Chapter 6
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 to 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.