The room went silent at his words and he finally noticed and looked up from his work to see both Ian and Cleo had turned to look at him. In fact, everyone in the room was looking at him with varying degrees of surprise. Xena and Cleo especially were looking hostile. He took a moment to admire them anyway. Cleo might have the same coloring typical of all the lions golden from head to toe, with a tall slim figure that looked good in the island outfit of shorts and a tank top, but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike the hulking muscles of her brother and father, she was of a daintier stature, still tall but with subtle curves that looked runway ready when added to that long mane of golden hair and high cheekbones.
In contrast, Xena was a sexy mix of Navajo Indian, African American and some Asian thrown in for good measure. It was a sexy compact package of cafe au lait skin, exotic slanted eyes and dark hair that fell like a waterfall down her back. She was also a coyote shifter and one of the deadliest fast fighters he had ever seen. They had that in common at least. Both women looked harmless in their island wear of tanks and shorts. Both women were dangerous fucking predators whatever shape they chose to wear.
"What?' he asked wondering what he said to piss them off.
"I wouldn't think she was your type." Cleo said. "I figured you for more along the lines of big hair and tight clothes."
He shrugged. "That's good too." But he went back to his work thinking of creamy white skin and big blue eyes. Margaret Whitney was entirely fuckable in his opinion. His cat purred at the thought. Even if she wasn't his type.
Ian lifted his shoulders and dropped them. "I'd bang her."
Which earned him a glare from his sister’s nearly identical blue eyes. Eli snorted. "She's out of your league."
Ian shrugged again. "That's not stopping you from thinking about it. Why should it stop me.?”
Eli narrowed his eyes, distracted momentarily from his computers enough that he turned to glare at the teenager. For the first time since he started working he allowed his hands to stop their furious typing. "She's not out of my league."
Ian and Liam both laughed. Ian right to his face. He looked over at Logan who was shaking his head at him and looking at him like he was delusional.
"She's not out of my league," he insisted.
"Son," Logan said with just a hint of his slow Louisiana drawl that went so well with the cowboy he personified from his tall hard build to his cowboy boots. "She is so far out of your league she's on another planet."
Eli looked from him to his equally dangerous mate. Xena caught his look and smiled at him with a lot of teeth. Then dropped the smile and said bluntly. "She's out of your league. Not to mention," she continued. "She's just ended a bad marriage with a narcissistic asshole. I don't think she needs to go out with a man who thinks she 'needs some serious banging to loosen her up.’” The air quotes and modulating her voice to make him sound like a moron seemed a bit hostile to Eli.
He looked at Cleo. She was looking at him with pity. "Don't embarrass yourself. Stick to the bimbos."
"She doesn't have big hair, but she could be promiscuous,” Ian interjected helpfully. “You don't know. And she's coming out of a bad divorce. She could be looking for easy rebound sex with the first asshole who offers." He gave Ian a thumbs up. "In which case, he might have a shot."
Eli ground his teeth. "Thanks."
How did I get so lucky to have the junior league as back up?
He dismissed the thought and the pack mates at his back and turned back to his computer. But, for some reason the conversation nagged at him. Like a thorn in his paw he could not quite rid himself of the memory of Margaret Whitney's total lack of response to him. Granted, he had put only a marginal effort into his flirtation with the beautiful but cold Margaret when she had been giving him a chillingly precise recount of her marriage to her fucking dick ex. Still, he was used to a certain reaction from women, and the beautiful blond with the cold blue eyes gave him nothing. It was not however because she was out of his league, he assured himself.
What does that even mean?
"You going to let us in on what we are dealing with here?" Shawn asked from his spot on the wing back chair in the sitting area behind them.
It was one of two sitting areas in this room alone. That did not even take into account the two private rooms that branched off from this suite, or the large balcony that overlooked the beach. All of it four star plush and tastefully done.
"Besides her hotness ratio?" Cleo added with a look of disgust at him and her brother. She joined her mate on the arm of his chair and Shawn pulled her down to sit within the arch of his arms with her ass in his lap. Cleo did not react as she would have if anyone else had tried that shit, just making herself comfortable on her mate.
Lucas and Miley had already been absent from the main room when he arrived after his talk with Margaret and it did no good to give a brief and then have to repeat it, so he had gone about setting up the surveillance window on Margaret and his digging on her ex while the rest of them waited.
"Just killin' some time until your daddy gets done," Eli said, letting his South Carolina accent out just because it irritated on occasion. Course it caused other reactions that were even more fun sometimes.
Logan turned to glare at his mate when Xena visibly shuddered. And not with irritation.
"What?" she asked her eyes going all innocent and big when her mate growled at her. "You know I have a thing for sexy southern accents."
Logan transferred that glare to Eli while he crowded between him and his mate. Staking his claim. So, he missed the sly smile and wink Xena threw his way.
Eli had to contain his laugh with an effort. He liked that tricky little coyote shifter. And not just because she could kill a man with her pinky and was sexy as fuck.
Though, that didn't hurt.
There was a loud thump against the wall coming from the biggest bedroom connected to the suite and everyone turned eyes towards it. Cleo looked up and caught her brothers eyes lighting up. Her own eyes were narrowing even as she jumped up with a curse to try to beat him to the door. But he was fast, and she had been sitting.
"Dad!" Ian bellowed thumping on the door before his sister could land on his back to stop him. "You can defile Miley later. Eli needs to give everyone his report before I can head for the beach."
Cleo growled and yanked ineffectually at him with her arm around his thick neck. "You are such a dick."
The door opened, and Lucas had to catch both of his children to keep them from falling into the room. He snarled, looking at them with eyes that would have meant death to anyone but his own progeny.
Cleo winced and jumped off her brother when a red faced, and ruffled Miley pushed around them to enter the room. "Sorry Miley. I tried to stop him," Cleo said gruffly, before she headed back to her mate’s side, but not before first socking her brother in his arm. "Asshole."
For his part Ian did not look the least bit repentant. Smiling, while he ogled Miley with her pretty blush. Not that Eli blamed the boy. She did look good with that freshly fucked look. From Lucas' extreme displeasure Eli doubted the look in this case was accurate, but they had been doing something. And it did look good on her.
Course he was careful to be looking elsewhere when Lucas's glare took in the room. Before Ian could move away Lucas grabbed his son’s arm and yanked him into the room he and Miley had just vacated. The door slammed and Eli wondered if Lucas thought that would afford them some privacy. Most of them were shifters, so that little door, not really effective.
"How did it go, Eli?" Miley asked, doing her best to pat down her hair and ignore the blush on her cheeks and the roaring coming from the bedroom.
Eli smiled at her, and knew she read his grin when she rolled her eyes at him and blushed harder. He let it go at that though, no sense courting death by flirting with his Alpha's mate. No matter how cute and embarrassed it made her. So, he answered her question, and only allowed his eyes to trail over her rumpled sexy once. Well, twice,
but he was done before Lucas slammed back into the room and joined them again. A slightly more subdued Ian at his heels. "The lovely Margaret Whitney has had a time of it, and from what I have seen, her fuck head of a husband is not even close to being done yet."
"Is he a physical threat?" Logan asked, his eyes going cold.
"She says he never hit her," Eli allowed his displeasure to show in a sneer. "But the fucker killed her dog right in front of her to make a point, and I get the feeling most people don't rate much higher in the man’s eyes than that dog did."
There was a quiet that hit the room at his words, before Cleo spoke, her surprise and anger plain. "He killed her dog?"
"According to Ms. Whitney's very precise retelling of the story. She worked at an animal shelter. He did not approve of the work. He asked her to stop, she refused. She brought a dog home to care for when it was found abused. She nursed the dog, against her husband’s wishes. He waited until the dog was physically better and had bonded with Margaret, he once again expressed his wishes for the dog to go and for her to give up the work. She refused again. He very calmly borrowed a gun from his security detail and shot the dog. Apparently, that was when she left him. The shelter," he said looking grimly at them all. "Has since been closed down. I'm looking into the why's of it, but Ms. Whitney assures me that whatever the reason, it was her ex that made that come about. And she knows this because he informed her of that plan right after he shot the dog."
"Fucker," Ian muttered.
"Add that to the attempts to breach the security here, and the other lines of inquiry I am pulling at as we speak, and I would say this bastard is one cold, dangerous mother fucker who is used to getting things exactly his way. " Eli met Lucas' angry eyes, his own grim. "His beautiful affluent wife leaving him would make him not happy in a variety of ways, and this is not a man who would accept any of them without acting coldly and methodically to make that not happen. Chances are he will throw money at the problem first. But when that doesn't work, my opinion is, that this shit is going to get extreme."
Lucas studied him quietly for a moment more before he spoke decisively. "Keep looking into him. I want to know every sin the man has committed since birth." He turned to look at Logan. "I want the island security gone over like we are coming into this for the first time. I want flaws, and issues dealt with before they become a problem. The rest of you patrol the island, and back up Eli and Logan when they need it. I want eyes on Margaret Whitney twenty-four seven." He turned back to Eli. "Your main job is the lady. Have Liam assist your cyber team in finding out what we need about Baxter." He held up a hand when Eli would have objected. "I know you can multi-task and I am not going to stop you, but her physical protection is your priority."
Eli nodded, expecting nothing less. "I can work with that."
Lucas narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't think I need to tell you to keep your dick in your pants on this one, do I?"
Eli opened his mouth to pretend offense when a knock at the door heralded another interruption. Eli looked at his screen to see that Margaret was no longer in the office she shared with Rebecca. So, it was not really a surprise when Rebecca Stacy and her three mates pushed open the door with Margaret next to her friend.
This time it was Griffin Hale looking none too pleased that spoke. "We have some news." Griffin Hale was the biggest of the Alpha males. Six feet five with wide shoulders and solid as a mountain, he wore his shoulder length black hair back showcasing the stark lines of his face and mocha eyes. At the moment, his eyes were telegraphing his displeasure. And when Griffin Hale was that pissed, everybody listened.
Behind him his two Alpha lieutenants that formed his mate bond with Rebecca stood just as unhappy. A look he was not surprised to see on Linc with his short brown hair and serious grey eyes, but Jacob was the youngest of their family group, even younger than Rebecca and his golden surfer twenty something looks rarely showcased anything but mischief and humor. Unless his mate was threatened. Then those husky blue eyes ignited, and you found out Alpha meant a lot more than just in charge.
They all looked at Margaret. Who was looking small and fragile bracketed by the bigger males. "My lawyer has just informed me that my parents have contested my rights to the trust my grandmother set up. He assures me that the trust is safe, but it means until a judge can rule against their contesting it, that my funds have been frozen there too." She took a deep breath and went on just as coolly. "This means that I do not at present have access to so much as a penny to live on, barring what I make here which they had no way of knowing about." She added the last as almost an afterthought.
"Your parents did that?" Cleo asked quietly.
Margaret met her eyes briefly. Her own giving nothing away. "They did not agree with my decision to leave." She shrugged elegantly. "I'm sure this is their way of assuring I have no choice but to return to my husband and make amends." She looked at Rebecca and some true emotion finally showed through, but it was not as Eli would have expected, devastation or betrayal, it was humor. "Since money and status are all they care about they assume this is hitting me where it will make the most difference."
Rebecca snorted and shook her head. "They have never understood you, and they never will."
"My own fault," she said. "I always did what was expected of me."
"Not always," Rebecca reminded her. "Not when it was important to you."
"I married Stephen," Margaret reminded her, a cool brow arching. "I stayed with him for as long as I did because it was expected of me."
"Not anymore," Rebecca said simply. "And not once you really knew what you had married."
That brought a true smile to Margaret's lips. The first he had seen to reach her eyes, even if it was a touch sad. "So you keep reminding me." It was a tease, complete with an almost smile that briefly lit up the sad in her eyes. "That and, I at least have good taste in friends."
Rebecca laughed. "The best."
Margaret laughed then, a real laugh, shaking her head while she reached out and squeezed Rebecca's arm with open affection. For just a moment, her ice armor was completely gone, and the real woman peeked out.
Eli saw it all, his eyes taking in all of her while she was transparent. He knew it would not last long, and he was right. But he knew what he had seen, and it wasn't the cold emotionless socialite she showed the world.
Shit, he thought. That makes a difference.
CHAPTER THREE
Margaret was tired. And pathetic, she thought to herself. Sitting on the balcony of her luxury hotel suite in her ice blue silk robe and night gown, looking out over the spectacular ocean view surrounded by luxury and tropical paradise, she should be rejoicing. Or at least grateful that her friendship with Rebecca meant that she was not alone and penniless, and on the run from an ex-husband that hid crazy enough to fool the over indulged world she had been born into.
What did she really have to be sad about? After all, her husband was soon to be an ex, no matter what he thought about the matter. Her parents had made the cut that she herself would never have had the gumption to make and for all intents and purposes she had a clean slate. Or she would when the divorce finally went through. No family or societal strictures to tell her what she should be doing or what her obligations are.
It was her most secret wish come true.
The pathetic part was how much it rankled, how quickly they had cut ties with her when she made a decision they did not like. One would think a lifetime of being the dutiful daughter would have bought her at least a hesitation before they turned their backs on her. It was not as if she had really thought they loved her and would swoop in with overwhelming support when she left Stephen. She had never deluded herself that much.
Had she?
The worst part was that she still wanted their approval. Their expectations and her role in the family had been drilled into her from birth. As much as she would like to fling off the sorrow trying to drown her and find the strength to start again, only this time do it rig
ht, she was not sure she even knew what that meant. Or what she really wanted. And that rankled her most of all. How pathetic indeed.
Margaret shook off the depression that threatened to swallow her when she thought of her parents and the choices she had made all her life. Choices to be what they wanted. Because to do otherwise would have been selfishness on her part. After this last call from her parents, she understood that it was not her they loved, they did not know her, not really, what they wanted was the daughter that did as she was told and put the family first.
The family? What did that even mean? It was not like there were a hundred Whitney's who would lose their homes and standing if she ran away from a marriage arranged by the King. This was not medieval times. There was Anne and Frederic Whitney, and there was her. If she did not live the life she was expected to live the only thing that would occur was her parents might be embarrassed at the mention of a daughter who had not lived up to 'her potential.' More likely they would just not mention her at all. Or acknowledge they even had a daughter.
The fact that it had taken all this happening to make Maggie realize that fact was the pathetic part. Her parents did not know or love her, so what? Her so called friends had dropped her like a hot potato when she walked away from a loveless marriage, so what? What exactly was she missing with all of them gone?
Margaret closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. It was not that they had left so very fast when she stumbled. It was that she had only just realized she had wasted her life trying to hold on to a life she neither wanted nor needed, for the sake of people she was not even going to miss now that they were gone.
She was still giving herself a moment to come to terms with a wasted twenty-seven years when a knock at the suite door forced her to swallow it all down.
Shielding Her Page 2
