by Jean Oram
“I never pegged you as a man who would play the fear card to get what he wanted.”
“It’s my job. I look for what bad things could occur, then ensure they don’t.”
No wonder he had that crazy energy about him. Who wouldn’t be affected by a job like that? It was impacting Daphne and she was only talking to him.
Running her hands up and down her sides, she breathed deeply, focused on aligning her chi. It wasn’t working. There was something about Evander’s dark blue eyes that was causing interference and static with her energy field. His presence was making her heart hitch and her legs want to step closer to his truck. Her throat had turned dry, as though she was sucking desert air, and she tried again to steady herself.
“You have some strong energy, Evander de la Fosse. You need yoga. And Reiki.”
His lips twisted in confusion. Right. She was being a hippie flake. She tried hard not to be like that around people who didn’t “get it.”
She closed her eyes, struggling to focus on the last things he’d said. Tigger. Abductions.
How dare he try to strike fear into her like that? Daphne didn’t need him, and he was not going to scare her into changing her mind.
“Evander, sweetie…” she pushed patience into her voice “…children are more likely to be killed in a car crash than be abducted. We simply think abductions are more common than they are because we hear about every single one in the news. Reporters try to make it sound as though it was the kid next door, when it actually happened on a whole different continent. Tigger is safe. Thank you for trying to scare me, but it’s not working.”
“A man like Mistral—”
“Watch what you say.” Daphne pointed a finger at Evander. “He’s my daughter’s father and you didn’t see the caring side I did all those summers ago. I know him. He’s scared, but he’s gentle and kind. He’s lost, but I can help him. I will help him.”
Mistral’s father was incredibly hard on him, and Daphne had a pretty good idea how much pressure he must have applied on Mistral, to make him give up not only Daphne and Tigger, but his own dreams of creating resorts that mattered, in order to follow in his father’s footsteps businesswise.
Evander closed his mouth, his jaw tight. Although his arm was still draped on the truck’s door frame, the stiffness in his shoulders belied the casual pose.
“Daphne?” Their eyes met, sending more chills down her spine. “Scared people act in unpredictable ways, and you have these men pretty darn scared of what you and your sisters are going to do to their bottom line. They’re taking note of your actions, and I think in your case, you can never be too safe. In other words, I’m not going anywhere until this is over.”
Daphne continued her errands, keeping an eye out for Evander’s black truck. Maybe he wasn’t a cat, after all, and was trainable. Either that or she’d lost him. About twenty minutes ago she’d decided it was time to try and ditch him. She’d pulled into a parking lot and hung out long enough for him to get bored and allow his attention to wander—then she’d quickly sped off. Special Ops that, Soldier.
Once home, she’d parked the minivan and walked the few blocks to the island park in the middle of Port Carling. She waited on a bench for Mistral, keeping her eyes peeled for Evander to pop out of nowhere despite there being limited foot access to the island.
Six years ago, she and Mistral had had a summer to remember. And not just because she’d come away expecting Tigger. Mistral had been a ray of sunshine in the long tourist season of scooping ice cream at a local shop. While he’d looked like one of the rich “summer boys” her sisters always warned her about, he’d been different. One of the elite who vacationed in Ontario’s cottage country, he could have easily acted as though he had the world in the palm of his hand, confident that everything would open up for him because of who he was, who his parents were, and how much money they had.
But as she’d handed him his mint chocolate chip ice-cream cone the day they’d met, he’d paused to look her in the eye—and had actually see her. And in that moment, she’d known. Mistral was just like her—struggling with life. Whereas she was wondering how she was going to afford entering the University of Guelph’s environmental science program, he’d been struggling with having a large silver spoon force-feeding him his future. Mistral was in line to take over a very large share of his dad’s business when he turned twenty-two that winter, but he’d been lost and confused.
On late-night walks they’d wander the town hand-in-hand, him encouraging her to change the world, adding layers and details to her dreams as though he was a part of their fabric and always would be. By the end of the summer they had decided they were going to create a sustainable, natural habitat with his money and her forthcoming environmental knowledge. Their little plot of land was going to teach people how to treat the earth, without major consumption and the destruction of the environment. Daphne had shown Mistral there was more to life than what his parents believed, and he’d shown her that some people with money could selflessly help change the world.
When the summer ended he’d gone home to Toronto and she’d stayed in Muskoka. They’d kept in touch for the first few months, emailing back and forth. Phoning. Texting. Planning their future.
And then she’d found out she was pregnant. Mistral slowly became more and more busy with his life in Toronto, shutting her out so thoroughly that he was gone by the time Tigger was born, leaving a gash so deep and wide Daphne wasn’t sure how she’d survive.
The next summer, she’d seen him once, looking tired and drawn while crossing a parking lot. She’d had Tigger in her arms, and was still feeling fat from her recent pregnancy. Mistral had caught her eye for a split second, his gaze softening as he’d paused. Then he’d hurried on, forcing a laugh as he caught up with his friends when they noticed he’d fallen behind.
The first time he’d met Tigger was a few days ago, and Melanie’s boyfriend, Tristen, had punched him.
Daphne rubbed her forehead, trying to remove the image of Mistral’s bloody nose from her mind. Today she had to show him that they didn’t need a lengthy, costly custody battle. They were adults and could resolve sharing Tigger like civilized grown-ups, because their daughter needed a father.
While Daphne had always kept the door open for Mistral to be part of their life, he’d changed so severely she barely recognized him as the man she’d once fallen for. The spark in his eyes was gone and he was acting uncharacteristically erratic. The old Mistral would have been the voice of reason, and remained levelheaded through something such as Melanie’s fight against his resort. He wouldn’t have issued threats, but would have sat down and thought of ways to work around the barriers, just as he had when they were planning their little nature reserve.
Daphne looked up in time to see Mistral come over the footbridge and onto the island—a park his company planned to turn into a parking lot. His stride was confident and spoke to who he’d become: a man used to getting his way, used to having crowds part for him. While she was pleased to see he’d found the self-assurance he’d been seeking, she knew he couldn’t be happy or satisfied living under his father’s thumb.
A chipmunk scurried past, one eye on her for snacks, and carried on, making her think of Tigger, who loved trying to tame the little creatures.
“Daphne,” Mistral said with a curt nod. “May I join you?” He gestured to the bench where she was sitting, his pale yellow golf shirt making his dark skin almost glow. He’d always been handsome, but now his features were somehow more mature, more compelling. Her eyes swept over him, stopping at his bare ring finger.
She patted the vacant spot beside her and he sat.
“You never married?” she asked, feeling silly for how she phrased it. The man wasn’t even thirty.
Mistral gave her a glance, but ignored the question. “My lawyer advised me not to talk to you without him present until things are settled. I’m curious about your message, though. And I like that you’re willing to compromise.�
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Daphne knew lawyers would muddy the waters. And as much as her sister Melanie, her own lawyer for the custody battle, wanted to help, she’d want to do it an aggressive way that would alienate Mistral, instead of helping him find a way into their family, as Daphne wished.
“I think you and Tigger should spend time together before you decide how much time you want to ask for. Children are a lot of work.”
If he asked for—and won—full custody, Daphne would be done for. There’d be no point to her days. No joy and happiness in her life. She’d be completely lost.
Mistral was a busy man working long hours. There was no reason for him to ask for full custody unless it was a vindictive move to take Tigger away from Daphne. And even though the man had been acting erratically lately, she couldn’t see him pulling a stunt like that—despite what the papers said.
“What are you saying? That she won’t want to spend time with me?” Mistral glanced at a man who had appeared nearby. He was watching them closely and obviously waiting for Mistral.
“I’m not saying that at all. Just that kids take a lot of time and energy. Who is he?” Daphne asked, pointing to the man.
“He’s my assistant.”
“Well, he’s staring at me as if I’m going to stab you.” She crossed her arms across her chest, not liking that this was the second time in the past hour and a half that she was surrounded by negative energy. The way the man was watching them almost made her want Evander de la Fosse here, on her side. Almost.
A rustling behind her made her jump and turn, moving off the bench.
Evander.
Was the man a psychic with teleporting powers? Because Daphne was pretty sure she couldn’t summon someone with her mind, and the fact that he’d suddenly appeared when she was thinking about him was kind of creeping her out.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Who’s this?” Mistral had left the bench, too, and was backing away, a hand laid protectively over his bruised nose, from when Tristen had slugged him only days before.
“You okay, Daphne?” The concern in Evander’s eyes made her already galloping heart increase to a painful pace. When was the last time a man had looked out for her? Worried about her? She was always so busy being a mom, she rarely had anyone ask how she was doing. Even her sisters didn’t think to do so, as they were always more concerned about the small human she was raising.
What was she thinking? Evander was a hired gun. A man who could escalate this situation in no time flat by bringing in the wrong kind of energy. He didn’t care about the battles going on in her heart; he was worried about the possibility of violence happening.
“Evander, please go. This isn’t about you.”
Mistral smirked and Daphne resisted the urge to tell him off.
Evander crossed his arms, his massive shoulders bunching with the movement. “I’m staying.”
“Are you trying to threaten me by bringing a bodyguard with you?” Mistral asked. “I expected this of your sisters, but not from you.”
“This man is not here because of me.”
“Yes, I am,” Evander said.
“I didn’t hire you.”
“You knew I was involved with Rubicore,” Mistral said to Daphne, “and yet you stepped in anyway. You know how much pressure I’m under. You know how important this is to me. You know what the stakes are.”
“I stayed out of that whole thing as much as I could, in case you didn’t notice,” she snapped. As she did so, Evander moved closer. Mistral’s assistant followed suit, and Daphne began to wonder if the man’s occupation might be more similar to Evander’s rather than as “assistant” to Mistral.
She held out her arms to stop them. “Boys, enough. We’re trying to have an adult conversation here about a little girl who needs her father in her life. Back off.”
Evander halted, eyes wary.
“You need to park your nose in someone else’s business,” Mistral said to Evander. Or maybe it was to her. Daphne wasn’t sure.
“Watch it, buster,” her shadow warned, his body rippling with pent-up anger.
Daphne blinked, unsure about how to deal with the new sides the men were showing. She’d grown up in a household of women and had no idea how to put an end to this kind of posturing.
“It’s fine, Evander,” she said quietly.
“No. It’s not.” He stepped in front of her, blocking Mistral’s access. “He’s threatening you.”
“He doesn’t mean it. My family’s making things difficult for him. He’s trying to prove himself, and he’s just scared he’s going to fail.”
“You can think again if you believe I scare that easily!” Mistral shouted, his voice betraying him with a waver.
Daphne peeked around Evander to apologize. Mistral’s moves were edgy as he shifted from foot to foot as though trying to decide whether to flee or fight.
“I knew meeting up with you was a bad idea,” he said. “I’m glad I didn’t tell my dad I was thinking twice about his advice.”
“Mistral, hang on, okay? We really need to talk. Evander, go. You’re making things worse.” Daphne tried to push the man away, but his strength was impressive. There was absolutely no give when she pressed her weight against his chest, just 100 percent ripped muscle under his light jacket. She gave him another shove, her hand hitting something hard under his elbow. She gasped. “Are you armed?”
Oh, this just made things worse.
She went to pull at the gun, to try and hide it or throw it away, but Evander’s hands were on hers, deflecting her. A second later, he’d shoved her behind him again in a move that left her stumbling. First she was in front of him, then—boom—back here wondering what had happened.
She peered around him again, then ducked, holding in a scream. Mistral’s bodyguard had a gun aimed at Evander, who already had his own drawn and leveled.
Daphne dived under the bench, arms over her head. Mistral was cowering behind it, knuckles white as he gripped the slatted back.
Peace and light. Everything was going to be okay. They didn’t need her freaking out and adding chaotic energy to the situation.
Although she couldn’t help but blame her sisters. They were being so pushy and aggressive with Rubicore. Sure, Daphne kicked hornets’ nests all the time with her environmental protests, but this was different. This was trying to take down the whole company and kill their livelihood. It wasn’t only about keeping them accountable in regards to the environment. This had become a fight to the death.
“Tell him to stand down,” she whispered to Mistral. “Tell him.”
“You tell your guy first.”
“He’s not my guy.”
“What do you want, Daphne? Child support? Is that what this is about?”
“You know it isn’t.”
“Why did you bring an armed man to a chat about custody and visitation?”
She wanted to ask him the same question.
“Why do you want Tigger?” Her voice was quiet, and she hated asking, as it suggested that his intentions might be less than noble. But her sisters and Tristen had planted the idea that, due to the timing of his custody claim, Mistral might be using their child as leverage, and the idea wouldn’t go away. Daphne’s heart told her that him owning Baby Horseshoe Island—just across from her family’s island—wasn’t a coincidence, and that he wanted to be a part of their lives. But logic said his actions might only be those of a ruthless businessman.
“Why are you messing with Rubicore?” he countered.
“This is about family, not business.”
But were they really that different now?
Sure, she thought Rubicore should clean up their act or receive a good smack upside the head for all they were doing. But the thing was…one of Rubicore’s owners was Mistral. The father of her daughter. The truest, most precious thing in Daphne’s life. She wasn’t going to mess with that.
“Why are you ruining the island across from my family’s?” A t
hought hit her and she gasped. “Are you trying to get even?”
“For what? You not knowing your way around birth control?”
“Hey! You were an equal participant, and here I am stuck holding the bag.” She sucked in a breath. “I did not mean that. Tigger is everything to me.”
“Ricardo? Is it safe?” Mistral called to his bodyguard.
Clearly it was not. The men were still having their testosterone-driven showdown.
“Do you want to be part of her upbringing, Mistral? Really and truly? Because she’s a great kid. I’d hate to think…” No, no negative thoughts or assumptions. Positive intentions only. Daphne still believed if she could help Mistral get what he needed in his life, that little something so he could break free of his father, the man could really live the life he was meant to.
He snorted. “You don’t live in the real world, do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Daphne, come.” It was Evander, gesturing for her to get up. He was still pointing a gun at Mistral’s man.
“No! You’re armed. Don’t you see that there is something wrong with that fact?”
Mistral scrambled out from behind the bench, giving Evander a wide berth as he scuttled toward Ricardo. Evander took out a second weapon, keeping one trained on each man.
She was definitely going to need a chakra cleanse after this.
Mistral ran behind his guard and the two men backed away.
When they were finally gone, hightailing it over the footbridge, Evander shifted his second gun into its leg holster and held out a hand to help her up.
Refusing his offer, she dragged herself out from under the bench, finding her cotton dress filthy with dirt.
Evander’s eyes darted around the island. He waved a hand at her, hustling her along. “Come on. We’re not safe here.”
“Evander, stop. We’re in Canada. They’re just two scared men. They’re not going to shoot me. Mistral’s just… It’s complicated.” She brushed at her dress with brisk, agitated moves.
At least the press seemed to have decided to take the day off from their hounding about the legal action Melanie was taking against Rubicore. And, of course, the small fact that Mistral wanted custody of his and Daphne’s daughter. The media showing up for this blowout would definitely not have worked in her favor. As an environmental advocate, she was generally a fan of the press—good or bad—seeing as it helped raise awareness. But this? This would have ruined her chances of keeping Tigger.
