.” He chuckled.
“Now what?”
He moved to the phone, lifting it in one hand as he answered. “Now I call Brandon and Mariah. We deal with the aftermath, Cromwell goes to the hospital and then hopefully to prison, and we get on with our lives.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “That sounds like the perfect plan to me.”
Epilogue
Proving he was the coward she had finally recognized him to be, Cromwell pleaded out and accepted a prison sentence of twelve years before he could apply for parole. It wasn’t what he deserved, but at least she would be safe for the next twelve years. She actually had little fear of him coming after her again, figuring he’d be lucky to survive twelve years in prison, and if he did, he’d be a vastly different man than the rich asshole he used to be.
She hoped he had a big cellmate who enjoyed inflicting the kind of pain on Theo that he had inflicted on her. She clung to that thought with hope and a little giggle of delight when she bothered to think about him. Once the trial was over, that rarely happened at all. He wasn’t worth her time or energy, and she refused to grant him real estate in her brain.
Instead, she focused on getting on with her life as Jackson had stated that night. She was happier than she’d ever been, she was fully bonded with her son, and deeply in love with her husband. As long as she had the two people who mattered most, her future was clear and bright, and there was no room to dwell on sadness or traumas from the past.
Bonus Excerpt
In the Finding Fatherhood series, these shifters become daddies in unconventional ways.
U.S. Marshal and bear-shifter Lucas Anderson failed to protect his pregnant witness, so when she asks him to adopt her daughter as her dying wish, he can’t refuse. Angel is a sweet baby, and he soon feels like Papa Bear, and maybe she’ll be the key to help him wear down his mate’s resistance. Libby has shut him down for months, and he knows they belong together, but she won’t give him a chance to prove it. Can the stubborn bear and his baby win her over to their readymade family? Can he keep his mate and child safe when the cartel that killed his witness comes after him, putting all three in danger?
PAPA BEAR
“I can’t believe it’s finally time. I’m soon going to hold my little girl.” Astoria Martin’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she said the words, seeming not at all bothered by the contractions that had grown steadily closer and longer, prompting them to leave the safe house and head to the hospital.
Lucas was impressed by her equanimity and her lack of nervousness. He glanced at his partner, Tim Crosby, with a small grin. The other man seemed more nervous than the expecting mother, which was amusing. He didn’t allow his amusement to show, or his focus to stray from the street around them, as they stepped out of the apartment they had holed up for the last six weeks, going to ground to protect Astoria. Her testimony was crucial, but it wasn’t just her status as a witness that prompted him to protect her any longer. He’d grown close to the young woman, and though Tim was one to play it close to his chest, he must have done the same.
Astoria suddenly grabbed her stomach and slumped forward, and he knelt beside her, at first assuming a powerful contraction had seized her. It was only when he lifted her slightly upright that he saw blood staining the front of her white maternity dress. It was far too high to be from a birth complication, and his training as a federal marshal kicked in, allowing him to instantly identify it as a gunshot. “We’re under fire,” he said to Tim.
Tim pulled out his gun, clearly searching high and low for the source of gunfire. Lucas focused on Astoria, lifting her into his arms and running to the line of cars on the street. He hunkered down with her there, wincing at the scrape of metal as bullets dinged around them. He caught Tim’s eye and pointed upward, certain from the trajectory that their sniper was a level or two above them. Tim nodded before slipping around the apartment building and out of his view, clearly intent on tracking down their sniper from behind.
Lucas didn’t have a radio, but he used his cell phone to call emergency services, routed through his department. He demanded an ambulance, along with backup, and then hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. He stripped off his jacket, using it as a crude compress against the gaping hole in her abdomen.
Astoria’s eyes fluttered open as he pressed against her wound. “Is the baby all right?”
He felt helpless, which he hated. “I don’t know, Asti. Can you feel her kicking?”
She hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes, and it was difficult to tell if she was unconscious or focusing on the baby inside her. A moment later, her lids fluttered open, and she managed a small smile. “She’s still kicking. Kind of frantically. Do you think the bullet hit her?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. It’s too high up, but she’s probably sensing your distress.” Either that, or her blood supply was interrupted, prompting fetal distress, but he didn’t want to share that theory with the young woman and make her fear even worse.
Thankfully, the sweet sounds of a siren rapidly approached, and as Tim came back into sight, walking out in the open, Lucas realized he hadn’t heard any shots fired for at least a couple of minutes. “Did you find the fucker?”
Tim shook his head as he knelt down beside them on the sidewalk, careful to skirt the pool of blood forming around Astoria. “I got a glimpse of him, but he was quick. He must have realized we’d identified his location, and I chased him, but he was already gone. That fucker is fast.”
Something about Tim’s words bothered him, but he didn’t have time to dissect them at the moment. The arrival of the ambulance, along with three paramedics, distracted him and returned his focus solely to Astoria. She clung to his hand as the paramedics bundled her onto the gurney, careful with her, but moving quickly. As they started to load her into the ambulance, she said, “Please come with me, Lucas.”
He nodded, prepared to insist if the paramedics tried to prevent him from doing so, but they didn’t say anything. One got behind the wheel, and the other two were in the back working on her, so he climbed inside and tried to tuck himself into the corner near her head. The door slammed shut a moment later, and they were off.
He pushed the fine blonde hair off her face, alarmed by how pale and clammy she was. “Hang in there, kiddo. Your baby needs you.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a sad smile. “I’m dying, Lucas. Aren’t I?”
His knee-jerk reaction was to deny it, but as he glanced up at one of the paramedics and saw him nod, he admitted the truth to her instead. “Yeah, it looks like it. I’m sorry I failed you and Angel.”
Her grip tightened marginally around his hand, and it was difficult to tell if she was trying to comfort him or in response to pain ripping through her as she wailed suddenly. “I think the baby’s coming. Now.”
It wouldn’t surprise him if the stress of the last few minutes had accelerated her labor, and he glanced up as one of the paramedics lifted her dress, quickly averting his eyes back to hers. He heard the paramedics discussing her dilation and detected something about ten centimeters, which sounded familiar. He’d spent the last six weeks studying birth manuals and parenting b
ooks with Astoria.
“I want you to take her.”
He jerked. “What? Take who?”
She was panting, and it took her a moment to gain her breath. “I want you to take the baby. Promise me you’ll raise her, Lucas. I don’t have any family, and I sure as hell don’t want her to end up in foster care like I was for my whole life. You’ll love her and take care of her. I know it. Will you take my daughter?”
He froze, not certain how to reply. The idea of him raising a child seemed laughable. He was thirty-six years old and fully dedicated to the U.S. Marshals program. His ex-wife could have given the young woman a million reasons why he’d make a terrible father, but it was impossible to deny her dying request. “If that’s really what you want, but she might be better off with a mother and a father.”
Somehow, Astoria managed to find a shred of strength to tease him. “You’ve mentioned your neighbor Libby more than once. Maybe Angel will have a mother soon enough.”
He was startled anew at her perceptiveness, and also at the realization he’d been talking about Libby. Ever since running across her six months ago and recognizing her as his mate, his bear had been all for pursuing her. Libby so far had shut him down the few times he’d invited her to go out, so he no longer bothered with invitations, but he hadn’t given up on finding a way to claim her yet. He also hadn’t realized he was so obvious about his feelings. “Maybe so,” was all he could think to say.
The birth escalated rapidly, and while one of the paramedics delivered the baby, the other had set up an IV, and they were squeezing whole blood into her as quickly as possible, applying pressure to the bag in an effort to get it into her body that much faster.
With one last scream from Astoria, the baby slipped into the paramedic’s hands. She started crying right away, and the paramedic quickly placed her on the woman’s stomach, careful to avoid the gunshot wound. As he worked on the baby, cutting the umbilical cord and whatever else he had to do for a newborn, she weakly lifted a hand and caressed her baby’s hair. “I can’t be sorry about anything, since it gave me her.”