Page 97 of Meant for Her

“How did you find me?” he asked again.

“It wasn’t easy,” Ryan said. He placed a hand around Malia’s waist. “This is our mate. Her cousin is a private investigator. He located you.”

“We would have found you eventually,” Luke said. “You were paying Pete every month to keep your secret.”

“Fuck.” Their father stabbed a hand through his graying hair. “Sit down. You should hear my side of the story at least. Want a beer?” He looked over at Malia. “Or coffee?”

It was possible Pete hadn’t relayed the information accurately. “That would be great, Dad.”

“I could use some coffee.”

Their father stepped into the kitchen area. Luke studied the living room. His father might not have won the lottery, but his housekeeping skills sure had improved.

“You guys look like him.”

Luke didn’t need to hear that. Their father returned with three beers and a mug of coffee on a tray. Who was this man?

He then sat down. “I guess Pete told you I killed Fred in self-defense, right?”

“Yes.” Luke explained about the twelve cows that had been stolen and how that led them to Pete.

“I’m really sorry about that.”

Luke assumed he meant about the theft. “We’ll find the bastard who took them.”

“I’m sure you will, but hear me out first.”

It always was about him. Some things never changed. “Go on.”

“The night Fred came to the house might have been one of the lowest points in my life.”

“Because you lost a bet and owed him money? Your problem was that you were broke,” Luke said. “We’ve heard it before.”

“You’re right. I was a loser back then, but I’ve changed.”

Sure he had. “Why not sell more cows?”

“I told him I would, but he only wanted cash. When he realized I couldn’t pay him, he pulled a gun on me.”

“He wasn’t a werewolf?” Ryan asked.

“He was, but I guess he thought there would be fewer questions if he shot me in the heart. Only when I reached for my gun—that I happened to still have on me since I’d just come from outside—his bullet hit me in the shoulder instead.” He rubbed the area, probably for effect. “Still acts up.”

This was getting more pathetic. “Then what?”

“I shot back. I swear I meant to hit Fred in the shoulder, too, but he moved.”

“And the bullet just happened to hit him in the heart.”

Their father shrugged. “Shit happens sometimes.”

“Then what did you do?” Ryan asked.

“You know what it’s like. Do you really think they’d believe me if I said it was self-defense?”

“If you were shot, Dad, then yes,” Ryan said.

“Did you forget that the wound sealed up in less than thirty minutes? How would I have explained that?”

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