by Bianca D’Arc
Joe sounded a little more sympathetic, which lifted Hank’s hopes. He knew he would need allies in the fight to be part of Tracy and Emma’s lives. The more, the better.
“Any idea where I could find Tracy?” Hank asked.
He had a bit of time—more than he’d hoped for—but he still didn’t want to waste any of it. He had a woman to convince of his plans and a little girl to get to know.
CHAPTER SIX
Tracy was enjoying a rare day off from work. She had taken Emma into town to go shopping for new clothes. Emma was growing rapidly now, and she was also shapeshifting, which meant a few of her outfits had been destroyed in the process. Tracy didn’t know how jaguar mothers dealt with it, but she’d opted to buy stretchy clothes for her daughter that hopefully wouldn’t be completely ruined when Emma changed form.
They were on their way back from their shopping excursion, and Emma had been promised ice cream. There was a Pack-owned coffee shop near the airport that had an old-fashioned counter where soda was still served from a fountain and a soda jerk mixed up floats to order. He also scooped up ice cream with whip cream and sprinkles, and a cherry on top, much to Emma’s delight.
They were sitting at the counter, Emma getting more ice cream on her face than in her mouth when Tracy’s hackles rose in warning. A familiar scent came to her, and she turned to face the doorway. Sure enough, there he was.
Hank. Hunky Hank, standing in the sunlight, his golden hair gleaming as he took off his aviator sunglasses. She vaguely registered two big men coming in the door behind him then taking up almost guard-like stances on either side, but really, her focus was on Hank. The father of her baby. The hottest man she’d ever had in her bed.
He spotted her, and his lips rose in a smile. Damn. He looked good enough to eat. He ambled over, his two giant shadows keeping pace behind him.
“Hi, Tracy.” His deep voice sent a rumble of desire through her midsection. He held her gaze for a beat longer than was strictly polite then turned his attention to Emma. His smile turned tender and indulgent. “And who’s this little ice cream monster? Is that Emma under all that chocolate?”
Emma giggled and went back to demolishing the scoop of chocolate ice cream in her dish. She wasn’t very good at using the spoon, but Tracy let her try because little Miss Emma was fiercely independent and wanted to do things by herself. Tracy figured it was better to let her try and figure things out—especially something like this that couldn’t hurt her.
Being a shifter child, Tracy knew Emma was ahead of the curve for human babies of the same age. Werewolf cubs were the same. Fast to mature, like their animal counterparts. But jaguar babies were even more…magical, Tracy supposed…shifting so young.
Tracy became aware of the two men who had entered with Hank, who were now smiling at Emma. Protective instincts rose in a flash. Who were these big guys? Had Hank brought them here for some nefarious reason? She hadn’t thought he’d stoop to kidnapping, but she’d done a hurtful thing in not telling him about his daughter. Was she really so sure he wouldn’t do anything…crazy?
“Tracy, allow me to introduce Pax and Ari Rojas. They’re riding with me for a few days,” Hank said, looking around, seeming to evaluate every other person in sight.
“It’s all right,” Tracy told him. “This is a Pack business, and there aren’t any humans in here at the moment. They come in on the weekends, mostly, or at lunchtime. During the off-peak hours, it’s mostly just us shifters, and we have a system for alerting our people when humans are in the building. See that light above the pharmacy desk in back?” She pointed to the light in the corner of the building, up on the wall, where it was visible from all points in the small building. “When that’s lit, we are not alone.”
“Good to know,” Hank replied, his expression losing a bit of the edge of caution. “Then, I suppose I’m free to say that these men are the reason I was sent to Arizona. I was tasked with picking them up and delivering them to my Alpha for a meeting.”
Tracy’s heart dropped. “Then, you’ll be leaving again?” She hadn’t meant to say it, but she seemed to have no control over her wayward mouth.
“Not right away,” Hank told her, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. There was a sort of hopeful expression in his eyes, if she was reading him right. “We’re cleared to stay here for a few days, as long as it’s okay with you.”
“You really should be asking my dad,” she said, backpedaling as fast as she could. Did she really want Hank to stick around? Was that the right thing for her? For Emma?
“Already done. He met us at the terminal, actually.” Now Hank’s expression seemed a little chagrinned.
Oh, no. Her father must’ve gone to the airport to have it out with Hank. A showdown in the terminal. Great. Just what they needed.
“Was there bloodshed?” Tracy looked at the two giant men behind Hank, searching for signs of a recent fight.
“Nah,” Ari said, shrugging his massive shoulders. “Hank handled the baggage boys that tried to jump him on the tarmac.”
Tracy felt her eyes widening. He’d been attacked even before he got to the terminal? She checked Hank over for signs of injury, but he looked crisp and clean in his white button-down shirt and jeans.
“Your father was a polite pussycat compared to that mob,” Pax put in from Hank’s other side. He looked around, finally moving to test the strength of one of the stools attached to the old-fashioned soda counter. He wasn’t a fat man. He fit into the space, though his muscles made it a tight fit. He caught the attention of the soda jerk—a teen named Rusty who had red hair and shifted into a wolf with red-tipped fur—and ordered two large root beer floats as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Tracy,” his brother said politely, then nodded and joined Pax at the end of the counter, giving Tracy and Hank the illusion of privacy.
Tracy wanted to ask Hank where he’d found those guys but refrained from any hint of sarcasm. The men were nice, really, if a bit odd.
“They’re twins,” Hank explained, as if he could read her mind. He shrugged. “You’ve heard how twins are. They always seem to be on a different plane than the rest of us, somehow.”
That was it exactly, she thought. The few sets of twins she knew who were shifters were always a bit odd. Of course, twin shifters were really rare. The fact that the two giants sitting at the end of the counter weren’t identical was significant. Identical twins were only born on special occasions when the Mother of All was providing leadership for the next generation—or so it was believed.
Identical twin shifters were protected and guided as they grew because only they could become Lords over all shifters in their region. There were Lords who ruled over North America, another set in South America, and several other sets ruling in other regions around the world, but that was it. The only identical twin shapeshifters of their generation. Goddess touched. Born to rule over all the other species.
The current Lords in her region were werewolves. Rafe and Tim, who were mated to Allie, a human woman of immense magical and spiritual power. A priestess of the Lady. Lords were always mated to a priestess in a rare triple marriage. Tracy didn’t know how it all worked, but somehow, it did—and had—for centuries untold.
“Look, Tracy, I was wondering if we could get together someplace quiet and talk,” Hank asked, his voice dropping low so as not to be overheard too badly.
There was no help for the fact that everyone in the store had shifter hearing. They probably heard everything, but at least Hank was trying to signal the desire for privacy. Most wolves would respect that, even if they were still listening. They’d pretend not to, at least while anybody was looking.
Tracy thought through her options. She knew she couldn’t avoid this any longer. She did need to have a serious conversation with the father of her baby. Her day of reckoning had finally arrived.
“Yeah. Okay.” She ran a hand over her hair, knowing she had to do this, but not looking forward t
o it. “Um…what if I made dinner? We could eat together, then you and I can talk after. Em usually plays for a bit then goes to bed around eight-thirty. Dinner’s at six. Come by a bit before that. Say five-thirty?”
“That sounds good. Can I bring anything?”
She noticed his look at Emma. The longing in his eyes that he tried to hide. He wanted to get to know his daughter.
“If…” Damn. She didn’t want to do this, but she owed him a lot more than just an afternoon with his daughter. “If you wanted to come earlier, you could help supervise Emma while I’m cooking. She’s been going jaguar every afternoon lately and running around the kitchen while I’m cooking.”
Hank chuckled. “I bet that’s a barrel of laughs.” His sarcasm had an indulgent edge. “Especially when you’ve got hot pots and pans in your hands.”
“Yeah, it’s…different. And a little worrisome,” she admitted, even though she didn’t want to show any sort of weakness Hank might be able to exploit later.
She had her guard up. She had to. Hank’s Clan was rich and powerful. If he really wanted custody of Emma and sued her through the human courts, he might be able to use anything against her. She had to be careful.
“What time should I come by?” he asked, seeming more relaxed now.
“Well, she’ll take a nap after this, but she’ll probably be up again around three. So, maybe three-thirty?”
“I’ll be there. Can I bring dessert?” he asked, going back to his earlier question, in a different form.
“I suppose.” She gave in. What could it hurt to let him do this little thing for them? “Aston’s Bakery, just next door, makes some really good cookies that Emma loves. She can devour a whole bear claw all by herself.”
“Excellent. Thanks for the tip.” Hank looked at Emma, and Tracy realized her little girl had been listening avidly to this exchange, not ignoring them while scarfing down her ice cream, as Tracy had thought.
“Sweetie, Mr. Hank is going to have dinner with us tonight. Isn’t that nice?” Tracy asked, wondering if Hank would be upset by the form of address she’d chosen.
“Them too?” Emma asked, looking down the counter to the two big shifters who were almost finished with their root beer floats. “Big kitties.”
“You can scent the jaguar?” Hank asked Emma directly.
She nodded, sucking on her lower lip. “Not woof,” she said, shaking her head in an exaggerated motion. “Like me.” She pointed to herself, then moved her hand around to point at Hank. “And you.”
“You’re right,” Hank said, beaming. “You’re a smart little girl. I’m like you. A jaguar. And so are Mr. Pax and Mr. Ari. All three of us turn into big cats.”
“I see?” Emma got excited by the prospect and was bouncing a little on her seat.
“Not here, sweetie,” Tracy put in quickly. “But maybe this afternoon, Mr. Hank can show you what you might look like when you’re grown up.” She raised her worried gaze to Hank. “Can you do that? I mean, she’ll be safe, right?”
Hank looked completely insulted, and Tracy felt bad, but this was her little girl’s safety they were talking about. She didn’t trust anyone to shift around Emma. Not when she was still so little. Some young wolves didn’t have the best control over their beast forms.
“I would never…” Hank said, seeming unable to finish the sentence. He tried again. “I’m a protector, not—”
“I’m sorry,” Tracy said quickly, cutting him off. “I’m just…” She shook her head and gave him a faint smile. “I’m very protective of my baby. I don’t let anyone shift around her.”
“Even Unca Kevie,” Emma put in, nodding sagely.
Tracy knew she was probably going a bit overboard with the no-shifting rule around her daughter. She’d practically ripped Kevin’s head off the one time he’d come to the door in his fur. He hadn’t ever done that again, even though he was one of Emma’s favorite people.
“I’m glad you’re protective, but Tracy, that same instinct is in me. I would never hurt her. Not in a million years.” Hank’s voice had dipped low, and his eyes made her want to believe all the promises she’d ever dreamed of seeing in them.
But that was fantasy. This was the real world. And, in the real world, she was a single mom with a newly-informed daddy that Tracy didn’t know very well. Was he out to take her baby from her? Or was he the way he presented himself on the surface? Was he truly one of the good guys?
Tracy certainly hoped so.
Hank left Pax and Ari to their own devices after checking them all into the shifter-owned hotel near the airport. They assured him they could look after themselves for dinner and keep out of trouble. Hank doubted it, but he just shook his head. They were big boys. They could take care of themselves. He just hoped whatever happened didn’t make the Alpha wolf revoke their welcome. Hank wanted to stay for whatever time he could now that Tracy seemed amenable to at least talking about their situation.
He’d been so afraid that she wouldn’t want to see him at all. He still had to talk to her, but he was hopeful that she’d see reason and be willing to let him be part of his daughter’s life. He had other ideas too. He kept thinking about how sweet it would be to have Tracy in his life permanently…as his mate.
His inner cat felt at peace with that idea. No, not just at peace. Eager.
It might not have liked being around the other wolves—with a few notable exceptions—but it had come to look forward to being in Tracy’s presence, which was a new and very positive development. It liked Kevin too, surprisingly. His inner cat seemed to look at Kevin as a pup to be indulged and protected. It had decided to take Kevin’s welfare to heart, which was surprising. It wasn’t often jaguars developed such strong protective feelings cross-species.
Could Hank’s developing feelings for Tracy be spilling over onto her family? He hadn’t felt protective of her dad. Of course, her father was an Alpha in his own right, with his own, very large, very successful, Pack. He didn’t need Hank’s protection. Kevin, though. He was Tracy’s brother. Also son of that powerful Alpha wolf. But he was just a kid.
A kid Hank had always liked when he’d come through this part of the world. He’d seen Kevin grow up from a scrawny pre-teen to the tall, skinny young man he was today. Hank had always liked the kid, but now, even his inner jaguar was feeling protective toward the boy. Strange.
Hank had picked up a big box of cookies, as Tracy had suggested, and presented himself at her door promptly at three-thirty. She lived in a pretty suburban home that backed onto a woodland area shared by the Pack. She had given him the address before they parted. Only Pack lived in this subdivision. It was a gated community, in fact, with guards at each entrance that took their jobs very seriously. Nobody who wasn’t supposed to be here would be allowed in, and visitors were tightly controlled.
Tracy’s dad had set it up that way so his Pack could roam free within the boundaries of their own home territories. Each family had a house and as much land as they could manage that backed onto a wild area filled with trees and game trails for the wolves to prowl. It was a really nice set up, and as safe as could be arranged on the mainland. Only Jaguar Island was more secure for shifter homesteads.
When the door to the house opened, Tracy’s luscious scent hit Hank first. Damn. She smelled really good. He smiled at her as she opened the door wide.
“Hi, Hank,” she said, her voice a seductive purr, though he supposed she hadn’t meant it that way.
“Hi,” he replied, feeling a little off kilter. He hadn’t been so inept around a woman since he was Kevin’s age. He proffered the box of cookies, and her eyes widened, even as her lips curved upward.
“That’s a lot of cookies,” she commented, taking the box and moving so he could go in through the doorway. “Thanks.”
He entered, and she closed the door behind him, locking it, he noted. There was probably no need to lock doors in a gated shifter neighborhood, but he approved of her caution.
“Come on through.
Emma’s in the garden.” Tracy dropped the box of cookies on the kitchen counter on her way through to the back of the house. She led him to a sunroom that opened onto a garden filled with flowers and herbs.
Frolicking among the flowers, chasing a butterfly on clumsy paws was his daughter, in baby jaguar form. Hank’s heart melted. She was so precious. So cute. So utterly adorable.
“She’s been doing that pretty much every day since that first shift,” Tracy said, coming up beside him.
“That’s normal, I think. Cats are very curious, especially when they’re small and learning all about the world. This garden is perfect. Enough scents and textures to keep her entertained for hours on end, in an enclosed space,” Hank commented.
“Yeah, I started it when she was a baby, and it’s gotten larger since then. Wolf pups—even though they don’t start shifting until they’re teenagers—are happiest in nature, and one of the other women with kids in the Pack suggested starting the garden. She said we’d both enjoy it, and she was right.”
Emma heard them talking and bounded over. Hank bent down, and she batted at his hand with her little paws while he chuckled.
“Hi, Emma. Do you want to see what you’re going to look like when you’re grown?” he asked gently. “I promise the big cat won’t hurt you. He loves you.” The little cat nodded her head eagerly, backing away as if to give Hank room to shift, but he turned to Tracy first. “Is it okay?”
“Sure,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tracy had thought about Hank shifting since this morning and realized Emma needed to see the jaguar. She needed to know what she would become and take pride in the size and shape—the full potential of her beast half. That was something Tracy couldn’t show her, and it was something Emma needed to know as she grew up, surrounded by wolves.
