Chapter 1.
Sadie.
I never thought I’d be here. Standing in a little room, at what is officially my father’s funeral.
I stared out at the sea of people before me, dressed as somberly as I was. It was an ocean of black and grey with the occasional flash of silver from a mostly hidden blade or gun, sparkling eyes and muscled arms.
I took a deep breath and began, “Thank you all for coming today. I know my dad would have been glad that you did.”
My throat clogged up again, as though a hand was being wrapped around my windpipe. I coughed to clear the knot. This was something I wanted to do. Something I had to do. “Ah... Dad was not a formal sort of guy and he wouldn’t have wanted his funeral to be that way, either. I’ve asked you all here today to say a few words about my father, then we can remember him over a glass of whiskey and the food that will be served right after.”
There was a smile or two in the sea of faces as I began my speech about Dad’s life. Where he’d grown up, what he’d accomplished. His short marriage to my mother and, of course, his business. His pride and joy.
Most of the men in the room either worked for Dad, or were his clients. They were a tough, rough lot. As I glanced up from my speech on occasion, I could see a swarm of tattoos and gnarly expressions.
Dad’s people.
When I’d finished what I needed to say, Terry stepped up out of the crowd and my heart squeezed tightly to see his old, beloved face. “You came.”
“Of course, I did.” Terry said, then turned to address the crowd of men. “I think Jack would have wanted us all to have a drink and spend the afternoon reminiscing about him.. So, let’s all relax in the lounge. Sadie and some of the boys have set it up like a bar so everyone should be comfortable as heck.”
The men in the room all turned with a smile and left the parlor where we’d held the official ceremony. Dad’s urn was in the center of the room on a dais, and photos of him were displaying in a slow slide show on a large projection screen.
I glanced at the wall to my right. A photo of my parents on their wedding day shone there. My father was so very large, my mother, so small. And both were grinning like they’d won the lottery. And in the love stakes, they had.
And speaking of love...
“You okay?” Rogan asked quietly as he stepped up next to me and slid a possessive hand around my waist.
I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder. I was glad that part was over. Now I could relax and truly celebrate the man my father had been. “Yeah, all good.”
Fridge stepped up in front of me, his hands thrust into the front pockets of his trousers. His huge chest and arms looked like they were about to burst out of the black shirt he wore. He was such a primitive looking man, with his size and unsettled aura.
I smiled up at him, seeing the tension in his face that I felt reflected in my own.
That muscle ticked in his jaw and his nostrils flared. Fridge was angry we hadn’t found Dad’s killer yet, and so was I.
But it was time for the funeral. My dad had been in a lot of battles throughout his life. He’d fought hard and long. And it was time for him to rest in peace.
“Are you going to bury him with your mom?” Fridge asked, lifting his head and gesturing towards the urn where my father’s ashes stood.
In our town, humans were buried, shifters were cremated, and vampires turned to dust. My mother had been buried, as everyone had assumed she was human. But she wasn’t. Not in the true sense. She was a full blood witch, not that anyone knew. No one except my cousin Shadow and my mates.
I nodded in answer to Fridge’s question. “Yeah. I think so. As a shifter... do you think that’s okay?”
Fridge snorted. “Of course, it is. Screw shifter law. Jack would have wanted to be with his wife.”
Hot tears trembled in my eyes at hearing the vehemence in Fridge’s voice.
“There was never anyone else for Dad, was there?” I asked Rogan and Fridge, then glanced over at my dad’s oldest friend, Terry, as he moved over to join our circle.
“No, never.” Terry answered, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Your mom was his sun and moon.” Then Terry opened his arms to me. “Come here, sweetheart.”
I flew into Uncle Terry’s embrace, sobbing against his chest for a moment in sweet relief. Terry had been like a second father to me. Closer than any other family.
He wrapped his arms around me for a moment and kissed the top of my head. “Your father would have been proud of you today, kiddo. You did good.”
I sighed against his huge chest and when I felt strong enough to do so, stepped away, towards my mates.
Fridge’s hand found mine and he tugged me back to him.
Terry’s eyebrows fluttered up momentarily as his keen gaze took in both Fridge and Rogan’s protective stances over me. Terry was a full wolf shifter and would understand their body language better than most.
When his old, grey eyes came back to rest on my face part of me wanted to say, “I’ve got a vampire lover at home as well.”
And although it was partly true, it wasn’t necessary to rub my love life in Terry’s face. Especially since he’d known me since I was a child and would probably have trouble reconciling that image of me with the one I currently held.
I coughed to clear my throat and focused on Terry’s face. “We’ve been trying to find out who killed Dad, Terry. Have you heard anything in the pipeline about possible leads?”
Terry’s eye twitched for a second then he blinked rapidly, forcing it away.
I frowned. Nervous tick? Or did he know something? “Terry?”
“Um... you know I’ve been out of the game for a few years, Sadie.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared up at him. “That didn’t answer my question.”
A little smirk tugged at his lips. “No. It didn’t. You always were a sharp little tack.”
“What do you know, Uncle Terry?” I demanded, putting as much heat into my stare as possible.
He sighed and glanced to the ground at our feet, deliberately avoiding my gaze. “Nothing you can use, sweetheart. Seeking revenge would be suicide.”
I stepped closer and dropped my voice, pitching it only for Terry’s ears. “I know about the blood ring. About Mom. I know that the vampires want my dad’s contact lists.”
Terry’s head came up and his gaze snapped sharply into focus. “You know too much, little girl.”
It sounded strangely like a threat, but I pushed the thought aside. This man wasn’t an enemy.
“I don’t know who ordered my dad’s hit. And I don’t know which assassin pulled the trigger... so to speak. But I want to know. I deserve to know. And I’m not going to stop until my father is avenged.”
Terry hesitated, then opened his mouth to answer. But suddenly, a large hand clapped onto Terry’s shoulder, and the man I’d known since I was a little girl, shut up.
I glared at the newcomer. “Excuse me, we’re in a private conversation.”
The man slid up next to Terry and stared at me.
My breath caught in my throat. This was no man. It was an ancient vampire. One of the oldest in the city. A “Father,” as Vincent would call him.
He had long, silver hair, a high brow, and long, flowy black robes, which made him look like some sort of priest.