Roan (Shifters Elite Book 1)

by Ava Benton

  “You’re safe… never told them you… were there… I love you… very much…” His grip tightened and he started to tremble.

  I slid an arm under him to hold him tight, like that would keep him with me a little while longer.

  It was insane that I had hated him only moments earlier, or thought I had. How could I have thought that? It was a thin line—and it wasn’t all my fault, since he was trying to kill me. I didn’t want to think about that then, or ever. I held him close.

  “I love you… shhh… it’ll be okay… I’m so sorry this happened… I love you…” I had so much to say but only seconds, maybe less. How could I possibly say it all in only a few seconds? “You did your best. I know you did your best. And I love you.”

  He smiled a little and his eyes started to lose focus. “So sorry… love…” He died before he could finish.

  I barely registered the door flying open and Roan’s brother and cousins running in, shouting about gunshots.

  Everything else melted away as I looked down at my dead father.

  19

  Roan

  Being home was a relief. How had I ever been dissatisfied with it? To have room to stretch out and relax was priceless. The common room was a silent haven as I walked in with a beer and sank into the wide, deep sofa.

  The rest of them were out hunting but I’d begged off. I hadn’t been able to so much as hear myself think over the week since we returned to Montana.

  Without her.

  I shook my head, then leaned it back against the cushions with my eyes closed. Everything made me think of her. Every damn thing around me, even though she had never been there.

  And she never would be—she hadn’t wasted any time getting back to New York after we cleaned up the mess left behind after the shootings in the cabin.

  The pealing of bells broke my beloved silence. I growled under my breath as I pressed the button on the table which brought up Mary’s face on the TV screen.

  “You’re looking well,” she observed with her usual wry smile.

  I assumed she was referring to the boxer briefs I was wearing—and nothing else.

  “I didn’t feel like putting clothes on,” I shrugged, taking a pull from my beer.

  “Day drinking, too?” she asked with a slight shake of her head.

  “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. Practically five o’clock. I don’t think this makes me an alcoholic.”

  “No, but it does make you a concern,” she said, looking over the frames of the glasses that had slid down the bridge of her nose as she reviewed paperwork on her desk. “I can’t have my team members dissolving into alcoholism.”

  “I just said, I’m not.”

  “I know what you said, but that doesn’t make it true. It’s bad enough you’ve already damaged our reputation.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “You know how you did it, so don’t be cute with me. You weren’t supposed to kill the client.”

  “I didn’t kill the client. I killed Fremont, who we no longer had a relationship with—unless you didn’t actually tell him to go to hell, like you made it sound like you were going to do.”

  “No, I did,” she admitted. “Not in so many words.”

  “So? What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, we can’t earn a new reputation as a group that lets personal feelings about a client’s activities get in the way of getting the job done. You should know by now that there isn’t room for personal feelings in a job like this.”

  I picked at the label on the beer bottle. “I know that. It wasn’t so cut-and-dry, though.”

  “I know it wasn’t. Listen, Roan. I’m on your side. I really am. But I have a business to run. If we don’t have clients, we don’t have money. And we don’t have this.” She gestured back and forth between herself and me.

  “I get it.”

  She held up a newspaper. “The funeral was today.”

  “So?” I knew it was.

  I had been keeping up with the scandal of Fremont’s supposedly mysterious murder ever since it broke in the tabloids. I hadn’t known in advance what the guys were going to do with his body—it made sense that they’d dumped him, and the gunman, near a campground in North Jersey. There was still a lot of foot traffic there even in late autumn. The press had quickly concluded that the big, honorable man had finally made one enemy too many.

  “I wonder how she’s handling things, is all. I’m sure there’s a lot of stress on her right now.”

  “Maybe you should call her,” I smirked.

  “Maybe you should.”

  “I’m not the one who cares what’s happening right now.”

  “We both know that’s not true, so stop lying to yourself.” Mary put down the newspaper and looked straight into the camera. “What did you expect her to do? Run away with you? How could she do that when there was so much to do back in the city? How would it look if she wasn’t there to at least attempt damage control?”

  I looked out the window. God, I hated it when she was right. I especially hated it just then because her words sparked something deep inside me. Hope. Appropriate, I thought wryly.

  “If anything, you’re the one who should’ve made the effort to be there for her.”

  “Oh, right. And get myself spotted by paparazzi or something. That wouldn’t make things awkward for her or anything.”

  “Don’t act like you’re only thinking about her right now. I know you too well. You’re licking your wounds.”

  I bristled at her accusation. “Don’t tell me what I’m doing.”

  “Fine. Then you don’t care what happens to Hope after this. You’re really, genuinely happy skulking around the house, day drinking, wearing nothing but underwear. That’s definitely the sort of person you are.”

  “All right, all right. Jesus. You’re worse than my brother.”

  “I know,” she smiled. “What are you going to do about this?”

  “What should I do? I can’t just show up at the house, looking for her.”

  “Why not?”

  I opened my mouth to argue with her, but there was no argument. She was right. Why not?

  20

  Roan

  “I’m sorry. She’s not here.” The elderly maid—I recognized her from that first day, when she showed us to the study—smiled in apology.

  “When will she be back in?”

  Her smile turned to a frown. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t clear enough. She no longer lives here.”

  “She moved out?”

  “Yes. Over the course of the week, she moved her belongings out of the house. It’s been… quite an upheaval.” She sniffled. “First we lose Sir, then Miss Hope…”

  “Did she tell you where she was going? Or leave a forwarding address? Something?”

  She shook her head while she fished around in her sleeve for a handkerchief, which she used to blow her nose. Loudly.

  “No. She just left. She thanked me for my service, then she was gone. What am I supposed to do now?”

  I felt for her. I really did. But I didn’t care just then, either. “What about the house?”

  “It’ll be sold soon, I’m sure. It’s already up for sale. A beautiful place like this? I’ll get snapped up in a heartbeat.” She shook her head again. I wondered how eager potential buyers would be if they knew a man had been murdered in the study.

  I thanked her and turned to go back to the car.

  She was gone.

  I had waited too long. Damn my pride.

  I would ride cross-country. That was what I’d do. I would go back to the cabin and get the bike and ride day and night. I had to get her out of my system. Maybe I could outrun her. Or maybe I was a fool and had been one all along.

  It felt like forever before I pulled up in front of the house, back in Montana. The flight was hours of self-reproach, just like the drive from the hangar.

  All the time, I asked myself why I couldn’t just tell her I loved her before she went ba
ck to New York. Instead, I’d watched her get on a plane in Pittsburgh.

  I’d told myself it was for the best. She didn’t need any part of my life. How would we ever live together? I couldn’t be part of the real world, and that was where she belonged.

  She was smart. She could go to law school or even into politics, like her father. But she could do it the right way. All she had to look forward to with me was a life lived under the radar, off the grid.

  I tried to put on a happy face as I walked into the house, or at least a neutral one. As long as none of them asked me why I was back so soon, everything would be all right. I dropped my duffel bag by the front door and walked through the dimly lit foyer.

  “Yo!” I called out.

  My voice echoed. It was the only sound I heard other than that of my footsteps.

  “Where is everybody?”

  Out for a hunt, probably.

  Good.

  When they got back, they’d be too high on adrenaline and the taste of fresh meat that they wouldn’t give me too much attention. Either that, or I could go up to my room and avoid them.

  I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

  Not yet. Or ever.

  I went to the kitchen for a beer. Mary’s warning rang in my head, but I uncapped and drank half of it in one shot anyway.

  I wondered if I could ever forgive myself for being such a stupid dick. I let her slip right through my fingers, the only woman I had ever loved or even cared about as more than a passing lust.

  I missed her. She understood me. She didn’t push me away when I told her the truth of who we were.

  Instead, she had kissed me. I wished I could have one more time with her. I didn’t know our only time would be our only time.

  It was pointless to try to do anything but go upstairs and go to bed. It wasn’t even that late yet, but I figured sleep might ease the pain a little. It was almost physical, what I was feeling. I hated it.

  My room was at the end of the second-floor hall, across from Slate’s. I opened the door and flipped on the lights.

  “Took you long enough.”

  My jaw dropped. There, sitting on the bed, was a smiling Hope.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I looked around, half-expecting my brother and cousins to jump out and scream: “Surprise!”

  “I came looking for you.”

  “You’re not supposed to be here! You’re not even supposed to know where this is! How did you find us?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t smelled her right away. Probably in all my misery, I wasn’t paying attention.

  She held up a hand to stop me. “Relax. Slate gave me his number before I left. He told me I could call him if I needed anything. And I did need something.” Her smile softened. “I needed you.”

  “So he let you come here? For me?” I went to her and took her face in my hands.

  She was real, and warm, and there.

  “It wasn’t that easy. He had to clear it with your boss, first. I flew in today and he drove to the airport to get me, and here I am.”

  “Fuck me,” I whispered, still stroking her cheeks with my thumbs.

  “If you insist,” she grinned.

  “Yeah, well, not what I meant, but still a good idea.” I kissed the tip of her nose, then her pouty lips.

  So sweet.

  “I meant, that son of a bitch didn’t even tell me. He knew I was flying out to the Hamptons to find you.”

  “You did? He didn’t tell me that!” Her eyes, already sparkling, lit up even more. “You went there to find me?”

  “Yeah!” I laughed. “And you were on your way here. We probably passed each other in the air.”

  She giggled helplessly until she fell back on the bed.

  I lowered myself beside her. “What a mess! And I’ve been sitting here alone, all this time, waiting for you to come back.”

  “I can’t believe Mary allowed this.”

  She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. “She knew we need each other. All of them do. They love you—they want you to be happy. I love you.”

  Something threatened to burst through my chest. “I love you, too.”

  She leaned down to kiss me—a sweet kiss, full of everything left to be said. Maybe some things that could never be expressed in words.

  I stroked her long, silky hair. “You make me happy. I never thought I would ever be as happy as I am when I’m with you. I didn’t think I deserved happiness, not after the person I’ve been.”

  She turned her face toward my palm and kissed it. “You do. You do, you do. And I plan on making it my life’s work to be sure you’re as happy as you can possibly be.”

  That wicked grin spread over her face. “For starters, I believe you said something a minute ago about what I could do to you…”

  21

  Hope

  I checked out the map from the gas station, spreading it out over the seat and looking down at it while sucking on a strand of hair which kept blowing across my face.

  A mindless habit of mine. We were in the middle of New Mexico, on our way to the coast. I had insisted on traveling south to see more of the desert before getting to California, and I was starting to wonder why.

  It was hot as hell and my mood wasn’t the best.

  “What do you think?” Roan walked up behind me and touched a cold bottle of water to the back of my neck.

  I wasn’t sure if I loved him for it, or if I should ride off and leave him there. I jumped, swatting at him—but I drank the water gratefully.

  “I think we should continue on 40, straight through Albuquerque. I don’t really care to see it.”

  “You’re not missing much,” he said with a grin. “Although that’s a lot of miles. We might need to stop overnight, whether or not you feel like hanging around.”

  “Jeez,” I sighed. “I must not be cut out for this rugged, outdoor life.”

  He looked me up and down.

  I could tell he was doing it even though his eyes were hidden by sunglasses. “You sure look like you’re doing all right. A little color on your skin, jeans so tight they drive me crazy, cowboy boots. Damn, girl.”

  Even though I felt dirty and hot and sweaty and cranky, his appraisal and the little quirk of his lips when he delivered it sent a shiver down my spine.

  I looked around, one hand shading my eyes. “It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “Not all of it, but most of it.”

  We had already seen so much, riding the Harley down through Wyoming and Colorado before hitting New Mexico.

  I had seen the Rockies and Yellowstone, two views I had never seen before except in pictures. I had witnessed what the night sky actually looks like without light pollution, and it had made me cry.

  I couldn’t explain why—then again, Roan didn’t need me to explain. He understood. All he did was hold me while I looked up at the sky, wide-eyed.

  “We’ll be in Albuquerque in an hour or so. I know I could use a shower and some sleep.” Roan folded up the map and swung a leg over the bike’s saddle.

  I followed him, clasping my hands above his belt buckle like I had been doing for weeks. I didn’t even have to think about it anymore. It felt natural and right.

  Our trip would eventually come to an end. I told myself not to think about it. I thought too damn much.

  Nonetheless, the question of what would happen once we got back to Montana plagued me. I had already offered to purchase a nearby property so we could at least live close to each other—but even that was a good fifty miles away. It was still the closest place to where Roan and the team lived.

  I respected their need for solitude. I understood they couldn’t have the “real world” coming in and ruining things for them. It didn’t seem realistic, though, to imagine a normal relationship between me and a man I couldn’t live fewer than fifty miles from.

  And I would never ask him to leave the team. Not ever. I loved him too much for that, and I understood how much he needed them.

&nbs
p; But I needed him, too.

  I leaned my cheek against his back and focused on the beat of his heart, strong and true.

  I was rubbing a towel through my hair as I stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Showering made me feel like a new woman. He was right to suggest we stop for the night.

  He was also gone.

  “Roan?” I wrapped a bathrobe around me and opened the door to the motel room. The bike was still sitting where we’d left it, right in front of the room. It occurred to me that he must’ve gone hunting. I closed the door and decided to look for something to watch on TV.

  That was a part of his life I was coming to terms with. It was still a mindbender, but I tried to tell myself it was the same as with any couple. People needed different things. Some had weird fetishes. Some slept with a nightlight. Some couldn’t get along without being close to their family, while others needed plenty of personal space. And compromise had to be struck.

  So I was compromising and trying not to ask too many questions while my man went out to satisfy a need I couldn’t possibly touch.

  There was a plus to his dual nature. He was always in the mood for a spicy time when he got back from a good hunt.

  When the door opened a few minutes later, I almost jumped off the bed in surprise. He hadn’t taken nearly as much time as usual.

  “You’re back so soon?” I knelt there and took in the sight of his clothes—the same white tee and jeans he’d been wearing all day. They didn’t look any dustier than they had earlier, which meant they probably hadn’t been sitting in the dirt while he went about his hunt.

  “Oh. I was just taking a walk. Thinking things over.” He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me.