Juvenile delinquent. In a big way. Ronan remembered how Elizabeth had lifted the card from his pocket—quickly and skillfully. There was more to Elizabeth Chapman than met the eye, and Ronan was determined to find out all about her.
Elizabeth still hesitated, but Olaf walked up to her and put his little hand in hers. “Inside,” he said in his thickly accented English. “We keep you safe, Lizbeth.”
The little cub did what all the adults could not. Elizabeth’s look softened, and she let Olaf lead her into the house.
Elizabeth followed Olaf, whose little hand had a surprisingly strong grip. Kids were very good at giving off danger signals, but Olaf radiated confidence that Elizabeth would be all right in Ronan’s house.
Behind her, Rebecca herded the rest of them, including Ronan, inside. She had to let Olaf help her lead Mabel and Elizabeth upstairs to her small bedroom on the second floor; Olaf would not relinquish Elizabeth’s hand until she was safely inside the room.
The bedroom was neat and spare, without many personal possessions. Rebecca took some extra blankets out of a closet and spread them across the double bed. She shook her head when Elizabeth tried to thank her, then grabbed some clothes and headed out.
“Ronan’s in the next room,” Rebecca said in the doorway. “If his snoring gets too loud, bang on the wall. Sometimes that works.” She flipped her spare shirt over her shoulder and disappeared.
The door closed. Through it Elizabeth could hear the three younger ones going back downstairs, all talking to Ronan and Rebecca at once, and Ronan’s rumbling bass answering them.
“Isn’t this cool?” Mabel pulled up the blinds and looked out at the dark street below. “I always wanted to come to Shiftertown. I think Connor Morrissey lives over there.” She pointed.
Elizabeth sat down on the bed, her legs giving out. Everything from staring at the black opening of the gun, to trying to remember what had happened for Ronan’s hearing, to the shock of being brought to Shiftertown to meet Ronan’s—family?—was taking its toll.
“Are the kids his?” she asked Mabel. “And Rebecca, is she his wife? Or mate, I mean?”
“Nope.” Mabel finally let down the blind and turned away from the window. “None of the kids are related to each other or to Ronan or Rebecca. Rebecca says she’s Ronan’s cousin or something, distant. They’re not mated, and they can’t mate, because they’re in the same clan. Otherwise, this is like a foster home for Bear Shifters, but way better than a human one.”
That was for sure.
Mabel, always resilient, stripped off her clothes and got into bed in her underwear. Mabel usually slept in the nude, so Elizabeth supposed she was keeping herself covered to be courteous to Elizabeth. She’d brought Elizabeth’s nightshirt and a change of clothes in a shoulder bag, and Elizabeth pulled on the nightshirt and snuggled down against Mabel. She closed her eyes but, as she’d guessed it would, sleep evaded her.
But it wasn’t the kid with the gun Elizabeth kept seeing as she lay, restless and awake. It was Ronan, first charging in to her rescue, then rising into a perfectly proportioned, hard-bodied man with muscles everywhere. He had one tatt, a Celtic interlocking pattern that laced across the small of his back. His buzzed short hair was dark brown, almost black, but with highlights of lighter brown. His bear’s fur had the same rippling, rich brown color.
Tonight Elizabeth had seen him range from enraged and ready to kill, to annoyed, to resigned, to worried, to reassuring, to affectionate. Ronan might be gruff with the kids who lived with him, but she could tell he was fond of them.
Elizabeth had always had a problem with trust. For good reason—some of the people she’d ended up living with as a kid had been horrible, some dangerous. She’d done everything in her power to protect Mabel from them, which meant she’d had to make some tough choices.
The lesson Elizabeth had learned early in life was that you didn’t trust anyone. For any reason. People who acted as though you could rely on them would turn on you the second they were no longer interested in your problems. You couldn’t count on even the nicest people in a pinch.
So she didn’t know what to make of Ronan offering her and Mabel a place to sleep, or the Shifters surging across town to get Mabel out of danger. She didn’t know anything about Shifters or what drove them—or what they’d expect from her in return.
She could only do what she’d done all her life—sit tight, scope out the lay of the land, and decide what to do from there. Her eyes remained open as she thought over all this, but Mabel soon dropped off into innocent sleep, emitting faint, peaceful snores.
Elizabeth left her room in the morning to the smell of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs. Cherie was across the hall, leaning against the closed door of the one bathroom.
“Come on, Scott, does anyone else get to use the bathroom today?”
Scott’s voice roared back over running water. “I’m in the shower!”
“You’ve been in the shower for half an hour. We have guests, you big idiot.”
“I didn’t ask them here!”
Cherie saw Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. “He’s in Transition. It’s like he can’t get himself clean enough, as if that’s going to make females fall all over him. There aren’t enough female Shifters in this Shiftertown anyway—he won’t have a chance to mate for years yet.”
“Transition?”
“From cub to adult,” Cherie said. “I hope I’m not this insensitive when it’s my turn.” She slapped her palm to the door. “Scott, would you quit hogging the bathroom?”
“Go next door!” he shouted.
“Males.” Cherie rolled her eyes again. She was pretty, with the deep, startling beauty that Rebecca had, hers not as fully developed yet. Cherie looked about twenty in human years, only a little younger than Mabel, but apparently, like Connor, she was still considered a cub.
“Probably best you have breakfast first,” Cherie said. “If there’s any hot water left when he’s done, you and your sister can have dibs on the bathroom.”
“Whatever works,” Elizabeth said, shrugging. You needed to establish territory fast in a foster home, but you also had to show that you were willing to be flexible with those who didn’t fight you. Besides, Elizabeth would be home soon, in her own bathroom.
She went down the stairs. This was an old bungalow, likely built in the 1920s or 30s, laid out in a square with the staircase in the middle. It was pretty big, as far as bungalows went, to have four bedrooms and bath upstairs, a large kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs.
Elizabeth walked into the kitchen to find Rebecca setting seven places at the table and Ronan hunched over the stove in jeans and black T-shirt, cooking what had to be five packages of bacon and four cartons of eggs. An entire loaf of bread, toasted, was piled on a platter, and four more slices popped out of the toaster as she walked in.
Ronan glanced up at her and gave her a wide smile, full of energy. “I do a mean biscuits-and-gravy, but I didn’t have time this morning. Scrambled okay with you?”
“Fine.”
Rebecca was giving Elizabeth a critical look. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”
“Not really.”
“Can’t blame you.”
Rebecca was tall and leggy, but large, nothing willowy about her. She wore jeans and a sleeveless top and had pulled her curly hair into a ponytail. Like Ronan, she had a restless vitality, one that said she might wear human clothes and set the table with matching silverware, but she’d rather be out running through the woods as her bear.
“Sit down, Elizabeth,” Ronan said. “We’ll fatten you up.”
He piled the rest of the bacon and eggs on another platter and carried it and the toast to the table. Elizabeth stared at the mounds of food heading her way.
“A slice of toast is fine with me,” she said.
“Best thing for shock is a hearty meal.” Ronan stuck his spatula under the eggs and piled a load on her plate. “I’ve got some roasted red pepper salsa if t
hat’s your thing, or good old-fashioned salt and pepper. Butter and jam for the bread, and best of all, honey. Bears like their honey.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether to laugh or keep it to herself. She settled for a polite thank you. Ronan turned away. “Any time, Lizzie-girl.”
Cherie and Olaf appeared as though by magic as Ronan started ladling out the food. Mabel waltzed in a moment later, and Rebecca poured coffee. Mabel sucked down her coffee, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. Mabel had never been much of an alcohol drinker, thank God, but she worshipped coffee.
“Scott’s still in the shower,” Cherie said, in universal female derision for males who irritated them.
“I’ll talk to him,” Ronan said. “Let him be, Cherie. The Transition is hard.”
“I’m still getting over mine.” Rebecca sat down and shoveled as much food onto her plate as Ronan did onto his. No dieting in this house. “And with more and more males mate-claiming in this Shiftertown, the pickings are getting slim.”
“Don’t complain, woman,” Ronan said. “There’s four males for every female around here. It’s me, Scott, and Olaf that will be going mateless. You can always hit on Ellison. He’s a party animal.”
Rebecca snorted. “He’s a Lupine who’s too full of himself.”
Ronan shrugged. “Well, if you’re going to be picky.”
“What about Spike?” Mabel asked. She scooped up eggs hungrily. “He’s cute. All those tatts. And then Connor. Mmm.”
“Connor’s a cub,” Cherie said, wrinkling her nose. “And a Feline. And a Morrissey. And did I mention a Feline?”
“What does that mean?” Elizabeth asked as she ate. “A Feline?”
“Means he turns into a wildcat,” Cherie answered. “His whole family does. Ellison is a Lupine, a wolf. Wolves are all conceited—think they’re noble creatures or something. We’re bears, which of course are the best Shifters.” She chortled.
“Cool,” Mabel said. “Can I see you turn into a bear?”
“No shifting at the table,” Ronan growled. “We have company, and I’m not cleaning up the mess.”
Cherie winked at Mabel. “Later.”
They were going to be BFFs any second, Elizabeth knew it. “We might not have time to do much visiting, Mabel,” she said, chewing on thick Texas toast which did taste good with butter and honey. “I have to get back to the store and clean it up before we open. I’m going to need your help. We open at eleven, and it’s already eight, so we need to get a move on.”
Everyone at the table went quiet. The shower finally snapped off upstairs, adding to the silence.
“Elizabeth, you’ll have to keep your store closed today,” Ronan said. “I talked to Liam after you went to bed, and he says things are bad for you. So until he and I can work them out, you’re staying here.”
The entire table was looking at her. Cherie with her mottled hair, Rebecca with her even stare, Olaf with his wide black eyes. Only Mabel kept her gaze on her plate. Elizabeth, who’d learned the dynamics of a group home early in life, realized that as much as Rebecca and the others bantered with him, Ronan was the leader.
Elizabeth pushed back her chair, wiped her mouth on a napkin, and got to her feet. She said to Ronan, “Can we talk outside, please?” and then walked out the back door into the morning heat without waiting to see if he’d follow.
CHAPTER 5
Ronan went after her without hesitation. There was nothing better than a cute female with the hottest ass he’d ever seen ordering him around.
Behind him he heard Olaf say, a little fearfully, “Ronan . . . he will punish Lizbeth?”
“No, sweetie,” Rebecca said. “But she might punish him.”
The back door swung shut, cutting off Olaf’s reply.
Elizabeth waited by her truck, arms folded. This morning she wore tight blue jeans and a little top that exposed both her navel and the tattoo on her collarbone. It was a butterfly. Nice.
Ronan didn’t usually like small women, but decided he’d make an exception for Elizabeth, who was not tall but generously curved. Her smallness made him want to be gentle, although the fire in her eyes said she wasn’t about to be gentle with him. Rebecca had that right.
“Let me explain something about the retail business,” Elizabeth said as soon as he was within earshot. Human earshot—he could have heard her all the way in the kitchen, and he knew that his family was listening hard. “If your store closes unexpectedly, people think you’re not opening again, and they go away and don’t come back. I spent years building up this business, and it’s the only thing between me and Mabel and the wolf at the door. If I don’t open up, I don’t make money. In fact, I lose money, because I still have to pay for my inventory and the lease and taxes and everything else. So I’m not letting a full-of-himself kid with a gun stop me. I learned a long time ago that you can’t let yourself be a victim—or else you might as well crawl into a hole, block it up behind you, and stay there the rest of your life.”
Elizabeth ran out of breath but not fire. Her blue eyes snapped and sparked. Ronan wondered how those eyes would look, blinking sleepily at him from the pillow next to his.
“You done?” he asked.
“I’m not going to argue about this, so don’t bother trying. I’m explaining, that’s all. I’m very grateful to you and Rebecca for putting us up. I’ll give you some cash for the food, but we’re out of here.”
She tried to walk around Ronan back to the house. Cute. He stepped in front of her.
“Now, let me explain, Lizzie-girl,” he said. “The kid who robbed you, Julio Marquez, is the brother of the leader of one of the hardest gangs in Houston. He’s now moved into Austin to try to take over here, and he’s decided that you need to be punished for getting his kid brother arrested. Plus, you’re the only witness to the crime, so if you are too dead to testify, so much the better. I’m a witness, but I’m a Shifter, so my testimony doesn’t count. Besides, the older Marquez and his crew would have to get to Shiftertown to off me, and they can’t. Which is why you’re safe here, and why you’re staying here until Liam, his trackers, and I make sure they understand that you’re off limits. Got it?”
Elizabeth listened with her mouth open, fear at last showing in her eyes. “Are you talking about the Red Avenue gang?”
“I think that’s what they’re called. You heard of them?”
“I knew a guy whose brother was killed by one of them. Shot while he was walking his little sister home from school, because he owed them money. The leader’s name wasn’t Marquez, though.”
“It is now. According to Sean, he took over not too long ago, and he wants to expand his enterprise. They’re into running drugs and guns up out of Mexico. They’re like a little army.”
Elizabeth’s worried look intensified. “Shit.”
“So, you aren’t going anywhere. Not while these guys are out to get you and your sister.”
Ronan watched her battle her fear. She had resilience, he had to give her that. “This is exactly what I mean about not being a victim,” she said. “Mabel can stay here—I don’t want her getting mixed up in this. But I have to open my store. I have to keep going. If I let a gang close it, I’m done for. They won’t attack me in broad daylight, with all the other open stores around, and I can close up early. That won’t be a problem—I don’t get as much traffic at night. How’s that?”
Ronan started shaking his head and kept on shaking it. “No, sweetie. I’m not taking a chance they won’t do a drive-by on you or something. You’re staying here.”
Now she looked rebellious. The defiant lady who’d streaked her hair and knew how to pick pockets glared at him. “I’m not jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for to make you feel better.”
“It’s to keep you safe!”
“How safe am I in a houseful of Shifters? When one won’t even get out of the bathroom?”
She wasn’t afraid of them, Ronan could tell. Cautious, yes, but not afraid.
“A hell of
a lot safer than you are out on the streets.”
“But I’m not allowed to leave?” Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. “There’s a saying, that those who give up freedom for safety don’t deserve either one. I don’t remember who said that—I missed a lot of school as a kid—but it was someone smart.”
Ronan lifted his hands. “I get where you’re coming from. I really do understand. But damn it, I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see them try to burn down your store—with you inside it. When that guy pulled the gun on you last night . . . it seriously pissed me off.”
“Well, it seriously pissed me off too. If they try to burn down the store, I can put out the fire faster if I’m there.”
“Goddess, woman, I thought she-bears were stubborn.”
Elizabeth fixed him with a steely stare. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Ronan wanted to laugh. Not only was she stubborn but crazy and brave. He knew right then that if he didn’t lock her into Rebecca’s bedroom, she’d light out for that store as soon as his back was turned. Even if Ronan did lock her in, Elizabeth would find a way out. She was that kind of girl.
“All right.” Ronan forced his voice to come down from the frenzied arguing. “We’ll do it your way. Partly. Mabel stays here, and you go open your store. I come with you, and we have a couple trackers lurking around outside to keep an eye on things.”
Elizabeth’s anger didn’t diminish. “Shifters lurking around my parking area all day will worry the other shop owners. What if they call the police?”
“No one will see the trackers. They’re pretty good at stealth, when they want to be. And Shifters are at your store all the time. You’re one of the few who lets us in.”
“They come in to shop. Not lurk. There’s a difference.”
“Why don’t you ban Shifters? It’s your choice.”
Elizabeth stopped, annoyed at the change in conversational direction. She obviously didn’t like her arguments interrupted. “Because I think laws banning Shifters are stupid. Why shouldn’t you be allowed to wear lame T-shirts like everyone else?”
BodyGuard (Butterscotch Martini Shots Book 2) Page 4
