Rebel Lion Page 2

  Which was crazy, because he didn’t do deadlines. Unlike most lion shifters, he lived a loose, easy life, and he liked it that way. But for some reason, he’d been working feverishly on the place. Building an addition. Fixing the leaky roof. He’d installed huge windows and sliding doors so the house had that inside/outside feel all shifters preferred. He couldn’t wait to finish the next project — putting in a big flagstone patio that he could gaze out at the world from, either in human or lion form.

  “We’ll have to throw you a housewarming party when you’re done,” Candy cooed.

  “Sure.”

  He grinned, even though that was unlikely. Make that, impossible. There was no way he could invite a bunch of humans out to the plantation — not when the place was inhabited entirely by shifters. Any socializing he and his buddies did, they did on the outside. With Joey and Cynthia on the plantation, it was more important to guard their privacy than ever. Not only that, but his buddies Connor and Tim had recently found mates, and it wouldn’t do to have other people snooping around with all those dragons and bears shifting in plain sight.

  As for Dell, he was better off alone. Single. Unattached and free of responsibility — or, as free as a grown man could get.

  “Here come our first customers,” Candy said, hustling to the door.

  Business picked up steadily until the place was hopping, which took his mind off Quentin for a while. Occasionally, he would picture his brother at a corner table, watching him work. The question was, would Quentin smile or shake his head in disapproval?

  “I need another couple of those hibiscus iced teas,” Candy said, making Dell jolt.

  He plastered on a smile and started tossing tumblers around. “Two cold Jamaicans, coming right up.

  Things didn’t slow down until close to three, when he wiped down the bar and turned it over for the next guy’s shift.

  “All yours, partner,” he drawled, heading out.

  Chase drove. Dell stared out the window, watching the turquoise water flash by — slowly, because Chase always drove under the speed limit.

  Dell smacked the dashboard. “It is a sports car, you know.”

  Chase pointed at a forty-miles-per-hour speed limit sign, then at the red hood. He was driving the Ferrari – a long-term loaner from Boone, their wolf shifter friend. The car was like a magnet for Officer Dawn Meli, who was probably out on patrol, just waiting to slap them with a fine.

  Still, Dell snorted. “Somebody’s got to use this puppy for what it’s meant for. God knows Boone isn’t.”

  “Twins,” Chase murmured with a faint smile. That was how the guy always communicated — in short little one-word telegraphs.

  “Yeah, poor guy.” Dell sighed. “It’s like he actually enjoys driving that minivan. Not me, man.”

  Chase glanced at him and spoke so quietly, Dell had to strain to hear. “Not even if you found your mate?”

  He snorted. “Definitely not.”

  Chase tilted his head. “Don’t lions mate?”

  Dell shrugged. Lion shifters mated, all right. But they mated the way his dad had – by waiting until he was long past his prime and had worked all the carousing out of his system. That was when a male lion would settle down with a loving female who would take care of him in his golden years and give him an heir or two. Once a lion mated, he was as loyal as the most devoted of shifters. But courtship had less to do with destiny and more to do with a nice girl coming along at the right time.

  Dell scratched his chest. “I figure I’ve got another thirty years — at least — before I think about a mate.”

  Chase gaped like that was totally inconceivable, and Dell nearly teased him about that. Chase was showing signs of puppy love for the woman who worked at the smoothie truck a couple of blocks away from the bar. It couldn’t possibly be too serious, but it was good to see Chase interested in something in the human world.

  But before Dell could so much as utter a quick tease about the smoothie girl, Chase made the left turn onto the hidden driveway that led to the plantation where they lived, and a scent hit Dell’s nose. Every one of his senses snapped to high alert the way they would in combat, a sure sign that something hugely significant was about to go down.

  His lion let out a throaty growl and made him sniff the air. A tingle of anticipation went through him.

  It’s not trouble, his lion murmured. It’s something good. Something fresh and new. Just what we need.

  Dell made a face. He didn’t need anything. His life was fine the way it was.

  A taxi bumped along from the opposite direction, and Dell swiveled his head as it passed.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, motioning for Chase to speed up.

  No one took a taxi to Koakea. The place was as far off the map as you could get in the civilized world. The few visitors they hosted were all carefully screened ahead of time. So what was going on?

  The driveway swept up toward the crest of a hill, and a sweeping panorama opened up below. The plantation grounds were emerald in some places, dry and scrubby in others. The land sloped gently down to the sea, with a dribble of a stream cutting through the middle of the property. On the south side, the land ended in an abrupt seaside cliff — the dragon’s roost where Connor and Jenna lived. On the north, the slope petered out gradually, opening onto a handkerchief of a beach. The plantation house stood on a small rise in between, giving it a majestic view of the entire place. Dell’s home was over to the south, tucked into a rocky cleft beside the creek.

  Usually, his eyes swung there, but today, his gaze went straight to the plantation house porch where several figures stood.

  “Any idea who that is?” Dell asked.

  Chase gave a terse shake of his head as he cruised down the driveway and parked. Before he had so much as thrown on the handbrake, Dell found himself hurrying out of the car in an inexplicable rush to find out who the visitor was. Every nerve was on edge, every sense piqued. His hands formed fists. If that was somebody from Cynthia’s past out to harm Joey…

  But it couldn’t be, because everyone was standing there quietly. Dell forced his hurried race-walk down to a nonchalant stride. The others didn’t look alarmed, but there was a distinct aura of anxiety in the air.

  “Hiya,” he called as he approached the porch.

  Tim looked down at him, crossing his thick arms in disapproval. Connor was there too, along with Jenna, Hailey, Cynthia, and someone behind them Dell didn’t recognize. Gone were the sympathetic looks everyone had flashed him that morning. Instead, they were frowning, making his gut sink. Climbing the five stairs to the porch had never seemed so slow or ominous.

  What the hell did I do? Dell muttered into Tim’s mind.

  You tell me, Tim grunted.

  Dell’s mind raced. He hadn’t missed a patrol, nor had he skipped out on any of the chores Cynthia assigned each member of their group. Having a relaxed nature didn’t mean he was a slacker, not when it came to the safety of his pride.

  Hailey touched Tim’s shoulder, clearly trying to calm down her mate. Why the bear shifter was mad, Dell had no clue.

  Jenna shifted slightly, opening his view to the visitor. The moment he saw the woman and sniffed her jasmine-and-coconut scent…

  His heart raced. His blood rushed, and a bass drum hammered in his soul. She was beautiful, with long, brownish-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. The thing was, he’d never been drawn to pure looks. A woman had to be interesting too, and that usually took a few minutes of conversation to establish. So why was he so fascinated right off the bat?

  Maybe it was the unique mix of factors that made his breath hitch. Her skin had a beautiful olive tone that suggested India — or Indian heritage, at least. Her brow was creased with worry lines, and she was wearing one of those skirt suits a woman might wear to the office if she had a high-up, corporate job. The funny thing was, she had a dish towel thrown over her left shoulder.

  Dell stared at her, dumbstruck, and she stared back. For a long minute
, no one said anything, and the mystery nearly killed him. Then her wine-red lips parted to speak, and he leaned in.

  But a little gurgle sounded from about ankle level first, and the woman leaned over a basket of some kind.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she whispered, sounding so weary, he wanted to throw an arm around her shoulders and prop her up. Then she straightened, holding something.

  Dell’s eyes drifted to the bundle in her arms. A tiny pink one. Every connection in his brain fired at the same time.

  Pink.

  Bundle.

  Baby?

  “Everything’s okay,” the woman whispered, snuggling the baby close.

  Dell’s jaw dropped. He’d only caught a split-second glimpse of the child, but it was enough. That baby was the spitting image of someone.

  Him.

  He stared and stared — then stared some more. The baby wasn’t old enough to have much hair, but the few wispy strands were the same golden color as his. The sharp jawline, the button nose, and the dimple on the right side – each was a mirror of his own.

  He yanked his eyes back to the woman, desperately scouring his mind. He’d had more than a few lovers in his time, though nowhere near what his reputation suggested. And he would never, ever forget one. Lord knew his brother had pounded that into his mind.

  You have to respect a woman, even if she’s only yours for the night. Cherish her. Treat her the way she deserves.

  Those words, Dell lived by, so he couldn’t understand why he was coming up blank. And he’d always been careful — really careful — when it came to birth control, because a guy like him wasn’t cut out for kids. Which meant he faced a double impossibility — a woman he couldn’t remember and a baby that had to be his. No wonder everybody was giving him looks that said, We knew you were a fuck-up, but this one takes the cake.

  He tried doing the math, but even that didn’t help. How old was a baby that tiny? Three months? Four? He had no idea. All he could do was sputter and stammer, unable to produce a single coherent word.

  Meanwhile, the baby stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. Golden-brown eyes, just like his. Her chubby legs jerked as if she wanted to run.

  You can’t be my father, Dell imagined the baby saying. Please, no.

  Dell gulped. Connor stepped forward, growling into Dell’s mind. But the woman’s jaw dropped the way his had, and she whispered, “You look just like him.”

  A beeping sound broke out, and she fumbled in her bag, eventually pulling out a phone.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, turning it off without checking the caller ID.

  The baby made an unhappy sound, and Jenna leaned forward.

  “Is she hungry? Do you need something?”

  “I think she’ll need a nap soon,” the woman said, shifting the baby in her arms.

  Dell squinted. She? The blanket was pink, but the woman said the baby looked just like him. So what was it? A girl or a boy?

  A little line of drool fell from the baby’s lips, and she — he? — kicked again, wobbling in the woman’s arms.

  “You must be Wendell,” the woman said.

  He blinked. It sounded like she didn’t remember him either. “Dell. Dell O’Roarke.”

  The woman nodded and introduced herself. “Anjali Jain.” Then she nodded down to the baby nestled in her arms. “This is Quinn.”

  She let a second tick by, and Dell’s mind went into a tailspin, trying to puzzle out the hint. Quinn?

  Finally, the woman dropped the bombshell. “She’s named after her dad.”

  All the air whooshed out of Dell’s lungs. That wasn’t his baby. It was his brother’s.

  He expected sheer relief, but all he felt was disappointed emptiness. A stab of jealousy that it was his perfect brother who’d produced that perfect baby and not him.

  “Quentin?” he whispered.

  The woman nodded sadly and cuddled the baby close.

  A shocked little gasp made it past Tim’s lips, and Connor looked surprised, too. They quit glaring at Dell, and he could sense the same thought rushing through everybody’s mind.

  Quentin was the good guy. The hero. A man who did his family proud. In other words, a model lion. Quentin wasn’t the type to knock up a girl and leave her on her own. All the messing up, he left to Dell.

  Not this time, Dell’s inner lion murmured, lashing its tail. Not this time.

  Chapter Three

  Anjali took a deep breath. She needed it, because the moment she’d set eyes on Dell, her heart had stood still. It was like seeing a ghost, because he did look a lot like Quentin. But that didn’t explain why her heart sped up or why her fingers twitched with the inexplicable urge to touch him.

  Of course, she had just flown across most of North America and a third of the Pacific with a squirming baby in her lap. No wonder she felt all screwed up. Dizzy, almost, when she caught sight of Dell.

  He looked a hell of a lot like his brother, but the closer she looked, the more she noticed the little differences. Quentin had been a tall, rugged, I do a hundred crunches before breakfast kind of guy, too. But Dell was a little younger and a lot looser than his brother, what with his Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops, and stylishly unkempt man-bun.

  Quinn wiggled in her arms, and Anjali held her closer, terrified she would drop the poor thing. Even after a week of caring for the baby, she still felt like she had no clue. Part of her wanted to hand the baby off to someone and about-face out of there, while another part of her wanted to clutch the little girl and never let go.

  “Joey, sweetie. Can you clean up your toys before it gets dark?” the tall, dark-haired woman — Cynthia — whispered to her son.

  When the little redhead nodded earnestly and ran off, it dawned on Anjali that everyone was staring at her.

  “Oh. Wait,” she sputtered, looking at Connor, Cynthia, and the others who had introduced themselves before Dell arrived. They thought Quinn was her baby.

  “Wait. Let me explain,” she said, though she had no clue where to start.

  She wobbled on her feet. Now that she had finally reached Maui, the stress of the past days caught up with her. The soul-sucking grief. The urgent need to locate the baby’s kin. She glanced at Quinn, worrying as always. Such a tiny, innocent baby. So much tragedy packed into such a short time.

  Someone slid an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the couch — a gesture she would normally shake off, but she didn’t have the energy now.

  “Right here,” a voice murmured, deep and comforting.

  It was Dell, and he sank down next to her, keeping his arm around her shoulders. With his free hand, he gently touched Quinn’s foot.

  The baby had been fussy and sensitive around strangers throughout the flight, but for Dell, she gurgled and smiled. Was it possible Quinn sensed who he was?

  “Let me get you a drink,” one of the women said, disappearing inside the beautifully restored plantation house.

  Anjali gulped and looked up at all the faces gathered around. She’d delivered dozens of presentations in boardrooms for million-dollar deals. Yet on this balmy Maui evening, she could barely string together a complete sentence. It wasn’t until she concentrated on Dell, imagining he was her sole audience, that the words flowed.

  “My name is Anjali Jain. Quinn isn’t my daughter. Her mother was Lourdes. Lourdes Russo.”

  She looked around, hoping for some glimmer of recognition. But confused looks met her from all sides, so she went on.

  “Lourdes was a friend of mine from a long way back.” She closed her eyes, counting the years since she and Lourdes had first played hopscotch together. They’d been neighbors and best friends, though they’d grown apart by their teens, when Lourdes had started skipping school while Anjali headed to honors classes. Lourdes got into boys and drugs, while Anjali studied hard, got into the best schools, and then launched a successful career. Yet somehow, over the years, they’d managed to stay in touch.

  Anjali looked at Quinn. “I only met Quentin once,
but I guess it’s pretty obvious she’s his. I do have a birth certificate, though.”

  “Lourdes who?” Dell asked. “What was the last name again?”

  Obviously, Dell didn’t know his brother as well as he thought. But then again, Anjali was pretty shocked herself. Lourdes might have been the world’s least responsible person, but Quentin had seemed like a strict, by-the-books type. She’d had him pegged as a No sex without a condom type right off the bat. But who knew? Lots of people weren’t what they seemed.

  “Lourdes Russo. I met Quentin last fall when he and Lourdes came out to Chicago.”

  Lourdes had been so excited to show off her new man, and Anjali had been genuinely impressed. Finally, Lourdes had found someone to help turn her life around.

  “I guess they got to know each other about February last year,” she finished.

  “February,” Dell murmured, clearly putting together a timeline in his mind. “Quent spent six weeks at Fort Bragg at about that time.”

  She nodded. Quinn was three months old, which meant she had to have been conceived right before Quentin departed for active duty. She’d been born six months after her father died.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, looking at Dell. It was his brother, after all. “Lourdes was gutted when she heard what happened.”

  The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. What a dumb thing to say. Dell had to be gutted too.

  Dell’s cheeks flushed as he looked at Quinn. “I swear he didn’t know about the baby. Lourdes didn’t tell him?”

  Anjali shook her head. “She didn’t know she was pregnant until right after he died. Believe me, she would have told him. I’m sure.”

  “She didn’t think to tell me?” Dell asked bitterly.

  “I was her best friend. Her only friend, and she didn’t even tell me. I didn’t hear a word from her between that short visit and two weeks ago when she showed up at my apartment.” She closed her eyes and held Quinn closer. “Poor Lourdes. She was overwhelmed — by everything. The baby. Money. Her future.”