Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10) (15 page)

“Do you want to invite him in to join us under the covers so we can snuggle and bond and share our feelings?”

He gave a snort at her tart suggestion and tucked in next to her. But he still didn’t relax as his palm massaged her now prominent belly.

“Si, since when do we care about Cale’s problems?”

“Since I made most of them for him. He’s only here because of me, because I asked, and I let him thinks he still owes me.”

“Doesn’t he?”

Silas thought for a moment, answering honestly. “No. Not anymore. We put that behind us in Tahoe.”

Nica slipped her hand over his, clutching it tight. “Then why does him being here upset you so?”

His fingers threaded between hers and squeezed to the point of pain. “Because he reminds me of things I’m trying to forget. Seeing him here, so close to all I’ve rebuilt and love makes me afraid I could lose all of it again.”

Nica rolled onto her side to kiss him softly and look deeply into his troubled gaze. “He’s no threat to what we have.”

“I know, Nica. He just makes me feel so damned guilty.”

She stared, stunned. “They murdered your family. They forced you to live in humility and fear just to survive. What do you have to feel guilty about?”

“I didn’t protect him. He was just a little kid, and I didn’t do anything to protect him.”

She already knew some of it, but not all. About him and Brigit and Kendra with their happy, loving lives, free to express themselves and explore and enjoy while secure in their parents’ support. Charmed lives. And Cale, the scrawny little Terriot cast off, shunned for his small stature, always scrapping to prove himself in a house where strength and self-discipline was all. An always needy stray stealing his family’s affection and his young cousin’s tender heart. Silas resented the hell out of him from day one.

“Be nice to Cale,” his mother would say. “Take Cale with you. Don’t be mean. He has enough of that at home, poor dear.”

How he’d hated doling out that reluctant charity to a soon to be prince in the House of Terriot.

“I tolerated him because my mom was right. I knew the kind of life he had. His brothers were always after him the way a pack goes after the weakest member. His father whipped the living hell out of him for being a disappointment. But he never complained. Not once. All he’d talk about was his brave, mighty king and his wish to be worthy of that crazy tyrant’s praise. He never said they were hurting him or that he was afraid to go home. But I knew they were and that he was. I never did anything about it. I never told my parents. I never invited him to stay where he’d be safe.”

“Silas,” Nica said gently, “what could you have done?”

“Nothing I guess. He was a good kid, Nica, and I kicked him away. Because of Kendra. Because she was head over heels about him and I was terrified he’d pull her into their way of life and away from ours. Because I was jealous and hated what his family stood for. He was a scared kid hiding behind a ton of bull. He looked up to me. I turned my back on him and let them make him into a monster.”

He fell silent, haunted by the sight of the strutty boy with his blackened eyes and pretended confidence walking proudly in his shadow.

Until it was pulled out from under him.

“Maybe I should talk to him in the morning, give him that choice I never did when we were kids.”

Nica rested her head upon his chest. “You’re a good man, Silas MacCreedy.”

“Not so good.”

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t love you.”

By the time they awoke, the rooms were quiet and empty. The shower had been wiped down and wet towel hung to dry. Coffee was made and a single rinsed cup sat in the dishwasher.

Cale was gone and with him, Silas’s chance to make amends.

*

Kendra’s hand stretched out to find empty sheets.

“Cale?”  She looked about. It was still early. Had he already left for work? Her gaze fell upon the door and the lock she’d turned to shut him out.

With a groan, she closed her eyes, feeling dizzy and slightly ill. What had happened between them last night? How had things gotten so out of control so quickly? The things she’d said . . . cruel, punishing things. Her stomach churned. She’d been so angry, so devastated by his thoughtless plan. She’d had to lock the door to separate them, terrified of what they’d say to one another if the argument continued.

Anger and fear had kept her from going to him. Both stirred up her insecurities over the underlying threat of what he hadn’t told her. His reason for being in New Orleans.

She’d curled up in bed, waiting for his temper to wind down, for him to tap on the door and ask for forgiveness. Of course, that’s what he’d do. He’d quickly regret what was carelessly spoken, just as she had.

But he didn’t knock, his pride probably preventing it just as her worries held her helpless. Despite the love and terrific physical connection, they were still almost strangers in their new adult relationship, denied the chance to get to know one another by secrets and dangerous circumstances.

Their first fight. It didn’t mean the honeymoon was over, she told herself, miserable tears tracking her cheeks. It just meant the rest of their life together had begun.

Accepting that didn’t make her rest any easier in a lonely bed, getting patches of sleep while she listened for signs of truce being offered. None came. Finally, ashamed at the thought of him scrunched up in one of the chairs, Kendra padded to the door on bare feet and freed the lock. But instead of finding her mate all achy and grumpy and ready to be forgiven, a shirtless Rico was ushering a hurriedly dressed young woman out the door.

Wasn’t that Colin’s lust interest?

The door closed after a lengthy kiss. Rico turned and saw Kendra still wearing the clothes she’d slept in. 

“Morning,” he offered, curiosity plain.

“Is Cale here?”

A quick glance around. “Guess not. He took off last night just after we—I got in. I didn’t hear him come back.”

“Oh.”

She closed herself back in their room, uneasiness coiling in her already restless stomach. He’d left? With things unsettled between them?

Without a word.

Because that wasn’t like him, she checked her phone and saw a message waiting. The sound of his voice brought relief, his words a sinking panic. For your children. Didn’t he mean our children?

If I’m struck dead tomorrow...

What was he trying to tell her?

That he wasn’t coming back?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It had been one for the “I’m living in Hell” record books.

By the time gossip carried from bus to locker to classroom, everyone in his middle school knew he’d been kicked off the team to make room for a brighter shining star, leaving him lingering on the outer rim again like a disgraced demoted planet in the popularity universe.

Oscar Babineau hated everything about his life.

Practice just got out. His former teammates trickled from the gym, making a wandering path down the sidewalk. Their moms sat in the parking lot waiting to take them home where they’d discuss their day at school with animation and pride at the dinner table. Unlike his trip across the street to the uncomfortable silence of his own.

He waited alone on the outdoor bleachers, basketball in listless hands, backpack between sneakered feet stuffed with the gear he’d cleaned out of his locker. Things he wouldn’t be needing again.

The beefy roar of four brawny motorcycles drew his attention, the same way it did every teenage boy with hormones. Including his ex-teammates.

Ignoring the designated parking area, leather-jacketed riders glided up the far sidewalk and angled next to the fence corralling the outdoor courts. Three huge guys flanking their smaller leader strode across the black top toward where he sat bemoaning his lack of a future. They took off the full-face helmets to reveal toughly handsome features and red-blond hair, the same shade Cale’s had been before he went unexpectedly Goth.

“Hey, little brother!” Cale called out, waving him down to join them. “Meet your uncles Colin, Kip, and Rico. This is our sister’s son, Ozzy.”

Oscar stood somewhat dazed as the three strangers sized him up then greeted him with brutally strong hand clasps and elbow bumps. Was this the surprise Cale promised him?

“Cale tells us you play,” the younger one, Kip, said with a friendly smile. “We haven’t been on a court for ages. How ‘bout you show us what you got?” He smacked the ball from Oscar’s hands to display some impressive dribbling before passing off to Colin who did a behind the back pass to Cale.

Oscar looked to his uncle, brows raised in question. Slowly, Cale offered a wide, wicked smile, nodding toward the kids loitering curiously on the far sidewalk.

“Let’s show them what they’ll be missing.”

Expensive leather jackets were tossed toward the bleachers.Oscar had watched Cale work out at Max’s place and had envied his spectacular arms. But as his brothers stripped down to skin, his jaw dropped. Holy crap, they were ripped!

Rico wore a baggy tank top over equally loose cargo pants, hightops and a backwards ball cap that made him look like that actor all the girls drooled over from the Step Up and Magic Mike films. He moved with an easy, street dancer’s grace, and had that perfect vee from wide shoulders down long torso to a butt that had cheerleaders bumping into each other as they gaped.

Colin whipped off his shirt to showcase thickly muscled shoulders and an eight pack that punched down his middle like motorcross mogals. Tight jeans tucked into hiking boots and reflective sunglasses upon a chiseled face made him look like he’d stepped off a downtown billboard. After school carpool moms started getting out of their vehicles when he twisted and bent in a rippling warmup.

Kip also went shirtless, his flawless tan and long, lean, mean build making the jocks mutter and subconsciously flex. Females, young and old, eyed the form-fitting leather and spandex of his bike pants and sighed over his fresh-faced appeal.

And Cale, in snug dark jeans, half-laced boots, and the same shrink wrap tee shirt he’d worn the night before, was all eye-popping pecs, swelling biceps, and sinister black wraparound sunglasses as he flowed through an abbreviated kata pulsing with power and lethal energy.

Damn, if they didn’t make a traffic stopping spectacle. And, of course, they knew it.

“Red-baby, pick us some tunes.” At Oscar’s puzzled glance, Cale explained, “Rico’s short for Fredrick.”

Rico grinned wide, and Ozzy could swear he heard an estrogen explosion from their audience. “As in Always Ready. And there’s nothing short on me.”

“Especially ego,” Kip razzed.

Flipping his younger brother off, he strode to the bikes, calling back, “Whatcha in the mood for, Big Dog?”

“Something angry,” was Cale’s request.

Rob Zombie came pounding from the bike’s custom sound system, loud, visceral, and wildly inappropriate for a school yard. Which they also knew.

As the four began to loosen up with quick, flashy passes, Oscar found himself as enamored as his fellow students. They were incredible. Impossibly fast, preternaturally in sync with one another’s rhythm. Like watching big powerful cats performing a routine both mesmerizing and potentially deadly, they had that same breath suspending quality.

And they were his uncles!

Always in motion whether moving the ball with fierce, aggressive pumps, swiveling, elbowing, dodging their way to the basket, or simply rocking to the infectious tempo of “Dead City Radio” with strong, animal fluidity meant for a club dancefloor, they played rough but mostly good naturedly, except for a few purposeful jabs from Colin into tender spots on his brother Rico. Even those were received without ill will.

Cale flipped him the ball.

“Don’t just stand there looking pretty. Show some moves, little bro. I know you got ‘em.” When Oscar hesitated, Cale let go with a feral grin, all strong, fierce white teeth. “Time to show off who you are.”

The other three howled at that, encouraging him with catcalls and obscene gestures. Oscar moved fast before they were all kicked out, whipping out of his jacket and shirt in one move. He had nowhere near his uncles’ cut builds but after following the workout Cale had taught him, he’d developed some fine definition. Enough to make the cheerleaders look twice.

Playing Terriot basketball was a full-contact sport. Before he’d managed to take his first shot, Kip’s elbow to the cheekbone had Ozzy seeing stars while Rico swept in to steal his ball and his thunder with a classy layup. Okay. So that’s how they wanted to play.

Show off who you are. It was the first time he’d ever dared. His mother’s cautionings always held him back from what he could do. Until now. Among those of his kind and clan, he stretched his abilities, testing his speed, pushing his strength, reaching just far enough to prove he was more than any of his no longer peers. He was one of them, part of their team, their pack, their circle. The sense of belonging struck so hard and unexpectedly, it took Ozzy’s breath away.

It was glorious.

Finally, Cale took a crisp shot from near center court that sailed through with barely a ripple of the net and announced, “Oz, I got things to do. Let’s wrap.”

Though winded, bloodied, and bruised, Oscar hated for things to end. He took it without a whimper of regret because that’s what Cale expected from him.

Colin pulled on his shirt, making a kissy face at the swoony moms then putting thumb and pinky up against the side of his head to mouth, “Call me.” And probably, some of them would have had he provided digits.

Rico slid through a flashy break dance ending in a gymnastic flip that got the teenage girls giggling and clutching at one another. “Look me up when you’re legal,” he shouted to their squealing delight.

Kip, lacking his older brothers’ flamboyance, simply pulled Oscar up for a manly hug. “You did good, little bro. Remember, we got your back now. You’re one of us.”

What a phenomenal place to be!

The trio roared off on their bikes. Putting on his jacket, Cale glanced past Oscar and announced, “Here he comes.”

“Babineau,” Coach Betz exclaimed. “What a surprise you are! If you’d ever displayed half that talent on the court, you’d still be in uniform.”