Jared (River Pack Wolves 3)(19)

She turned to him, eyes glassy and angry. “We have a week.”

“A week. What happens in a week?”

“In a week, my father announces his run for re-election on a platform of requiring shifters to register on the grounds of public safety. He’s going to criminalize every last one of you.”

“Every last one of us.” He held her gaze.

“Every last one of you,” she said, harshly. “Me, he will disown and kick out on the streets.”

“You’re his daughter,” he said softly. “If you tell him—”

“He hates you! Loathes you with every fiber of his being. Trust me, when he finds out, it will be far easier for him to get rid of a daughter than to abandon his Senate seat.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “How could any man do that to his daughter?”

But her shoulders just dropped, and she gave a forlorn look at the house.

It tore at him. “Tell him,” Jared said softly. “You might be surprised.”

She just shook her head.

Then something occurred to him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. “He must have loved a shifter once,” he said, very gently.

She frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“He has you.” Jared nodded. This had to be the answer.

“I told you, it won’t matter. He’s too stubborn.”

“But he’s not a shifter himself, right?” he prompted.

She leaned back and gave him a look like he was crazy. “Well, that would be pretty odd, don’t you think?”

“Stranger things have happened.” He waited for her to figure it out, but she was shaking her head, dazed. “If you are a shifter, and your father is not, then…”

Her eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

He huffed a laugh. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

But her eyes just got wider. “My mother was not a shifter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Her eyes were tearing up again.

“Well, one of your parents is.”

Her mouth fell open, and all the color drained from her face as she stared at the house. “Please tell me…” She looked back at him, stricken. “Please tell me there’s some kind of recessive gene. Some way I could get some of it from both of them, but not have either one of them actually, you know, be a wolf.”

He frowned, finally figuring out why this was freaking her out—she might not be the Senator’s daughter after all. “Grace, it’s not a recessive trait. I… I wish I could tell you differently. You can be half wolf and still be able to shift, but anything less than that… at least one of your parents is a full shifter. “

She stared at the house again. “One week.” Then she turned back to him. “We have one week to stop this.”

He nodded and followed her determined stride back to the house.





Grace was wearing her typical, trim business attire. Her hair was neatly bound up, her silk blouse was tucked into her slim skirt, and her three-inch heels made her tall enough to look Jared, her new bodyguard, in the eyes. Only she hadn’t been able to look him in the face since he picked her up this morning from the estate.

Everything in her life was unraveling.

Jared trailed behind her as she strode, as confidently as she could, into the high-rise that held her father’s campaign office. Jared wore the same dark suit as last night, his jacket and white dress shirt neatly tailored to fit his large, muscular body. He’d kept absolutely silent on the long drive into downtown. He clearly had issues of his own, and she didn’t know where any of this was going, but she still was having a full-body-alert reaction to his nearness. It surged up her wolf, and twice already this morning, Grace was afraid she would accidentally shift. Her wolf gave a constant whimper of need that was utterly distracting. And whenever Grace accidentally touched him—when he gave her a hand to climb out of her father’s black sedan, when she accidentally brushed him as he held the door, or just now, as they both reached for the elevator button at the same time—it was like electricity zapping through her body.

Jared dropped his gaze and pulled back from the elevator buttons. He was so tightly wound. Grace didn’t know what roiled under that cool, calm exterior, but she’d seen a glimpse of it the night before, when he said his mate was dead. There was so much pain and grief, and he’d locked it down so quickly—the idea of being with him seemed like being around a ticking bomb. Only she wasn’t afraid. More like she wanted to defuse it, take it apart, see what was inside. In spite of the mess she was in, this mysterious shifter was strangely exciting… albeit in a “you might die from the explosion” kind of way.