Human Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Meat stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about you." If he was shocked by the apron wearing retired Enforcer, the shifter never let on.

  Dad returned the hand shake and took a moment to consider my date. "Shy's been telling tales again?"

  Meat shook his head. "No."

  Dad gave a small head nod in acknowledgement. "I see." He turned back to handily flip pancakes off the stove and onto a platter already holding a small mountain of the sweet treats.

  He unloaded the first batch on the boys' plates where both Meat and I helped them add toppings and dig in.

  "Did you give your paper presentation in class, Shyanne?" Dad asked between bites of food.

  Looking over my glass of milk, I found all eyes focused on me. "Ummm. Yes. I did that a couple days ago."

  "The paper you were working on when we met?" Meat asked. I nodded in return.

  "And, how did it go?" Dad persisted.

  I speared a hunk of pancake with my fork and busily shoved it around the plate, coating it with butter and syrup. "Well, okay, I think. The professor seemed a bit stunned with my choice of places. He choked and one of the students raced to give him the Heimlich, but he ended up not needing it. I explained all about the wanton women with cleavage hanging out and the male dancers with full thongs. The professor turned red, the other students squirmed in their seats while snickering and making hushed comments, and I ended up with three phone numbers from men. The scary part is that one of those numbers belongs to the professor."

  Dad shook his head, mumbling to himself. Meat frowned and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Phone numbers? I hope you threw them away?"

  I grinned back up at him, remaining mute.

  The meal continued with light-hearted conversation, all carefully toned to the appropriate level for a four-year-old. Dad sneaked glimpses to Meat often as if considering what to say to the man once little ears left the room.

  Soon enough, the boys finished. I asked them to go clean up, and change from their pajamas into day clothing. Meat promised he wouldn't leave until they returned, which sealed the deal in their eyes. Little feet bounded upstairs moments later.

  "You kept my daughter out all night long on a first date." Dad tossed out the first pitch.

  I quickly sat my glass of milk down and leaned back in my seat. "Dad, I…"

  He shushed me with a stern look. "Let the man speak for himself."

  "Severe storms hit last night. I didn't want to risk trying to get her home and have an accident. Also, no way in hell was I letting her try to teleport home in such a mess." Meat stared back at my father, maintaining eye contact, a steady voice, refusing to be cowed in any way.

  "We didn't do anything. Good grief," I hastily added, my face warming up quickly with the conversation at hand.

  "I know that." Dad flicked me a casual glance before turning his attention back to the shifter in the room. "What are your plans with my daughter?"

  If only a rabbit hole could open up, I would have loved to be Alice in Wonderland at that very moment. Bring on the Queen of Hearts. She couldn't be near as bad as what I faced right now. It was one thing to be grilled by your father about what happened on a date, but a totally different kind of humiliation to have him grill your new boyfriend right in front of you.

  Meat's fingers intertwined with mine under the table, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I believe, like any other couple, we're seeing if we're right for one another."

  Dad savored that for a moment. "Fair enough."

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Hurt my daughter and I shall rip your lungs out piece by piece through your ears." Dad's tone dropped to a stern threat.

  Meat nodded. "I'll do my best not to break her heart."

  "Oh, that wasn't what I meant. Love comes and goes. Broken hearts are part of the process. I hope, for her sake, that doesn't happen in your case, but that's between you." He paused to take a breath, standing with an empty plate in hand. "I mean if you ever physically hurt my daughter, your hours on earth will be full of exquisite torture before you beg for your death."

  To my horror, Meat grinned widely, allowing a chuckle to escape. I looked at him in shock. My father just threatened to tear you to pieces and you laugh? That didn't bode well for his plea of sanity.

  "Well said. I would do the same were it a child of mine," Meat answered, sharing a smug look with my father.

  Grabbing more dirty dishes, I carried them to the sink, all the time shaking my head at the men. A minute ago they were in the posturing and threatening mode. Now, they chatted and laughed like old buddies. Go figure.

  "By the way, work called. They need you to swing by for a couple of hours. Something about a missing file." Dad relayed the message while placing the now cooled skillet and spatula in the sink.

  "Oh. Okay. Thanks. I'll take the boys with me."

  My official title remained 'executive assistant', although, in real terms, the badge should have read 'gopher.' Not that I complained. You couldn't beat the pay, benefits outshone any other company in the three state area, and the daily flexibility allowed me to be home with my kids, take college classes, and get some hours in at work all without pushing my sanity to the brink. Their Fallen Warriors Trust helped pay for not only my education, but for tuition for my children once they reached college age. The Survivor's Fund provided financial support for the family of the lost warrior, giving them monies for whatever needs they might have. No child went without when the Division knew a need existed.

  Gophers performed any task that presently required attention. I fetched supplies, personnel, researched everything under the sun and moon put together, typed up reports, scheduled appointments, answered phones, and any other chore my supervisors deemed necessary. Basically they expected everything to float down the tranquil river on the African Queen while avoiding the white water rapids at all costs. That responsibility fell to all gophers, including me, within the organization.

  I treasured the job.

  The boys raced down the stairs and grabbed onto Meat before he had the chance to escape. With the escort, we all headed toward the front porch where the boys took off for a quick game of tag and Dad watched Meat and I say our goodbyes at his Jaguar.

  It's really hard to share more than a chaste kiss on the lips when your father is watching from only a few feet away. By his mischievous grin as I returned to the house, he knew exactly what influence his presence made. No matter the age or lack of shared biology, fathers never changed.

  CHAPTER 13

  Before Meat had left, he'd asked me to come to the club that evening to watch him dance. With his sexy grin and purring, how could I not? Besides, it was Saturday night and I could sleep in the next morning.

  Dutifully, I made an appearance, giving the pinky wave to the usual mountain of a man that guarded the door. He just shook his head, stamped my hand, and ignored me like a tiny gnat. Suited me just fine. I could imagine one stomp and I would be a delicate ink spot on the floor.

  A few steps in, I nearly plowed into Ducian. "Oh, hi."

  He looked down, shooting me a dull stare. "You again?"

  "Jeez. Nice to know I was missed." I stuck my nose in the air.

  He snorted in answer.

  "Okay. Okay. Meat asked me to come tonight."

  Ducian gave me the once-over. "He mentioned you went out to eat. Spent his bet winnings."

  I nodded. "But we only went to a pasta place. I think the total bill was less than twenty dollars."

  "That bastard." He growled, frowning harshly at my words.

  "What?" I couldn't fathom why he would be upset over that.

  "Told me that he went five star and collected one hundred from me." He glanced over the nearby crowd then the stage.

  "Oh." Feeling guilty, I unzipped the top of my purse and started digging.

  Ducian's attention returned to me. "Now what are you doing?"

  I kept searching. "I'm going to write you a
check for eighty dollars. I would give you cash, but I don't carry that much with me. Of course, I can give you the ten I have with me and the rest in a check…"

  His mouth gaped open for a few beats in astonishment before a slow smile blossomed into a chuckle. "Princess, you're a gem."

  "But…"

  He waved one hand dismissively. "Keep your money. If I was that needy, I would get it from Meat, bastard that he is. But, I don't need it, so forget it."

  Confused, I asked for clarification. "So… you're angry with Meat for lying?"

  He shrugged and a lopsided smile popped onto his face. "Nah. Nice prank on his part. I was the dumb one to fall for it. No matter. You know what they say about paybacks." His eyes sparked.

  "Ummm. Okay." I zipped my purse again, not sure what to say. Men things. Very odd.

  Checking out the stage, Ducian snagged my arm. "Come on, Goldilocks. Let's get you to your knight in shining armor."

  "He's not my knight in shining armor," I protested, trotting to keep up with his long strides through the masses of people.

  "Sure."

  "It was just one date, dang it. We didn't even do anything. Dinner, ice cream, the Game of Life. That was it," I explained in a huff.

  He stopped so suddenly, I nearly ran into the back of him. "You didn't…?"

  I shook my head. "Not even a real kiss."

  A slow, wicked smile returned to his face. "Well, damn. Guess the overgrown putty cat is losing his touch." Almost pulling off a nice Tweety impression, he walked to the nearest door and stopped, raising one hand to knock. Voices carried through the wooden door from inside. Meeting one another's gaze, we remained silent and leaned in, easily hearing the conversation through the thin wall between us.

  "Not that it's any of your business, but we didn't have sex last night." Meat's baritone carried loudly.

  A familiar female voice replied. "Then you aren't mates."

  "You know how this works as well as I do, Misha." His tone grew a bit frustrated.

  I could hear her heels click a couple of steps in the small room. "But if you were mates, she'd be all over you. Her hormones would drive her to you and your bed. Didn't you say she hasn't been with a man in four years?" A pause followed. "Any woman would be starved for sex just from the drought period. Even if she was one of those exceedingly rare humans that are mates for our kind"—her tone implied that was a sheer impossibility—"she would be all over you, all the more for her long time going without."

  "Maybe." Flippant. "This discussion is getting old."

  "Think about it. It doesn't make sense that she's not all over you like a hungry bear on a beehive. She would pounce on you, begging you to screw her brains out. Not playing some stupid board games like a kindergartener."

  "I'm sure there are reasons." Meat retorted, his tone all matter of fact. "Besides, it was only the first date. A mating could still occur."

  "And how long are you going to wait for that to happen?"

  More silence.

  "If I were you, I would drag her to some hotel, fuck her, get her out of your system, and move on. You're wasting your time with her."

  "I can be patient."

  She continued. "You said she was a widow."

  Misha must have decided to change tactics. I could see Meat crossing his arms over his chest and nodding down to her in my mind. Typical male posture when being lectured by a female.

  "What would you say if I told you it's not true?"

  My mouth fell open. Ducian tensed at my side. Looking up, I saw his face pinch. Resting my hand on his arm, I shook my head. As much as I wanted to storm in the room and sock the Marilyn look-alike, I wanted to hear her lies all the more.

  "What do you mean?" Meat's voice dripped growing tension and suspicion.

  "I did some checking. She gets a monthly deposit into a bank account in her name as well as her sons' names."

  "She works for the PPD. I'm sure they have advanced technologically enough to have direct deposit." A snort followed.

  "No. There's a separate account for that. This account traces back to another country. And the deposits are made by a Wills McDaniel, her husband." Her voice kicked up while drawing out the final words. Papers shuffled and rustled. "Her Enforcer husband."

  I saw red. What account? I didn't know of any account like that. And, if there was, why would someone use Wills' name? Surely, the PPD would oversee such things when it came to their fallen warriors?

  How many hundreds of hours had I looked for any trace of Wills? Every tiny scrap of rumor, I followed to exhaustion. If such a money trail existed, I would have come across it. I harassed the Division for information, denied harshly and abruptly each and every time with the same old spiel about missing and presumed dead. I had no proof he was gone, but no proof that he still lived either. All I had was the word of his employers, and two children at home who would grow up never knowing their father. After years, I made the hardest decision of my life. I could either continue my endless and heart wrenching search or I could pick up my life or head a new direction.

  "The bank doesn't lie. It's all in black and white."

  "Why would she lie?" Meat's voice faltered, as in disbelief mixed with embedded rising angst.

  "My guess is she's using you. Trying to put another notch on her belt, crowing at the possibility of capturing a hunk such as you. With you on her arm, she would be the social talk of the town, not to mention the fringe benefits of your exceptional skills in the bedroom." Her voice purred over that statement, becoming a smidgen muffled. "Or, perhaps…" She dragged out a long pause. "Spying. You know lots of people, vampires, shifters, humans, you name it. You're in a position of power. Information. Information that she can obtain from you to pass on to her husband. He'll take that same information to infiltrate and destroy your friends, co-workers, maybe even our pride members. Spy games," she declared. "More than one Enforcer has worked for the other side, infiltrating in order to seize data and turn it over to those radicals wishing all shifters long dead, paying out huge sums along the way. More than one Enforcer has switched loyalties to line his pockets."

  The silence filled with tension. "Come on, Tyger. The facts don't lie."

  He cleared his throat.

  "How long have you known me, Tyger? Have I ever lied to you?"

  "No." The growl rumbled through the door.

  "Why would I lie to you about this?" The heels clicked once more. "I have documents, proof. It's all there in front of you. She's using you."

  "I don't believe it. Not until I have time to look through everything and make my own conclusions."

  "Until then, you're going to let her just use you, then? Let the familia suffer because this human makes your dick hard? Seems pretty dumb to me." Her voice took on a snarky tone.

  "I told you, I'll look into this. Later." The final word came across as a dismissal.

  Footsteps echoed once more. "Fine. Don't come crying to me when I told you so."

  The door opened so fast, Ducian and I nearly were bowled over. Jumping back, the blond vampire pressed me against the wall, shielding me from whoever stepped from the small room by wrapping me in a tight embrace, his head lowering as if he were kissing me with heavy passion. After a long moment, I heard the person move farther away and risked a peek around Ducian's shoulder. Misha flounced down the hallway to the staircase, her movements stiff, a sure indicator of her present emotional state.

  "What are you two doing?"

  "Nothing." Ducian spoke first, quickly unraveling from around me, but keeping an arm wrapped around my shoulder.

  Meat's eyebrow shot up, his gaze flicking between us both before landing directly on me in a long stare.

  I squirmed. "Not eavesdropping. Nope. I was…" I bit my lip and glanced up at Ducky. He grinned, but kept annoyingly mute. Frantically, I searched my brain for any excuse, stumbling through ideas until one blurted from my mouth. "I wanted you for dessert."

  His blue eyes sparkled as the corner of his mouth twitc
hed. Ducian covered his laugh with a hacking cough.

  My words replayed in my mind. "That isn't quite right. I wanted dessert and to see you. Not to have you for dessert."

  Stepping forward, the liger brushed his nose against mine. "I think you were right the first time."

  Yikes.

  "Looks like I'm a third wheel. My next dance set is coming up anyway." Ducian gave me a squeeze. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." With a quick waggle of his eyebrows, he sauntered a couple doors down, then disappeared into a side room.

  "Eavesdropping?"

  "Not intentionally. It just happened."

  We stared at one another for a long moment before I whispered, "Misha's lying."

  "Listening in on private conversations is always a bad idea. This is none of your business." He shook his head when I opened my mouth. "No. I'm not going to discuss this."

  "But, it does concern me." I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned up at him.

  "I said no. Besides, I have to get dressed for my next set." He shot me a stern look then turned back to the dressing room.

  Irritation sparked. "We need to talk about this. Misha's lying. She's just jealous and needy." I sucked in air. "You believe her over me."

  "I didn't say that. Now can you just drop it?" He sighed tiredly. "I don't have the time or energy for this right now." Throwing up his arms, he walked back to the door, opening it widely. "I'm fed up with women for one night."

  With those words he shut the door firmly behind him, in essence ending our conversation.

  Annoyed and a tad bit angry at his curt dismissal, I tromped down the hall, jogged down the stairs, and marched right out of the establishment, straight to my car. Tossing in my purse, I started the engine and drove off.

  What paperwork did Misha have? How could she have copies of my bank statements? Well, come to think of it, that wouldn't be too hard if you were a thief or a hacker. Still, I wanted to get my hands on her so-called proof. Examine the documents for myself. If they had anything to do with Wills…

  Shutting down the spark of hope, I returned my attention to Meat. He'd sat and listened to Misha spout her lies. Yet, he had refused to let me have my say? To allow me the opportunity to figure out what in the world the old biddy referred to. He had said he believed in me. Sorta. That counted for something.