Lorenzo stepped close and poked Tak’s necklace with his finger. “If I ever find out that you laid a hand on her, I’ll disembowel you.”
“You have my word, Pops.”
Lorenzo gave him a cold stare. “Don’t push it.”
“So we’re good?”
“I’m still waiting,” Lorenzo said, dropping his arms to his sides.
Confused, Tak wondered if he’d forgotten anything. “May I have permission to mate your daughter?”
The silence cut through the room, and Tak couldn’t read the man’s expression. He clearly liked torturing people.
“Well?” he pressed.
Lorenzo pursed his lips, his dark eyes glittering. “I’m waiting for you to kneel.”
Tak thought back to what he’d said when they first met about getting down on one knee for his blessing. “That was a figure of speech.”
“Am I to assume that everything you say is a figure of speech? Why would I allow a man to mate with my daughter if his words mean nothing?”
Fuck.Lorenzo wasn’t going to let it go, and Tak toiled over that for a moment. On one hand, it was a shitty way to begin a relationship with his father-in-law. He was the new man in Hope’s life, and if he continued to bow down to her father, he’d never be rid of his control. On the other hand…
Tak dropped down on one knee and grasped Lorenzo’s hand, holding it tight. He held it as if he were proposing, and the startled look on Lorenzo’s face was worth every penny.
Especially when the door opened and Lorenzo recoiled, but Tak wouldn’t let go. Lakota gawked at what could have easily looked like one man proposing to another.
Tak pressed his lips to Lorenzo’s hand and kissed it softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked up at the fire heating Lorenzo’s cheeks.
With a hard jerk, Lorenzo wrenched his hand free and stalked toward the door.
Tak stood, a wide grin on his face. But the grin withered when he wondered if he’d pushed the joke too far. Not everyone appreciated a sense of humor, and Tak might have just blown his chance.
When Lorenzo reached the threshold, he looked over his shoulder. “I’m a scotch man.” After a beat, he nodded. “For future reference.”
That was all the approval Tak needed.
Chapter 33
Shortly before our crew left Howlers, I kissed Tak and asked him once again why he wouldn’t stop grinning. Surely the private talk with Lakota couldn’t have been that amusing. But there was a sparkle in his eyes I hadn’t seen before—a renewed vigor that had him lifting me off the ground and spinning me in a circle as we kissed goodbye in the parking lot. Tak’s spirit shone brighter than it ever had, and I basked in the glow as I thought about our future together.
Lakota caved easily, but my father would have words with Tak that would wipe that smile off his face. Probably threats about how far he’d hunt him down if he ever hurt or shamed me.
Mating ceremonies weren’t a required ritual since making it official with the Council was how the word spread. But I liked the idea of a private ceremony under the moonlight, even if it was just Tak and me exchanging vows.
After everyone went their separate ways, I asked to borrow Lakota’s truck. I didn’t want unresolved issues in my new life, so that meant learning how Dutch was doing.
A week ago, I’d bumped into the Relic who carried him off that fateful day. It was pure happenstance when he strolled by the store windows, and I dashed outside to gather information about my wounded neighbor. The Relic had taken Dutch to his private clinic and administered what care he could. His words were sobering as he recounted Dutch’s four-day coma. In order to survive, his mind had shut down, and that meant he was unable to shift—unable to heal.
The Relic decided against common practice to stitch up the wounds. Dutch had lost so much blood that he had a transfusion. When he finally woke up, he demanded that the Relic take him home. By that point, the damage was done. Shifting would close the existing wounds and speed along the process, but too much time had elapsed to fully heal. The Relic didn’t go into detail because of the confidential nature of their relationship, but he implied that Dutch had paid him well for his services. Because I’d witnessed the mauling firsthand, the Relic felt obligated to give me an update. But he asked me to make a solemn promise not to spread rumors about Dutch’s condition since it could damage his reputation.
Dutch’s store had reopened two days ago. I stopped in, hoping to find him there, but was greeted by a young woman I’d never seen before. She seemed clueless, having never met the man, but explained that Dutch worked from home and had more important things to do than work behind a counter. He must have hired a professional employment agency to find someone trustworthy to fill the position—someone who wouldn’t ask questions.
In many ways, she was right. Dutch owned a profitable jewelry store and didn’t need to be working retail when there were other business-related duties to attend to. But what bothered me was that I didn’t think that was the whole story.
I squinted at the address the Relic had scribbled on a piece of paper. Dutch lived in a prestigious neighborhood on the edge of the city, the large houses spaced apart with an appreciable amount of land between them.
Crickets chirped in the nearby bushes as I rang the bell and waited. All the lights were off, and when no one answered, I knocked. “Dutch? It’s me… Hope. Please open up.” I rang the bell again and again. Could he hear it in a house this big? Then I noticed the door knocker and tapped it several times. “Dutch!”
