by Jaime Rush
WHEN HENRY HAD waggled his eyebrows at Greer and told him he had a visitor outside, the last person he’d expected to find was Shea. She looked tense and dark and wouldn’t talk to him until they were alone. He led her around to the side of the building where they’d have privacy. Morning sun slashed down and heated the bricks.
She wore no cap, but her hair was tied back in her standard ponytail. As soon as they stopped, she turned to face him. “Darius did it. He killed that guy,” she whispered, even though no one was in sight.
The words hit him. “He what?”
She nodded, glancing around. “He told me last night. He said he did it for me. He hung around outside my house and followed Frankie Callahan home. He doesn’t know about . . . the rest of it. What happened, why Fred was harassing me. He was probably too busy worrying about being caught when the detective showed up to catch what he said.” She wrung her hands. “I had to tell someone.”
A mix of feelings hit him: anger, fear, and wonder. “First, you need to move back into the house. I don’t want you there alone with him.”
“What would I tell Darius? I said he could stay with me for two days.”
“You think he’s going to move out tomorrow? He’s going to play whatever card got you to say okay the first time. Shea, he’s not there only because he has no other place to go. He wants a lot more than a place to stay. You get that, right?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, shifting her gaze away for a second. “Yeah.”
“Did he try anything last night?”
“No, other than stating that he wanted more. I told him very clearly I wasn’t interested in . . . that kind of thing. He thinks he’ll change my mind and that I should be down on my knees grateful for what he did. Then there’s the detective. He clearly thought I or someone related to me might be involved. I don’t want him tracing me back to Tuck’s house. I don’t want you involved either, especially now that I know one of us did kill Callahan.”
Greer’s mouth tightened. “Darius isn’t one of us. Not really.” But he had to ask, “Why didn’t you go to Tuck? He’s your go-to guy.”
She blinked. “I . . . thought of you first. Because you were there when the detective came over, I guess.”
It warmed him in a way that shouldn’t have. “Does he know . . .”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anyone to know. About anything. Did you tell any of the guys about walking in on me?”
“No.”
She blew out a breath. “Of course, that’s the least of my worries now.”
“There’s one way to get Darius to move out.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m moving in.”
Her face paled on that, which sucked away the good feeling. “I don’t want you guys to get into an altercation. He’s a murderer. And he’s scary.”
“All the more reason to move in. I can handle myself. I’ll bring a cot over, tell him I’m going to stay close because . . . I’ll come up with some reason. It’ll piss him off, but I’ll make damned sure he leaves.”
“I hate to bother you—”
He touched her chin, something he’d done earlier, too, without thinking about it. “It’s not a bother, Shea. I’m here for you.”
He still couldn’t believe what he’d learned yesterday. All night it haunted him, kept him from sleep. Now he understood so much more about her. Yeah, he wanted to kill the guys who’d done that to her. He could relate to Darius’s rage, and yet, Darius thought the guy was only a sick stalker, a stranger.
All Greer wanted to do was hold her and protect her. For a few minutes, at her house, she’d actually let him pull her into his embrace. She’d felt so damned right there, that rightness pulsing through his body. It was hard to let her go.
“I’d better get to the job site,” she said.
“The one you showed us on Durango?”
She nodded. “It’s about done. The owners return from an trip tomorrow, and I was so excited for them to see it.”
“ ‘Was’ excited?”
“Am.” She brushed her stray curls from her forehead. “This has really been messing with my head. Everything.”
Did “everything” include him?
She turned away from him, nothing new. Her frown deepened, though. “That car. I swear I saw it parked across from my house this morning. It’s a common car, and maybe I’m being paranoid, but—”
The fire alarm pealed. His body tightened reflexively. “I have to go. Don’t dismiss anything that buzzes your radar.” He caught sight of a beige car pulling away but couldn’t see who was in it. “Could be the cops, but we can’t assume anything right now.”
“Be careful.” She with her big violet eyes looking at him like that . . .
He planted a kiss on her forehead. “I will.” Then he ran into the station.
The building wasn’t far away, a long-abandoned warehouse. There was a chance that vagrants were inside. No matter that they didn’t belong there, he would do his best to get them out.
The flames roared as they moved in. Once inside, he searched for any signs of people living there, as well as eyeing the structure itself. This was a suspicious fire, no doubt. After clearing the area, he started to turn back, wading through the smoke that filled the space. Something hit him hard.
A column of smoke billowed around him, taking advantage of his momentary off-balanced state and pushing him to the floor.
What the hell?
Darkness. Had to be. He fought it, kicking, punching as its hands or whatever they were gripped his neck. In his fire gear, he couldn’t maneuver as well. Smoke filled the place, flames licking closer. Someone was calling his name. One of his colleagues. He couldn’t see a thing, which meant neither could anyone else. There was no choice but to morph to Darkness, breaking out of the hold his opponent had on him. As Dark beast, he wasn’t as affected by the heat and smoke, and he could move a hell of a lot easier. He prowled, looking for his attacker. There, in the roiling smoke, he saw a face, indistinct but its eyes were fierce.
It rushed forward, clamping onto Greer before he could move out of the way. They rolled together on the floor. Greer couldn’t see the form, only felt the claws sinking into him. He slashed at it with his fangs, tearing into the odd texture of Darkness. It screeched in pain and jumped back. As soon as Greer got to his feet, it threw him against the wall. He bounded up, racing toward the smoke he thought was his enemy—and rammed right into one of his colleagues.
He morphed back to human, grabbing Wesley’s hand and helping him up. “Sorry, I couldn’t see you. I was getting the hell out of here.”
“That’s what I came in here to tell you to do. The place is going to collapse.”
They ran for the exit, timbers cracking and exploding into sparks. They joined the rest of the crew, fighting the fire. All the while, he watched for any smoke that didn’t look normal.
There. He saw a trail of it sliding just above the ground. He couldn’t do a damned thing about it either, only watch it disappear around the building.
Once they had the fire under control, leaving one of their men as the fire watch, they returned to the station.
Greer approached his superior. “Sir, I’ve got to check on a friend who’s in trouble.”
“Would this friend be the young woman who came by the station house?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I can’t explain, but she may be in danger.”
“Go. But keep your phone handy in case we need you.”
“Thanks, sir.”
He jumped in his Jeep, not even taking the time to wash off the soot. Someone had tried to kill him. Which meant they could all be in danger. He called Tuck and told him what happened at the warehouse, adding, “Keep your eyes open.”
“I will,” Tuck said. “I’ll call Shea.”
“I’ll take care of her.” Saying that felt good. “I just tried her phone but she didn’t answer. I’m on my way to her job site now. Let Cody know.”
&
nbsp; “And Darius?”
“Yeah, let him know, too. Just because one of these guys attacked me doesn’t necessarily mean he knows about the rest of you. But someone might be watching Shea’s house. She spotted a car parked at the curb this morning, and the driver took off when she looked his way. Then she thought she saw it again when she came to the fire station to talk to me.”
“That’s not good. Now they know about you.”
“I thought it might be the cops. The detective was definitely eyeing Darius and me as suspects. But now that someone tried to attack me, I’m thinking it’s one of our birth fathers. So obviously there are more of these guys looking for their offspring. Speaking of the cops . . . Darius is the one who killed that guy.”
A moment of silence passed while Tuck no doubt assimilated that tidbit. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? He took a huge risk. And someone did see him.”
“Thankfully, she freaked out and lost her cred. Still, not good. Even worse, Darius thinks he’s this big hero, Shea’s ultimate defender. The guy’s unhinged, as you already know. I’m moving into Shea’s tonight and kicking his ass out.”
“I’ll be there. What time?”
“I’m going to play your game when you left me out of your business for my own protection.”
“But—”
“No,” Greer said. “Now you know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “And now I understand why you did it. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
He hung up and concentrated on driving. He felt an urgent need to get to Shea. Was it because he wanted to see her . . . or because he felt something was wrong?
Chapter Five
SHEA SURVEYED THE yard one last time, taking in the fountain centerpiece, carefully planned sections of green grass, and design of the planting beds surrounding it all. “It’s beautiful. Freakin’ beautiful.” At least she could feel some sense of peace amidst the chaos of her life. The scent of roses lifted her spirits even as she pinched off a dead bloom and stuffed it in her pocket. The house, contemporary in design, had just undergone a renovation. Now the yard was shiny and new, too.
José, one of her employees, stepped up beside her, removing his cap as though he were facing the American flag instead of a backyard. “Is good?”
“Is very good. Why don’t you guys take your lunch break, and then head over to the Tankard house? We’ve got a couple more beds to plant, and the rocks will be delivered at about four. I’ll meet you over there later.”
She waved at her crew as they backed out and headed off. One of her rewards was spending a few minutes alone with her creation. She loved the challenges of desert landscaping, of bringing in color and vibrancy with plants that didn’t require a lot of water. She walked down the flagstone path, doing one last inspection, removing a dead leaf here, a stray branch there.
The sun poured down over her, but she was still bundled in her jacket. It wasn’t quite cool enough for her breath to mist in the air, but almost. She jammed her hands into her pockets and walked toward the edge. Though the house wasn’t near any other homes, they had planned for future development by installing an earth-colored wall all around the sides and back.
This was her dream yard, private and quiet. She inspected the one foot of red rocks and plantings meant to break up the expanse of wall, unable to resist running her fingers along the palm fronds. She walked across the grass lawn, a luxury in the desert, for the couple’s grandkids to play on, near the patio set.
She shifted one brick into alignment with her foot. Now it was perfect, every planting bed, the line of brick retaining walls, the staggered rows of plants, the man standing on the other side of the patio— She did a double take.
There was a man standing there. His eyes were pale, like hers, and he was probably in his forties.
“Cheyenne.”
Her first thought, a detective. Dressed like one, button-down dress shirt, nice pants. He knew her full first name. But he felt different.
She bit back the urge to say she had nothing to do with that creep’s death. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
No first meeting that started with those words would end well.
He must have seen her fear because he said, “I’m sorry to have startled you. I’m your sire.”
“My . . . what?”
“Your father.”
He took a step closer as she studied his face. But it was his eyes that were the biggest confirmation of that. Cody was the only other person she’d ever seen with violet eyes, making them wonder if they were related.
She dug into her box where she buried her angry feelings. “What’s your name?”
“Ted.”
The name her mother told her. “My mother said my father was married, that he couldn’t leave his wife.”
He continued to step closer. “My wife is mentally ill. Did she tell you that?” Shea nodded, her body still stiff as he joined her.
There were things her mother hadn’t told her, hadn’t known, no doubt: that this man was from another dimension.
Maybe he saw that she already knew that, because he said, “You may have inherited something besides my eyes.”
He meant the psychic ability. It hit her then that he was one of the men who had to take care of his bastard children. Of which she was one.
He’d said he was sorry.
She ran.
He was faster, throwing his body against hers so that they both went down to the ground. Thankfully on the grass and not rock. Still, she slammed hard with his weight on top of her, her breath leaving her lungs in a whoosh.
He twisted her around, pinning her hands. “I know what you can do.”
Because he could do it, too. She jerked her hand, concentrating on one of the pots nearby. It moved, but not with enough momentum to do more than scrape across the patio an inch. She needed to push her hand to do much good.
He straddled her, thighs tightening on her legs, injecting a different kind of fear. Memories of Frankie, his friends . . . she couldn’t breathe. Everything around her closed in, leaving only Ted above her. Ted, who wasn’t going to rape her. In fact, his face was drenched in regret. He was going to kill her.
“I just found out about you,” he said. “I wasn’t going to tell them, but damn Frost saw you.”
“Frost?”
“My associate. He knew you were one of us, suspects you’re mine. He’s your friend’s sire, the firefighter. He told Torus, our leader, about you. I’m afraid you’ll have to be terminated. I am sorry.”
Those words again. He meant them. Though Tuck had said the people from the other dimension had no emotions, this man obviously did.
“Please, don’t kill me. Can’t you tell them you did? I’ll leave the area.” She’d beg. Hell, she’d do anything to live.
He shook his head. “I wish I could. But they’ll want to hear about your murder on the news. Especially since you’re a person of interest in the case of the man who was mauled. I’ll make it quick. Cooperate, and with one twist of your neck it will be over.”
He braced his hands on either side of her face.
Something black and cool brushed by her, slamming into the man and throwing them both onto the grass.
A panther. But not any panther. Greer. His body rippled with agitation as he jumped to his four feet, ready to attack.
“Watch out!” she called as the pot she’d been trying to move flew at him.
He moved, but not fast enough. The pot hit him, slicing into his “body.” He bled a black oily substance. Another pot, and then a chair, flew from where the set was. Ted used his hands to send them, like a mad orchestra leader.
Greer rolled to the side as the chair skidded across the stones, and the pot cracked when it hit the ground. She shook herself out of her shock and spotted a shovel leaning against the wall. She took psychic hold of it, tilting it to the side and readying to send it flying. She wasn’t as good at her skills, didn’t use them much.
She didn’t want to hit Greer by
mistake. He’d stopped bleeding, now growling in a low way that crawled up her spine. His tail flicked as he centered on his prey. He was scary and sexy all at once, as beautiful as the cat whose shape he’d taken.
Ted was searching for another weapon when Greer launched at him. They fell into one of the trees she’d recently planted with her own hands. Its thin trunk cracked under their weight. Greer’s teeth cut Ted’s throat, but he pushed the cat away with superhuman strength, keeping the fangs from finishing him.
Ted used each hand to do something different: one held off Greer, the other pulled more things to fly at Greer’s back. She tried to throw other things at his missiles. Ted waved his hand at her, knocking her to her ass. When she scrambled upright, the Buddha statue it took all three of them to place among the rocks was flying right at Greer. She couldn’t raise her hand or scream in time to warn him. It knocked Greer off balance enough for Ted to get some bearing. They fought on the ground, crushing more plants, rolling over the sharp rocks in the beds.
Shea kept the shovel ready. She thought about throwing herself into the fight but knew that would be foolish. Fangs and claws flew, scratching Ted’s arms as he pounded Greer’s side with his fist.
She psychically held the shovel aloft a few feet away. Every time she started to bring it close, the two men turned again. Ted punched Greer in the jaw. Could she use both her hands for different things, too? She’d never thought about that. She “slapped” Ted, sending his face jerking to the side. Ted swept both his hands forward, and Greer became the missile. He hit the wall, falling with a thump. He got to his feet, but stumbled when he couldn’t put his weight on his front right paw. Arcing her arm over her head, she sent the shovel Ted’s way now that he was an open target. Because he’d been watching Greer, he didn’t see it coming. It hit him in the side of his head, dropping him to his knees.
Still lying on the ground, Ted reached out, his hand shaking, and sent a nearby chair toward Greer. It fell a few feet short of his big, black paws as Ted’s hand dropped to the ground. She picked up the shovel again, waiting for an opportunity. Greer bounded over, his body taut and bristling with energy as he neared the man who appeared near death.
