Separation Zone

by Mandy M. Roth

  Apparently, a lot had changed.

  For a split second, he was happy his mother was long gone, as she’d have never stood for the behavior of the townspeople. She’d have called them all out on it, Southern woman niceties be damned. She’d raised Jon to have the same values. Even if he hadn’t been attracted to this woman he held on some level he wasn’t sure he could fully explain, he’d have assisted her.

  It was what any man who dared to call himself a man did. He cast a hard look over his shoulder at those attending the service, knowing his chilling gaze was hidden behind his sunglasses, but wishing they could see just how lethal he felt at that moment.

  He walked to a grassy area with a large tree that provided shade, and then set the young woman down gently. As he began to assess her, his shifter side tried yet again to push to the surface. It was a struggle, but he kept control of himself. He touched her chin and heat flared, seeming to jolt right through him and center in his groin. Clearing his throat, he focused on her, not the hard-on he was currently sporting.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you all right?” he asked, when he really wanted to shout “mine” at the top of his lungs.

  He resisted.

  And it was far from easy.

  Sweat trickled down his temples as his body trembled with the overwhelming desire to lay claim to her. He fought against what seemed so natural. Despite all the signs pointing to her being his, Jon found himself in denial—a state he’d seen many an alpha male enter when their mates came into the picture.

  For now, he’d just make sure the woman was well, and then he’d clear out of Nape Field and get back to his life—back to missions and the Ops. He’d taken his required days off, Lukian and the colonel would have to understand that Jon needed to be working. It was that or go crazy.

  He lowered his face, closer to hers, pulling her into his arms once more. “Ma’am?”

  She lifted her head and stared up at him, her hand coming to his face. She touched his stubble-covered cheek, and the action did nothing to keep him from wanting to make her his.

  “Praying tiger,” she whispered, the tiniest hint of a Southern drawl there.

  He froze.

  That would have sounded like crazy talk to anyone but him. Jon thought about his routine when he sniped. How he would say a quick prayer. Then there was the fact that he was actually a tiger. Praying tiger was as close to spot on as she could have gotten without including drunken in the mix.

  She continued to look at him. “My praying tiger who loves his momma.”

  Her tiger?

  She felt the connection too, and she was clearly more than human if she was able to guess he was a praying tiger. That meant she was truly fair game for mating.

  “Shit,” he said, and then could have sworn something cuffed the back of his ear when nothing was there. The feeling reminded him of when he was little and had said a curse word within earshot of Vinnie’s mother. She’d given him a good whap for that one.

  The woman in his arms slowly came out of her dazed state. She sat up quickly and knocked heads with Jon. There was no pain for him, but he imagined it hurt her a good one, especially since she grunted. She rubbed her forehead and then looked down at his hands on her, her gaze whipping back to his face. She lifted a brow. “Why are you touching me? How did I get here and who are you? Why are you wearing sunglasses when it’s not even that sunny out? Is it an ode to old Eighties songs? Why do I get the feeling you’re not as put together as your designer suit suggests? You’re not from here are you?”

  He schooled his face, not wanting to crack a smile at her long list of questions. “You fainted or something at the memorial. I carried you away from there and over here to check on you. I like wearing sunglasses, doesn’t matter how sunny it is. I have no idea what you’re talking about with Eighties songs. I did my best to avoid music from that decade. No, I’m not put together at all. And yes, I’m from here. I think that covers everything. My turn. What is your name? What happened to you back at the memorial and why is it you took roses up for those two names?”

  She glanced past him, and for a moment he thought someone was standing behind him. There was no one there. The woman’s expression changed to one of surprise, and she hurried off the ground and took several large steps back. He half-expected her to toss up the sign of the cross at him. “Oh no.”

  “No what?” he asked.

  She looked past him more. “He’s the reason I had to bake pies, isn’t he? He’s your ‘if you make it he will come’ guy.”

  Jon turned, sure someone had to be there.

  Nope.

  Nothing.

  “Double shit,” he said, understanding the woman was obviously crazy.

  There was another cuff to the back of his ear and he spun, gasping, looking for the source of it, but finding none. His eyes widened.

  “Grandma, don’t hit him,” said the woman.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked, already guessing the answer was no. How could she be? She was talking to thin air.

  She shook her head, pointing at something near him. Jon stood very still. Sudden movements could set the woman’s crazy off more if he wasn’t careful, and he didn’t want her hurting herself. Putting his hands up, he tried his best to appear non-threatening.

  “Listen, I think you maybe need to sit back down.”

  With a snort, the young woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He thinks I’m crazy? Right. Because I’m the one of the two of us who lets off a tiger vibe. A tiger that prays. Oh yes. I’m the nut in this scenario.”

  Jon glanced behind him again and then at her. “Who are you talking to?”

  She gave him a pointed stare, a hand going to her slender hip.

  Swallowing hard, Jon felt like he was a scolded child. The woman was nearly a foot shorter than him and yet, Jon wanted to listen to her. To obey.

  Oh shit.

  He removed his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He made a move to withdraw his cell to call his teammates, but stopped as the woman before him gasped.

  “Your eyes,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. She approached him slowly, lifting a hand, her big, wide brown eyes filled with moisture as her bottom lip trembled. “Eyes of amber. It really is you.”

  Jon stood perfectly still, allowing her to touch just under his right eye. After a second or two he made a move to put his glasses back on, knowing his gaze was disconcerting to some.

  She shook her head and used her free hand to block the motion gently. “No. It’s okay.”

  His brow knit with confusion.

  She smiled softly and a tear escaped down her cheek. She kept her finger just under his eye. “You really came. I guess I knew you would, but part of me thought it might not happen.” She pulled her hand from his face and extended it to him. “I’m Tori Manzo.”

  “Manzo?”

  She nodded. “You knew my father. He told me about the tests and experiments you both went through.” She glanced away, her eyes growing moist. “He also said you did well with them all. As you know, he didn’t.”

  Jon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The wind left him with the strike of her words. She couldn’t possibly be Vinnie’s daughter. She wasn’t much into her twenties and Vinnie had died long before that. And Vinnie never mentioned having a child in his letters. That was something Vinnie would have had to have foreseen. He saw just about everything else.

  She stepped back. “You have questions. I guess you would. Dad told me he fell out of contact with you.”

  Jon was the one who felt as if he needed to sit down as she spoke of the impossible. “How old are you?”

  “Rude,” she snapped, and then lifted her chin. “I’m twenty-two. How old are you?”

  The look she gave him said she already knew he was much, much older than he appeared to be. “Vinnie died almost forty years ago. You can’t be his daughter.”

  She rolled her eyes and glanced past him again.
“And you said Jonny was a bright boy.”

  “Who are you talking to?” he asked, following her gaze to find what he’d been finding—nothing.

  The edge of her lips curled upward and everything about her grin said she found him very amusing. He found her to be a candidate for a straitjacket, but he held that bit to himself.

  For now.

  Tori pushed past him, her body brushing his, sending fire to his groin once more. She was trying to kill him. That must be it. The crazy lady wanted him dead.

  The crazy lady is your mate.

  He groaned. Of course she was.

  She paused. “Well, are you coming or not?”

  “Huh?”

  She touched her forehead and hung her head slightly. “Seriously, Grandma, I don’t know that I can stand him for too long. Yes, he’s handsome, but that doesn’t make up for the fact he seems rather on the simple side.”

  Simple?

  Had she just called him simple?

  She clicked her fingers at him. “Well, hurry it up. She had me make you a breakfast casserole this morning, and she wants you to know there are apple pies waiting on you.”

  Jon decided to play along with her crazy. At least for the time being. “Okay. I’m coming.”

  She grunted and whispered softly, “No. I don’t want to start over again with meeting him. I met him just fine.” She stiffened and then forced a smile to her face, extending her hand to him once more. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jonathon Reynell.”

  Jon took hold of her hand and pulled her close to him faster than he should have. She didn’t weigh much, and with his strength, he’d accidently pulled her up and off her feet. She slammed into his body. Gasping, she stiffened.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…ouch!” The back of his ear was suddenly hot. Very hot.

  Tori giggled and the sound did nothing to stop his desire to lay her out and fuck her senseless. He could easily imagine himself above her, her legs spread open for him as he drove his cock deep into her, again and again. Hell, the thought of that alone was about to make him come.

  The real thing might do him in.

  He was a good boy, raised right. Raised not to stand and think of fucking non-stop. But Tori seemed to make all his normal values fly right out the window. He wanted to do bad things to her. Things he’d heard his fellow ops mention doing—kinky things that normally held little interest for him. But damn if he didn’t want to see her wrists bound above her head, tied to a bed frame as he kissed his way over her tiny body before nibbling his way back up her inner thighs in search of paradise.

  “Grandma says to tell you to watch your mouth. And if you keep that up there will be no pie for you,” she said.

  Grandma?

  Tori laughed more and wiggled against his body, making his cock respond with purpose. It hardened to the point there was no mistaking he wanted her. She had to feel it with as tightly as she was pressed to him.

  She gasped, her eyes widening more. “Oh. Well. Okay then. Um.”

  Jon released his hold on her, not because he really wanted to, but because he was afraid he’d try to take her to the ground then and there and fuck her.

  She blushed and then nearly tripped over her own two feet as she attempted to put distance between them. “He does not want to do that to me!” She paused. “Does he?”

  Jon gave up looking behind him, already knowing no one was there. “We should get you out of the sun. I think it’s—”

  Her expression evened out. “I see dead people. The dearly departed standing beside you has a dirty mind and I’m starting to wonder if I ever really knew her at all.” She blushed more, looking almost faint. She brought the back of her hand to her mouth and gasped, seeming appalled. “Grandmother, I never want to hear you talk about anything even remotely close to that again. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  She sees dead people?

  My mate really is insane.

  “Fucking great,” he said, barely above his breath.

  The back of his ear heated again. He touched it, positive something or someone had grabbed it and given it a good hard yank. “Ouch.”

  The beauty before him snorted. “She told you to stop that language, Jonny. Don’t make her drag you by your ear over to the tree to pick a switch.”

  Jon gasped. “Mrs. Manzo?”

  He spun, seeing nothing but air. Inhaling, he quickly caught the scent of baked goods with an undertone of spaghetti sauce. Two smells he always associated with Vinnie’s mother. His gaze whipped back to the young woman. “You’re not crazy, are you?”

  “Nope. Well, not in regards to seeing the dead. Other things, sure. Probably. Who isn’t, in some regards? But not the dead. I’m not crazy about that.”

  Jon bit his lower lip pensively. Deep down he knew she was telling the truth. A truth he didn’t necessarily want to believe. For a split second, he thought he might actually succumb to the shock of it all.

  Some alpha male he was.

  Tori flashed a wide smile, appearing amused by his predicament. “I think the sun might be getting to you,” she mocked.

  He nodded. She was right. “I think so too. I need to sit down.”

  She laughed as he sank to the grass, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Much to his delight, she took a seat next to him, her side brushing his, causing his cock to stir again. He had to take several deep breaths in order to focus on something other than her scent. A scent he wanted all over him and his on her as well.

  He reached for a cigarette, and when he withdrew the pack, Tori grunted. He froze. “Not a fan, are you?”

  “No. Not in the least. I don’t like the smell of it. But I understand you needing one since you just figured out ghosts are real and all.” She nudged him lightly, amusement tingeing her sexy voice.

  “You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” he asked, deep down pleased she was. It meant she was happy. That was important to him.

  “Little bit,” she returned, her small hand coming to a rest on his arm, sending fire through him. “Seriously, though, it’s nice to finally meet you, Jon. I wasn’t entirely sure you’d ever really show up. And while I know what you went through and what that means, I have to admit, you not aging sort of threw me.”

  How much did she really know of him?

  Was she for real? Was she truly Vinnie’s daughter and if so, how was that possible? The math just wasn’t there for it all. Not to mention, if she really was Vinnie’s little girl, the dirty thoughts Jon was having about tying her up and having his way with her were even worse than imagined.

  He was lusting after his best friend’s daughter.

  Was there a lower low? He didn’t think so.

  “Fuck,” he whispered and cringed, expecting to be punished from the other side again. Nothing happened.

  Tori put her head against his shoulder. “Fear not, she gave us some alone time. I guess she realized this was really a lot to swallow.”

  “And then some,” he said softly.

  She grinned up at him. “You’ve taken it better than the other guy I told.”

  “What other guy?” he asked, jealousy showing itself once more when it came to her. “Is he here?”

  A puzzled expression settled over her face. “Are you okay?”

  He had to concentrate on keeping his tiger caged within him. “I’m good.”

  “Uh-huh, sure you are,” she supplied. “When you’re ready, we can start the walk back to the house. I’m sure you know the way, not much about it has changed there. Grandma likes things to stay the same.”

  He thought about the distance from the memorial to the Manzo house. “Tori, you walked here?”

  She nodded. “It’s not safe for me to drive myself places too much. With what I can do, sometimes reality blurs for me and, well, that wouldn’t be wise to have happen while I’m operating a vehicle.”

  “What all can you do?” he asked, unsure he wanted an answer.

  She cleared her throat. �
�I get impressions too, from objects or the living. I really can’t control it very well.”

  The fierce need to tend to her was overwhelming. He wanted to swoop her up in his arms once more and hold her to him, never letting her want for a thing again. He wanted to know she wasn’t left to walk everywhere she wanted to go, and that she was safe and sound.

  He stood and then pulled her gently to her feet as well. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “No offense, but I have to ask, are you okay to drive? You kind of smell like you spent the night in a bar.”

  He cringed. “I’m good. I swear.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jon gripped the steering wheel, doing his best to pay attention to what he was doing and not keep stealing glances at Tori’s skirt, which had ridden up when she’d taken a seat in the SUV. Her ankles were seriously turning him on. It was like he was barely out of his teens, back when seeing a woman’s lower legs was a serious turn-on.

  Apparently, that switch had never turned off for him.

  Roi would love seeing Jon squirm over the small amount of flesh Tori was currently flashing him. Hell, Roi normally pinned a new nude centerfold picture to the back of the I-Ops briefing room door weekly. Lukian and Colonel Brooks were always taking them down, but as soon as they’d remove one, another would appear to take its place. Roi seemed to have stock in nude magazines. He’d never let Jon live down being turned on at the sight of only ankles. And as far as Jon could tell, none of the chicks Roi pinned up on HQ walls were called Hot and Amish, so Roi would absolutely love Jon’s newest turn-on.

  Tori lifted a hand and pointed. “That way. Wait, you already know the way, don’t you? Grandma told me once that you used to live next door to them. Well, as close as close can be with a cotton field between the houses.”

  Jon nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She laughed. “There is the Southern coming through loud and clear.”

  He grinned. “You can take the boy out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the boy.”

  “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” she replied.