God, this is a nightmare. I don’t even know how to keep my son safe. How to make him stay in the house all night. Whether he’ll come home covered in animal blood. Or worse–not come home at all.
There are hunters out there who might shoot a wolf for sport. For a trophy head.
I shudder.
I throw open the door. Geo is striding down the driveway.
“Geoffrey, come back here.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps without turning around. “That’s not my name.”
“Don't talk to your mother like that,” a deep voice rumbles, and both Geo and I turn towards the interruption.
A motorcycle’s parked fifty feet away, on the other end of the quiet cul-de-sac. If it was there a few minutes ago, I didn’t notice it. Beside the bike slouches a tall man in baggy sweatpants and a brown leather jacket. He crosses the cul-de-sac and heads up our drive. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud. The light hits his blond, buzz cut hair, and for a second, he looks so like my late husband, it takes my breath away. Then he angles his head and a dimple appears on either cheek. “Hey, Julia.”
Geo’s gone tense at my side. “Who are you?” He steps in front me protectively, even though he’s only an inch taller than I am. “How do you know my mom?”
“It’s okay, Geo.” I put a hand on my son’s vibrating arm. “I know him. This is your Uncle Channing.”
Chapter Three
Julia
“I don’t have an uncle,” Geo says.
“Geo.” Channing's voice is deeper than I remember. “It’s been a few years.”
“Ten.” I can’t keep the tightness out of my voice, and Geo tenses again. A low growl rumbles in his throat. Not a human growl.
That’s his wolf.
I’m suddenly flooded with memories of his father’s growl that surfaced any time Geoffrey thought I was in danger.
Oh my God. I need to stay calm, so Geo does too. If he thinks Channing’s a threat, there’s no telling what he’ll do.
“It’s been ten years since we’ve seen you,” I say to Channing, proud of how I keep my voice level.
Where have you been?
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I sent money.”
Unbelievable. “All those envelopes were from you?”
He nods.
“Okay.” I pin him with a look that says I’ll deal with you later.
Channing’s green eyes sparkle in the morning light. He’s taller than I remember, his shoulders broader. Or maybe it’s how he’s holding himself. His easy posture can’t hide the powerful muscles under his motorcycle jacket. He’s filled out since he was nineteen, which seems surprising because he was already built of honed muscle then.
He’s wearing a brown leather bomber and nothing else. No shirt. The jacket’s unzipped, giving me a clear view of his sculpted pectoral muscles, his spectacularly ripped abs. He’s got more than a six pack hiding under his unfortunate outfit.
Not that I’m looking. That would be weird.
I tear my eyes away. “Geo, you’ve got to go. You’ll miss the bus.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone with him,” Geo says.
“He’s fine,” I say to Geo at the same time Channing hitches a thumb behind him, making his jacket flap open further, revealing a toned, taut chest that would make a model jealous. “Ever been on a motorcycle? I can give you a ride—”
“Absolutely not,” I snap. I know my son has exceptional healing abilities, but I also know motorcycles are death-rides. I also know shifters aren’t as indestructible as they believe. I learned that in the worst possible way.
Geo squints at the bike, studying it.
“You sure?” Channing grins, flashing his deep dimples. “It’d be a chance for us to get to know each other.”
“No.” I draw myself up to my full height, which is about a foot shorter than Channing. “No motorcycles.”
Channing’s grin falls away. He regards me, looking thoughtful. I’ve never seen him look so serious. So grown up. “All right. Geo, you heard your mom. Time to get to school.”
I grit my teeth. How dare you tell my kid what to do? I press down my indignation so Geo doesn’t pick it up in my posture and my scent.
Geo doesn’t think anything of it. He shrugs on his backpack and heads down the drive. I wait until my son’s out of sight and put my hands on my hips. Channing’s still watching Geo, his expression distant.
His face is harder than I remember, honed to perfection. He’s still got the dimples–he shows them off when he’s turning on the charm. His ears used to stick out, looking too big for his head. Not anymore. Not even with his buzz cut. He’s got the body and bone structure of a movie star.
Not that I think he’s attractive. He’s way too young for me. And he’s my brother-in-law. I’m just noticing the differences.
As soon as Geo’s out of earshot, I clear my throat to get his attention. “It’s not your place to give Geo directives. You can’t show up after ten years and pretend you have a role in his life.”
“I apologize.” The sharp green gaze lands on my face. There’s something oddly intimate about the way he studies me. It’s disconcerting.
I summon my anger. “What are you doing here?”
Whenever Channing did something dumb or got in trouble, he used to cock his head to the side and put on an aw shucks expression. A get-out-of-jail free card that worked on everyone but his older brother.
He does an improved version of this move, tilting his head, so his stunning eyes flash and pair with a hint of dimple. “I can’t visit my favorite nephew?”
I steel myself against his charm. “He’s your only nephew. Not like you care.”
The dimples fall away. “Of course I care, Julia.” I’m surprised at how genuinely hurt he seems by my remark.
“Really?” I cross my arms over my chest and raise my brows. “Then where have you been? Are you even still in the military?”
“Here and there. Everywhere.” He shrugs. “I left the military a few years ago for private security work. I sent you a text.”
“From a burner phone. In case of emergencies, you said. As if that was enough explanation.”
God, I wonder if he’s into something illegal? Followed in his dead-beat dad’s footsteps. He got himself into a lot of trouble as a teen, which is why Geoffrey had him move to Arizona with us when he was seventeen, rather than stay in Kentucky with their dad’s pack. Those wolves were trouble.
Even when he was with us, he was never home. He ran wild–out all night. Racing motorbikes. Then cars. And he was a ladies’ man from a young age.
He lifts those muscled shoulders in a casual shrug, like his activities of the past ten years don’t matter. He was never the responsible one in the family. Geoffrey was.
Channing’s gaze narrows on my hands. “Why do you smell like rabbit blood?”
I glance down at my silk blouse, checking for stains. Nothing. The scent from Geo’s kill must be on my hands. Shifters have a powerful sense of smell.
“It’s nothing,” I say.