by Tamsin Baker
His mouth fell open. “You said your mom was human.”
Which, by his calculations, made me three quarters human and no match for a shifter like him.
I turned on my heel and walked off, throwing the words over my shoulder. “Maybe I lied.”
And I had. My mother had been a powerful witch. A pure blood. The last of her kind. She had instilled in me many gifts, including a spell to increase my speed and strength. Just like she had for my father.
No-one but my parents knew that. And my secret had died with them.
I reached the edge of the padded mats and turned to face him again.
“Let’s go, dragon,” I said, smirking as I beckoned him over.
We stood on thick, red work out mats, which would make it harder to move and run, but so much softer if Fridge threw me, or I had to take a fall.
Either was possible I realized as Fridge pulled on his gloves and bounced towards me.
His eyes were gleaming with the challenge and as I looked closer, his eyes had partially transitioned. Not to full diamond shaped pupils, but the iris had changed from green to almost yellow.
Despite his promise of taking it easy, I doubted he would.
He was excited.
“You sure about this, Sadie? I’ve never thrown a fight before, not even in practice. Maybe you should have asked Rogan.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I chuckled. “No. I picked the right guy. Let’s go... Travis.”
There were some laughs around us.
He narrowed his eyes at me as though he were angry, but his mouth kicked up at the corners.
Good. We’re on.
I put my hands up to protect my face and began bouncing on the spot. With a guy this size I would usually pull out a weapon of some sort, but I didn’t know how good he was yet, so I’d wait.
But then all bets were off.
Once we fully engaged, I wasn’t backing down.
Chapter 9.
Fridge wasn’t moving. Wasn’t bouncing. Wasn’t even putting his hands up to guard himself.
Fine. You want me to attack first?
I bounced forward, ducked down, and punched him in the gut with a triple action punch.
One. Two. Three.
I didn’t put half my effort into it, as I was still warming up. My muscles were cold and my technique was out of practice.
But even so, the feel of the impact of his rock-hard abs under the padding of my boxing gloves felt great.
Fridge staggered back and I ducked and weaved away, bouncing on my toes, trying to get my body to behave properly.
The real rush hadn’t started yet. Unfortunately, the only way to really engage my instincts was take a few hits. But Fridge wouldn’t want to smack me around the way my father had, and he wouldn’t know it was what I actually needed to bring out the best in my fighting instincts.
That... or threaten one I loved. And there was no-one left they could do that to.
The thought had me clenching my teeth against the wave of sadness that buffeted me.
I was like my dad now. Before he’d married mom. Before he had me.
A lone wolf with no-one to look after except myself.
Fridge glared at me, like he didn’t expect me to hit him so hard.
I gestured to him. “Come on. My dad wouldn’t take it so easy on me.”
His eyebrows flickered up as though he didn’t expect me to say such a thing. “Fine.”
I threw myself forward, onto one leg, balanced myself, and kicked him in the gut.
Fridge moved so that I only clipped the side of him.
He threw a punch that I easily blocked, then I rolled to the ground.
This wasn’t working.
I got to my feet and huffed out an angry sound. “Okay. Is there anyone else I can work with? I need someone who’s going to hit me.”
I looked around the room, hoping one of the other guys would want to fight. Properly.
But all of them looked to the ground, like a pack of whipped dogs.
Damn. Looks like Dad didn’t have any enemies here.
“You want me to hit you?” Fridge said, his words colored with surprise.
I spun back around. “Well, yeah. Put up a proper fight, or don’t bother.”
“But I could hurt you.”
Yes, he could. But only if he was trying to kill me, which I knew he wouldn’t. The fated mates link alone wouldn’t allow him to do any proper damage.
Fingers crossed.
I laughed at him. “I’ve only been knocked out twice, and I was pretty young at the time. I have my dad’s genetics, so unless you’re gonna hit me hard, I can’t fight you.”
I began to undo my boxing gloves.
He walked forward, his jaw hard. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
He hit his gloves together and swung, fast.
I barely got out of the way, the punch missing my jaw by barely an inch.
Oh, there it is...
The tingle in my veins started to pulse as I ducked and moved out of the way. He danced to the side and attempted to punch me again.
I jumped out of the way, but actually felt the swing as the brush of air caressed my face.
I took the opportunity to step in and swung an upper cut as hard as I could.
He darted out of the way and punched me in the kidneys, hard.
“Oh...” I staggered sideways.
A growl of resistance welled up nearby, from Rogan, or another one of the shifters.
Fridge stopped bouncing. Stopped moving.
Nope, can’t have that.
I came at him, throwing punches hard and fast. One, two, three at his face. Then an uppercut to his chin.
He blocked every one of my attempted blows with precision and skill. But he was panting now, his body shining with a thin film of sweat.
I stepped back and he swung at me. He clipped my jaw and my eyes shifted.
I was now seeing in black and white, my wolf shifter senses taking over now that my body had decided I was in a real fight.
I growled, a sound I never made, but felt so incredible natural in this setting.
I pounced on him, hitting him in the gut. As he doubled over, I kneed him in the belly. I put both hands together, lifted them over my head, and slammed them into his back.
He groaned and swung out, grabbing my legs and wrestling me to the floor.
I screamed as my back hit the plump mats beneath my feet and I tried to get out from under him. I wrapped my legs around his thick waist and bucked at him to try to get him off.
I could have bitten him of course, but we weren’t in a true fight. It felt wrong to fight as though my life depended on it, when it didn’t.
Plus, being in this position already had my belly tightening and my pussy pulsing. If I bit his shoulder, tasted his sweat, who knew what would happen?
When he finally pinned me down, flat on my back with my arms above my head, he said, “Give up?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Exhilaration pumped through me.
“Yes!” I yelled in his face. “But I want some lessons from you now.”
Blood dripped from his lip as he smiled.
My eyes shifted back to human and I could see him in full color. His eyes were green once again I realized and he’d relaxed his grip on me.
“Get up then.” He bounced to his feet, put a hand out, and pulled me up with one move.
The atmosphere in the room was electric, the men grinning and chuckling with good nature.
It was obvious they didn’t expect me to win, and part of me was glad I didn’t. They needed to respect Fridge more than me right now. But hopefully they could see I was no a shrinking violet.
I hit Fridge in the arm and he staggered sideways, laughing.
I grinned at him. “You can take a punch. I like that.”
He laughed. “Yeah, whatever.”
He was rosy cheeked and glowing like the devil himself. Despite the rejection last night and everything that had gone
on, I could feel the connection between us weaving together like piece of rope, blending to be stronger, tighter. Together.
Rogan marched across the mats, a storm cloud settling over his face. His eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a grim line.
Shit. I needed to back off with my flirtation with Fridge, at least a bit.
How was the jealousy element going to play out with my two mates? Would they be able to share me? Or was this going to be a problem?
“You okay?” he asked me, as the guys in the room began to dissipate.
I used my teeth to undo my boxing gloves and pulled them off. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
He glanced around to make sure everyone was leaving, then looked back at me, concern clearly written all over his face. “I... we don’t usually get women in here wanting to fight the biggest guy we have.”
He handed me a towel he’d grabbed from somewhere in the gym area.
I took it and wiped my sweaty palms. “I know he went easy on me, and that’s fine for now. I’m out of shape. But I want to be able to take him on properly. One day. Maybe even win.”
Fridge crossed his arms over his chest. “The day that happens, retire me.”
A ripple of unease crossed my heart. Was that how he truly felt? That if I, a simple woman, bested him, then he was of no use to anyone?
I didn’t like the sound of that. Was he really that arrogant? Vain? Or was it some sort of mis-placed insecurity?
I opened my mouth to ask him, but Rogan grabbed my hand. “The police called for you, about last night. You might want to take the call.”
I pulled my brain straight into work mode. Fridge and his insecurities could wait. “Are they on hold?”
“Yeah. In Jimmy’s office.”
“Thanks.” I nodded at both men and ran up the stairs, sweat clinging to the hair at the base of my neck.
It had been a nice reprieve, not to think about my dad’s death for a short while, but I was already back into the black hole.
I fell into the director’s chair and picked up the phone, pressing the flashing button that said, line 1. “Hello. Sarah Williams speaking.”
“Miss Williams, it’s Detective O’Connell, I met you last night.”
Had he? Last night was such a blur. Which one was he?
“Hello, detective. How can I help you?”
“I wanted to let you know that we are looking into possible suspects for last night’s attack and are awaiting on the coroner’s report on cause of death.”
My mouth dropped open, then I narrowed my gaze. “You don’t know what the cause of death was? Seriously? What is this, your first case?”
There was a long pause. If I could hazard a guess just from the sound of the detective’s voice, he was at least fifty.
Definitely not his first case.
“Miss Williams, we never like to assume in cases like this.”
“Cases like what? Murder? With an ancient vampire being literally the only person able to pull it off?”
The detective cleared his throat roughly. “Now, Miss Williams. We don’t like to go jumping to conclusions.”
“Jumping to conclusions!” I got to my feet and put my free hand on my hip. “Listen here... detective. I know that the Vampires own half the city, and that they are almost impossible to pin down when they commit murders like this. But if you think I’m going to stand by and let you fob off my father’s murder as some random death, then you don’t understand a thing about me. Or my family.”
The detective sighed. “Miss Williams...”
His tones were insufferable. As though he were bored with me.
I wanted to scream! And tear the guys hair out. This was a fob off job, I knew it was. And I wasn’t having any of it.
“Listen, detective. My father was smart, strong, and a powerful shifter. The only sort of paranormal that could get the drop on him was a vampire, and not a young one, but an older, experienced predator. So, I suggest you start looking at your list of top Vampire assassins and start shaking them down. Or I will.”
“Miss Williams, that would not be wise. Leave this to the professionals...”
My temper exploded. “Then do your bloody job and find this guy!”
I slammed the phone down into the receiver and screamed out in frustration, my hands tightening into fists as I dug my nails into the palms of my hands.
“Fucking. Ignorant. Useless. Pricks!”
The door opened and Rogan stuck his head in. “Everything okay in here?”
“No!” I screamed and managed to knock over my father’s massive chair in my haste to get out from behind the desk.
Rogan, instead of running away, like any other man who had seen my temper had done, stepped into the room and shut the door. “What’s happened?”
I groaned and paced the area around the desk, an uncontrollable amount of anger pulsing through my veins. “They’re giving up on Dad’s murder already.”
“Who is?”
“The fucking police, that’s who! They said it’s probably not a vampire. Not a murder. No point jumping to conclusions. You were there last night. Am I jumping to fucking conclusions?”
Rogan held up his hands. “No. You’re right. It was murder. And it was a vamp.”
“Then why would they ring me up—today—and tell me that they’re keeping an eye on everything, but they really don’t know shit.”
Rogan laughed, rocking back on his heels. “Because the police are owned by the vampires. If the guys who pull the strings and pay the purses don’t want your dad’s murder solved, it won’t be. It’ll be put in the too hard basket. Not enough evidence, whatever.”
I screamed, tears of frustration filling my eyes and coursing down my face.
Fridge came bursting into the room like a force of nature, his eyes wide, looking for an attacker.
“What’s going on?” he boomed.
Rogan gave him a quick run-down while I wiped away the tears on my face.
I calmed down now that I’d shared the burden with two other people, but the reality of the situation was beginning to settle in as well.
They’re going to get away with this.
“Those fuckers,” Fridge cussed, and I loved it.
I chuckled as I looked up at him. “My thoughts exactly.”
Fridge crossed his big meaty arms over his chest and the corners of his lips kicked up into a smirk. “Well, Miss Williams, looks like there’s only one thing for us to do, since the police are going to sit on their fat asses and do nothing.”
I walked back around the desk, shaking with adrenaline and fatigue. I picked up my father’s chair and sat back down. Bloody police.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked over my shoulder. “What’s that?”
Fridge leaned forward and leaned on the desk, waggling his eyebrows at me. “Catch the prick ourselves.”
Chapter 10.
“Catch the prick ourselves.”
Best words I’d ever heard. Because that was exactly my plan.
I’d known, of course, that the police had little to no chance of catching the perpetrator, but to hear them so honestly... so indulgently, giving up before they’d even begun, was terrible.
They were a disgrace to good cops everywhere.
I grinned at Fridge. “Good.”
Rogan shrugged and fell into one of the visitor’s chairs. “This is half the reason we get the private contracts in the city. Most of the time, the victim knows who’s done the crime, but the police refuse to do anything about it.”
“Gotcha.” My father’s business was beginning to make more and more sense.
He got justice for people who couldn’t get it through the ‘proper’ channels.
But would that make him a target?
Probably.
Now I was wishing I’d concentrated harder on learning more about what the workshop did, when I had the chance.
“I really need to get onto sorting out the business side of things,” I said. “Do we have time for yo
u to find the contact details for the accountant and book-keeper today, or... what’s the time?”
I glanced around the room, looking for a clock.
Rogan pulled his phone out of his hip pocket. “It’s past five. They’ll have gone home already, but I can email them for you. Ask them to call you first thing tomorrow.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
Rogan nodded and headed out of the office, I assumed to find a computer to send an email from. He left Fridge and I alone.
I rested against the back of the chair, though my heart ached to reach over to him. Touch him, kiss him... feel those rough, capable hands on me.
But no. Not after last night.
“You sure you’re alright after I hit you a few times?” he asked, sitting down into the chair opposite me so we were more eye level.
I chuckled. “Yeah, definitely. I heal fast. And I know you didn’t hit me half as hard as you could have. You’re fast... especially for such a big guy. My dad would have had trouble keeping up with you.”
Fridge grinned. I could tell he was enjoying the compliments from the light in his eyes. “Hardly. Your dad was the only one who could keep up with me. Even last week, he walloped my ass in a training.”
My eyebrows rose as I crossed my arms over my chest. “I can’t imagine that.”
My dad was good, better than good, but he was, or had been, almost fifty-five years old. How had he stood up against a thirty something year old pure dragon shifter that he’d trained?
Fridge nodded. “It’s true. He wasn’t as fast as me, but he made up for it with brutal strength. Once he had you in his grip...” Fridge chuckled. “You were pretty much fucked.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, he was one tough dude.”
Tougher than even I’d given him credit for, it seemed.
Fridge cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about your birthday and that...”
He trailed off and I couldn’t help but smile.
Emotional conversations were really not Fridge’s thing.
“You mean about what he said about how it made him feel? The fear thing?” I guessed.
That had to be what he meant. I could easily imagine a man like Fridge having trouble connecting with people for the exact same reason. A fear of getting too close. Of losing them. Or having to leave them.
