What to tell Meredith?

The two of them were at Catherine’s house, eating Meredith’s version of cooking—a pre-made frozen meal that had required a few tablespoons of water and twenty minutes on the stove. All things considered, it wasn’t bad. Meredith had never been as interested in cooking as Catherine had hoped she’d be, and that was fine.

Now, they sat at Catherine’s little high-top table, eating creamy pasta with chicken and chatting about the week. Well, Meredith was chatting. Catherine was thinking like mad.

The subject had been circling through Catherine’s head since she’d left Daniel at the canyon. To tell Meredith, or not to tell Meredith. Was it better to drop this bomb on her, or just announce a surprise trip to Europe and let her father figure it all out?

Saying nothing might mean exposing her entire pride to what sounded like the mob. How had Daniel become involved with such people? She took another bite of pasta. But her pride was going to be exposed either way. Daniel’s employers were coming, whether they showed up next week or in ten years. Her pride was good at staying hidden, though, so she could simply warn them, and they’d melt away when trouble arrived.

Let the mobsters show up. Let them kill Daniel.

She winced at that thought. The idea of Daniel’s death twisted something inside of her. She didn’t want him dead. He was Meredith’s father, after all…and his ice-blue eyes still lingered in her memory.

She took a resolute bite, shoving those feelings aside. Quit acting like a lonely kitten, Catherine.

He was good-looking. More than good-looking, she admitted to herself. Gorgeous. Tall and lean, muscled in all the right places. Her errant thoughts pictured those strong arms winding around her, holding her close, his lips brushing hers…

Catherine, quit it! Giving herself a mental smack, she climbed back aboard her original train of thought: Daniel’s so-called boss. When she turned it over in her head, there was only one outcome that she could see, and she didn’t like it.

Death was an eventuality that Daniel hadn’t—or perhaps refused—to recognize, but there was no happy ending in this for him. They would track him, find him, and use whatever they had to get him to change one of them. And if he refused, they would kill him.

So…why not do it? Why not turn one of them? She chewed on this for a moment, then discarded the possibility almost immediately. A band of hired killers with super speed, animal strength, and near invulnerability? Sure, and why not hand her students the keys to both her car and liquor cabinet? Daniel had been wise to refuse them. Her opinion of him, formed before she’d even met him, rose.

Meredith was gabbing about English class. Catherine half-listened, nodding and smiling as she chewed. She should have been paying attention. Yeah, and Daniel shouldn’t have shown up out of nowhere and put his daughter’s life in danger.

That wasn’t fair. Daniel hadn’t meant for this to happen.

Leaving Meredith in the dark was risky. She’d be defenseless, unaware that someone armed with her picture suspected that she was a tigress. She’d be found eventually. Like every other American teenager, her pictures were plastered across the internet, and it was this that had Catherine almost ready to spill everything.

Meredith could not stay hidden. Therefore, she had to be told.

Meredith had to meet Daniel.

Truthfully, the question wasn’t whether or not to tell Meredith. It was how to tell her. Guess what, kiddo? Your dad’s alive, and his boss wants to use you against him!

Yup. This was going to go great.

Catherine didn’t normally indulge herself in such a way, but for this, she needed fortification. “Want a glass of wine?”

Meredith paused, her brows rising. “Really?”

“Sure, why not?” Catherine stood and crossed to the small dusty wine rack. Red didn’t usually go with chicken, but she had no whites chilling, and warm red sounded better than warm white. Plucking a merlot from the rack, she set it on the table and went to fetch a bottle opener. “Get two glasses from the cabinet.”

Meredith looked thrilled as she hopped up and retrieved two long-stemmed glasses. “Are we going to get in trouble?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.

Catherine chuckled. “That depends on if you’re going to report me. You’re eighteen—that’s legal in most of the rest of the world. Besides which, this isn’t a regular thing. We’ve never done this before, and I don’t intend to do it again. Though, you know if you ever wanted a drink, all you have to do is ask, and we’ll do it under your grandparents’ supervision. And I’ll let them know what we were up to tonight.”

Meredith nodded. “I won’t report you. This isn’t really different from Thanksgiving. Grandma lets me have wine then if I want it.”

If Meredith hadn’t had such a steady head on her shoulders, Catherine would never have poured her the glass. As it was, she trusted the girl, so she filled Meredith’s glass a third of the way, before filling her own a bit more than half. “Cheers,” she said, clinking their glasses.

Meredith’s eyes closed as she sipped. Catherine chuckled at the puckering of her lips. Reds weren’t for everyone. “White is sweeter,” she said.

“That’s for sure.” Meredith set her cup down and went back to her dinner.

Catherine took a more substantial drink, then drew a long breath to prepare herself. “We need to talk,” she said.

Meredith looked up, suspicion whisking across her face. “What’s wrong?”

Catherine laughed. “Are you so certain that something’s wrong?”

“You don’t drink,” Meredith said flatly. “You’ve never offered me wine before, and everyone knows what ‘we have to talk’ means. I’m not dumb.”

Catherine raised her glass, acknowledging the girl’s words. “Okay.” She thought for another moment, conscious that Meredith’s gaze was fixed on her. “Tell me what you remember about your parents.”

Meredith shrugged, her fingers slowly spinning the wine glass stem. “They died when I was a baby. You’ve seen all the pictures I have of them.”

Catherine nodded, taking another sip. “How did they die?”

“Intruder,” Meredith answered in a dull voice. “Broke in and killed them. It’s why we live in a small town and not a big city. Too dangerous. Did I never tell you any of this?”

Catherine shook her head. In truth, she’d heard the story from Meredith’s grandmother, but until today, she hadn’t known it was a bald-faced lie.

“So, what’s this about? Why are you asking about my parents?”

Catherine took a breath. “Did you ever wonder if your parents were shifters?”

The girl paused. “I guess. But it didn’t help them much, did it?”

“Not every shifter child is born to a pair,” Catherine continued carefully. “In your case, your father was the shifter.”

Meredith frowned. “How do you know that? Did my grandma tell you?”

Hoo boy. Here came the moment Catherine couldn’t screw up. She reached over and placed her hand atop Meredith’s. “This is big stuff, okay? Will you listen?”

Meredith nodded, her eyebrows crinkling. She looked frightened.

Drawing a breath, Catherine squeezed the girl’s hand. Maybe it was best to get most of it out quickly— “Your dad isn’t dead, Meredith. He’s alive. He stayed away because he was afraid he would hurt you. Your mom’s death was an accident. He left you with your grandparents to keep you safe. But he’s back now because you’re in danger, and he wants to protect you.”

Meredith blinked, her brows knitting and her mouth turning down. She drew her hand away and leaned back against her chair. “What?”

Catherine sighed. “I know it sounds insane—”

“My dad is alive? What kind of accident? Did he—oh god. Did he kill my mother?”

Mistake. This whole thing was a cock-up. “Meredith—”

“Holy shit,” Meredith shouted. “Are you fucking with me?!”

“Meredith Page—”

“You tell me my dad’s alive and that he killed my mom and you’re gonna scold me for swearing?”

Point. Catherine sat back and picked up her wine glass, draining it in a few gulps.

“He’s alive? He’s alive. Jesus Christ! You’re not serious.” Meredith got to her feet and paced the length of the table. She combed her fingers through her hair, pulling it tight against her scalp and accentuating her pinched expression. “You can’t be serious. Is this part of some senior prank? Did the rest of the class put you up to this?”

“They don’t know we’re shifters,” Catherine pointed out. “I’d hardly be doing either of us a favor if I told them.”

Meredith clamped her mouth shut and gave a muffled scream. “I need to go for a run,” she said suddenly.

Wordlessly, Catherine rose and gestured toward the back hall. Meredith had already begun stripping off her clothes, dropping them as she stalked down the dark passageway—something she hadn’t done in years. If her agitated words weren’t proof enough of her state of mind, this was. Catherine said nothing, simply gathered up the articles of clothing as she followed the girl through the house to Meredith’s room. With its own set of French doors that led out to the yard, it’d been perfect for a tiger cub.

“Coming?” Meredith said shortly as she opened the doors, then dropped to the ground as she began her shift.

It took seconds to strip down, and Catherine was out the doors behind her. She hadn’t been certain Meredith would want her along right now. That she’d been invited was a good sign.

Meredith was a white tiger—like her father, Catherine realized. Her fur didn’t have all of its distinctive markings yet, but she’d nearly reached maturity, and her long, lean body ate up the ground as she sped across the yard into the forest beyond. Living at the edge of town had its advantages, seven-hundred-thousand acres of wilderness being one of them.

They had haunts, a route they often followed, and Catherine simply trailed the young tiger as she sprinted. The night was silent, stilled by the passage of powerful felines, and tonight Catherine was grateful there was nothing to distract her from Meredith’s run. The girl seemed determined to tire herself out, the miles falling away beneath their padded paws.

It took over an hour before Meredith began to slow. A bit further, and she flopped to the earth, her tongue hanging from her mouth and her eyes bright as the moon. Catherine padded close, bumping her head against Meredith’s with a low growl of affection. The kitten purred in return, her whiskers brushing Catherine’s.

They lay in the glade for a bit, then Meredith rose and began picking her way through the understory, retracing their route. The journey home was slower, more peaceful. Catherine let her lead the way, proud of the easy way Meredith found the path. The moon was high and the night fading into morning by the time they climbed the short gully back into Catherine’s yard.

Meredith dipped her head, then curled up in a corner of the yard, allowing Catherine to go first, as was their long-standing rule. Catherine hopped up onto the porch, then entered the house, doing a quick lap to make sure all was well. When she was certain it was safe, she shifted, dressed, and called in Meredith.

Cups of hot cocoa were just the thing after a chilly evening run. Meredith curled up on Catherine’s couch, wearing an old sweatshirt and soft, colorful pajama pants. She gave her mentor a mournful look as Catherine joined her with her own cup of cocoa.

“Start from the beginning?” Meredith asked.

Catherine did. She told Meredith about meeting her dad, their run through the woods, and Daniel’s story about his employer. Aside from the strange flash of attraction she’d felt for Daniel, she left nothing out. There was no point in trying to shield Meredith from any of it. “So, you need to decide,” Catherine finished. “You could go to Europe for the summer, and hopefully when you get back, everything will be sorted. But if it’s not, you could come home to a trap.”

Meredith took a sip of cocoa. “They could even follow me to college. Even if they don’t find me til later, it’s like you said…they have my pictures. It would only be a matter of time.”

Catherine said nothing, allowing the girl time to process.

“Is he nice?” Meredith’s eyes rose to find Catherine’s, a kind of desperation brimming in them.

For just a moment, Catherine was startled. She hadn’t expected this question, but upon reflection, she should have. “He seems like he has honest intentions,” she said carefully.

“But he’s a hitman. Hitmen aren’t nice.”

There was no good answer. It was true, hitmen weren’t usually nice people. But, perhaps a nice person could become a hitman in the wrong circumstances.

Meredith’s tongue traced the edge of her lip, the cup in her hands held close to her mouth. She’d balled herself up, and was drowning in the faded sweatshirt. “Did he say how my mother died?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. Maybe I should have.”

She stared into her cup. “I could ask him myself.”

“Is that something you want to do?” Catherine set her mug on the coffee table. “Whatever you decide, I’ll help you.”

Meredith nodded, her eyes glimmering with wetness. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you, Cat.” A moment later, she snuggled tight into Catherine’s embrace, the sounds of her tears muted by Catherine’s shirt.

* * *

Daniel spent the evening on the prowl.

He made a wide circuit, tracing the roads around Windham while looking for any signs of John’s people. He’d tuned his nose as well, though unconsciously, to Catherine’s and Meredith’s scents. They were unforgettable now. It wasn’t that he was looking for them, just that he would know them in an instant if he scented them.

There were hints of the girls near the north edge of town, but that was all. Over and over, Daniel replayed his conversation with Catherine. She’d been furious at first, protective as any she-lion of her cub. Which only made sense. She’d known Meredith nearly all of the girl’s life, and had clearly taken his daughter under her wing. Er, paw. All that mattered was that his daughter had a devoted shifter guardian, and Daniel was grateful.

Perhaps he’d made a mistake in leaving her with his parents. Meredith was a tiger. What had happened when she’d first shifted? Had Catherine been there for her? Had Meredith been afraid?

He found himself hoping that Catherine had been there. To his knowledge, her grandmother knew nothing about their true nature. He was certain she’d have called him if his daughter had suddenly sprouted claws. Daniel had been alone when he’d first turned, and it had been utterly terrifying. He prayed it hadn’t been that way for his daughter.

For so long, Meredith had been nothing more than a beautiful picture on a screen. The photos were his only way of watching her grow, and of course, there were no pictures of her while shifted. Was she like him? Or did she have more of her mother in her?

Thinking of Jessica brought a pang to his heart. She’d been such a practical thing. He’d often teased her about her organized ways. Was Meredith like her?

His resolution to leave his daughter alone was wavering.

Near midnight, he circled back toward the canyon, hoping he hadn’t missed Catherine. Her scent hadn’t been anywhere nearby, so he assumed not.

When he wasn’t thinking of his daughter, he found his thoughts drifting to her guardian. The picture had been but a preview, and the real woman was utterly enchanting. Catherine’s golden skin and auburn hair, her sea-green eyes, the way she’d moved…he hadn’t felt this sort of attraction in almost two decades. What was it about her that heated his blood?

It was hours before she arrived. Daniel had grown a touch annoyed as the time ticked by. Did she plan on showing up or not? The moon was low in the sky when she finally appeared. But his frustration melted away when he caught sight of the beautiful lioness.

Once again he found himself captivated, her sinuous movements drawing him in. But before she got too close, she shifted. It was then that he noticed the bag she’d carried in her mouth. She fished a slip of cloth from it and pulled it over her head—it turned out to be a short dress—then tossed the bag his way. “Shift. Get dressed,” she instructed.

He did as she commanded, curiosity and helpless feline attraction dictating his actions. Damn! What sort of hold did this lioness have on him? Was it because she was the first of his kind that he’d met? It made no sense. They’d barely interacted, but he felt the same attraction he’d once felt for his wife.

And fuck if that didn’t annoy him.

The bag turned out to hold a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue sweatshirt. But they fit, and they were patterned for a male, two things he was grateful for—until he caught himself wondering where she’d gotten them from. They were worn and comfortable; definitely not new. A flash of jealousy seared his veins.

“Meredith wants to meet you,” she said, her words clipped. “Can you come tomorrow to the hiking trail on 296?”

A thrill coursed through him. “She does? Yes, of course, what time?”

“Noonish. Wear that, if you want. Though I imagine you’ll want to get something else if you can.”

And of course, he had nothing else. No identification. No money. No credit cards. No bank card. Gritting his teeth, he gave a quick nod. “I’ll see you then. Thank you. This means the world.”

She met his gaze, her eyes boring holes through him. “If the meeting doesn’t go well…”

“It will,” he promised.

“If it doesn’t…” Her tone was insistent. “You leave Windham. Meredith and I go to Europe, and then I adopt her and she takes my name.” Catherine stared him down, as though daring him to disagree. “We erase her from the system, and she and I move to California when she goes to UCLA.”

Daniel bristled. “You adopt her?”

“I’ve been like a mother to her,” Catherine went on, her voice defiant. “She’s like my own daughter, and I’ll die before I see any harm come to her. I don’t care if you’re her father. I won’t let you hurt her.”

Christ on a crutch, who the fuck did this woman think she was? He found his fists tightening, his cat rising. “My parents would never allow this. All I’d have to do is show up in court—”

“And say what? That you’re a hired killer who abandoned her when she was a baby and now you’re dying to be her dad again? Yeah. The judge’ll love that.”

Daniel growled.

To his surprise, Catherine growled back.

“You’re infuriating,” he said at last.

“Make sure tomorrow goes well, and none of that has to happen,” she said, then turned and walked off into the darkness. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” Immature and possibly damaging, but he couldn’t resist getting in one last insult.

“And you’re a bag of flaming dicks,” came her emotionless taunt in return.