A Man of Many Talons

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A Man of Many Talons Page 9

by Vivienne Savage


  Was it? I swallowed. “Yeah… Yeah, I think so.”

  I prayed I was right.

  10

  Leigh

  July came, but my period didn’t.

  I kept panty liners on hand just in case, too jaded to expect anything but a bloody massacre in the bed the moment I let down my guard. With my luck, I’d be out at the store wearing my new white sundress.

  Did I dare to take a test?

  Ian had once joked about buying stock in pregnancy tests because there’d been a time early during our marriage after I’d had the IUD removed, when we’d have a bathroom drawer full of the things. My period was always regular, a perfect twenty-eight-day cycle, give or take the occasional gush a day ahead of schedule.

  But the only time I’d ever been more than a week late, I’d been blessed with Sophia.

  And I’d ignored it for weeks, blowing off the signs of pregnancy until I was well into my second trimester because life was shitty, we were dirt broke, and there was too much going on in my irresponsible life to be pregnant.

  I’d thought ignoring it would make it go away. It hadn’t. One day, I woke up from my codeine-fog to realize the drugs I put into my body were bad for my baby. I’d become the worst monster on this green Earth—a pregnant woman addicted to narcotics. No matter how hard I tried to set aside the habit, my boyfriend was there with pills in his hand, encouraging me to take one because he hated the sound of me coming down and going through withdrawal.

  Fate worked in mysterious ways. Dennis hadn’t cared about me, but we’d gotten pregnant the first time a rubber broke between us.

  Now, I had a man who loved me, a perfect father and husband who would do anything to keep us safe, and circumstances decided we couldn’t reproduce.

  Was I bitter? Totally.

  So I took the test, and peed on a stick that confirmed I certainly was not pregnant.

  Attributing the late period to stress, I went about my day at the nursing home, led a group therapy session, and left the center early when all of my clients mother-henned over me, wondering why I was so blue. My phony smiles weren’t fooling them at all.

  I knew it was time to go when a ninety-three-year-old woman got out of her wheelchair to hug me, pat my back, and say, “It’ll get better, honey.”

  Everyone around me had started walking on eggshells and I was tired of the pitying looks. It was all so easy for them. They had children—grandchildren for some of them. Me? I was a failure when it came to giving Ian the shifter child he deserved.

  A week later, when I still didn’t have my cycle, I dared to hope.

  Over-the-counter tests could be wrong, couldn’t they?

  Ian

  An eerily silent home greeted me when I dropped in for lunch. A slow day in the office meant a meal at home with my girls. Neither of which appeared to be home.

  “Where the girls at, Moon?”

  Moonfeather shuffled on his perched and opened one eye. He croaked a hello then went right back to sleep, offering no answers.

  “Guess it’s us boys, then. How’s some broccoli sound?”

  He made another quiet sound and then tucked his head under his wing. So much for that. With leftover meatloaf calling my name, I made my way into the kitchen, which is when I saw her.

  A glimpse of my wife’s pale blonde hair through the window made me veer off course. Leigh sat on the patio with her back to me.

  “What are you doing out here, hon?” I asked as I stepped outside. For once, the weather wasn’t sweltering. A pleasant breeze blew over the yard and ruffled her hair.

  “I failed again.”

  Her quiet words clenched an iron fist around my heart. I froze halfway across the deck before reaching her. “I… Leigh, you haven’t failed at anything.”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  She’d been so hopeful, and truthfully, so had I, when her period hadn’t come. Hungry belly forgotten, I moved forward and took a seat beside her. Leigh shifted away and swiped her wet cheeks.

  “Did your period start?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a good sign, right?”

  “It should be, but all the home tests I took were negative.”

  “Well, those aren’t always—”

  “I stopped in at the clinic and took a blood test. It was negative, Ian.”

  “Oh…”

  “Dr. Kline wants to bring me in for further evaluation. Something… Something deeper may be wrong with me. She didn’t say it, but I can read between the lines.”

  “Sweetheart, this… I know we were both hoping, but I meant what I said before. We don’t need another child—”

  “You say that now.”

  “No, I’ll say it always. I am happy with the family we have.” I laid my hand on her knee and gave a gentle squeeze, wishing I knew what to do. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

  “It’s my failing, not yours.” She sniffled again and blew her nose. “So, I have a suggestion.”

  “I am not leaving you.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind.”

  I released my pent-up breath. She’d tiptoed around the subject once, talking about how I deserved better. “No more pills, please.”

  Her weak, half-hearted smile failed to reach her watery eyes. “No more pills, as agreed. But we have other options. We could do en vitro using donor eggs.”

  “No, Leigh. We haven’t even been to the doctor yet. If there’s some underlying problem for her to treat, let’s focus on that, all right?”

  “All right.” She glanced away again and rose. “I’ll go make you lunch. You must have to get back soon.”

  Her easy agreement set off warning bells in my head. “I’ll take the afternoon off.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Leigh—”

  “Meatloaf okay?”

  I sighed and stood. “Meatloaf is great.”

  My appetite had gone completely, but if feeding me made Leigh feel better, then I’d choke down every bite.

  Leigh

  Sophia and I ate breakfast alone. Ian had crawled out of bed at some godawful hour to work, leaving yet another note pinned to the fridge warning me not to hold up supper for him. He’d eat at the diner with a couple of the guys.

  That’s how it had been all week. Sometimes he came home to share lunch with us, but he always worked late and reported early to duty the next morning. I did my best to keep Sophia entertained, but with Moonfeather’s company, she didn’t seem to mind her father’s absences. Too much.

  “Look, Mommy, Moon likes to ride on my shoulder.”

  Her excited voice pulled my attention from Nandi’s recent novel about a herd of Native American horse shifters living on the western plains. She wrote steamy paranormal romances, an irony not lost to any of us and completely amusing since we were all—even if by proxy of being married to a shifter—part of the hidden paranormal community.

  While the book was fucking amazing, and the steamy scenes were hotter than a summer day in Hell, I’d been staring at the same paragraph for almost an hour. I slipped a bookmark between the pages and set it aside.

  Sophia stood proudly beside the cage with Moonfeather perched on her shoulder. He picked at her hair with his beak, and with each pass, Sophia giggled.

  “Looks like you found a new brush.” A big, feathery, can-bite-your-finger-off brush.

  “It tickles.”

  “Tickles!” Moon repeated. Then he launched off her and shot across the room like a gray bullet. He landed on Ian’s recliner and strutted up and down the arm. “Ian. Ian.” He dipped down, fanned his feathers, and squawked indignantly at the empty seat. I wondered if it pissed him off that his TV-viewing partner wasn’t home yet.

  “Daddy’s working, silly.” Sophia bounded over and offered her arm. He stepped up onto her wrist and continued to squawk. “Can I bring him to my room for a little while?”

  “Sure, just make sure he doesn’t chew on your toys.”

 
“I will.”

  They were halfway up the stairs when the phone rang. Since my book wasn’t holding my attention, I tossed it aside and answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Leigh, is Ian home?” Sasha asked.

  “No, he’s working late.” Again, though I didn’t add that tidbit. “Something I can help you with?”

  “Oh, um, well, he asked me to call when we were on the way to the birthing center.”

  “Nandi’s in labor?”

  “Yeah, since last night. Her water broke, so we’re taking her in.”

  Another friend. Another baby. Two babies, actually, because shifters tended to have multiples, depending on the species.

  Part of me felt awful for resenting Nandi’s joyful news. Then the part of me grieving my lack of fertility envied them for being gorgeous and powerful shifter ladies with magical uteruses.

  “That’s great. Really. I’ll call Ian and let him know. How’s Esteban holding up?”

  “Surprisingly calm. Isisa’s the one freaking out about every little detail. She packed two overnight bags and a slew of snacks for all of us.” Sasha snickered. “Like anyone will be able to eat until these babies are born.”

  “That sounds like her.” The tightness in my chest eased enough for me to speak with true warmth in my voice. My friends deserved their happiness. “Is there anything we can do? Anything you need?”

  “No, not right now. Just updating everyone. I’ll call when the babies are born.”

  “I’m happy for you all. I mean it. Give Nandi my love and tell Isisa to breathe.”

  Sasha’s low and throaty chuckle sounded like a purr. “Are you sure it shouldn’t be the other way around?”

  “Nah, Nandi will be doing plenty of breathing.”

  On that lighter note, we hung up, but I sat there on the couch staring at the phone for several minutes while I struggled to hold back tears. Because, as happy as I was for my friends, I wondered what I’d done to make fate hate me so much.

  11

  Ian

  Business matters related to MacArthur Security took me to Houston on a late-July Monday morning. One of our firm’s high-profile clients wanted to discuss protection assignments for her family members. As a pop princess, she received all manner of threats and creepy stalkers, and since she paid a million each year to retain us, it meant she got the boss—moi.

  Thanks to the diligence of my employees, Penny never had an actual problem, whether she was at home in her Houston penthouse or traveling the world on a tour.

  So the threats had shifted to her family.

  The insanity of rabid fans never failed to amaze me, but sifting through Penny’s recent batch of angry letters and e-mails made it clear these people took addiction to a whole new level of unhealthy behavior. I spent four hours gathering sufficient data and signatures from the various relatives to receive our protection services, but in the end, my satisfied client provided me with backstage passes to her next concert.

  I wasn’t into her sort of music, but Leigh enjoyed it. Maybe I could lure her out to the concert. Anything to liven her up again and bring the light back to her smile.

  Which brought me to my newest plan and part of the reason behind my visit to Sasha and her pride.

  The women stayed downtown in a high-rise, near the Discovery Green. Nadir lived in the same building. The doorman tipped his hat, greeted me by name, and ushered me inside. The valet at the front desk repeated the greeting, giving me a wave.

  “They’re expecting you, Mr. MacArthur. Head on up.”

  “Thank you, Gil.”

  Because Sasha and her family owned the top-level penthouse, they had the luxury of a private elevator. The doors opened as I stepped up to them, courtesy of Gil, and then the lift whisked me upstairs to a tastefully decorated, carpeted hall with a single door at the end.

  Isisa opened it before I raised my hand to knock and threw her arms around me.

  “Ian, so good to have you here finally.”

  “I’m sorry it took so long. I figured you all would like to enjoy time alone with the babies.”

  “We appreciate that, but you and Leigh are family. You could have come over any time. Come in, come in.” She ushered me inside their upscale penthouse, past the small entrance hall and into the living room opposite the kitchen. Nandi and Sasha sat on the L-shaped black leather sectional in front of the widescreen television, each with a baby swaddled in her arms. As I approached, all I could see was the fluffy tops of their heads, both boys sporting miniature versions of their mother’s russet curls. Those kids had a lot of hair, reminding me of Sophia’s baby photos.

  Esteban waved from the kitchen. “You’re just in time. I’m making Chile Colorado for these hungry ladies, and there’s more than enough for you.”

  “Smells delicious.” I didn’t have to feign excitement. When the group came together for a potluck, Esteban and Nandi never disappointed us. “And you, new mama, look great.” I crossed over to the couch and leaned down to kiss Nandi’s cheek. “Which handsome little guy is this?”

  “This is Lucío, and Sasha has Braulio.”

  I took a seat between them, but kept my attention on the sleeping child Nandi held. Alert blue eyes watched me, not yet changed to their permanent color. The kids were neither their African mother’s dark umber or their Latin father’s golden tan, instead a rosy-cheeked, warm shade in between the two complexions. “He’s beautiful. They both are.”

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  “Hell yeah. Pass him over to Uncle Ian.” Amazing how intimidating something so small could be. The moment she settled Lucío in my arms I was smitten, and a little terrified to move. He yawned and stretched out one hand, only to settle back into peaceful repose and drift to sleep. I wanted one with all my heart.

  That didn’t make what I’d told Leigh any less true. I was happy with our family as it was and loved Sophia with every fiber of my being.

  “How are they sleeping for you?”

  “Pretty good,” Nandi replied. “At least with the four of us, no one is pulling an all-nighter.”

  “Heh, yeah, there’s an advantage to a pride most of us envy.”

  “Food’s ready!”

  Esteban brought out a feast of spiced pork in chili sauce, homemade tortillas, rice, and refried beans. We ate around the coffee table while the boys slumbered in a wide bassinet nearby.

  “So? Who did you assign to the pop star?” Sasha asked.

  “Nadir, Mandi, and Brick are going to remain here with Penny, and I’ve got two ladies from the Houston office who were more than willing to transfer to Austin for a few months to handle her mom and dad. Timmy is going to head over with them.”

  “You ever think of opening a branch in that area?” Esteban asked. “Lots of talent in Austin who I’m sure would be glad to shell out the big bucks to your business.”

  “Considered it. This side of the business is growing faster than expected.” Initially, I’d founded MacArthur Security as a dealer of home security systems and alarms. Then some of our clients asked about personal protection services, and one day, I was getting my license as a guard. Years later, I employed hundreds of men and women. We installed systems, provided 24/7 offsite monitoring, and I had dozens of employees flying as the entourage of famous clientele across the world. “I’m scouting a few fellow vets to bring in to the company. Jada’s cousin recently received his citizenship and expressed interest in becoming licensed. Suraj will be our first tiger shifter.”

  “Ah. The snowball effect.” Esteban nodded. “Once the growth begins, it’s all downhill.”

  “Damn right. What about you, Esteban? How’s the new project going?”

  “Really great. I actually have to head out to the office in a few to sign some papers and look over the latest reports, but I’m pleased with how everything is progressing.”

  “Excellent, I’m glad to hear it. Really.”

  Talk drifted from work to the twins and eventually both boys woke an
d cried in tandem. Nandi jumped up first, followed by Isisa.

  “Now that we’ve eaten, it’s their turn. I’ll just take them upstairs,” Nandi said.

  “Oh! Well, don’t let me interfere. I can lea—”

  Nandi laughed at me. “I’m not shy, Ian. I’d whip this top off and nurse them right in front of you. I really don’t care. But holding them both is exhausting and it’s easier to lie down. Plus I can chill with a movie.”

  Isisa snickered. “She still hasn’t gotten the hang of the double football hold.”

  “If you leave before I come back down, it was great to see you. Bring Leigh next time.”

  “Of course.” I rose and kissed her cheek. Isisa offered hers next and followed upstairs with Braulio in her arms. A few minutes later, Esteban excused himself to head out to work.

  “Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” Sasha suggested, leading the way to the balcony.

  The amazing view lured me to the railing, where I tipped my face up to the sun and drew in a deep breath. Sometimes I wished I lived in a place like this, high in the air with a perpetual breeze close by. Then I caught a faint whiff of motor oil and remembered why I preferred the country life over the city.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Sasha asked as she moved up beside me.

  “Hmm? Oh, not much.” I laughed then, and ran a hand through my hair. “Lots of things, actually.”

  “Anything you wanna share?”

  “There is. It wasn’t just our pop princess who brought me up here. I had a quick chat with the local FBI field office regarding our Medrano problem.”

  Sasha stiffened. A few months ago, Esteban had gotten involved with the Medrano family when they tried to sabotage his construction jobs. They had their fingers in all sorts of criminal pies, but proving it had tested the very limits of our patience. “Let me guess—they have crap.”

  “The Medranos are keeping low. None of their associates picked up by the feds have flipped.”

 

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