“Hey, if you don’t want to get bitten, don’t trespass on my property and don’t try to take my kid!” Celeste shouted, furious. Now she’d just made it worse, implying that she was Jeffrey’s mom. How badly was she messing him up for life?
But she didn’t want to give this woman any excuse to take Jeffrey. Apparently CPS hadn’t heard about the fatal car accident yet. They didn’t know Jennifer was dead. Celeste had no legal claim on him, not without going to court, and in the meantime he’d be in foster care. That was not going to happen.
The woman glared at her. “My name is Rhona Millhouse. I have a right to be here. I received complaints from the neighbors that this child was being left alone and the house was so dirty it was a hazard.”
Celeste gave the woman a menacing smile and gestured around the room. “I’m right here; he’s not alone. The house is clean, which you can see. We just had pizza for dinner. The box is sitting on the table, right in front of your face. So you tried to kidnap my child with no justification whatsoever. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out, and you’ll think twice before you try to kidnap anyone else’s children.”
Rhona gave an indignant huff. “I’ll be back, with the police and a court order. If you don’t want to be arrested, you’ll give him to me now.”
“If you don’t want to wear your nose on the other side of your face, you’ll walk out that door now.” Celeste pointed at the front door.
“Hmph. Threats of violence. Inappropriate atmosphere for a child.” Rhona looked her up and down dismissively. Her haughty gaze took in the knife scar on Celeste’s face, the cheap leather jacket, the scuffed shoes.
“This isn’t over. We are taking the boy into custody, for his own good.” And she turned and flounced out.
“Mom,” Jeffrey said, his voice choked with panic.
Celeste put her hand on his head, stroking his hair. His ears were normal now. “She isn’t taking you.”
“We’re leaving, right? Can we go? Right now?” His voice rose with every syllable. His fingers dug into her arm, surprisingly strong. He’d leave bruises.
What is he?She didn’t know a lot about kids, but she knew grown men whose grip wasn’t that strong. She ran into them from time to time when she was breaking into places for the security firm that employed her.
Jeffrey was something…special.
It didn’t matter. He was her nephew. Her flesh and blood. He was a scared little boy. She would do whatever it took to keep him safe.
She heaved a sigh. She only had one option, and she really, really hated to do it. But she would do anything rather than let CPS take Jeffrey. She’d been in and out of the system her whole life, and all her experiences with Child Protective Services had been bad. This little boy was looking at her with love and trust and hope. He’d run to her for protection, and she wouldn’t let him down.
“Jeffrey,” she said. “We need to pack up your stuff fast. We’re going for a ride.”
He shrugged. “What stuff? All I have is what I’m wearing.”
Celeste felt anger bubbling up inside her.Jennifer, I swear to God, I wish you could come back to life so I could kill you all over again.
Chapter Two
Downtown Pineview, Colorado
It wasn’t anywhere near the full moon, but Grant’s wolf was pacing, angry and restless. It had been like that for days now, and he had no idea why. His teeth were on edge and his fur was ready to burst through his skin.
He strode angrily down the sidewalk, pushing past tourists with their arms filled with shopping bags from the expensive little boutiques in downtown Pineville. The view on the horizon was stunning – mountains faded to a distressed denim blue by distance, with thick swathes of feathery evergreens on the lower slopes. The town was nestled into a hollow in the hills, a haven from big-city bureaucracy. It was a place where a man could let his wolf run, the fragrant fallen pine needles soft beneath his paws and the nighttime mountain air so cold and fresh it ached.
Today it did nothing to alleviate the strange tension that burned just below the surface, itching for release. His wolf paced and bristled beneath his skin, hackles raised.
“What’s wrong with you today, Grant? You’re being even more dickish than usual. Hmm, is dickish a word? It should be.”
Grant whirled around with a snarl, then forced himself to stifle it. The person asking was Taylor, his older brother Cliff’s mate. Short, curvy, cheerful, with her big mop of curly hair exploding into a brown halo around her head in the July heat. He didn’t hate Taylor. One might even say that he was fond of her. He wouldn’t admit that to his brother, though, because he had a rivalry with Cliff that went back to their cubhood.
She stood there, unafraid, quirking an eyebrow at him. Most people backed away from Grant when he was in a snarly mood. He had the Dominus gene, he was Alpha as hell, and he was six foot five. Even humans, who knew nothing of werewolves, were instinctively steering clear of him right now, giving him a wide berth on the sidewalk.
Taylor wasn’t most people.
She fell into step with him as he walked. He couldn’t even remember where he was headed, but it should involve beer, he decided. He had plenty of microbreweries and pubs to choose from. Not to mention coffee shops, wine bars, patisseries, and The Nook, a hybrid of all three that doubled as a saleroom for Pineview’s local artists. Of which there seemed to be billions. Usually Grant liked the town’s quirky, artsy side – and it was one of the draws for its thriving tourist trade, along with the stunning natural beauty of the mountains. But today he felt like he couldn’t move without tripping over a watercolor landscape, a hand-stitched quilt, or an adorably shabby-chic upcycled pine rocker, and it make him want to barf.
“‘Hello, Grant, are you looking for some company this morning?’” Grant said in a high-pitched voice, imitating Taylor. “‘No? Well, how about I stick to your fur like a burr on your ass, and annoy the hell out of you?’”
She was resolutely unoffended. “Who peed in your Wheaties this morning?” she asked.