by Mia Taylor
“You’re going to what, Louis? I know you’re not about to threaten a member of the police department.”
“What will it take to get you off my ass, Detective? None of it was my doing! It was Andrew! He got greedy and started the side business! I didn’t want any part of it!”
Note to self: find out what these two clowns are doing at Portia.
“Did you tell Melissa that?” August asked quietly. “Or did you threaten her?”
“It’s not my fault she was stupid enough to fall for it,” Louis grumbled. He didn’t see the fist before it hit his jaw and August was on top of him, glowering with intense, furious eyes.
“The only stupid one I see is you, Wayland,” August hissed in his ear. “Where is Melissa?”
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” he whined. “How the hell would I know? She’s supposed to be reporting to us tonight. I’m guessing she’s on patrol.”
A wave of cold washed over August.
Reporting to him?
Suddenly, he understood.
“Let me up!” Louis cried, struggling against the hold in which August had him.
“No.”
Louis’ arm twisted more against his back and the bar owner howled in pain.
“I told you, it wasn’t my idea!” he pleaded. “I didn’t do anything.”
“What did you have on her? What did you blackmail her with?”
“Nothing!” he squealed but August’s grip was like a vice. Claws were beginning to elongate from his knuckles and August was struggling not to shift in his rage.
“Tell me or I swear, Louis, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
“Sex tapes!” he shrieked. “I told her I had sex tapes of her and my brother together.”
Sickness lurched in August’s gut but he didn’t loosen his stronghold.
“Where are the tapes?”
“T-they… ah! You’re really hurting me!”
“I promise,” August rasped, his eyeteeth protruding, “you don’t know what pain is yet.”
There was no stopping the shift now and his mortal form melded away to produce a massive beast of brown and grey, crushing the slimy Wayland brother to the marble floor of the entranceway.
“W-w-wha…” Panic and terror lit Louis’ eyes as he tried to make sense of the snarling animal above him. “W-wha…?”
“The tapes,” August hissed. “Get me the tapes.”
Chapter Eleven
Trading One Problem for Another
She looked at her phone nervously, wondering again what she was doing there.
It was undoubtedly her mother’s voice calling out for her to leave, urgently and loudly, but years of curiosity stopped her from stepping up from the table and doing what her mother had tried to do.
You’re not a baby anymore who needs protecting, she reminded herself. You’re an adult woman, a cop… or whatever you are. You don’t run from anyone.
But as she waited for Paul Stark to appear, she couldn’t help replaying the images of her mother, constantly in fear of the man who had sounded so mild-mannered on the phone.
You know that abusers can present a very different face to the outside world, she told herself but nothing she thought caused her to move from the fading vinyl booth of the diner where she waited to meet her father for the first time.
Her phone had been ringing off the hook but she ignored it, suspecting it was either Cara or August. Melissa knew she couldn’t deal with either one in that moment.
When it rains, it really does pour, Melissa thought dryly, nodding at the server as she offered more coffee into the blonde’s empty cup.
“You all right, hon?” the kindly woman asked. She wasn’t much older than Melissa, probably only in her early thirties, but she seemed much more beaten down by life somehow.
I’m not really one to judge. Who knows what I’ll look like in a decade? As of right now, I have no future and I’m sitting in a seedy diner with the man my mother spent her life running from.
“I’m just having a day,” Melissa replied, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”
“If you need anything, you let me know, okay?”
Melissa nodded gratefully and she shuffled away as a man approached the table.
“Melly?”
Her head jerked up and Melissa’s mouth parted in surprise.
He is not what I was expecting.
His voice matched his outward appearance, down to the wire-rimmed glasses, framing grey eyes which were unmistakably hers.
“Oh, wow,” Paul breathed, sliding into the booth across from her. “You’re beautiful.”
Without warning, he reached out to grab her hands and Melissa bolted back as if she’d been burned.
“Don’t touch me!” she raged, although why she was so angry, she didn’t know. “You don’t touch me.”
“Of course!” He withdrew immediately. Contrition stained his face. “I’m sorry. I-I just can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this moment.”
“I can’t say I’ve felt the same,” Melissa retorted with uncharacteristic bitterness. Paul’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t know what your mother told you about me, Melly—”
“Melissa. I’m not three years old anymore, Paul.”
“Melissa.” He paused and seemed to steel himself before starting again. “I don’t know what your mother told you about me—”
“Mom died. Cancer.”
Her bluntness didn’t have the same effect on him as she had expected and his face didn’t change.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Melissa.”
“Are you? You don’t seem surprised.”
His grey eyes glittered and for the first time, Melissa saw an undercurrent of something that was neither amiable nor polite in their depths.
“I was hoping we could try to make up for lost time,” he said softly but Melissa suddenly knew for certain that she’d made a mistake by agreeing to meet him.
She rose from the booth and grabbed her purse to toss a few dollar bills onto the table for a coffee.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Paul.”
“Wait! Where are you going?”
That is the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Where is there to go?
“Thanks for reaching out, Paul. I don’t know what transpired between you and my mom all those years ago but I’m doing a major disservice to her memory by being here.”
“Wouldn’t you at least like to hear my side of the story before you walk away? Or is running easier?”
Melissa bristled.
“I don’t run!” she almost screamed, slapping her hand on the table. The server eyed her worriedly and Melissa managed to calm herself just as quickly as she had exploded.
She stood awkwardly for a minute, deciding her next step. Every fiber of her being told her to walk away, to forget about this man, that he shared nothing with her but DNA.
Slowly, Melissa slid back into the booth and stared at Paul with a deadpan expression.
“You have three minutes to plead your case, Paul.”
He grinned wryly but again, the expression didn’t meet his eyes and she knew she was dealing with a dangerous man.
It didn’t take her cop’s instinct to know.
“You remind me of your mom when I first met her,” he said casually, sitting back to signal the waitress who hovered nearby like Melissa’s personal bodyguard. The blonde was grateful for the back-up but she had to lift her eyes and meet the server’s, letting her know that all was well.
Nothing’s going to happen to me here. For whatever reason, he wants to see me. Let’s see what comes of this.
“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked, her voice lacking a modicum of the warmth she used on Melissa.
She senses it too. Paul is bad news.
“Just coffee, hon,” Paul replied but his gaze was fixed on his daughter. Melissa offered the server a smile and she ambled away reluctantly, leaving the duo alone.
“It’s unc
anny, really,” Paul continued, shaking his head. “I would have thought you’d be more like me.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that comparison before,” Melissa replied with flat honesty. “In fact, most people say I look and act nothing like Mom.”
Not that I see much of a resemblance between us either—except the eyes.
“Oh, maybe not the Lisa you knew, but the one I married? She was feisty like you. Not a spark of fear in her, even when I knew she was terrified.”
Melissa’s breaths began to escape jaggedly.
“Why would she be terrified?” she demanded. “What did you do to her?”
Paul grunted and leaned forward on his elbows, shaking his head.
“Again, I have no idea what lies Lisa fed you and I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but your mother had no idea what was happening.”
“How lucky she had you to enlighten her,” Melissa bit back caustically. “You can see she was pleased.”
Paul frowned almost pensively.
“Do you think I abused your mother?” he asked, a confused tinge to his words. “Hit her?”
“All I know, Paul, is that she was scared enough to shift us around every time you got a whiff of where we were.”
“Oh, Melissa,” he sighed. “I could have found you years ago if I’d kept coming but I knew eventually she’d just settle and get comfortable.”
“But she didn’t!” Melissa snapped. “She was perpetually looking over her shoulder, sure that you were right behind her.”
“I’m sorry you’ve lived your whole life believing that I was some abusive monster but that’s not the truth, not at all.”
Melissa was quiet as she studied his face.
Of course he’s never going to admit to being a bastard. He’s going to make Mom out to be crazy. Well, screw him. I’m not listening to this.
“I guess it’s a moot point now, isn’t it, Paul?” Melissa replied, forcing a note of boredom into her voice. “Mom’s not here to defend herself, after all, and really, I haven’t thought about you in years.”
“Hm.”
The waitress reappeared and placed the cup of coffee in front of Paul. In her purse, Melissa’s phone rang again and she wished she’d thought to put it on silent.
“Hm?” Melissa scoffed. “That’s it, then?”
“No,” he replied, taking a sip from the cup. “I was just wondering if you ever thought about where you came from.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“I know you lived on the run most of your life but before that, your roots, your family—don’t you ever think about that?”
I used to think about that all the time! Melissa wanted to scream at him. Of course I wanted to know what happened to me! I wanted to know if I had cousins, aunts, grandparents!
She said none of those things aloud but Paul seemed to know it anyway.
“There’s a burning inside you, one that you’ll never understand without me,” Paul murmured and the words sent a chill of apprehension through her.
“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t creepy as hell,” she hissed at him and disgust colored his face.
“Wow. Young people really are gutter-minded, aren’t they?”
“Well, Paul, when you pop into your daughter’s life after twenty-one years and say weird shit, it’s hard not to imagine the worst.”
Her phone rang again and this time, it didn’t stop.
“Dammit,” she cursed, reaching to silence it again, but her eyes fell on the lock screen and she saw, with shocked amazement, that she had twelve missed calls from August and six from Cara.
Something’s going on. Did the Waylands turn on me? Is there a warrant out for my arrest?
It was all too much for one day and Melissa fought the urge to release an earth-shattering scream.
“You look upset,” Paul commented and she smashed the phone down on the table.
“You are very observant, Paul,” she bit back. The phone rang again and Melissa knew she had to take the call.
“I need to take this,” she muttered, jumping up from the booth. As an afterthought, she reached for her purse, casting Paul a wary look. He seemed annoyed by the motion.
“Melissa, I make more money in a year than you could spend in a lifetime,” he told her and for the first time, she realized his outfit probably cost more than she made in a year.
She turned away and answered the call.
“What happened?” she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat as she waited for the answer. “Why do you keep calling?”
“Oh holy hell, Melissa!” The relief in August’s voice almost slapped her face through the phone. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”
“I’m… it’s a long story. Why are you looking for me?”
“Because I took care of your problem for you,” he replied and the answer both confused and horrified her simultaneously.
“W-what problem?”
“Louis Wayland.”
Her breath caught in her chest and for a fleeting second, Melissa wondered if she was going to pass out.
“Melissa, are you there?”
“What do you mean?” she whispered. “What did you do to Louis?”
“There never were any tapes, Melissa.”
She whimpered at the mention, her back falling back against the wall of the bathroom hallway and tears of humiliation burned behind her eyes.
“He told you about the tapes?”
“I can be very persuasive.”
Doubt flooded her, barely overcoming the shame, and she shook her head in disbelief.
“W-how did you know?” she managed to ask.
“How do you think? If you think I’m going to let you throw away your future, you don’t know me at all. After all, what kind of T.O. would I be?”
“You did it because you’re my T.O.?” she asked dubiously, feeling her heart begin to race. His words were filled with emotions that seemed to mask hers perfectly although she couldn’t name what it was that was sweeping through her body.
“Melissa, you’re mine to protect,” August told her gruffly. “I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. You always come to me when you have a problem. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly,” she breathed. “Where are you?”
“At home. Where are you?”
“Coming to you now.”
She disconnected the call and made her way back to the booth almost blindly.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I have to go,” she muttered, her father’s untimely arrival suddenly the least important matter on her mind.
“Now?”
“Yes. You don’t need to contact me again. You might have been my sperm donor but we have nothing to talk about now.”
She spun to leave, her mind only on August now, but before she could take another step, Paul’s voice rang out to stop her dead in her tracks.
“Do you ever wonder why you’re so restless on full moons?” he called out to her. “Why you feel like killing?”
She whirled back around, her eyes bugging from her head. Her eyes darted about to see who may have heard his brazen words but no one seemed to be paying them any mind. Even the waitress had moved on to the far side of the diner.
“What did you just say to me?” she asked, sure she’d misheard him.
“You know what I said and you know it’s true. For three days, every month leading to the full moon, your body changes. Maybe not dramatically, but enough for you to notice by now.”
Melissa covered the distance between them, pushing her face into his so that their noses were inches apart.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat but the words sounded hollow to her ears. “Stay away from me.”
This time, she didn’t let him stop her and she ran from the diner, trying to escape the terrible feeling which had encompassed her.
Oh, Mom, Melissa thought mournfully, gulping back the lump forming in her throat. What were yo
u running from? What did he do to us?
But the only one who could answer that question remained in the diner and Melissa was not going back there, come hell or high water.
And once again, the Stark women run from Paul, replacing one problem with another.
Chapter Twelve
Who Are You?
“You need to leave now,” August told Cara urgently after he got off the phone. “Both of you.”
He looked pointedly at his sister. Neither argued and were headed to the door before he even had time to collapse onto the couch with relief.
“Is she okay?” Cara wanted to know as she cast him a look over her shoulder. “I mean, how did she sound?”
“She’s fine. She’s on her way over here now. Cara…”
He met her eyes.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I know,” she chirped, her eyes narrowing. “But now that you know what I’m capable of, I suggest you be good to my friend.”
Amber snorted and took her arm.
“I assure you, hon, Melissa has never been safer than she is at this moment.”
The women disappeared out into the hall and August exhaled, wiping his palms on his jeans as he waited for Melissa to arrive.
What Louis had told him about the blackmail had enraged him enough to blow his cover with the slimy club owner but August wasn’t concerned about him speaking to anyone.
If he and his brother don’t close up Portia and leave Chicago in the next week, I’ll be shocked. Now he knows that the CPD is more dangerous than anything he could ever imagine.
Still, August knew if word got out to the members in his sleuth about what he’d done, he’d be in trouble. It was an unspoken law that he not expose himself to civilians unless he was in mortal danger. It wouldn’t be well regarded that a sleuth leader was flexing his muscles for information.
But I’d do it again in a heartbeat, he thought. Melissa is my mate and it’s my job to keep her safe.
He rose and paced the living room, knowing that they had only solved one issue.
How do I tell her, after all this, that she’s a shifter too?
He’d decided to wait. There was no rush on the issue now. He’d need to do more digging, with Cara’s help, and find out about Melissa’s father.
