“Is she all right?” Paul asked anxiously. “Where is she?”
“Home,” Graham said. “She needed a break, all right?”
Eyes focused on Graham. Two pairs of Feline eyes, Lupine ones from Dougal, the human eyes of Paul and Diego, and the weird, black-hole eyes of Stuart Reid.
Graham had seen a glimmer of pure rage in Reid’s dark eyes when Graham had told him about the Fae. Reid hated Fae—he called them hoch alfar—hated them more than Shifters did . . . Nah, that wasn’t possible.
“She’s fine,” Graham said into the silence. “Xavier is looking out for her. But we have to cut it off at the source. If we get the leader, the rest will go down easy.”
“Already being taken care of,” Eric said mildly. “Diego?”
“DX Security tracked down Sam Flores and his gang nursing themselves at their safe house. Looks like you and Dougal ripped them up pretty good. I dutifully reported Flores’s criminal activity to the police. I know guys on the force who were happy to shovel Sam Flores and his boys back into prison. They broke their parole, so they’re history. My friends found Dougal’s motorcycle and are returning it to the DX Security offices as we speak.”
Graham had meant something more permanent for Flores, like quietly breaking his neck and burying him somewhere no one would find him. That’s what Flores had intended to do to Misty and Paul, and Graham saw no reason to be lenient.
But human justice was different from Shifter justice. Graham knew he had to let Diego take care of it, much as it chafed him. Diego had been a very good cop, with awards and everything, and the humans respected him, even after he’d mated with a Shifter.
Diego’s Shifter mate came out of the house now, carrying their eight-month-old cub, Amanda. Attention left Graham and turned to the baby, who looked fearlessly out at the world from the safety of her mother’s arms. She had Diego’s dark hair but Cassidy’s Feline green eyes. Diego had been surprised by the green eyes, but genetics worked a little differently for Shifters. Amanda would be Feline, like Cassidy, but because she was half human, she’d not change into her Feline form for a few years yet.
Cassidy smiled at Diego, her love for her human obvious. Diego had gone through a Fae magic ritual that would extend his lifespan to be close to what Cassidy’s natural one would be. Graham had always wondered why the Fae had agreed, centuries ago, to perform this service for Shifters who took human mates, but he’d never bothered to track down a Fae and ask him. Graham stayed as far away from anything Fae as he possibly could.
Which brought him back around to the current problem. The shot he’d taken was a flea bite compared with what the Fae had potentially done to him.
And no one could know. Graham had told Reid, but Reid could keep his mouth shut. If any hint got out among the Shifters that Graham might be Fae-touched, he’d be finished. His wilder Lupines might try to kill him and take over his power. Eric would try to stop them, and then there’d be a battle to the death, a bloodbath the Collars couldn’t slow. Eric would win in the end, but a lot of good Shifters could die, including cubs.
This was turning out to be one hell of a day.
“I’m going home,” Graham said. “Call me if you need help taking out the humans.”
“Thanks, Graham,” Paul said after him. “For helping her.”
Graham made an indifferent wave. “Whatever.” He and Dougal, who still didn’t want to move more than a step away from Graham, went home, wheeling Graham’s broken bike between them.
• • •
Graham lived in the new section of Shiftertown, where houses were still under construction. Graham’s house and about six others were completely done, the others nearing completion.
Because Graham was a leader, he’d insisted on his house being bigger than the others. Eric might play I’m-the-same-as-you with his Shifters, but Graham decided to never let others forget his position. A Shifter played with fire if he did.
The newer houses were more modern looking than the ones on Eric’s street, with stucco and tile, and lots of windows. Graham’s house had a second floor. The older portion of Shiftertown had been built in the 1960s, when people kept out the heat with small windows set high under the eaves, thick outer walls, and flat, white roofs. Graham had insisted on more modern insulation and double-paned windows, and Iona, who owned the construction company that built the houses, had agreed.
All the new houses had air-conditioning that worked, so Graham walked into a cool haven. He shut the door behind him and Dougal and let out a sigh of relief.
Dougal was still stressed. Graham could scent it on the lad, sweat mixed with panic and exhaustion.
Graham turned to his nephew, who was starting to curl in on himself, straightened him up, and pulled him into another hard hug. Graham had been doing this for thirty years, he realized—holding Dougal while he grew up.
“You did good out there.” Graham patted Dougal’s back and tightened the hug. “You knew exactly what to do, and you brought help in time. We made it, and we’re home, and whole.”
Dougal nodded against Graham’s shoulder. He stayed dormant in Graham’s embrace for a time, then he took a deep breath, his strength returning. Shifter hugs were more than just comfort; they were healing.
“Better?” Graham asked, releasing him.
Dougal wiped his eyes as he turned away. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I have things to do, Shifters to see. Call me if you need me again.”
Dougal walked to the front door, the swagger returning to his step. Graham hid his chuckle until Dougal had breezed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He’d be all right.
Graham’s laughter died as he made his way to the kitchen, thirst kicking him. He’d known the water was foul as soon as he’d smelled it, but his thirst had won over his common sense. And now he was thirsty again. He clenched his fists. If he gave in to a Fae curse, he might as well summon the Guardian and fall on the sword.
Misty hadn’t seemed affected by the spelled water. Graham had looked into her face and hadn’t seen anything but her clear, brown eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes. Lashes he’d love to feel fluttering over his skin.
Don’t call me again, she’d said.
She hadn’t meant that, right? So hard to tell with humans. Misty had gone through trauma today, been threatened, terrorized, and hurt, poor thing. When she felt better, she’d call Graham and ask if they could talk. Misty liked to talk. On the phone, in person, over e-mail. Graham had never talked much with his other females, but then, his previous relationships had been all sex and not much else.
Even with his mate, Rita, they’d spent most of the time in bed. They’d never really talked. Graham had never taken the opportunity to truly get to know Rita, and then she’d been gone, dead, the Guardian turning her to dust. Her death and his baby son’s had left him stunned, barely able to think beyond his grief.
Brooding about Rita and Misty wasn’t going to help Graham with his problems now. A Shifter had to push away grief and relationship worries and concentrate on immediate problems. That was the only way to survive. Right?
Graham walked into his kitchen, deep in thought . . . and stopped. Something was very wrong. He’d left the place trashed, yes, with his stupid fight with that Lupine, but not this trashed.
Someone had opened every single door of every single cabinet, and had yanked out every single drawer. Graham’s pots, pans, and dishes, and cans and boxes of food were all over the floor, porcelain smashed, glasses broken, boxes opened, powder and grains spewed everywhere. The refrigerator door was ajar, and bottles and cans had burst open on the floor outside it, rendering the tiles a mess of ketchup, mustard, pickles, and beer. The refrigerator was shaking now too, as though it had taken on a life of its own.
No Fae spell was doing this. Graham roared as he yanked open the door.
Two fuzzy faces turned toward him, two
pairs of eyes widened under two pairs of ears that managed to be pricked and flopping at the same time. Two little muzzles opened in identical, high-pitched howls, and two tails started moving rapidly, dumping over a half gallon of milk between them.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” Graham bellowed.
Matt and Kyle, the three-year-old wolves, yipped with joy, and launched themselves out of the refrigerator. They had a frenzied fight over who would reach Graham first, Kyle winning by a whisker. Both cubs scrambled up Graham’s legs to his bare arms, wriggling with joy as though they hadn’t seen him in weeks instead of about twenty-four hours.
Graham’s back door opened, and a Shifter woman came in—Brenda Roberts, the cubs’ foster mother. She ducked her head, as all Graham’s wolves did when they faced their alpha, but her eyes held defiance.
“I can’t do it anymore, Graham,” she said. “I can’t take care of them. I have my own cubs to look after, and I. Just. Can’t. Do. It.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Graham asked, something like panic rising. “You’re taking care of them fine.”
Brenda shook her head and kept on shaking it. “No I’m not. I’m not sleeping, or eating, or doing anything but running around after those two little shits. I can’t even go to the bathroom without them coming in and tearing down the shower curtain and eating the toilet paper. They need a firm hand, Graham, and mine’s not firm enough.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Graham said loudly. Kyle and Matt clung to him, small claws digging into his arms. “If you don’t want to take care of them, fine. But they stay with you until I can find another foster.”
Brenda was already shaking her head again. “I can’t. When they had space to run around up in Elko, they were fine. Sort of. Now that they’re more restricted, they’re going insane and taking me with them. I’ve gone through eight months of hell, and I can’t do it anymore. Punish me if you want to, but I’m not keeping those cubs another day.”
Brenda still wouldn’t look at Graham directly, but she had determination on her face. Lower dominance wolves never disobeyed their alpha—unless driven beyond normal endurance into something that would break them. Brenda had stood strong behind Graham and given a lot to the Lupines. And now this loyal wolf was being defeated by two adorable cubs who looked up at Graham with innocent eyes.
Graham could shove the cubs back at her and tell her to suck it up; he had that right. She could obey, or she could die.
But Graham wasn’t leader because he was the loudest-voiced asshole in the pack, no matter what anyone else thought. He’d seen how worn down Brenda was, and it was true—she had four cubs of her own. She’d taken Kyle and Matt because of her soft heart, and Graham knew he’d taken advantage of her. So had Matt and Kyle.
“All right, all right,” Graham said. “Just go.”
Brenda’s shoulders slumped in relief. She wouldn’t have left the house without Graham giving her permission—not like Misty—no matter how much staying was upsetting her.
Brenda gave him a grateful look then turned around and marched out the door, the draft of its closing rushing over Graham and the cubs.
“Shit.”
Graham grabbed both cubs by their scruffs and held them up, facing him. “What am I going to do with you two?”
Kyle and Matt squirmed in joy and wagged their tails.
“Shit,” he repeated, softly this time. Raising Dougal had been the hardest thing Graham had ever done—he was still doing it. No way could he go through that again. “Tell you what; we’ll go visit a nice Shifter lady whose cubs had to have been worse even than you two.”
Fine with Matt and Kyle. Graham left the disaster of his kitchen and went out of the house again. He marched back through Shiftertown, the two wolf cubs on his shoulders clinging so tightly they ripped into the black shirt Diego had given him, cutting into Graham’s skin underneath.
CHAPTER SIX
Misty surveyed the wreck of her store without being able to feel much. She’d built the shop with nothing but a little savings, a start-up grant for women in small business, and a bit of know-how.
Her father had been great at starting businesses. He’d absolutely sucked at keeping the businesses going after a week or two, because his get-rich-quick plans never worked out. But it had been so much fun for Misty and Paul to help him out. When the three of them had been together, working, planning, and dreaming, they couldn’t be stopped.
Dad had never succeeded, and had died in an accident when Misty had been a senior in high school. Misty had learned from him, though, how to get a business up and running. She’d chosen a flower shop because people bought flowers when they wanted to make other people happy or cheer them up. Misty had had enough unhappiness shoved at her in her lifetime that she wanted a career that would take her away from that.
She’d discovered selling flowers was not as easy as it seemed, but she’d researched, worked hard, and got lucky when this strip mall had a small slot to fill. Her shop didn’t make millions, but Misty made a living, and she liked what she was doing. Now that Paul had his parole, he worked for her, doing deliveries and running errands, and he was enjoying it.
Misty had labored so hard for this business, and one person with a grudge had ruined it in the space of a morning. She might have to close, not just until she cleaned up the store, but for good. She’d had to cancel the orders for today that hadn’t already been on the van, and she’d probably have to cancel the rest of the orders for the month and return her customers’ money. One of Diego’s security team had taken the shop’s van, the only thing intact, out to make the remaining deliveries so Paul could stay safely in Shiftertown.
Misty knew she owed Diego and his guys for all their help. Graham too, even more so. She and Paul would have been dead today if it hadn’t been for Graham.
Xavier Escobar had driven her down to the store and come in with her. “What a mess,” he said, looking around. “At least we got the bastards who did this.”
Misty nodded, her throat tight. “I really appreciate you taking care of Paul. If something had happened to him . . .”
“It wouldn’t have been your fault,” Xavier said quickly, putting a warm hand on her shoulder. “Guys like Flores think they own the world and everyone in it. They need to be taught they don’t.” He chuckled. “It’s kind of fun to teach them.”
Xav was such a nice guy, in a hard don’t-mess-with-me kind of way. He too was a former cop, and had started DX Security with Diego to help people who couldn’t otherwise find help, which Misty could respect.
“We can have a team in here to clean up right away,” Xav said. “Make the place good as new.”
Misty shook her head and moved away from him. “Insurance assessment first. That’s why I pay for it.”
“Okay, but if they start being a pain in the ass about it, you call me. I know people, Iona’s family runs a construction company, Shifters like to build things . . .”
He leaned against the one clear spot on the counter as he spoke. Xav had brown black hair, dark brown eyes, liquid dark skin, and a square, handsome face. A hot man on a hot day. Why couldn’t Misty fall for someone like him?
But no, she had to have a soft spot for a crazy wolf Shifter with a growling voice and a piercing gray stare. She shivered as she thought about that stare when she’d closed the door on him. But Misty had needed to be alone, to think, to worry about why Graham had been so enraged at her, why he’d said such things to her. And why was she so thirsty?
“Any more water left?”
Xavier looked into the little cooler he’d brought with him. “You drank the last one.”
No problem. She’d go across to the convenience store. Misty was out the door and halfway across the parking lot before Xavier could follow.
At the convenience store, Misty nodded a hello to Pedro at the cash register then went str
aight to the drink refrigerators and started taking out bottles of water. If she was this dehydrated, she thought dimly, she should grab some Gatorade or something. But no, she wanted water. Buckets of it.
“Hey,” a voice said beside her.
Misty looked up, her arms full of blissfully cool and moist bottles, to see the hiker from the desert. He was still in his hiking gear, a little more sweaty and dirty than before, and he was reaching for water too.
“You made it back,” he said.
Obvious, since Misty was standing right there. “Yeah. We made it. What happened to you? I thought you were right behind me, and then you weren’t.”
The hiker shrugged. “Took a different trail. Didn’t see you. When I looked for you, you were gone, so I figured you’d caught a ride.”
Misty nodded. “Friends came and picked us up.”
“Good.” He plucked a bottle out of the fridge and smiled at her.
The smile was odd. His teeth weren’t exactly pointed, but they didn’t look right either. His hair, tousled and sweat soaked, covered his head to his neck. When his hair wasn’t dirty, it would be very light blond, almost white.
“See ya,” he said, and turned his lanky body to move to the cash register.
Misty took yet another bottle from the fridge and wished she’d thought to grab a handbasket. By the time she struggled up to the register, the hiker was gone.
“What are the odds?” she asked.
“What?” Pedro looked at her blankly, pausing as he rang up her purchase.
Misty realized she’d said the words out loud. “What are the odds that a guy I met out in the desert turns up at this convenience store? How many are in this city—say, thirty? More than that? But he comes to the one right next to my shop.”
“Maybe he likes you,” Pedro said, counting out her change.
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