Hidden (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 1)

by KH LeMoyne

  Rubbing her fingertips along the waistband of her jacket, Trim eyed the Dine O’ Might diner. It didn’t look like much, but her stomach grumbled at the delicious smell of roasting meat. Even better, the congregation of trucks and SUVs flagged it as a local hangout with hearty meals, and the neon Miller Lite sign in the window promised lose tongues and information. Worst case, her claws were itching to tear into some flesh, and this place seemed like a good start. “Together or separate?”

  Deacon pulled off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder with a quick glance around. “Together. Separate if you need to, but don’t leave alone.”

  4

  “I can’t believe she’s coming. This is so cool.” Margaret paced between the kitchen and living room, then spun toward Chisholm fast enough to make him laugh. “Not that all this preparation and having you guys do this for me isn’t great.”

  “You don’t need to slather on praise. I get Detective Leggett is a new female phenomenon for you.”

  “Dani,” his daughter corrected smugly. “I get to call her by her real name.”

  He pressed the grill brush into her hands. “So do I, smarty-pants. Go help Cabot get the grill ready.”

  She twirled the brush’s long handle in her hand. “Do you think she’s a good shot?”

  “I think she’s a smart cop.” He set a covered pile of shucked corn on the patio table as he monitored her efforts. Her timid rub at the heated grill produced one spark and no scraping of old char.

  “What do you mean?”

  Removing the brush from her hands, he powered it across the cooking grate. “Smart cops are good shots, but they don’t rely on just weapons to keep people safe.” He’d experienced such luck, though he could count on one hand the number of times a smart cop had allowed a lion to vanish instead of shooting. Chisholm counted on their moment of doubt. Better they experience doubt than months of ridicule from writing in their reports about shooting at a lion—and missing. Or worse—killing him.

  If he were lucky, he’d never have to explain to his daughter how his own experience had led him to the live-and-let-live scenario, because his conscience could no longer handle unnecessary death.

  The doorbell chimes halted further questions. His beast roared silently as Dani’s scent permeated the air. He swallowed against acting on the urge building inside him. Hunger came in many forms. He’d hardened himself against each one. But this one was harder to control. Dani triggered an instinct he’d never encountered.

  Despite his craving for her, he caged his need. She hadn’t openly invited him to pursue her. And his beast waited, for he would never overpower his mate. However, that wouldn’t stop the man from trying some tricks to lure her.

  He lost his audience as Margaret raced to answer the door. Charlie toddled behind her, followed by his other sons. The last two feigned disinterest by lingering just inside the kitchen but within view of the wide-open door.

  “Hello, Margaret.”

  He didn’t need bionic vision to see his daughter’s shoulders tighten. Why she hated her name, he didn’t know, but he suspected a connection to the reason she preferred pink-tipped hair instead of her natural brown.

  Dani stepped inside with a quick glance his way before focusing on his daughter. “You know, I had a friend in college named Margaret. She hated the name because her mother and grandmother both had the same one. They were older and set in their ways, and she lived for every new thing. We called her Maggie. You remind me of her.”

  Chisholm couldn’t believe the transformation or the challenging flash Margaret sent his way.

  “Maggie works better for me, too.”

  No doubt she’d have been fine with Genghis or Morticia. Thankfully, Dani hadn’t suggested those. He dipped his head in her direction, and she discreetly winked back.

  “Maggie.” He drew out the name. “Why don’t you offer your guest a drink?” He turned and pointed toward the hallway. “By way of introductions, from oldest to youngest: Cabot, Sam, and Charlie.”

  His breath caught as Charlie, the normally reticent yet formidable Barduc, surged forward and grabbed Dani’s leg. Gooey peanut butter fingers clutched his prim detective’s clean navy slacks.

  “I’m sorry.” As he stepped forward, hoping to extract her without further calamity, she’d already bent over and offered a hand to his son.

  “Nice to meet a man who enjoys his food. Right, Charlie?”

  The toddler grabbed her finger, tilted back his head, and let out a loud and long joyous noise.

  Dani glanced up, shocked. “That’s quite a sound.”

  Sam brushed past Chisholm and hefted Charlie without even breathing hard. “He’s practicing laughing. It gets a little old after a while ’cause he practices everything he hears. He does it over and over and over…”

  “I get your point. Where did he hear that laugh?” Dani asked.

  “Dad,” Cabot shouted back as all three boys headed for the backyard.

  Dani raised a brow, and Chisholm wondered if he’d rushed too fast in plunging her into the family.

  “Beer, wine, or tea?” Maggie broke the silence, holding up three different style glasses from the hallway as options.

  “Beer, please. But I’ll take it from the bottle if you have it cold.”

  Chisholm sighed with relief. During the minute-by-minute indoctrination to his children, she’d held her own. And her bright and totally unreserved personality transformed her into captivating, with the sparkle in her eye as an added bonus. His heart beat faster.

  Reentering the kitchen as Maggie offered the drink, Dani extended a small blue box wrapped with a glittering pink ribbon matching the hue in Maggie’s hair. “I thought it would be nice for you to have a memento of your newest achievement.”

  “Present. Present. Present.” Maggie grasped the box, lifted it in the air, and twirled on the balls of her feet. Then she hugged Dani.

  With a blush to her cheeks and blinking watery eyes, Dani smiled at him over Maggie’s shoulder while she patted her back. “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “Getting something is half the fun.”

  Heart swollen to bursting, Chisholm absorbed one of the few moments of true happiness and abandon he’d seen on his daughter’s face in the last two years. Moving from city to city and never quite fitting in was a reality she’d quietly taken in stride. With Dani’s generous gesture, he witnessed the child on the edge of womanhood shine through.

  Maggie sank into a seat at the kitchen table and with nerve-racking attention undid each twist and tie of the ribbon until it lay on the table. Slowly, she lifted the box top.

  He rocked on his feet to get a glimpse inside the box. A gold pendant hung from a woven gold chain. Etched into the round pendant was a lounging leopard with citron gemstones for eyes.

  “It’s so pretty,” Maggie whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  Yes, it was lovely. He glanced toward Dani. Just like the tenderhearted human who’d found and offered the gift to a motherless young shifter. He’d met many humans during his years. Some he considered worth his respect; few were worth his secrets or his time. Since destiny had delivered one as his mate, he had no choice but to find her attractive, elegantly seductive. The curiosity was that he found he truly liked her, and the burn in his chest brightened.

  “Well, who’s hungry?” he asked. Four shouts and a curious look from Dani to the grill lightened the atmosphere.

  “What are you cooking, vegetables and tofu burgers?” she asked. Her wicked smile gave her away, but the two oldest boys hadn’t seen her eyes alight with humor and stared at her with their mouths open and their eyes wide in horror.

  “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  She laughed. Then, eyeing the stacked meat platter he’d extracted from the refrigerator, she almost spit out her beer. “You guys make that sound awful. But no, I enjoy a good steak or burger. Small ones.”

  Her jaw dropped as he removed a second platter. Piled high, the meat
would feed a small army. Or a family of shifters. He winked. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “And I hope you’re starving.” Lifting her gaze from the plates, she arched an eyebrow. “Do you plan on cooking everything you have for the winter?”

  Bestowing the plates before her, he waved a hand over the children. “Just one meal. Venison steak and burgers for the kids. Beef for me. Chicken for anyone who’s still hungry? And there’s plenty for you of any of the above. Or one of each.”

  She shook her head, staring at the piles, but picked up a platter and carried it outside.

  Sam and Cabot didn’t need any more invitation and pursued the food and the woman. They monopolized her with questions, quizzes, and ridiculous jokes. Cabot even plied her with questions about books once he found out she liked to read. All should have sent her fleeing for an empty room. Instead, she leaned back, met them joke for joke, and seemed to enjoy their attention.

  Chisholm took a seat beside her to help manage the assault, only to discover she did fine on her own.

  As the doorbell chimed again, everyone froze. With a hardened heart, Chisholm rose and moved around Dani, touching her shoulder as he passed. Perhaps the contact would provide him courage to handle the ball he’d put in motion.

  He’d known they would come. If they were to accept him, a meeting was inevitable. Time and desperation forced him to allow this to happen in his home. If the worst happened, he could protect his family from several shifters, though he was reluctant to show that side of himself.

  But based on this alpha’s reputation, his rumored honor and code of conduct, Chisholm believed self-defense wouldn’t be necessary. That didn’t mean the alpha would take well to Dani’s presence. Chisholm gritted his teeth, girding himself, knowing this too was a test. One Chisholm planned to watch and consider. For if there was one thing he could count on from his detective, it was her refusal to back down if she sensed a threat. And he refused to take an oath for an alpha who lacked the insight to see the promise in such a prize female.

  His female.

  Dani’s gaze met Chisholm’s as he gestured for everyone to stay on the patio. She’d ignored his unspoken orders and followed him anyway until she stood beside him, gauging his next move.

  Face blanked of all expression, Chisholm stood stock-still before the closed front door. Dani didn’t mistake that for a lack of reaction or preparedness. A muscle jerked in his cheek. He glanced at her with eyes deepening to dark gold verging on bronze. Too much red lingered there for her peace of mind.

  “I thought you weren’t expecting anyone else?” Her hand shifted to the back waistband of her pants, and she silently cursed as she brushed nothing. She’d left her weapon locked in the safe in her trunk. And for good reason. Meeting young children for the first time and exposing them to a firearm didn’t work for her. Now she wished she’d determined a work-around.

  Unease tightened her skin as an irritating prickle worked its way across her scalp and down her spine.

  Chisholm looked at her for a long second. “Just bear with me for a few minutes and let me handle this. Please? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Used to his commands, she was nevertheless surprised at the closest thing to a request he’d ever offered. Who the hell was he expecting? “It’s your house.”

  However, he moved to block her from the door and she moved to keep it in focus. The tension in his shoulders, the way he not so subtly shielded everyone from direct view, including her, spoke volumes about an uncertain outcome. One he anticipated. Even with his ability to mask emotion, he appeared more concerned than surprised.

  Well, he could handle anything he wanted, but she needed to be able to see what was going on. Between them, they had the children covered. She’d observed Maggie grabbing Charlie and moving backward.

  Chisholm opened the door just enough for her to make out several people. At the group’s forefront stood a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a faint scar highlighting one cheek. He mimicked Chisholm’s stock-still posture. Another man and woman stood behind him.

  Neither the man nor Chisholm blinked.

  Years of training kicking in, Dani stood close enough to assess the man’s size and potential. No one moved as gold eyes riveted to pitch-black ones. A swirl of strong, jeweled colors wove around the stranger, green and red wisps extending and retreating to the people behind him. Dani swallowed hard. More shifters. The strength and cunning of both men pulsed palpable within the confines of the small entryway.

  Having never met even one shifter and suddenly exposed to several, Dani waited for the newcomers to speak before forming a final judgment. Sound would be a better tool to verify whether these shifters chose harmony or violence for their visit here today. She was so intent on listening for a delicate sign like Maggie’s, she almost jumped as the stranger held out his hand and a syncopated volley of drumbeats flooded her system. Enticing rhythms pulsed through her that urged her feet to move with the ebbs and flows, a rhythm that would blend with many others. But there was no ignoring the dominant pattern, insistent in the beat.

  “Deacon Black, Mr. Barduc. I believe you’ve been expecting me.”

  Voice and color confirmed a benign intent, but the intricate weave of individual color and sound between the three on the porch indicated a tight and formidable bond.

  An awkward silence stretched. She was considering her next move when Chisholm met Deacon’s outstretched grip. “It’s Chisholm. Your timing is excellent. We were just preparing to celebrate my daughter’s first shift.”

  A slight lift of Deacon’s lips transformed menace into a softer, considering expression. His gaze slid over Chisholm’s shoulder toward Maggie. Dani shifted back just enough to stand beside the teenager, the movement bringing Deacon’s attention to her. A vivid distinction between black and dark chocolate—and red—warred in his eyes.

  “Well done,” he said to Chisholm. “Initiation is a worthy milestone. Should we leave you to your privacy?”

  Backing into the house, Chisholm waved a hand, beckoning the newcomers inside, pressing her farther behind him. Dani tried not to give him a shove in the back as he shielded her again with his body. Instead, she nudged him with her elbow. The space was tight enough as it was. Deacon took up as much room as Chisholm, but the posturing gave her time to examine the two people behind Deacon.

  The woman didn’t enter the house but merely lounged against the doorframe. Her short, spiked red hair and quick, calculating perusal of the group had Dani placing her as backup. Not that she believed or discounted the relaxed posture from the blond male beside her. His whipcord body promised speed in the same way his leader’s large frame promised strength.

  “I’ve heard large groups celebrate with more festivity,” Chisholm added. “We are only as enthusiastic as our numbers allow.”

  Deacon nodded, moving slightly forward as the two behind him followed just inside the doorway. “Traditions mark important rites of passage. At least for the youth in my—” He glanced Dani’s way, and his eyes narrowed again as his nostrils flared. “My family.”

  Is he sniffing me? Where Chisholm’s execution of the same act inspired interest and desire, Deacon’s left her cold and unsettled. Shaking off her unease, she frowned back at him, warning him off.

  As if in response to her reaction, Chisholm reached an arm behind him, brushing close enough for his back’s heat to radiate down her right arm. “Then I insist you stay.”

  Just from the challenge in his voice, Dani’s hand itched for a weapon—again. She worked to blank her face and fought the need to drop her gaze. This wasn’t the time to give in to intimidation. No, it demanded alertness. If a conflict erupted, she’d be clearing the children from the area. She was certain from the underlying refusal to back down in Chisholm’s tone that he would be in agreement with her.

  Deacon cocked his head. “We’d be happy to celebrate.”

  Chisholm turned, wedging her at his side. His hand curled at the joining of her
shoulder and neck, lightly stroking her. She’d normally resist such an oafish, aggressive posture, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. From what she’d observed, he didn’t do things without good reason, so Dani held her position. As if they were vetted partners, she waited, letting him lead.

  He gestured toward his children. “Maggie, Cabot, and Sam. The wiggly one is Charlie. And our family friend here is Dani Leggett, detective and professor.”

  Now he remembered her title? And evidently her attempt to hide her work and university access at the coffee house hadn’t been successful if he’d discovered her second job. She almost lost the fight not to roll her eyes.

  Three pairs of shifter eyes stared at her, not bothering to camouflage their scrutiny, a thrown gauntlet. She could almost see the thoughts running through their minds. For some intuitive reason, she understood her role in this group depended on the next few minutes. Peace and tranquility could prevail, or a serious problem could arise if these shifters didn’t accept her knowing their secrets. Dani’s throat dried beyond parched, but Chisholm’s thumb brushed softly over her neck beneath her hair. “Change your mind about staying, Deacon?”

  She could feel the tension in the muscles of his arm and along his side as he prepared for an unfavorable outcome. He wouldn’t throw her to—well, whatever these people were. She tensed as well, ready to lunge backward and take Maggie and Charlie with her.

  “I can’t speak for Deacon, but I like a good party. I’m Wharton, by the way.” The blond man pushed past the woman, held out his hand to Chisholm, then nodded in Dani’s direction.

  The redhead rolled her eyes with an unladylike snort. With a quick glance Deacon’s way, she stepped forward and offered a hand as well. “Call me Trim.”

  They moved toward the children, not touching but putting everyone at ease. Deacon remained where he was and he extended his hand to her. “Detective Leggett.”