Page 13 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter eleven

As O’Neill stopped walking to glare at Rawlings, the wind picked up and his already cold arms turned freezing. So did his chest and shoulders. Too bad he hadn’t swung by his quarters to grab a jacket. The delay would have cost him his ride on the Bell, which seemed perfect about now.

“Why I’m here isn’t your business,” he drawled, his tone pure fuck you. Looks like he’d be bunking in the woods after all. And hell, he needed to get hold of Wolf for Samuel’s address.

Rawlings studied him for a moment, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“You pickin’ up somethin’ for Olivia?” When O’Neill set his jaw and kept his mouth shut, the dude’s gaze sharpened.

“Or you lookin’ for someone else? Heard another gal showed up out of the blue.

A pretty little thing who’s saying at Samuel’s place. ”

O’Neill scowled. The comment sounded like Muriel was staying with her twin for perverse reasons. “Her name’s Muriel, asshole, and she’s his sister.”

A smirk lifted the squid’s lips. O’Neill’s gaze narrowed. The southern bastard was playing with him.

“That’s right. I remember now.” The smirking increased. “She’s Daniel’s mother, ain’t that right?”

“And?’ What was the jackass up to? He obviously knew who Muriel was.

“Rumor has it, you, Wolf, and Samuel all grew up together. Went to the same school and everythin.’ Bein’ she’s Samuel’s twin, she would have grown up alongside ya’ll.

” He paused, before adding with slow deliberation, “If memory serves, Daniel was nineteen. Which would put his birth not long after you three left high school.”

There was a question in the southern drawl. Aiden must have told him what Muriel said in front of the clinic. Man, the squids were a bunch of gossipy old hens.

“If you want to know if Daniel was my kid, just fucking ask.” O’Neill snapped.

“Was he?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. That’s why I’m here.”

“Shit on a stick. You don’t know?” Rawlings clapped him on the shoulder and started walking again. “I hope for your sake the kid wasn’t yours. Kinda horrible to find out you’re a father after your kid’s already passed.”

That was something they could agree on.

“Come on,” Rawlings picked up his pace. “I’ll take you to Samuel’s place.”

The dude’s voice was cheerful again. Apparently, they’d blown past all the ice and silent accusations. Did that mean he had a bunk again?

All but one of the cars in the illuminated parking area were gone. The lone vehicle, a Jeep, beeped—its lights flashing—when Rawlings pulled out a key fob.

“Tell me you didn’t buy that damn thing because it matched your eyes.” O’Neill scoffed as he stared at the bright blue paint job.

“Moi?” Somehow, amidst all his smirking, the former SEAL managed to look hurt. “Of course not.” He paused, his grin overpowering the fake hurt. “That was Faithy.” He shrugged. “What can I say? The woman loves my eyes.”

O’Neill rolled his own eyes so hard they stung, but followed the former SEAL to the Jeep. He still didn’t know where Samuel lived. If the squid wanted to act as an Uber, why stop him?

They left the parking lot, turning right onto a snow-packed road. O’Neill stared out the window, watching endless acres of spruce trees, their branches grasping at the dark sky, roll past. Periodically, between gaps in the tree line, the twinkle of lights appeared. Must be houses back there.

“How many people live here?” O’Neill asked. The volume of lights twinkling amid the trees surprised him. He hadn’t realized that so many from Shadow Mountain had made The Neighborhood their home.

“A couple hundred now.” Rawlings turned onto a smaller, single lane road.

“With more folks buildin’ every spring. Faith says she can extend the shield if we start feelin’ cramped.

Course, most of Shadow Mountain’s warriors follow Wolf’s example and make do with base quarters.

‘Parently a rustic life is part and parcel of the Kalikoia way.”

O’Neill snorted. Rustic? Hell, the base provided its warriors with everything from a movie theater to saunas to a full-service training room and a fucking indoor obstacle course. Even the base cafeteria was above par, offering the best grub he’d ever eaten, at least when it came to military bases.

Rustic in no way described the life Wolf’s warriors lived.

Rawlings turned a corner and bumped his way down a rutted lane. Lights blinked between the trees surrounding the driveway. The Jeep turned another corner, and the trees fell away, exposing a single-story ranch house with an attached double garage.

Rawls pulled up to the stairs leading up to a small porch and parked the Jeep. “Here you go.”

O’Neill just sat there, reluctant to climb out and face the biggest mistake of his life.

“Give me your phone.” Rawlings turned toward him and held out his hand.

“Why?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Rawlings wiggled his outstretched fingers. “So, I can drop my number in your phone contacts.

“I’ll do it.” He reached into his tactical pants and pulled out his phone.

Rawling leaned back and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He rattled off the number before O’Neill even booted up his phone. The bastard was trying to trip him up. But O’Neill calmly typed the number into his contacts list and tagged it with asshole.

“Read it back to me,” the ass demanded as soon as O’Neill’s fingers stopped moving.

Ignoring the request, O’Neill pushed open his door. On the plus side, Rawlings antics went a long way toward encouraging him to leave the Jeep, regardless of how reluctant he was to have this conversation with Muriel.

He stepped out of the Jeep and was immediately assaulted by a large, brown bird. The creature darted out of the shadows alongside the stairs.

Areeeceehhhhhk Areeeceehhhhhk hooonk....hooonk...hooonk.

Its wings flapping, the bird sprinted toward him, puffing up its feathers and snapping its beak, then plucked at O’Neill’s tactical pants.

What the fuck?

Samuel had an attack bird?

He stepped back, but the bird darted forward, still screeching and snapping.

Only this time, it grabbed his pants and yanked repeatedly.

O’Neill swung his leg, trying to dislodge the creature.

Its wings still flapping, it finally released the tactical pants and fluttered to the ground, only to pop back up—still squawking, still flapping, all puffed up and agitated, its beady black eyes shining beneath the porch light.

Awackaaaronckcooo... hooonk....hooonk

Pivoting, the creature sprinted toward the garage, squawking with each step.

Its body swayed, its wings held straight out on each side, its squawks and honks trailing behind it.

The damn thing looked like a cartoon caricature brought to life.

It was so comical it left O’Neill dumbfounded.

With a last honk, the crazy thing disappeared through a partially open garage door.

“What the hell was that?” O’Neill asked Rawlings, who’d exited the vehicle and was standing by the driver’s door.

“Oh...that...” Rawlings wiped a hand down his face, which did nothing to hide his amusement. “Forgot to mention that your ex rescued a peacock a couple of days ago. Turns out peacocks are aggressively territorial. Makes it a bitch to shovel snow.”

Seriously? The bastard knew the bird was here? He knew how the beast would react to a stranger encroaching on its territory. “You couldn’t warn me?”

“Now why would I do that?” Rawlings held up his palms, his smile gleaming beneath the moonlight. “A big, strong ODNI operator like you...don’t go tellin’ me you can’t handle one little bitty bird.” He flapped his hands. “Go on now. All your answers are beyond that door.”

O’Neill glanced toward the garage, but the bird didn’t appear for round two.

A rescue peacock, huh? The news didn’t surprise him.

Muriel had rescued one animal after another on the Brenahiilo— dogs, cats, goats, even pigs a time or two.

Most of the animals had ended up in new homes or on Wolf’s anistaa’s porch.

Rescuing strays was something the two women had in common.

It had occurred to him, more than once through the years, that he’d just been another stray in Muriel’s life. A rescue she would have passed on if he’d stuck around long enough.

Forcing his legs to move, O’Neill pushed aside the lingering bitterness and climbed the steps to the porch.

You’d think with all the bird’s squawking, Muriel would have come outside to check the noise out.

But as soon as he reached the door, he heard a television blaring from inside the house.

The sound was loud enough to hide the bird’s temper tantrum.

His ride still hadn’t left when he rang the doorbell. Was the squid waiting to see if Muriel slammed the door in his face? Probably. Rawlings obviously intended to wait and see how the initial conversation went, rather than leaving and having to immediately return.

When no one answered his first ring, he pressed the doorbell again.

This time, the door opened before the chimes faded.

Only it wasn’t Muriel who stood before him.

Or Olivia. Instead, a young woman wearing a bulky sweater with red, black, and green checkers and pale blue sweatpants blocked the door.

Her hair was light brown and hung in a single braid.

Strangely, the distinctive scent of a wolf drifted from her. Did she keep a wolf as a pet?

The youngling stood in the shadow of the door, so he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes. But she looked familiar. Although he wasn’t sure why.

His brow furrowed as he studied her guarded face. Was she a relative of Olivia’s? But Samuel’s le'ven'a had black hair and dark eyes. This girl had neither. Indeed, there was no resemblance between the two. If they were related, wouldn’t they share at least some similarity in their features?

When she shifted in the doorway, her hair turned almost silver and her face even more guarded. He shook himself. All this staring was making her uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Is Muriel here?”

She studied him for a couple of seconds, before turning to yell over her shoulder. “Mom. Someone’s at the door. They’re asking for you.”

He jolted, his head going light. Mom? This oddly familiar youngling, who looked to be Daniel’s age, called Muriel mom ?

“How old are you?” The question emerged hoarse. Raspy.

The wood beneath his feet wobbled. He reached out to brace himself against the door jamb, shocked at how weak his arm felt.

“Why do you want to know?” The youngling’s shoulders drew back, and her light-colored eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“How old?” The question came out clipped. Not because he was trying to act like an asshole, but because his mouth and tongue refused to work properly.

“I’m nineteen. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Nineteen. Same age as Daniel. “You’re Daniel’s twin.” It was a statement, not a question.

It made sense. Samuel and Muriel were twins. Hell. twins ran in their family.

“Yeah...so?” Her voice caught. He watched grief hit her face, darken her eyes, then flood the space between them.

Footsteps sounded behind her, followed by Muriel’s voice. “Who is it, Gracie?”

Gracie. Daniel’s twin.

Which meant he had a daughter.