Cage pulled up his collar around his neck and climbed the steps to the side door of the police station. When he got up to the top he knocked on the door a few times and stepped back to wait.

His body ran hot all the time, but the bitter winter winds that blew in off the frozen lake were just cold enough to freeze even his hot-blooded-shifter hide.

The peep hole went dark for a moment and then the tumbler-lock clicked open.

It took another half a minute before the heavy iron door swung inward.

Cage puffed a hot wave of his breath over his cupped hands and stared at the man standing just inside, letting some of his frustration bleed into his words, “Sorry to interrupt your evening, Officer.”

“No worries,” giving him a smile full of bullshit, the uniformed officer stepped back into the warmth and gestured for Cage to step inside, “I just needed a minute to hide the still and the pot plants in the back room before I let you in.”

A quick cough of laughter was all the officer heard in return until the heavy door was closed behind them.

“Are you sure you’re not going to get in trouble for this, Boyd?”

The officer waved off the thought. “I think I’d get into more trouble if I didn’t.” A habitual wince ended in a smile. “Having my wife as the District Attorney makes for really interesting dinner conversation. Well that’s when I manage to actually get home for dinner.”

“Well, if your wife needs any kind of assurances, I’ll be happy to put up everything I own.”

Boyd blew out a low whistle. “You taking this ‘dad’ thing seriously, eh?”

Cage shrugged and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what the ‘dad’ thing is. So far I’m just making mistakes.”

The officer looked back at him with a sympathetic smile. “It may seem like that now, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

Shaking his head, Cage sighed. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Boyd. I don’t think I could look myself in the mirror if I didn’t get at least this much right.”

Boyd nodded. “One day you’ll come over to the house for dinner and Caroline will make us come of her salsa and guac and you and I can have a few beers and steaks.” Boyd’s grin was almost infectious. “I’ll even let you eat yours raw if you want.”

Cage muttered a few choice words under his breath. “Now I know why you get into trouble with your wife so much.”

“You’ll understand someday,” he shrugged.

“Not likely.” Cage reached up his hand and knocked back the hood from his sweatshirt and scrubbed his palm over the short military issued cut that he hadn’t quite lost the taste for since he’d come back stateside years ago. “I don’t see myself… getting married.”

“Well,” Boyd shrugged, “married or mated, whatever you folks call it. Don’t say never. I told myself the same thing and almost missed out on the most amazing woman I’d ever met.”

A text notification sounded from Cage’s pocket and he knew it was from the Colonel asking after Frances.

Boyd understood the sound and swept his hand toward the back door. “Holding is back there,” he rushed on when he saw Cage’s nostrils start to flare, “she’s the only one back there. I wouldn’t put her with criminals.”

Cage eased up a bit. “Even though she is one?”

The officer winced again.

“What? A little too much reality?”

The officer shook his head. “If I didn’t know you cared for her I’d be calling you a total prick… silently, behind your back… ‘cause you’d be a prick, but you’re also strong as an ox.”

Cage snarled at him. “Now you’re treading on thin ice.” Snatching the keys out of Boyd’s hand, Cage walked toward the door to the holding area. “Ox my ass.”

* * *

The door touched the wall and made an ominous echo off the concrete. Maybe it was the stiff upper lip thing that the Brits pride themselves in, but Frances didn’t move a muscle at the noise. She just stayed seated at the corner end of the bench, propped up by the bars on either side of her.

The only sign of life as he approached was a long-suffering sigh that fell from her lips.

“At least I know you’re conscious,” he drawled as he stepped up in front of her cell. He started to reach for the keys but a well-placed elbow against the cell door slid it open.

“What?” Frances lurched to her feet, outrage lending her a little speed. “You mean it was open all this time?”

Cage tossed the keys up and caught them in his other hand. “I guess.”

She stalked forward toward him and when she was face to face with him he tried to ignore how tall she looked standing before him, growling more like a lion than he was comfortable with. She certainly was fierce enough to be Todd Billings’ little girl. “Did you plan this?”

He was stunned. Staring into her furious gaze he managed to breathe and keep his jaguar deep inside. “You think I planned for you to get arrested for vandalism?”

She whirled around on her Doc Marten’s and kicked the wall only to recoil with a yelp of pain. “Dammit! Ow!”

“Frances-”

“Stop!” She swung around again and poked her finger into his chest. “Wow.”

“Wow?” He turned his head to look at her through another vantage point. “What’s the wow for?”

She let her head roll back on her neck and gave him a long, peeved sigh. “It’s to tell you how much of a… of a…”

“An asshole that I am?”

Her hands lifted up in a helpless gesture. “Really? You can’t ever let me… let me-”

“I ‘let you’ do a bunch of stuff and you got yourself thrown into jail, young lady.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Wow, you sound really, really old.”

She turned and snatched up her bag and nailed him with a look.

Cage gestured for her to precede him out of the room. He watched her sashay out of the room, all spit-fire and vinegar. As she turned the corner in the doorway she was all smiles for Officer Boyd and that left him feeling even more defeated. “I feel really, really old.”

* * *

The entire way home the ride was punctuated by huffs and sighs from Frances and stoic silence from himself. He could talk himself blue in the face, but he knew Frances wasn’t going to talk to him. She was still mad about the door being open and to top it off, she knew she was due in Juvenile Court the next afternoon.

At the fight venue, he’d barely pulled the car into his parking space when Frances sprung her seatbelt and flung open her door. He wasn’t worried about her falling and hurting herself. As a lion shifter, she had uncanny balance and advanced physical prowess unnatural for her age if she were merely a human.

But he was still just seconds behind her as she mounted the stairs, stomping her way up to the door. When she swung it open, he called out to her. “There’s a plate in the fridge for you. If you want something else, we can go out.”

“I was out,” she glared at him over her shoulder, “you dragged me back here.”

He wanted to correct her comment and tell her he would have offered on the way home, but he was afraid that she’d sharpen her claws on him, just for fun. So, he held his words in check. “Well, think about it.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him sliding the bolt home. “I think we should talk sometime before-”

She slammed her bedroom door and as he stood there staring at the blank surface he heard something thump against the door. If he was a betting man, he’d say that there was now a ladderback chair shoved under the doorknob.

“Okay then.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. With her shifter hearing she could likely hear him whispering outside the front door. “I guess I’ll take a shower. We can talk after I’m done.”

Ducking into his room, he snatched up the pile of clothes he’d left behind when he’d been called down to the police station and stepped into the bathroom. He needed a little time to clear his head before trying to talk to Frances.

Staring at the long line of feminine products that had taken over the little shelf above the sink he felt a little more of his sanity bleeding out of his ears. “She’s going to drive me crazy.”

“I’m already there!”

He froze with his hand on the hot water knob of the shower and let his jaguar try to soothe his anger. The large cat paced back and forth, his tail waving back and forth in a calming rhythm. Cub, it told him, cub. Friend’s cub. Ignoring the need for finding the right temperature for the water, Cage dropped his clothes on the ground and stepped in under the punishing heat of the spray.

Hanging his head, he felt the scalding hot water hit the back of his neck. Cage braced his hands on the wall and felt his forehead touch the tile. “Damnit, Todd. I don’t know if I can do this.”

* * *

Maggie sighed out loud as she saw her father shoulder in through the swinging door. “Dad, here, let me take that.” She reached for the box in his arms and saw his gaze harden at her. She was stubborn, but not as stubborn as her father, so she backed up and gestured to the counter. “Thanks, Dad.”

She could see his smile in the reflection of the industrial toaster on the counter.

“This is the last box from the back of the car. Do you have anything left in the trailer?”

“I don’t think so,” she leaned back against the counter and quickly counted the boxes scattered about the room. “If there is, I can get it out tomorrow before I take the trailer to the rental company. Don’t worry.”

“I always worry, Margaret.”

She tensed at the name and she knew he saw the gesture.

“Sorry, I’m still not used to calling you Maggie.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m just not a big fan of the name.”

She saw him open his mouth and she knew what he was about to say. Margaret was the name that her mother had picked out. The same mother who had left them when she was just a child.

“Yeah,” her father cleared his throat, “I should know better, but it’s just what I’ve called you since the first time I held you and-”

“Dad,” she cleared her throat, “I wanted to let you know that I don’t need one of your guys to come with me to the rental place tomorrow. I’ve downloaded the map. I have GPS in my phone and my car, and the guy at the rental agency said they’ll have someone there to unhook the trailer.”

“Sounds like you have everything taken care of…”

“But?”

“But you don’t know Sylvan City, Mar- Maggie, and this area,” his shoulders tensed up and something that looked like a sunburn painted his ruddy cheeks, “isn’t the safest neighborhood for a single woman to walk about alone.”

“I’m a single woman,” she joked, “but even if it’s just a matter of me being alone when I’m driving around, you can’t expect your guys to volunteer to chauffer me around like a princess.”

“Would it change your mind if I said you were,” he swallowed, “my princess?”

They both looked at each other and then burst out laughing together.

“Really, Dad?”

“Okay, so the princess thing is a stretch.”

“You think?” She sighed. “Maybe if you called me Wonder Woman and got me an invisible jet, we could settle things, but seriously, I drove across four states without an issue. I’ve been living on my own in Chicago for over a year. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’ll always worry, Maggie. Always. I’m just glad you’re close enough now that I can do more than pester you with phone calls.”

Her smile twisted a little at the corner. “Don’t make me go back to Chicago. I already gave up my apartment.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Fine.” He shook his head. “I think I understand it. I just don’t like it.”

“I’ll be fine, Dad. It’s only a few blocks from here, maybe a mile?” Before he could argue about her not having the route memorized, Maggie continued on. “How many of your men are still working in the area?”

She could tell by his knowing smile that he knew what her aim had been when she’d asked the question.

“I have half a dozen working for me at the gym in different capacities, and Cage has two of the guys working for him at the club.”

“Club?” That caught Maggie’s attention as she cut open the packing tape on the box before her, almost losing her grip on the boxcutter. “Cage runs a club? Does he dance?”

She could see the spark of humor in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen Cage dance. The club is a fight venue.”

The news didn’t sit well with her. “Does he fight?”

Her father waved a non-committal hand in the air. “I’d assume so. That’s what he’s been trained for.”

“So, he boxes?” She was fishing for information and being quite shameless about it.

“Doubt there’s any boxing happening on fight nights. Bare-knuckled if anything. And from what I’ve heard from the boys, they have MMA fights and-”

He stopped short and Maggie nailed him with a look. “What?”

A muscle ticked in her father’s jaw. “There are some cage matches too.”

“Cage matches,” her voice softened as she considered his words. “I wasn’t… I’m not… And he’s okay, right?” Before her father could even speak she shook herself and wrapped her right arm across her body and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “The shifters have remarkable immune systems and heal up in short order.”

She nodded. “Sure. Yeah, I got it.” She started unpacking the plates and setting them in piles on the counter. “It’s just hard to imagine someone willingly putting themselves through that kind of…” Maggie felt her words drift away. She did understand. More than she wanted to admit. Years ago, when she’d started acting out and causing trouble, she welcomed the pain that came with her choices. The pain was what reminded her that she was alive. It wasn’t a healthy association for her. She knew it, even back then, but that didn’t stop her from seeking out the pain. She only hoped that Cage wasn’t trying to fill a hole inside of himself, like she’d tried to do all those years ago.

Tried.

And failed.

“Maggie?”

She heard her father’s worried tone and realized that she’d gone a little too far down the rabbit hole.

She didn’t even try to smile at him. Her hypocrisy did have bounds. “I forget that your men are so different than people like us. Boring humans.”

“That’s not how they see it.” He reached into the box and pulled out a bunch of the plates, starting to separate them into stacks. “They have problems just like we do.”

Maggie stopped unpacking the plates and gave him a suspicious look. “What is it?”

He reached into the box for another stack of plates and gave a quick glance in her direction. “Sorry, what?”

Leaning her hip against the counter, Maggie picked up a rag and started to wipe down the plates one by one. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Her father tensed for a moment and then continued his work, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile.

“Dad, you know you’re horrible at things like this.”

“Like this?” The stack of plates that he sat down on the counter rattled a bit. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that when you’re trying to ask me something, without actually asking me, you’re not your usual ‘take charge and kick ass’ Colonel Fordice.” She set a plate down and picked up another one. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to overburden you. You just moved to Sylvan City and you’ve got the diner to set up, I can’t ask you to-”

“Dad.” She set the plate and the cloth down and walked over to her dad. “What’s going on? If I can help, I’ll help. You don’t have to worry about me.” She saw the hesitant look in his eyes. “I don’t let myself get as overwhelmed as I used to, and when I feel things getting ‘bad’ I have ways to cope. Really, Dad. Please.”

Her father surprised her, he set the plates down and wrapped his arms around her. “You’ve grown up, Maggie. You’re a strong woman.”

She tried to ignore the missing word in his compliment. You’re a strong woman now.

Whether or not he meant the unspoken word, she heard it in her head and knew that it was her own doing.

For so long, every day was a struggle. Every hour an accomplishment.

Finally, she’d gotten her head on straight, and she knew how to keep on an even keel. So, she could handle this.

Whatever this was.

“Well, Cage’s life has become complicated and I think you might be able to help him figure things out.”

Whoa. Cage needing her help?

Just the idea of spending time with him was like a double shot of espresso. It made her jumpy, but it also felt so good pushing through her veins.

“Me? Help the big bad jaguar? Sign me up!”

She saw her father’s hesitation. “I know you always had a certain… interest in Cage-”

“Interest, meaning a crazy teenage crush?” She laughed and held up her hands. “Guilty as charged!”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t suggest this lightly. Cage has a daughter-”

That was a sucker punch straight to the gut, but before she could manage to squeak out a question, her father filled in a few of the blanks for her. “Todd Billings, one of my men, came to us from England.”

Maggie grinned. “Wasn’t he a… not a tiger… he was a lion.”

He smiled back at her. “Right. He left the unit as soon as his initial enlistment ended, because his wife was pregnant, and he knew she’d have no idea of what to do if the baby turned out to be a shifter like him.” A shadow passed over his face. “He was one of my success stories, really. Got out of the unit, had a baby girl, living happily ever after until they ended up trapped between some IRA gunmen and British Police. He and his wife died that day, leaving Frances behind.”

Maggie felt the pain of his words deep in her heart. “And now she’s with Cage?”

Her father nodded his head. “He was surprised when he got the call from Todd’s solicitor in England, telling him that Todd had asked him to be Frances’ guardian.”

“What did her mother’s family have to say about it?”

Her father scoffed at the question. “They didn’t want the girl. Felt that her mother had poisoned the family’s good reputation by producing an animal… and a female to boot. They washed their hands of the child and Cage was on the next plane to England to pick her up.”

“How old is she?”

Again, something pulled at the corners of her father’s mouth, making his lips into a thin white line before he answered. “She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Oh,” Maggie rocked back on her heels, “I see.” Her shoulders shaking with silent laughter she touched her father’s arm in a gentle gesture. “She’s like me. Or how I used to be.”

It took a long moment before her father could nod and agree. “She’s a handful. In fact,” his smile was hesitant at best, “she was arrested tonight for vandalism. She’s due in court tomorrow afternoon.”

“Bet you thought you were done with handling a ‘Wild Child,’ huh?” She didn’t wait for an answer. As far as she was concerned, it was a rhetorical question at best. “I am supposed to be a consultant? A baby sitter?”

“You’ll have to talk to Cage about what kind of help he needs. I just wanted to make sure you were willing to help out.” He shrugged, a gesture she really didn’t associate with her father. “I was going to head over to see him.”

She looked up at the clock on the wall. “Isn’t it a little late, Dad?”

He gave her a look. “He lives across the street.”

“From me?” Maggie tried not to let her voice squeak out like she was a girl again. “I guess, I didn’t think about where he would live otherwise. Anyway, go ahead and have him come over whenever he has a minute.”

Her father gave her one more look before he nodded and walked toward the front door. “I’ll find out when he thinks he can come over and I’ll come back and help you finish unpacking.”

“Thanks, Dad, I could use the help.”

He paused in the doorway and gave her a nod before he stepped out into the night.