Cross

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C
ross del Cruz
is a former Compliance Enforcer with the Shifter Council. He did his duty. He enforced the Council’s will around the country and even out of the country. Stress the word former, because all he wants now is to be left alone. He’s been living in his cabin on Bear Canyon Mountain Range, overlooking Bear Canyon Valley and enjoying the solitude of the forest. The quiet. The simplicity. The drama free environment that doesn’t involve other shifters. Not even family.

Except now Mae Forester, who has dubbed him as one of her “nephews” has decided she needs his help. He can’t turn Mae down, not when she gave him and his brothers a home during the worst days of their lives.

He didn’t expect Ariadne Fueller. Who could ever expect that curvy spitfire. She flipped his world upside down.

Before meeting her, Cross never

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v. 2

C
ross del Cruz
scratched at his jawline, the bearded growth there made a sound like dried grass being crunched. The beard, not really a beard, such as it was. No mountain man beard for this former Compliance Enforcer of the Shifters Supreme Council. He shaved every so often, then in between, let it grow into a scruffiness that irritated the piss out of him.

He was almost at the top of the mountain. Crag’s Peak, one of the three peaks of the sister mountains that composed the Bear Canyon Mountain Range.

His peak.

His forest.

His mountain.

He’d never stopped thinking of it as his, from the moment he’d laid eyes on the peak from far down below, scouting with his brothers.

And it was his.

Not far from the top, almost at Crag’s Peak, Cross stood next to a pine tree, not completely hidden by the trunk—blame his wide shoulders, a legacy of the del Cruz men, judging by his brothers’ and his own shoulders. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and studied the little fawn that lay in a bed of leaves, pine needles, and soft dirt. The fawn wasn’t resting, not at all. Its tiny hoof was caught in the roots of an upturned tree.

Every few moments, the slight, rust-colored creature would stir, flail, bleat. From a few yards away, its mother watched with a wary eye.

Probably hoping that it will shut up before it attracts any predators.

Predators.

Like me.

Except Cross didn’t consider himself a predator. He may be a grizzly shifter, but he didn’t prey on injured, trapped, baby deer.

Then again, Cross didn’t intend to leave the fawn alone and vulnerable. No, he had a plan. Step one was to make sure there weren’t any predators in the immediate vicinity. The tiny creature’s cries and thrashing could easily attract wolves or bears.

A moment longer. Still no signs of predators.

Not that a bear or a wolf worried a grizzly shifter like Cross.

Hell, no.

More like, Cross figured, the little fawn would probably die of heart failure if Cross had to shift and battle a predator in front of the baby deer. For sure, it would croak from fear.

Cross stepped out from behind the tree. The brown mama deer’s ears twitched. Her eyes widened with fear. A shudder made her skin quiver, but she didn’t raise a hoof, neither fleeing, nor approaching.

Could she smell the grizzly in him? He used hunter’s block to keep other shifters from scenting him, but would it keep his scent from the deer? It was bad enough she’d smell the human in him. That was probably alarming.

The little one released a yelp followed by more floundering when it saw Cross.

He gazed at it, staring into the dark eyes, trying to reassure the baby he meant it no harm.

Yeah, like I’m some fucking deer whisperer.

In Cross’s head, his bear growled.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Bears don’t save deer.

Cross and his bear didn’t always agree on matters.

Fact is, his teen years were hell with his bear. But that was then.

And yet, even though in the presence of a bear shifter, the baby hushed and lay perfectly still. Cross made his way with stealth, wary of unwanted intruders. He knelt next to the little one, placed one hand on its quivering torso to stabilize it, and freed the large knuckle that was trapped between two roots that were yielding enough to capture the hoof, but not to release it.

With the baby’s leg freed, he took his hand off the soft fur, fingertips dragging across slowly, relishing the suppleness. Rising to his feet, Cross backed away.

The fawn leapt up, gave one false start that made Cross hold his breath and say a tiny prayer.

Then, just like that, it took off like a shot, joining its mama, with one last backward glance at the grizzly shifter who’d saved him.

A smile made its way to Cross’s face. A rarity for him. Not that he didn’t like smiling, but he tended to be on the intense side.

He’d traveled fairly deep into the mountains of Bear Canyon Mountain Range, seeking Crag’s Peak. Every so often, he made the trek. Not just for the majestic beauty of the view of the mountain range and Bear Canyon Valley down below, but because that was the place he’d set up the antenna, capturing signal. The same signal that traveled through underground wiring and fed his equipment with the information the digital age offered.

Just because I live in a remote area, doesn’t mean I can afford to be out of touch. Especially not a man who’d been in his line of work. Once an Enforcer, always an Enforcer.

So he trekked to Crag’s Peak every few days, or couple weeks, to double-check everything.

Not that he minded the view.

Lies.

He loved the view. He’d loved it since he was a teen and would leave his foster mother’s home to climb to this peak. He’d leave for days on end, living off the land, scaring the shit out of Mae Forester, his foster mother. Sometimes he’d take his brothers with him, sometimes he’d slip out just to be left alone.

His brothers got it. Both Lance and Judge had each claimed one of the other peaks as their own. Each had set up a cabin on the mountain they’d claimed. Each had purchased the land around them. Three brothers, orphaned, given a home by Mae, the widow of Brad Forester.

The del Cruz brothers were too old to need a mother, but not too old to need the influence of an older woman to guide them and temper their decisions. Mae Forester had been good to them, until one by one, all three boys had taken the same path, joining the Compliance Division of the Shifter Supreme Council as Enforcers.

Cross hadn’t kept up with Mae like he should have—guilt ate at him for that. He’d get an occasional email from her, and once in a while she’d leave a message on his voicemail. He’d been a teen when he’d moved in with her, and he’d been just out of his teens when he left her home to train as an Enforcer.

His time at Mae’s had been his happiest. He’d been close to his brothers back then, much closer than he was now. He’d even been close to Fiona, a falcon shifter Mae had given a home.

He climbed the last few feet and stood on the large boulder. His acute shifter sight allowed him to view the area below him with the sharpness of an eagle. Nothing was amiss on his mountain. It was still isolated, still uninhabited, still a haven from the world.

A lonely haven.

Mae’s words from long ago echoed in his mind. “You can’t lock yourself away from the world,” she’d said. “Cross, you need to live.”

“You’re one to speak, Aunt Mae. You have no one in your life.”

“I have you. Your brothers. Fiona. And countless others.” Her smile had been sad. He knew she missed Brad. Shifters mated for life. She wasn’t a shifter, but once she’d couplebonded with Brad, that had sealed their love in a vacuum that was eternal.

And still, he’d always wished she’d found someone. Found some happiness.

I should pay her a visit.

He hadn’t told Mae he was back at Bear Canyon.

She probably thinks I’m still an Enforcer.

A
riadne Fueller tapped
the brake pedal, and avoided looking into the rearview mirror. She’d see her own swollen eyes, bloodshot from crying for days on end. She wrapped her fingers around the old locket on her neck, seeking comfort she wouldn’t find. This was not the time for sentimentality.

So this is Bear Canyon Valley.

What the hell was Fiona thinking, sending her here? Ariadne and Fiona had been close once, during college. As close as sisters. Fiona had shared with Ariadne that she’d been adopted by Mae Forester when she was very little, and that she grew up in a quiet little place called Bear Canyon Valley.

Then Fiona had gone into some sort of law enforcement after college, and Ariadne had gone a completely different direction.

And then, when Ariadne had no one to turn to, no access to her accounts, credit cards property, she’d reached out to the only person who wasn’t connected to her current life.

Fiona.

Who also happened to be the only person she could trust.

It was as if all that time and all their differences vanished.

Fiona jumped into action, made sure she had funds, and told her to go to Forester Cuts in Bear Canyon Valley.

“Talk to Mae,” Fiona said. “She knows what to do.”

“But…” Ariadne hadn’t even told Fiona the situation, not really.

“Listen, just go see Mae. She fixes things. And people.”

I’m not broken,
Ariadne had wanted to tell Fiona. But she knew that wasn’t completely true.

She glanced at the handwritten note scratched out on the back of a diner’s receipt.

The note read:

Mae Forester

Forester Cuts

1456 Elm Street

Bear Canyon Valley

M
oments later
, looking at the numbers over a door, Ariadne realized she had passed Mae’s beauty salon, Forester Cuts. She examined the sidewalk in front of the beauty shop. Nothing special, the street was empty, no guys waiting for her. No one anticipating her next move and ready with a silenced Glock.

A sigh of relief exited her lungs in a whoosh. Her stomach released the knots it held hostage.

She pulled into the parking lot on the side and studied the sign blowing in the wind on the desolate street. Fiona used to tell her stories about how they rolled up the sidewalks early in Bear Canyon.

Guess it was true.

She fidgeted. Looked at the note. Mae Forester. She looked back up at the sign.

Quit stalling,
she told herself.

She opened the door. A blast cool of air greeted her.

She went to close it again, but only got half way. The door was blocked. She looked up at the source.

A tall man, wide chest, broad shoulders, and large hands held the door. “Can I help you miss?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She glanced at his hand pointedly, hoping he’d take a hint, and let go of the door. She was ready to bolt.

“You’ve been going back and forth about going into Forester Cuts.”

Was he watching me? Who is he?

Fear’s fingers traveled across Ariadne’s spine. The flash drive tucked safely into the front pocket of her jeans felt like it was burning a hole straight through to her skin.

She was sure the man thought his smile was supposed to put her at ease. Right now, she didn’t think anything could do that.

He continued to talk. “My mate—wife works there.” He stuck a hand out. “Grant Waters. Chelsea—my wife—cuts hair for Mae.”

“Mae Forester?” She stepped out of her car, shook his hand, making sure she didn’t say her name.

God, that’s all I need, for someone to know who I am.

“That’s right. You need Mae?” He made a silent, curious assessment.

“I’m supposed to see her.”

“Come on.” He indicated for Ariadne to precede him toward the front door.

With a backward glance at her car, wishing she’d not been put in this spot, Ariadne reluctantly followed him.

Grant Waters opened the door to the salon, and indicated for Ariadne to go in first. A blonde flew out of the back, a little less curvy than Ariadne. She bypassed Ariadne and flung herself into Grant’s open embrace.

“Ready?” The blonde had a purse in one hand and her coat in the other. Then as if realizing just at that moment that Ariadne was there, she looked her up and down. “Hi.” A look of concern slipped over her features before she hid it with a smile. “You have an appointment?”

Grant laughed. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of time to make it to our reservations. She’s not here for a haircut though. She’s here to see Mae.”

“I’m Chelsea.” The blonde glanced at Grant. “Chelsea Waters.” She smiled sheepishly. “Still getting used to that.”

“Newlyweds?” Ariadne asked, trying to be polite.

“You could say that.” Grant held Chelsea’s coat for her.

Chelsea slipped her arms in. “Mae’s in the back. I’ll go get her.” She buttoned her top button, kissed Grant, and turned around.

“It’s okay.” Ariadne moved to intercept her. “You two have reservations. I’ll go get her.”

Plus, the less eyes and ears around, the better.

“You sure?” Chelsea stopped midstride.

“Absolutely.” Ariadne took several paces toward the back, as if it was totally normal for her to be doing this, as if she’d been there before.

She glanced back at the couple near the door, looking at each other, then back at Ariadne. “Enjoy dinner.” She made shooing motions.

The door closed behind them as she pulled the door to the backroom open.

An attractive, dark-skinned brunette looked up from the towels she was taking out of a dryer. She cocked her head.

It seemed her eyes flashed an indigo color for a second.

I’m clearly sleep deprived.

“Mae?”

The brunette nodded. Then her face lit up. “Ariadne?”

Looks like Fiona called. Hope she didn’t tell her too much. Not that Fiona knew everything, anyway.

“I guess Fi called you.”

“She did.” Mae shoved the last towel into the basket. “You don’t look so well.” She laid a comforting hand on Ariadne’s shoulder. “Folding can wait. Let’s get you to Cross.”

“Where’s that?”

“Not where. Who.”

Fine then.
“Who’s that?”

“He’s a… he’s sort of like my nephew.”

“Sort of like your nephew?” Ariadne felt bad for asking questions, particularly since she wasn’t willing to answer any about herself, but how in the hell could someone be a sort of nephew?

“Adopted, more or less.”

Again with the vagueness.

What the hell is more or less adopted?

“And it’s not that I don’t trust you…” Fiona trusted Mae, but it’s not like Ariadne knew her. “…but how is it he can help me?”

What did Fi tell her I need?

“Cross can help almost anyone, with anything.”

Great. A MacGyver sort of guy. He better be packing more than duct tape and paperclips if he’s going to help me.

“I’m not sure this is such a great idea, Mae. I didn’t really tell Fi everything, and I don’t know if it’s fair for you to try to help me when you don’t know what I need.”

“She said that money would be a temporary fix for what you need help with.”

Ariadne nodded. That was true enough. Money would only get her so far. What was that saying: You can run but you can’t hide.

So what could this Cross guy do that could help her?

Probably some geek that can give me a new identity and passport and all that.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.