Ilan

by Dana Archer

  “Kane.” No sense giving my first name. Ilan isn’t a common name either. Not anymore. Such is the fate of most older shifters. Names go out of style while we live on. “I’m Uriel’s partner in this case.”

  She swallows hard. “So Barry not coming home last night is now a case?”

  Curses sit on the tip of my tongue. I flick my gaze to Uri. His stony expression matches my thoughts. This woman has been kept in the dark. Telling her she lost her husband isn’t something I agreed to when I signed Ella’s paperwork. There’s no way out of this. I won’t lie to this woman. Not about death.

  I climb the steps until I’m eye-level with the woman standing on the porch. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Farmer. Your husband died last night.”

  Hands over her mouth, she steps back. “I knew something bad happened. I knew it.” Her voice cracks. “Like I lost a piece of myself last night.”

  Uri guides the ashen female to one of the chairs and urges her to sit. She does, then focuses on me, not Uri. “The police wouldn’t tell me anything, even when I asked point-blank if he died.”

  “Your husband’s identity was just confirmed this morning.” Uri pulls one of the other chairs closer to her and sits. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “We’re going to find his killer, and he’s going to be punished. I promise you that, Mrs. Farmer.” I drop to a crouch instead of taking the other chair. “But we need your help.”

  “His brother.” Tears clog her voice but she keeps her gaze locked on mine as if the determination in my expression strengthens her. “Alan. Did he die too?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Her lip quivers. “How?”

  “We can’t share the details of an active investigation.” Uri speaks up before I can give the answer.

  She turns to me as if hoping I’ll tell her. I would’ve had Uri not spoken. Honestly, I don’t know why it matters. There will be no trial in this case. The male who threatened my true mate and my nephew will die. End of story. “It was quick. He didn’t suffer.”

  Her tears spill over. She cries into the edge of her quilt, her sobs muffled by the fabric. Uri holds up a hand in a “don’t push it” motion. He doesn’t need to tell me. Grief needs to be faced. I only wish this moment hadn’t occurred in our presence. Every tear this human sheds fuels the anger inside me and adds to the determination of my wolves. They want to feel the last beat of the lion shifter’s heart.

  Finally, she scrubs a hand over her puffy eyes. “I told him not to take that job. That it had to be something illegal. He wouldn’t listen to me. Said the money was too good to question it.”

  “What job?” Uri asks before I can.

  She slides a guarded look at him. “Don’t you know?”

  “We know some things, but we don’t know everything, or else your husband’s killer would’ve been found already.” Uri leans forward. “And if you want justice, you’ll tell us everything, even if it’s something not on the up-and-up. We’re not here to judge Barry or Alan. We want to solve this case.”

  The compulsion in Uri’s voice to obey him is easy for me to pick up on. Now to see if it works on the human as it probably would on another member of his pride.

  The female worries her bottom lip for a few seconds before exhaling. Her shoulders slump. “Barry’s been out of work for a while. With the baby on the way, he was desperate. Started picking up odd jobs. Anything to bring in a few bucks, you know?”

  I nod. “How did he find these odd jobs?”

  “He had an ad in the paper.” She turns pleading eyes on me. “It wasn’t anything sketchy. He did things like pick up groceries, mow grass, repairs, and whatnot. Whatever he could get.”

  “I believe you.” I grip the arm of her chair. “Tell us about the job he had last night.”

  She licks her lips again and flicks her gaze between us. “Didn’t the police find it there?”

  “Find what?” Uri urges.

  “The…the baby.” She twists her fingers together. Her gaze settles on me again. “He got the job yesterday morning to…to deliver a baby to a relative’s house before midnight. Something about the mom dying and the father not wanting the kid. He said once he pawned the little brat off, he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

  “The father gave your husband the baby to deliver.” I find that hard to believe. My twin died days ago, and if Gabriel was free, he would’ve gotten in touch with me.

  “Yes.” She nods, tears filling her eyes again. “And I made Barry call his brother to drive him over ’cause he didn’t have a base for the car seat. I didn’t care if he’d have to pay Alan. I said no way was he sticking that sweet little baby’s seat on the floor without someone holding it. What if it slid around? But I shouldn’t have. Now Alan’s gone too.”

  “You wouldn’t have known tragedy would strike. You can’t blame yourself.” There’s strength in Uri’s voice. The woman reacts to it. Her shaky exhale visibly calms her.

  Despite his somewhat gruff demeanor, Uri’s good at this. I can’t help but be impressed. Makes me want to try my hand at this comforting stuff too. “And we’re going to prove your husband didn’t do anything illegal by delivering the baby, but we need your help.”

  Her shoulders straighten. “You have it. What do you need to know?”

  “Tell me what you know of the father. Did you talk to him?” A description would rule out Gabriel.

  She frowns. “Do you think he knows something about Barry’s murder?”

  “It’s possible.” But I also want to know how this mystery man got his hands on my nephew. “A name, description, contact information. Anything you can give us.”

  “Barry never got a name. The man paid cash. No phone number or anything either. He came right to the house looking for Barry.”

  “You answered the door,” Uri states as if he’s certain of the fact.

  “Yes.” She looks at Uri with widened eyes. “I almost slammed it in his face too. He scared me, standing there”—she motions to the front door—“looking like some sort of messenger of death or something.”

  A sense of trepidation settles over me. “But you didn’t slam the door.”

  “No. He grabbed my hand before I could and apologized for frightening me.” A sheepish look settles on her expression. “And it was silly. I know that now, but I still remember how my blood chilled. Must be watching too many horror movies, but it’s not often you see a man covered in tattoos on your doorstep at the crack of dawn. Though, honestly, I think it was his eyes. The palest blue I’ve ever seen, but with his dark hair and spiderweb tattoo on the side of his face, he just looked creepy.”

  Few shifters have tattoos. After maturity, they’re extremely painful to get. But I know one shifter who loves pain and matches the description the widow gave. And Daegan can be very creepy, especially in his lion form.

  “The crack of dawn.” Uri pulls out his phone and taps the screen, opening a note app. “Was your husband awake?”

  “Yes. It was odd. He’s usually a late sleeper, but yesterday, he was up and dressed. Barry talked to him while I went and put on coffee. Next thing I know, there’s enough cash sitting on my kitchen table to pay our mortgage for the next year and Barry’s talking about how he has to find some bouncer who works down at the Black Widow.” She glances at her house. “The father is supposed to be coming back today at noon to deliver the rest of the money. Five times what he already paid Barry. It would’ve saved us, given us a fresh start, you know?”

  I glance at Uri. “My partner is going to drive you somewhere safe and I’m going to wait here to meet this man.”

  Uri’s brows lower. His brown contacts hide the glow in his eyes, but I feel his anger. No doubt he’s not happy splitting up. Or maybe he’s not happy over being stuck babysitting this human. I don’t care how he views it. If Daegan is still around, I want to talk to him first. We were raised as blood brothers. And there are few bonds stronger in the shifter world than those forged in blood.

  Ele
ven

  Sara

  Vibrations against my chest jerk me awake. My phone with the incoming call displayed on the screen slides off my body. I snatch the cell before it hits the hardwood floor and answer. “Hello?”

  “Did Ilan name the baby yet?”

  At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, I stiffen. My gaze lands on the sleeping newborn resting peacefully in the bassinet, then I slip from the living room down the narrow hallway to my bedroom and close the door so as not to wake him. “Who is this?”

  “A friend.”

  I’m not going to fall for that again. “Not one of mine.”

  The man’s laugh is low, deeper than Ilan’s and more of a grunt than a sign of amusement. “Of course not, little human. I don’t associate with your kind unless I have to.”

  The hairs on my arm stand up. I’m talking to a shifter. I flick my gaze to the door. If Ezra wasn’t still being stubborn and remaining in his jaguar form, I’d have him talk to this man. Ezra’s sulked downstairs since Ilan left, however.

  “My kind?” I force a laugh that sounds as strained as I feel. “If you’re pranking me, this conversation ends here and your number’s getting blocked.”

  “You’d be foolish to block a friend’s number when death is coming.”

  Gripping my phone tighter, I move to the window and push the curtain aside. My partial view of St. Michael’s church strengthens me. I saw enough death yesterday to last me a lifetime. “You have two seconds to tell me who you are and why you’re calling before I hang up.”

  “A friend, and I want to know what Ilan named the baby.”

  My jaw aches from clenching it. “Stop playing games with me. I don’t know what baby you’re talking about.”

  “The one in your living room. I’m assuming that’s where you’ve stashed him, anyway. It’s the only room without windows.”

  A chill slips over me. I ease away from my bedroom window, letting the curtain fall into place, and take backward steps to the door. I don’t care what mood Ezra is in. He needs to hear this conversation with this shifter who knows too much about my house and Ilan’s nephew.

  Casting a glance at the sleeping baby, I tiptoe down the hall and through the living room to the stairwell door.

  “Aren’t you going to speak, little female? I know you’re still there. I hear you breathing.”

  “I’m still here.” I open the door and make my way down the stairs.

  “Then tell me what I need to know. Is the baby well? Does he have a name?”

  Why is this strange shifter so concerned about Ilan’s nephew? Because that is concern I hear in his voice. I’m sure of it.

  I zero in on where Ezra’s jaguar form is standing at the base of the stairwell, then jog down the rest of the stairs. No longer do I fear the predator in my house. He’s my protector, just as Ilan promised. I need Ezra to act as one now. Except he’s not shifting into his human form. I drop to my knees next to him and tilt the phone slightly. Hopefully, Ezra will be able to hear.

  “If you’d rather face death alone, I’ll retrieve the baby and leave you and Ilan to your fate.” The voice on the line hardens. I’m angering him. I’d bet money on it.

  Ezra’s yellow cat eyes focus on me. I’ll take that as a sign he’s listening. “I’m not answering your questions until I have your name.”

  “I’m Ilan’s father.”

  I look to Ezra for some indication of whether it’s possible this is Ilan’s father on the line. From what I picked up from Ilan’s conversations, he doesn’t have anyone besides his brother Gabriel. Ezra’s steady stare doesn’t give me anything to go on either.

  “Then why aren’t you talking to him?” Most fathers would call their son before some random woman for information. At least I would assume they would.

  “Because death hasn’t arrived yet. You still have a chance to escape it.” The man’s voice lowers as if conveying a secret. “It’s too late for Ilan, but I want you to take the baby with you. Save him from the life awaiting him. I have no desire to raise another Kane.”

  Ezra’s ears tip back. His head lowers. Still he doesn’t shift. I may as well be on my own.

  A slow breath calms my racing heart. “What life is awaiting him?”

  The shifter’s hoarse laugh fills the line. “The same Ilan has lived, one built on the foundation of those he’s killed.”

  Ezra leans against my legs as if he knows those words chill me. I rest my free hand on his back, using him to steady myself.

  “You’re speaking in riddles. I know nothing of death coming.” It came and went already, leaving three dead at Ilan’s house. And he saved me from becoming the fourth. If Ilan’s built his life on saving people like me, I won’t condemn him for it. This world he lives in isn’t black and white. Even I see that, and I haven’t known about shifters long.

  “You will know it intimately if you stay. Pack up the baby and leave. Now. I’ll meet you in Charleston. Crescent Moon Tavern. Ask for Jarah.”

  The call cuts. My hand trembles as I lower it. I glance into Ezra’s cat eyes. Nothing recognizable shows in them. I can’t read a jaguar’s expression. “Shift and talk to me, Ezra. What do you know of this man claiming to be Ilan’s father?”

  Ezra turns and climbs the stairs. His tail curls around the edge of the door, pulling it partially closed behind him. He ignored my question. Dismissed me.

  With my free hand balled into a fist, I storm up the stairs, ready to give the stubborn shifter some advice about women. Because ignoring them is not the way to go. At the archway between my living room and kitchen, I stop. Ezra, in his human form, is sitting on a kitchen chair with a dish rag over his groin. A tiny dish rag.

  My face warms. At least Ezra won’t see the blush that’s no doubt darkened my cheeks. The small square of cotton over his penis draws attention to the fact that he’s very naked and, if I’m honest with myself, very fit. Whoever ends up with him will be one very satisfied woman.

  “Let me preface this by saying I don’t know Ilan well. He’s more of an acquaintance than a friend.”

  Ezra’s voice is rough, as if he’s not used to speaking. Of course, he probably doesn’t talk to people much if he spends a lot of time in his animals’ forms.

  I peek into the living room, checking on the sleeping baby, then slip my phone into my pocket and take a chair opposite Ezra. “Ilan treats you as if you’re his friend.”

  “I’m an Alexander.”

  “An Alexander? As in that’s your last name?” It’s the most logical guess anyway, but I’m learning not to assume anything in Ilan’s world.

  “Last name. Pride name.” Ezra nods. “It defines my loyalties and enemies. Ilan is important to Dante. Dante is important to my pride.”

  “So Ilan is important to you.” I finish the obvious conclusion to his statement.

  “Yes.” Ezra waves an arm, nearly knocking over a water bottle I left on the table. “Which is why I’m here, trapped in this man-made structure with innocents.”

  I grab the water and take a sip before recapping the bottle. The deliberate action gives me a chance to plan my next words. I’m not a therapist, but I enjoy helping people. The empathy comes in handy working in a bar. People come to drown their sorrows as often as they stop in to have a good time. “You don’t spend much time with humans, do you?”

  “I’m blind.” Ezra leans over the table. “Makes it a little hard to interact with them.”

  “That’s an excuse.”

  Ezra bares a mouthful of feline fangs at me and hisses.

  I jerk back, the plastic bottle crunching. Water spills over my arm, wetting my flannel shirt. I ease my tight grip on the water bottle and wipe my wet sleeve on my legs. “Humans go blind too. Saying you don’t know how to interact is an excuse. Blind humans interact just fine around other people.”

  “It’s not an excuse.” The harsh bite to his words matches the bitter expression he wears. “It’s the truth.”

  Like this, Ezra’s an open book.
Makes picking my words easier, and while I dread the ones I’ll say next, they need to be spoken. Ezra doesn’t strike me as the type of man who wants to be coddled. He’d rather wallow in self-pity. That’s a lonely place to stay.

  “The truth is you’re making excuses for your behavior. Now the only question is… Why?” I set the mutilated water bottle on the table and lean forward, matching Ezra’s pose. “Do you want to hear my guesses?”

  “No.” The word drops hard between us. “Don’t worry about my fate when yours is hanging on the line.”

  The reason Ezra shifted into his human form returns, bringing back my concern and worry. Part of me doesn’t want to uncover the answer even though I’m the one who demanded Ezra tell me everything he knows.

  My shoulders slumping, I dip my chin. “Then give me answers. Do I need to worry about death coming with Ilan involved? He seemed certain he’d find that other lion shifter.”

  “I’m sure he will. I doubt that’s what Jarah’s referring to.”

  “Is Jarah Ilan’s father?”

  “Biologically, no.” Ezra sits back. “But Jarah is as much a parent to Ilan as you will be to that baby in the other room.”

  My gaze strays to the darkened living room. Without windows, it stays dim, even in the daytime. I’ve spent many days sleeping there after closing the bar at three and crawling into bed at close to daybreak. The room is also perfect for a newborn who needs to sleep and eat as much as possible. And his slumber gives me a chance to take advantage of Ezra’s willingness to talk.

  “Jarah’s trustworthy, then?” If so, I can’t help but wonder why he wants me and the baby away from Ilan.

  “I’ve never met Jarah. Few people have. He’s an ancient.” Ezra slides forward and feels for the edge of the table before dropping his elbows on it. “And I mean that literally, Sara. He’s one of the oldest Royals walking this earth. A firstborn.”

  I lick my suddenly dry lips. “But Jarah wants to see me.”