The Finding

  Elise looked up from the child she was nursing and frowned. “Language, Kane. Little ears are in the room.”

  He stopped in his tracks and looked down at the toddler who was sitting on the floor playing with a truck. The boy was the image of himself with dark hair and amber eyes.

  Possibly feeling his father’s gaze on him, Jacob looked up at him solemnly before switching to an impish grin. “Damn, Daddy. Damn!”

  Guiltily, Kane shot a glance at Elise. Her eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline before lowering in disapproval. “Sorry!” He mouthed the word before hunkering down to talk to his son.

  “Jacob, you can’t say that word when Mommy’s around.”

  “Or even when I’m not around.” Elise added from her chair by the window.

  “Right.” Kane looked at his mate and then back at his son. “Damn is a grown-up word and I don’t want you using it.”

  Jacob scowled. “Why?”

  “Because...” Kane paused and sighed, knowing where this was heading; an interminable conversation that featured him trying to explain and the boy questioning his reasoning. Deciding on a new tactic, he spoke sternly. “You cannot use that word, because I am your Alpha and whatever I say is law.” He sat back on his heels and stared at his son.

  For a moment, Jacob scowled back, his small chin lifting, his little brow slightly lowered, but after a few seconds the look faltered and his lower lip trembled. Ducking his head, the child conceded. “Okay, Daddy.”

  For a moment Kane was pleased, both that his son had shown some spirit and that he was learning the ways of the pack so quickly. But then, he looked at the little bowed head and the dark curls resting against the nape of the tiny neck. He swallowed hard, a pang of guilt washing over him. Memories of his own father flashed before his eyes; the bastard raging at him, hand raised to strike... Kane shook his head to erase the image. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Jacob was just a little boy...

  Reaching over, Kane scooped the child into his arms, stood up and tipped him upside down. Jacob squealed with delight apparently forgetting the confrontation already. Kane blew raspberries against his belly making him laugh all the louder. The happy sound filled his heart; he never wanted his children to be afraid of him.

  Tipping the boy back upright, Kane lifted him over his head. “I love you, Jacob, but you must listen to me and not always question my orders...” He looked at Elise then continued. “...or your mother’s.”

  Jacob nodded, still giggling.

  Setting his son down, Kane whispered in his ear. The boy grinned and trotted off.

  “Kane, what did you promise him?” Elise gave him a knowing look.

  “Just a cookie. Helen’s baking—”

  “You know it’s almost dinner time.” Elise lifted the baby from her breast and held it against her shoulder, gently patting its back.

  “One cookie won’t hurt him.”

  “Jacob has Helen wrapped around his finger, just like he has everyone else. It won’t stop with one cookie.”

  Kane winced, knowing Elise was right. Helen, the previous Alpha’s widow, had stayed on after the man’s death, eventually taking on the role of housekeeper and cook for those living in the Alpha house. She was also a substitute grandmother for many of the pups and had no qualms about spoiling them.

  “Hmm... Perhaps you’re right. Oh well, too late now.” Shrugging philosophically, he wandered over to where Elise sat. He crouched behind her, making faces at his daughter. She chortled and then burped loudly. Laughing, he tapped the infant’s nose. “You’re just like your mother.”

  “Kane, I do not burp loudly like that!”

  “I meant in looks!” He tried to explain his comment.

  “Oh, so I’m almost bald and have no teeth?” He could hear the faint trace of laughter in her voice.

  Circling around the chair until he faced his mate, he knelt in front of her and ran a finger down the slope of her still exposed breast. “Of course not.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently before murmuring against her lips. “But even if you were, I’d still love you.”

  “Mmm...” Elise leaned into the kiss and swept her tongue over his, before easing back and shifting the child in her arms. She started to rock the little girl to sleep. “So what was making you swear?”

  He stood and began pacing again. “The damn...er...the disappointing report from Chicago. There’s still no progress on that fellow Aldrich. It was a simple enough assignment. I asked the Chicago pack to deal with him and they still don’t have the job done. I can’t believe how inefficient they are; after all, they have a stake in this as well. None of us want to be exposed to the human population. Maybe I should just go and take care of the man myself.”

  Elise rolled her eyes at him. “Kane Sinclair, you know perfectly well that you can’t go traipsing into another pack’s territory like that. Besides, I’ve read the reports and you couldn’t do any better. Leon Aldrich keeps himself locked up like Fort Knox. He never leaves his penthouse unless he’s surrounded by guards and there's a careful screening process for all his employees. The Chicago pack has tried to get someone on the inside but they can’t make it through the screening process. Face it, he knows you’re after him and he’s not taking any chances.”

  Kane growled at her matter of fact restating of what he already knew. Aldrich’s continued existence was a thorn in his side. Three years ago, the man had stumbled upon the fact that werewolves actually existed and had planned on abducting one of their kind, namely Melody Greene, and selling her as living proof of his discovery.

  An ancient werewolf law, known as the Keeping, dictated that any human who discovered their secret existence faced possible extermination. Ryne, Kane’s brother, had attempted to kill the man but desperate circumstances dealing with Melody’s safety meant he’d had to leave before finishing the man off. Since that time, Aldrich had been at the top of their ‘most wanted’ list. “The Chicago pack claims they have a new plan, but I’m not holding my breath. As long as Aldrich is alive, we aren’t safe.”

  “There’s no guarantee on safety, Kane. You kept most of the pack in hiding for four months when this whole thing first blew up, but nothing happened. It’s been almost three years now. Aldrich has never made a move against us or given any indication that he plans too. Maybe he’s too afraid to do anything; maybe it’s time to let it go.”

  He braced his arms against the window frame and stared outside, considering his mate’s words. Idly, he noted the signs of spring appearing in the forest that grew around the homestead. “Perhaps you have a point. It’s just...” Pausing, he tried to find the words to express himself. “I just have this feeling in my gut that trouble is still brewing and it has something to do with Aldrich.”

  Elise stood and laid the now sleeping baby down in her crib, before walking over to Kane and beginning to rub his back.

  Kane rumbled appreciatively at the feel of her hands soothing the tight muscles in his shoulders, then sliding down his side. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against him.

  “You know, Kane, I have a feeling in my gut too, though actually it’s a bit lower. You could fix it, if you wanted to.”

  His breath caught in his chest as she accompanied her suggestive words by shifting her hand lower and using her finger to trace over his zipper. Immediately, his flesh responded, growing harder and straining against the material of his pants. He placed his hand over hers and pressed her palm to the aching bulge. When she squeezed lightly, he groaned in appreciation. “I might be able to accommodate you.”

  “Might?” Elise circled around him and nipped at his chin, then pulled his head down so she could tease his earlobe.

  Kane ran his hands up her back and then down, cupping her enticingly rounded rear, pulling her closer. “Uh-huh. I’m Alpha, you know; a very busy man. But I suppose I could try to work you in...”

  Giggling, Elise took his hand and led him from the sitting room towards the adjoining bedroom. “Actually, fr
om the feel of things, I think I’ll be trying to work you in, big boy...”

  *****

  Chicago, Illinois, USA...

  Marla stood in the office of the late Anthony Greyson, eyeing the contents carefully. Gold pens, two silver letter trays, and an ivory letter opener were on the desk that dominated the room. Beside it, floor to ceiling shelves housed a collection of books; many were rare first editions, autographed and in mint condition. She trailed her fingers over the leather spines and then across the wooden surface of a nearby table, her mind ticking off its salient features; mahogany, cabriole leg, hand carved detailing, eighteenth century design, probably an original Chippendale. It would fetch a tidy sum at auction. A picture arrangement caught her attention next. Each one was a much sought after original oil painting, meticulously maintained. Her eyes gleamed; she knew exactly where she could get the best price for them...

  A regretful sigh escaped her. They were much too big and certainly would be missed should one or two of them suddenly disappear. A single silver letter tray however... A slight smile curled the corner of her lips and she drifted over to the desk. Yes, the tray was lovely and, thankfully, large purses were in style this year. Casually looking around the room to ensure no one was watching, she lifted one tray and examined it carefully, noting the elegant etching. It would do the trick nicely.

  Setting her purse down, she began to unzip it, when someone cleared their throat behind her. Her hand barely paused before she continued the task of opening her purse, reaching in and pulling out a tissue as if that had been her goal all along. Turning, she leaned a hip against the desk top and surveyed the elderly man who stood in the doorway.

  “Yes, Franklin?” Marla kept her tone even and pleasant, her expression one of bland inquiry. Nothing about her gave any indication that her actions were anything but respectable.

  “Do you need any help, ma’am?”

  “No, thank you, Franklin. I was just inspecting the Estate as per Mr. Aldrich’s orders. As usual, you and Mrs. Teasdale are doing a splendid job.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” While Franklin’s voice was polite, Marla was sure she detected a flash of loathing in the man’s eyes.

  That was fine. It was game they’d been playing now for almost three years. On the surface they were so cordial butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, but underneath the polite facade... Ah! That’s where the truth was found.

  She narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the man. He was always appearing at inopportune moments, always watching her... As he stepped further into the room, she hastily rearranged her features into a pleasant but mildly bored expression.

  Franklin walked over to the desk, his stride purposeful. Marla observed as he picked up the tray she’d had in her hand just moments before. He flicked a glance at her, then took a polishing rag out of his pocket and cleaned the surface before placing it back on the desk in its original position.

  “Such a lovely piece,” he murmured. “It would be a shame if it went missing like some of the other small items have.” Marla knew he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, but remained calm and cool. If the butler thought he could rattle her, he couldn’t be more wrong.

  “Indeed.” Marla raised one eyebrow. “Any progress yet on finding the supposedly misplaced items?”

  “Stolen, ma’am. Not misplaced.”

  She waved her hand negligently. “Semantics, Franklin. Stolen, misplaced... It’s all the same in the end. The items are no longer where you claim they used to be.” Pausing, she feigned a concerned expression. “You know, Franklin, this really is a large house to manage. I’m sure you’ve done your best, but you must be getting tired. Three years with hardly a break, supervising the hired help, assisting with the inventory...”

  Shaking her head, she made a little moue. “I know I’ve mentioned it before, but it is possible that the inventory you conducted wasn’t entirely accurate. I don’t think the courts took your age into consideration when they gave you the job.” Reaching over, she patted his arm lightly. “No one would think any the less of you, if you decided—”

  “I’m not in my dotage yet, Ms. Matthews, though I thank you for your concern. The inventory was accurate, the items are missing, and the police have been notified. Everyone has been questioned as to the objects’ whereabouts and the local pawn shops have been alerted.” He pulled his arm out from under her hand, his voice reflecting his affront. “Of course, you know that already, seeing as how we had this same conversation during your last visit.”

  Laughing lightly, she gave him a condescending look. “Of course we did, Franklin.” Ignoring his glare, she patted his arm again before wandering over to the window and inspecting the glass. “Hmm... These windows seem to be rather dusty and streaked. It’s important to keep the house in top condition at all times, you realize. Perhaps, if you put me in charge of hiring the cleaning staff, these problems could be avoided.”

  “Perhaps. But the courts appointed Cook—Mrs. Teasdale—and myself as caretakers until such time as Miss Cassie returns. That includes the cleaning and maintenance of the Estate.”

  “If she returns.” Marla qualified the answer while turning to face the man. She pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder in preparation for leaving, resisting the urge to take one last look at the silver tray on the desk.

  “She will come back, Ms. Matthews. Cook and I are sure of it.”

  Marla moved her lips into the semblance of a smile, but made no effort to hide the coldness in her eyes. It wasn’t worth the effort trying to sway the old man over to her side. She’d attempted that during the first year, but he was annoyingly loyal to his dead master and the truant young girl. “Your Miss Cassie’s return is what we all hope and pray for, Franklin. Mr. Aldrich and I think of her often, wondering whatever became of the poor thing.”

  “She’s out there somewhere, biding her time until the right opportunity arises for her return.” The man spoke with confidence and, not for the first time, Marla wondered if he knew more about Cassandra Greyson than he let on.

  No, she quickly dismissed the idea. It wasn’t possible. There was no way a simple cook and an aging butler could accomplish what she and Leon Aldrich had been unable to do. For three years, they’d sifted through reports, followed up on leads, and hired private investigators in an effort to find the missing young heiress. If all their experts couldn’t find Cassandra Greyson, then the old man wouldn’t have been able to either.

  Nodding at Franklin, she left the library and exited the house. It was a sunny day and she paused on the front step, squinting at the brightness and making a show of donning a pair of fashionable sunglasses.

  While she was at it, she slyly scanned the area around the home, even sniffing the air surreptitiously. She played the various scents through her mind, finally focusing on one. Damn! A werewolf had been in the area again. Not recently, but still it gave her human half cause for concern. The wolf within her pricked up its ears in interest, but she ignored it. Absentmindedly rubbing her side, where an old injury still twinged on occasion, she moved briskly to the waiting limousine.

  As the door shut behind her, Marla breathed a sigh of relief; the thought of encountering one of her own kind made her edgy. The chauffeur-driven car was reinforced to withstand an assault and not for the first time, did she thank her employer, Leon Aldrich, for his paranoia.

  For some reason, which he never explained to her, the man was obsessed with his personal safety, sure it was only a matter of time before an attack was launched against him. Exactly what the nature of the attack might be, he didn’t say, but his paranoia resulted in personal guards, alarms around his penthouse, security cameras, and a ridiculously intense screening process for anyone he came in contact with.

  “Where to, Ms. Matthews?” Jeffries, the chauffeur, looked back at her through the rear-view mirror.

  “Back to the penthouse. I’ll complete my other errands tomorrow.” She barely met his gaze before staring out the window, searching
the massive gardens and the woods beyond for any sign of movement. Conflicted feelings stirred within her as she considered what it would be like to encounter a wolf again after all these years. The idea excited the animal inside her, but she paid the silly creature no mind. Life in a wolf pack was no bed of roses, despite what the creature might say...

  Jeffries cleared his throat as if to speak, drawing her attention back to him. He looked disappointed and it brought her mind back to another matter; a more personal one just between the two of them.

  “I’m sorry, Jeffries. I’m no longer in the mood this afternoon.”

  He pouted briefly and she sighed. The chauffeur was good-looking, in a boy-toy sort of way. His white blond hair, perfect features, and well-toned body were drool worthy but he was a bit more high maintenance than she preferred. Still, he was a relatively good lover and always available when she needed him, so some pandering was warranted. Leaning forward, she reached over the seat and stroked his jaw. He hummed in appreciation, leaning back towards her. She whispered in his ear. “Perhaps tomorrow? By the Jacuzzi?”

  A slow grin revealed perfect teeth and his baby blue eyes heated with obvious lust. “Sure. Whenever you need me.”

  “Anticipation sweetens the real thing.” She tickled his ear before leaning back, the soft leather seats moulding around her body. Jeffries shifted in his own seat before starting the vehicle, but by then Marla had lost interest in him and barely noted the action.

  The constant presence of werewolves was unnerving her. When she’d first come to this area, she rarely scented one, but in the past few years, there always seemed to be some about. She was almost certain they weren’t aware of her presence. Aldrich’s screen of security ensured people were kept at a distance and she was employing an old trick to mask her scent; a rare perfume that she’d perfected years ago which allowed her to remain undetected by the keen noses of other Lycans.

  Yet despite reassuring herself that it was all a coincidence, a niggle of doubt remained. A falling out with her old pack had made her a fugitive and she didn’t doubt for a minute that they would kill her, if she was ever found. The question was, had they somehow discovered she was here and sent assassins to deal with her?