he’d gotten Garth back home, Eric shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been the overprotective type of parent, stressing about his baby’s every sniffle. But for one split second there he’d been filled with a visceral dread, convinced something terrible and unimaginably awful had happened to his son.
Then Garth had drawn a breath and cried. Clearly, he was fine. Relief mixed with chagrin. His son was okay. Teething a little maybe, but all right. And Eric’s first reaction, that awful gut-churning response, had been to turn on the woman who’d been trying to help him.
He felt awful, though his one consolation was that maybe she hadn’t noticed.
Of course she had. He would find her tomorrow and offer an apology. Once he’d made sure his son had a clean diaper, he put him down for the night and climbed into bed.
When his cell phone rang at 1:00 a.m., waking him from a deep sleep, Eric fumbled for the phone and finally answered.
“Yolanda has gone off the deep end,” a familiar voice said. “That woman is stark raving crazy.”
Blinking, Eric didn’t speak at first while he tried to figure out why his friend Jason was calling. This was old news, restating the obvious.
“I thought I’d pass along a warning.” Jason worked for the Pack Protectors and acted as a liaison between the wolves and bears. He’d been helping Eric with his case ever since Yolanda had started her crazy accusations.
It helped that the Wolf Pack had lately been trying to end the divide between the bears and everyone else. It was slow going, as the distrust was mutual, but Eric gave them kudos for even trying. He certainly could always hope.
Eric had been brought up by two people who refused to accept the status quo. In Norway, they’d settled away from the small enclaves of their own kind, living among humans and other shifters before immigrating to the United States when Eric had been ten and settling in California, choosing a town with numerous other shifters, including Vedjorn.
Growing up, Eric hadn’t known there was any prejudice against bears. He and Jason—who had to be Pack, though of course they’d never discussed it—had been best friends since kindergarten. When Jason had gone into the military and from there the Pack Protectors, he’d never once lost contact with Eric. Even when his top-secret clearance revealed that his best friend was a Vedjorn bear shifter, Jason hadn’t turned away. Instead, he’d asked to work on the task force dedicated to keeping the few remaining Vedjorn safe.
Yawning, Eric rubbed his eyes. Luckily, the ringing phone hadn’t disturbed Garth, who still slept. Eric couldn’t stop himself from once again checking to make sure his son was breathing. He was, of course.
“Thanks, man, but couldn’t this have waited until morning? Is it really the kind of thing that warrants a phone call at 1:00 a.m.?”
Jason cursed. “I’m so sorry. I forgot you were on the East Coast. It’s only ten here. I just got home from work. It’s been a long day. Most of my afternoon and evening were spent dealing with your ex.”
“She doesn’t know where I am.” Eric felt quite confident in that knowledge. “You’re still the only one who knows, right? Everyone else—faculty, friends—all still think I went up to Seattle.”
“Yeah, still true. But you know what? I really didn’t get it before. Why you felt the need to put as much distance as possible between you and her.” Jason’s wry tone told Eric he did now. “Sure, she seemed a bit emotional. Dramatic, even. But not unstable.”
“Is she still trying to brand me a Berserker?” Though he hated to even speak the word, Eric didn’t have a choice. A true Berserker, though rare among their kind, was extremely dangerous. When Berserkers shifted into their bear selves, they could become uncontrollable killing machines. The Wolf Pack Protectors had been working in conjunction with the Vedjorn Bear Council in making sure any true Berserkers were destroyed before they killed any humans and brought unwelcome notice to the entire shape-shifter population. In Eric’s lifetime, he’d heard of only two, both back in Norway.
“Yes.” Jason sounded tired. “I’ve shifted with you, remember. I know you’re not. And I really don’t understand her plan. What is she hoping to achieve?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. Despite her claims otherwise, it’s not like she truly wants our son—she handed him over without a backward glance and signed papers waiving all parental rights.” Again, rehashing old news. The two men had speculated endlessly over Yolanda’s motives. Since she wanted nothing to do with Garth, her reasons for stalking Eric remained a mystery.
“She flew into a rage at the office today when no one would tell her where she could find you. Something about having a score to settle. And needing to protect Garth.”
“Again, that makes no sense.” Before Eric could finish his statement, he heard an alarm that began shrieking in the background at Jason’s place. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. That’s my burglar alarm. Perimeter alert. I need to check this out, so I’m going to let you go.” He ended the call.
Setting down his phone, Eric shook his head. With her rants and raves about Berserkers and the possibility that a sweet, innocent baby could be one, Yolanda presented a very real danger. He understood she wanted to harm their child and destroy Eric himself, which was why he’d hightailed it out of Cali. Eventually, she would turn back to her partying friends and forget about them. Until then—and maybe forever—he’d keep a low profile. All that mattered was making sure Garth stayed safe.
The phone call had startled Eric, making him wonder if he’d be able to go back to sleep. But apparently shape-shifting and hunting earlier had exhausted him, because he drifted off as soon as he laid his head on his pillow. When he opened his eyes again, bright sunlight reflecting on the snow outside lit up his room.
Instinctively, he checked on Garth. His son still slumbered, the rise and fall of his chest steady. The sight filled Eric with so much joy his throat felt tight.
The possibilities of this new life, with this child...he could ask for nothing more.
Once his son woke up, cheerful as always, Eric changed him and fed him. Then he ate his own breakfast.
The chime of his cell phone broke into his thoughts. He grabbed it. Caller ID showed Jason’s number.
“Jason,” he said, bracing himself for more tales of craziness. “What’s Yolanda done now?”
Silence on the other end. Then an unfamiliar male voice spoke. “This is Officer Frank DeLeon with the Pack Protectors. I regret to inform you that Jason is dead.”
“Dead?” Eric swallowed hard, pain knifing through him. “I just talked to him around one this morning. His alarm went off in the middle of our call. What happened? Intruders?”
A pause. “We’re reviewing the surveillance tapes now. It was pretty violent.”
Then, while Eric was still trying to wrap his mind around that, the voice continued. “And there’s more, unfortunately. We’ve also got a severely injured woman here. Judging from what we can tell from the crime scene, she and Jason were battling.”
“A woman?” At first he didn’t understand.
“Yes. She knew the drill, since she came armed with a pistol and silver bullets. After she shot Jason, she turned the gun on herself.”
“Who?” Eric cleared his throat, feeling as if he already knew the answer, but hoping he was wrong. “Who is the woman?”
“Mr. Mikkelson, we’ve tentatively identified her as your ex-wife, Yolanda. Your ex-wife and the person who was trying to make a case against you for allegedly being a true Berserker.”
Another pause.