But she hadn’t been a good citizen since the day the system had given ten-year-old Myka into the custody of Randall, the stepfather from hell. Randall had been very good at charming judges, social workers, and anyone else who came along. Couldn’t bear to be separated from Myka, he’d said, after Myka’s mother had died, in a hospital room just like Jillian’s. Randall had gotten himself appointed Myka’s legal guardian, and nine long years of hell had ensued, until the day of Randall’s death.
Jillian produced a thin smile as she looked over the foot of the bed at Spike. “You came. Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
That was the first word he’d spoke since he’d followed Myka out of the barn into the cool of the night so she could drive him here. Not
What happened? Why is she asking for me?
Just stone silence in the cab of her pickup.
Silent, sure, but his presence was weighty. This was a
Shifter
, for crying out loud, big, tough, able to break tiny young women like Jillian in half with one hand. Yet he stood there looking down at Jillian in the bed as though someone had sledgehammered him between the eyes and he hadn’t remembered to fall down yet.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Jillian said, her voice a faint whisper. A far cry from the girl who’d balanced on top of a rail fence at the rodeo a year ago, screaming for her favorite bull rider. She’d slept with him too. Men usually took one look at Jillian and became her devoted slaves.
“I have a gift for you,” Jillian said.
She held out her hand, and Spike reached down and took it. He didn’t hold her hand awkwardly—he closed it between his two big ones, as though trying to comfort her.
“What?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble. Even a Shifter could feel the dampening presence of the hospital room.
“Myka will show you. Myka and my mom. I don’t know what else to do, all right?”
Jillian pressed down on his hand, the movement so weak that Myka saw it only because a tendon moved on Jillian’s wrist.
Spike nodded. What was in his eyes, Myka couldn’t see, because his gaze was fixed on Jillian.
“Myka, go get my mom, okay? I asked her to wait down the hall.”
Myka didn’t want to leave Jillian alone with the Shifter. Jillian let her stare go steely, which she was good at, even while dying. “Myka?
Okay?
”
Spike turned his head and looked at Myka, and for the first time, Myka got the whole connection of his Shifter gaze. Spike’s eyes were dark brown, his pupils black, windows into nothing.
No, not nothing. An intense something. Myka saw wildness inside him, the beast that had charged a bear four times his size and sunk his teeth into the big animal’s neck. Spike’s throat was singed where his Collar had shocked him, but the shocks hadn’t slowed him down a millisecond. This was an animal who looked for his prey’s weakness and went for it.
Myka did
not
want to leave him alone in here with Jillian.
But Jillian had hours to live, not days, the cancer taking away the last of what she had been.
Myka made herself turn around and leave, walking rapidly down the corridor to the little room where Jillian’s mom Sharon waited, surrounded by vending machines, a television that blared a news channel, and other tense people who’d come to see their families.
Sharon got rapidly to her feet and followed Myka out. “Damn, I need a cigarette. Jillian kicked me out when you called from the parking lot, but I couldn’t go outside with . . .” She wriggled her arm, jostling what she was pulling.
“I don’t like this,” Myka said.
“I know. But it’s what Jillian wants, and I think she’s right.”
Myka had to shut up, because they’d entered Jillian’s room again. Spike swung around, inhaling sharply.
His eyes changed to Shifter—brown tinged with gold, the pupils slits—as his gaze riveted on the small boy Sharon gripped by the hand.
At four years old, Jordan had lost his baby chubbiness and was turning into a sturdy, strong-boned lad. He had dark hair brushed with red and dark brown eyes framed with black lashes. Until Myka had seen Spike looking at her with the same eyes, she’d doubted Jillian’s claim.
Jillian drew a breath to speak, but Sharon shook her head, seeing it was too much for her. She walked Jordan forward.
“This is your son,” Sharon said, her voice heavy from too many years of smoking. “So says Jillian.”
“He is, Mom,” Jillian’s whisper came.
Jordan stared up at Spike, who filled the room not only with his presence, but with the bulk of him. Though smaller than the bear-man he’d fought, Spike was still big—six and a half feet tall, arms as big as a wrestler’s and covered in tatts that disappeared inside his T-shirt, shaved head on a muscular neck encased by an inch-thick Collar. Jordan’s soft mouth hung open, his small teeth white in the moisture behind his lip.
Spike stared back at Jordan just as hard, the shock mutual.
“Jordan,” Jillian said from the bed. “Do your trick for Mommy.”
Jordan, caught in the spell of Spike’s gaze, remained frozen for another moment. Then he looked away and stripped off his shirt. Almost proudly, he shoved down his pants and underwear and stood without clothes, as unashamed as the Shifters had done at the hay barn.
The little boy lifted his arms over his head, closed his eyes, then gave a little squeak as his body changed shape.
His legs bent and became haunches, his little feet morphed into awkwardly big paws. Jordan’s hands became paws before his arms did, the smooth spotted pelt sliding down to join the one that rose up his chest. His face elongated into a cat’s nose, ears popped up on his head, and his eyes became rounder, fuller, eyelashes and whiskers growing swiftly. The fur that covered him was dark yellow with the broken black bands of a jaguar.
In only a few seconds, Jordan dropped to all fours and let out a tiny wildcat yowl.
The suspicion on Spike’s face turned to amazement then a hungry longing. Before Myka could stop him, he bent down and scooped up the cub between his big hands.
He lifted Jordan to his eye level, staring at the cub, who wriggled and squirmed but not in alarm.
They studied each other, Shifter and cub, the big man’s eyes wide, the cub’s unworried. Jordan opened his mouth and emitted another little growl.
“I named him Jordan,” Jillian said. “He’s yours. Take care of him for me, all right?”
Spike didn’t take his eyes from Jordan. Myka saw the pulse in Spike’s neck, the hard beats pressing under the Collar.
Sharon waited, her fingers playing with the clasp on her cigarette case. Myka waited too, for Spike to deny it, to tell Jillian to prove it, to bail the hell out of there. Men didn’t like suddenly to be told that they were fathers, didn’t want to be held accountable for whatever grew from their sperm.
Spike lifted Jordan higher. Jordan’s paws and hung down from Spike’s giant hands, his tail snaking around Spike’s wrist.
“My cub,” Spike said. “My cub.” His voice rose to a deep roar that shook the window across the room. “My
cub
.”
“Yes,” Jillian whispered, then her eyes drifted closed, and she slid back into her morphine sleep.
Chapter Three
Jillian never woke again. She slipped away around two in the morning. Spike didn’t see her go, because he’d been sent to the waiting room with Jordan while Myka and Sharon stayed with Jillian. Spike was alone with Jordan now, the other people who’d been waiting having gone home or to sleep elsewhere in the hospital.
Jordan slept in Spike’s lap on top of Spike’s wadded-up sweat jacket, the boy back in human form and dressed again.
Holy Mother Goddess, he had a cub.
Made total sense for Spike to take the kid back to Shiftertown. Jillian’s mom would never be able to hide the fact that Jordan was Shifter, and she wouldn’t know how to raise a Shifter cub anyway. And if someone found out about Jordan being a Shifter, humans would step in and take him the Goddess knew where.
No
. He’s
mine!
Wherever this protectiveness had come from, Spike didn’t care. Jillian had been smart to send for him. Spike could take Jordan home, watch over him, raise him, and keep him from harm. Sean Morrissey, the second-in-command of Shiftertown and its Guardian, had access to a database he called the Guardian Network, and could futz birth certificates and paperwork and make everything seem legit. Sean was talented with that stuff. If humans thought to question where Jordan had gone, they’d see him as a registered Shifter with Spike as his father. Jillian, with her interest in Shifters, had probably known that could be done.
He had a
cub
.
In spite of the tragedy—Jillian had been a sweet little thing, and far too young to pass—Spike’s mouth kept wanting to spread into a smile.
That is, until Myka walked in, a scowl on her face.
“She’s gone,” Myka said curtly.
Spike touched his chest, which had constricted with pain, then lifted his fingers to the sky. “The Goddess go with her.”
Myka eyed Spike in complete distrust. Spike rested his hand on top of the sleeping Jordan’s back. Myka was
not
going to take Jordan away from him.
“So you want to keep him then?” Myka asked.
“Well, yeah, I do. I’m his dad.”
She kept staring at him, arms folded, which pushed her breasts to the top of her cute tank top. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be a good father. You have other kids?”
“No.” Again Spike caressed Jordan’s back. “Just him.”
“Sharon and I have been taking care of him fine between us. Jillian lived with her mom. Jordan’s used to us, and Sharon’s his grandmother.”
She didn’t get it, did she? “If humans found out he was Shifter, they’d take him away from her,” Spike said. “He’ll need to shift, to run, to be his wildcat. He won’t be able to help himself. In Shiftertown, he’ll be safe.”
Myka let out a sigh. “I know that. But it’s taken me a long time to talk myself into letting him go to a male Shifter. Isn’t there a woman in Shiftertown he can live with? Someone you know who could take care of him—and let us see him whenever we want?”
Spike growled. “Let another family take care of my son? Screw that. Anyway, there’s my grandmother. She can help me look after him.”
“Your grandmother lives with you?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t she?”
Myka’s lips pressed together then released into a forward push, as though she contemplated deep thoughts.
“How do you know for certain that he’s your cub?” she asked. “Jillian told me you were the only Shifter she slept with, but she might have been lying for her own reasons. She sure went to Shifter bars a lot.”
Spike had never seen Myka at one. “I take it you’re not into Shifters.”
“No.”
Spike lifted Jordan, who weighed next to nothing, and cradled him against his chest as he stood up. “Markings. His coat. He’s got my family’s markings.”
Again the stare, the assessment. What the hell was with her?
Finally Myka let out a sigh. She dug a tiny notebook out of her big purse and scribbled something down. She tore out a piece of paper and held it out to him.
“This is my phone number. You call me if Jordan needs anything, or when the novelty of being a father wears off and you want to give him back.”
Like hell he would. Spike only looked at her, making no move to take the paper. Besides, he’d have to disturb Jordan to do it.
Myka clenched her jaw, took the last step forward, and slid the paper into the top of Spike’s jeans pocket. Her fingers were warm through the denim, firm, strong.
Myka snatched her hand back and turned away so fast her purse swung and smacked her in her ass. The shapely ass that swayed as she hurried to the door again. “I have to take Sharon home and help her with . . . everything. You need a ride back to Shiftertown?”
Spike caressed his cub’s back again. “I can call for one.”
“Fine.” She hesitated again. “Be discreet when you leave?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”
Another dithering second, Spike scenting Myka’s sharp worry. Finally, she opened the heavy door and walked out. Spike heard her footsteps clicking down the hall, as though she were determined not to let herself turn back.
Spike walked out of the hospital ten minutes later, holding Jordan under the hooded jacket he now wore. He’d gone down back stairs and through empty corridors, avoiding all humans as he made for the dark parking lot. Jordan felt right nestled against his side, his little fists gripping Spike’s shirt, as though he knew, even in his sleep, that Spike was his new protector.
Cell phone use hadn’t been allowed on Jillian’s floor, so Spike had turned his off. In the dark and chilly parking lot, he turned it on again to find five missed calls from Liam’s number and the phone ringing again.
“Spike, where the
fuck
are you, lad?” The Shiftertown leader’s Irish baritone came flooding over the line. “We have a situation. Get back here. Now.”
“I have one too,” Spike said, his voice calm. “I’m gonna need a ride home.”
*** *** ***
“So what’s the sitch?” Spike asked Sean Morrissey as they sped away from the hospital in Sean’s father’s small white pickup.
Jordan was still hidden under Spike’s jacket but was an obvious lump on his right side. Even if Sean hadn’t noticed the lump, he would be able to scent Jordan.
“What the hell is that?” Sean asked.
Spike couldn’t keep the pride from his voice, though he had an almost crazed need to hide Jordan from all eyes until they reached home. “My cub.”
Sean jerked the wheel, narrowly avoiding running into another car. “What?”
“My cub.” Spike was torn between laughing at the expression on Sean’s face or growling.
Shifters of old had stolen each other’s females and cubs, and males had put rival males’ cubs to death so they wouldn’t grow up to become threats. Sean had a mate and cub of his own, these were more civilized times, but instincts died hard. Spike didn’t like the way Sean kept trying to look at Jordan. He pulled his coat closed and gave Sean a warning look.
“What has Liam so bothered?” Spike asked. “What does he expect me to do?”