Haze of Heat (3 page)

Katie sighed and shook her head. “The ghost of Cort strikes again.” With a conspiratorial wink at Rachel, Katie came from behind the counter.

As she passed, Maddie bounced on her hip and lifted her head high, lips pursed. Melinda chuckled and kissed the little girl. “There’s a sweetheart. Go see what grammy Annie’s doing in the kitchen.”

Maddie clapped her hands and mother and daughter set off to parts unknown to Rachel.

“Right back here.” Behind the counter, Melinda placed her thumb on a small screen next to the door until Rachel heard a soft snick. The high-tech lock was a surprise, but Rachel’s mild bemusement morphed into jaw-dropping shock when she stepped into the office.

Triplets to the single window in the reception area let in plenty of light to illuminate the room so that, once again, the overhead cans were unnecessary. In front of her, across from the door and at the far wall, was a large, battered metal desk. A computer monitor sat on top of it, as did a short stack of manila file folders. Several four-drawer filing cabinets and a deep bookshelf filled with opaque bins flanked the desk, while two comfy-looking, albeit a little beat-up, leather chairs resided in front of it. Three folding tables ran under the two windows, covered in neat piles of paper, envelopes, and a roll of stamps at one end and two opened cardboard boxes at the other.

Not out of the ordinary in an office, and not the reason for Rachel’s fly-catching expression. That was reserved for what lay on the right side of the room.

A long, white counter ran the length of the back wall, its smooth top host to numerous computer-like metal boxes, their low continuous humming telling Rachel they were on and working. Some of the boxes had rows of flashing green and red lights; others only had one green light or two red lights.

Above the counter, and what arrested her attention in the first place, hung a dozen large flat-screen panels. The screens directly in front of her were divided in four, each section showing, in brilliant clarity, exterior portions of the property.

Melinda remained quiet, silently watching Rachel as she slowly walked the length of the counter, staring up at the multitude of screens and the various scenes they reflected. Amazed, Rachel finally turned to face Melinda. The best she could come up with was, “Wow.”

Melinda’s lips twitched. “Not exactly my first response when Andreas and the boys insisted on setting up security here, but I’m getting used to it.” As she headed toward Rachel, she provided an accounting of each panel. “These screens are for the cameras located on the perimeter of the grounds. These are for the ones in the reserve. Those two show the actual orchards, the crop shop, and the barn, and the last two are for the grounds immediately outside the house, including all exterior doors.”

Rachel rocked back on her heels. “That’s some security.”

Melinda gave a laugh that could have been amusement or exasperation. “That’s just the visuals. This,” she touched one of the boxes with only a few blinking lights, “keeps a record of the various thumb scanners on the property, when they were used and by whom. This one is for the reserve fencing and notifies us if it’s been cut and where.” She continued down the row, touching each box as she spoke. “This one is also attached to the reserve fencing, but has to do with weight. If more than ten pounds of pressure is placed anywhere on the fence line, we’re notified.”

Rachel tilted her head. “So you’ll know if someone is trying to climb the fence?”

“Exactly.” Melinda nodded and explained the reasoning behind that particular security measure. “We had some problems with poachers and squatters in the reserve, and then treasure-hunters started poking around. Things escalated in December when an underground cavern was located by my oldest son, Santos, and his wife, Ria. Long story short, one of our staff went to jail and my men decided to beef up security.”

Rachel looked from Melinda back to the screens. “Only thing missing is armed guards.” She murmured with no little wonder.

“Only because that would be redundant. Now, why don’t you come sit over here and tell me what’s troubling you?”

Chapter Three

Despite having sat for hours, Rachel let herself be led to one of the leather chairs and sank into the supple warmth in restless gratitude. Though she’d rehearsed her request for sanctuary both mentally and verbally, now, actually sitting across from Melinda, she had no idea where to start.

Give her a computer and keyboard and she could weave a splendid scenario with her spirited heroine with no problem. However, when it came to herself, reality, and an unknown outcome, she totally balked.

“Katie told me you have a ghost?” It wasn’t denial, Rachel told herself, but simply feeling out the other party.

And if she believed that, she had a bridge in San Francisco she could sell herself.

From Melinda’s slow blink, Rachel figured the older woman knew a lurking ghost wasn’t the problem, but thankfully Melinda went with the topic. “Possibly. We’ve had a few odd things happen the last several months. While I never believed in ghosts before, I’m willing to keep an open mind.”

An open mind was good. Hopefully she would continue to have one when Rachel finally located her missing courage. “So you don’t think it’s a ghost opening doors and relocating items in the house?”

Melinda shrugged. “It could just as easily be Porter playing with us. He’s the baby. Well, by two minutes since he and Del are twins. He’s also the least serious of all of my sons.”

Porter
. Just the mention of his name made her cat purr.

Rachel scowled.
What is wrong with you?

Porter. Want.

The sensual sensation of soft fur whispered over her bare skin.
Knock it off!

Curling fingers around the purse strap that lay in her lap, Rachel focused all her attention on the woman she’d traveled more than a thousand miles to see and ignored the feline prowling in her head. “But didn’t something happen with his horses?”

“There was a one-time event, yes.” One hand rose gracefully in the air. “Just because Porter’s the least serious doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible, or that none of my other boys are incapable of pulling their own prank.” Melinda’s lips curved. “They are brothers, after all.”

As an only child, Rachel had no comparison and could only surmise that brothers enjoyed messing with each other. Even into adulthood. “So there is no ghost of Cort Fylin?”

Another elegant lift of Melinda’s shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s not possible, just that I can’t confirm or deny. And,” her head cocked a fraction, “the likelihood of a ghost floating about isn’t what put the weary concern in your eyes, honey. Why don’t you tell me what’s causing you to lose sleep?”

Rachel rolled in her lips and ran her tongue over the seam, moistening them in a nervous gesture. “I’m a writer.”

This time Melinda’s face creased in a wide smile of pleasure and pride. “I know. Historical romance. The wealthy Reed and Evangeline Sterling. A delightfully loving married couple who solve mysterious in their spare time. Sort of a
Hart to Hart
of the Victorian Age. With extra spice.”

Rachel felt heat rush to her cheeks. “You’ve read them?”

“Yes, and enjoyed them. Very much.”

Despite the happy glow it gave her, that Melinda somehow knew Rachel wrote those stories was worrisome. “How did you know? I write under a different name.” The answer to which might shed some light on how her stalker figured out who she was.

“Well.” Melinda set an elbow on the arm of her chair and touched the small gold hoop earring in her left lobe. “It’s Rome. My second son. All my boys, and my husband, of course, are protective, but Rome takes it to the next level. Since he’s come home, he’s taken over the security of the Orchards. That includes investigating anyone who stays. It just happened I read your stories before I knew you were the author.”

Investigated? “He runs background checks on the guests?”

Melinda recrossed her slender legs. “It’s not common knowledge and probably isn’t legal, but that won’t stop him. He can be a bit overbearing. All my boys can. They get it naturally from their father. But what do you expect from alpha jaguar shifters?”

She said it with such nonchalance that it took Rachel a second to comprehend the freshly illuminated elephant in the room. “Uh.” Such snappy repertoire. Her editor would be proud.

“Is that was this was all about?” Melinda leaned forward, arms draped casually over her legs. “Honey, I’ve known Bethany, you, and your grandfather are all shifters since your aunt’s wedding years ago. Andreas told me. Since shifters can scent each other, you would know that my husband and sons are as well. I dislike secrets, which is why everyone at the Orchards knows exactly who and what the Felix men are. However, I also value the ability to maintain a secret, especially when it comes to the safety of my family. For that very reason only those we can trust with our lives continue to work here. Does that help put you at ease?”

Not if Melinda kicked Rachel out after her petition. “I have a...problem. A stalker. The police suggested I take a vacation while they wait for DNA testing. My grandfather’s pack won’t help unless I mate with the alpha’s son, who’s not even old enough to legally drink. But thankfully Brody felt the same and slipped me a list of packs he thought might provide sanctuary until the coast was clear. Your name was on that list.”

Melinda’s face was carefully blank. “I see.” A frown slowly broke through. “DNA testing?”

Rachel shuddered. “He broke into my home when I wasn’t there.”

“How awful.” Now the other woman’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure it’s a stalker and not a random act?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Melinda touched a comforting hand to Rachel’s knee. “Tell me everything.”

Oh, joy. However, as Rachel needed to hide away for an undetermined length of time in Melinda’s home, the woman had a right to know. “It started off innocently enough as a letter from a fan who enjoyed my story. My publisher forwarded it on to me with some other documents. Of course I was thrilled to receive it, though I did think it odd that it was from a male. At any rate, there was no return address so I scanned it and saved it. The following month I received another letter from the same man, praising my second book. But the next letter...” Rachel paused, shifting in the chair as the memory surfaced. “It was darker. Worded in a way that could be construed as sexually suggestive.”

“Did you go to the police then?”

“No.” Rachel briefly looked out the window behind Melinda. “Jan, my publisher, said it wasn’t a big deal. She’s seen this kind of thing happen to several of her writers. In fact, her brother, who works with her and also has a hotel review blog, has been the recipient of a few nasty letters because someone didn’t agree with a review.” A shrug of her shoulders. “Anyway, Jan told me to ignore it and Larry, that’s the guy writing me, would soon lose interest.”

“But he didn’t.” Not a question.

“No, he didn’t.” Rachel tucked one foot under the other, her eyes falling away to stare at her hands. “They started to become more intimate and fantastical each time. By the sixth letter, Larry fully believed he was the reincarnation of Reed Sterling and that I was really Evangeline, sharing our true life adventures in a bid to seek out my husband so that we could be together again.” Rachel dragged her gaze back to Melinda. “Wacked, huh?”

Melinda’s lashes briefly hid her eyes. “That’s one word for it.”

Rachel fisted her hands. “Yes, well, it all came to a head a week ago Saturday.”

“I’m listening.” Melinda encouraged softly when Rachel pressed her lips tight.

“About once a month our entire family gets together for brunch at our grandparents’ house.” Rachel twisted her fingers through the strap of her purse. “When I got home there was a strange scent in the apartment. I thought at first I was being overly sensitive to my neighbors, but then I entered my bedroom.” Her hands clenched. “I’m not the tidiest person in the world, but I don’t leave my bedding rumpled. Someone had broken into my home and used my bed. And not for sleeping.”

Rachel peeked up to see Melinda mouth shape into a moue of distaste. “Oh.”

“My intruder not only left several deposits, he also left a note, telling me he loved me and that we would be together again soon. He signed it, ‘your forever Reed’. The same way Larry had signed his last letter to me.”

Melinda sat back in her chair. “That’s when you finally contacted the police?”

Rachel’s head dipped in a slow nod. “I’d started to keep the physical letters after the third one, just in case, so the police confiscated those and the note, and anything else that might have prints or DNA. But results could take weeks. And if he’s never been fingerprinted or had his DNA taken for any reason, it won’t do much. Until they catch him.”

“And nobody in your apartment complex saw anything out of the ordinary?”

Rachel blew out her cheeks. “A man in a plumber’s uniform outside my front door. I had no need of a plumber.”

A sardonic lift of Melinda’s perfect brow. “I would have expected a man who thought he was the reincarnation of a fictional character to be more inventive.”

The droll comment made Rachel smile. “I never thought of it that way.”

“It was the least derogatory thing I could voice. Please, go on.”

Feeling the tension in her muscles smooth under the other woman’s serene countenance, Rachel did. “I stayed with my parents the first night, then thought if Larry could find my apartment, he might be able to find my parents’ place. The next day I bought a new mattress and went home, except all I did was jump at every sound. I checked into a local hotel, thinking I’d be able to get some sleep since I wasn’t home. But late the second night a vase with three roses was delivered to my door. One red, one white, and one pink.”

Melinda’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what Reed gives Evangeline.”

It pissed Rachel off to no end that some asshole had taken something sweet and romantic and turned it into something vile. “For the passion, purity of love, and happiness she brought to his life.”

“A beautiful sentiment, soiled by a psycho who found out where you were staying.”

Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “He must have followed me and I never noticed.”

Whatever was going on in Melinda’s mind made her head cock slightly in thought. “A possibility. Is that when you went to your grandfather’s pack for help?”

Rachel nodded. “Grandpa actually suggested it. He went with me to his alpha’s house and things went downhill from there. Despite his age, Grandpa’s low on the totem pole and beta material to boot. It was also crystal clear that the current alpha holds a grudge against Bethany for, what he considers, turning her back on the pack and marrying a human. Since I’m a shifter and related to a current member, the alpha couldn’t turn me down flat. Instead he placed a condition on his assistance he had to know I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Jackass.”

A shocked snort of laughter spilled free at the calm assessment, along with the remaining greasy, coil of nerves in Rachel’s gut. “That’s what my grandfather called him. After we’d left, of course.”

“Of course. Now if I understood you correctly, the alpha’s son was the one who told you about us?”

Another sharp nod. “Brody was in the meeting as well and I’m pretty sure the horror on his face at the conditional assistance mirrored my own. But the kid is sneaky, at least when it comes to getting around his father. He asked his dad for some privacy for the two of us, to see if we’re ‘compatible’. That’s when he told me thanks but no thanks and wrote the name of three packs I’d have better luck with.”

Melinda tucked a fist under her chin. “I wonder how he heard of us. Our pack is really only made up of family, and a few lones we adopted. Somewhat unusual, but not shockingly so. There’s actually two larger, non-familial, well-led packs in Florida alone. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But I do wonder why this Brody knew us.”

Rachel shrugged. “I have no idea. Besides you, he listed a leopard pack in Texas and a wolf pack in Colorado.”

Melinda’s eyes widened, then she started to laugh. “Rome.”

Rome? As in her second son? The security Nazi? “Pardon?”

“Hold on a minute.” Melinda slipped out her cell phone and when whoever she dialed answered, simply said, “I need you in my office right away.” She slid the device back in the front pocket of her summer blue pants. “Brody didn’t steer you wrong, honey. You can stay as long as you need to.”

“But,” Rachel stuttered, “the baby. I don’t want...”

Melinda looked pointedly past Rachel’s head to the wall behind her, making Rachel swivel to view the rows of screens once again. “Katie thinks it’s safe enough, and that’s all I can say on that subject as it’s not my story to tell. Just know you’ve come to the right place.” Rachel turned back in time to see Melinda’s lips curl in a cryptic smile. “Damsels in distress have become our specialty.”

Rachel didn’t know what to make of that odd comment. She didn’t have time to ponder it as a perfunctory knock sounded on the closed office door before it was thrown open. “You rang?”

The man who stood in the threshold was worth a second, and even third, look. Tall, dark, and handsome, he resembled Porter so much there was no mistaking he was a sibling. His chest rose with a deep inhalation, no doubt taking in her scent. The lack of surprise that she was a shifter only reminded Rachel that the man had run a background check on her before she even stepped foot on the property. Depending on how in depth his investigation was, he might very well know everything about her, including what type of underwear she preferred.

That very possibility made her squirm in her seat.

“Rome, this is Rachel Laversse, the niece of a dear friend. Rachel, my second eldest son, Rome.”

Rome’s lips curved in a brilliant smile. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

No denying the man was a sexy hunk of male goodness, but there wasn’t the same flash of heat or acute sense of physical awareness she’d experienced with Porter.

She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

“Nice to meet you.” When Rome reached out and clasped her hand, Rachel’s cat merely yawned, making Rachel nearly sputter with laughter. Because, in the simple way of the animal kingdom, that kind of response was nothing but an insult to an alpha male shifter. Yes, Rachel had felt that quick and purposeful spurt of power when Rome entered the room, as had her feline, but for whatever reason, her girl wasn’t the least impressed.

“Rome,” Melinda said, looking at Rachel, “do you still correspond with your pen pal?”

“Sure.” Rome looked from his mother to Rachel, bewilderment creasing his face. “Started back when I was in the military. A group of school kids sending thank-you letters. It was great. I actually got the chance to meet Brody some five years or so ago. Why?”Rachel was flabbergasted.

“Brody?”

One hefty and masculine shoulder lifted. “Brody Hensen. From North Carolina.”

Rachel turned her shocked gaze to Melinda, who only murmured, “Small world.”

“You know Brody? Is he all right?” There was no reason for Rome to assume Rachel knew Brody, not when the Greenleaf pack and her home were over two hundred miles apart.

“Brody seems just fine,” Melinda responded for Rachel, who was still coming to grips with the fact that the naive, twenty-year-old kid she met back home knew the man standing over her like an avenging warrior. “And evidently taking whatever you told him to heart. He sent Rachel to us.”

Pure granite replaced mild curiosity, turning those dark eyes flat as they scanned Rachel from head to toe. “You in trouble?”

Since Rachel had yet to find her voice, it was up to Melinda to summarize the events that led Rachel to their door.

By the time Melinda was finished, Rome’s eyes had narrowed into twin points of swirling brown. “Bastard probably put a tracker on your car. I’ll get Porter and we’ll check it out.”