Beautiful Creatures Series

Three months later…

Things had been quiet since Melissa fled Feral. Gordon was on edge the whole time, worrying that Melissa was up to something. It was not like her just to give up. She was bat shit crazy, and he was certain his last encounter her with was his last. She was like a demon hiding in the shadows waiting for the right time to show up and make things worse.

Things in Feral had returned to business as usual. Gordon returned to work, and Mackenzie spent much of her time at the shop with him, discussing wedding plans while he worked. After the last close call, Mackenzie never ventured far from Gordon. She was always within earshot.

The baby had doubled in size, and Mackenzie’s belly was large, round, and hard. Gordon and Mackenzie would theorize on the sex of the baby. Mackenzie was hoping for a girl, whereas Gordon was almost certain by the size of her belly at six months that the baby was a boy. Or so he hoped. He had a daughter, and Gordon could not think of anything better than having a son. Someone he could go fishing with and do guy things. Sure, he had taken Aster fishing and hunting, but as much as he loved his daughter, it was not the same as having a boy.

Planning the wedding kept Mackenzie happily occupied. She was in her element. It made Gordon happy to see Mackenzie so contented.

The chime above his door alerted Gordon to Mackenzie’s return. She had wandered down the street to the grocery store to pick up something for lunch. There was an entire small section that had ready-made sandwiches and subs that Aurora made at the start of each day and sold. Mackenzie had brought back two. She came into the back room with a bag of sandwiches and two drinks. As she came in, she walked up to him and kissed his lips, then looked at his work. He had spent the last two hours finishing a tattoo that had taken twelve hours spread out over six days. He was just putting the finishing touches on it.

“That looks great,” she said, standing next to the tattoo chair as Gordon sprayed it with saline solution then gently wiped it clean with a soft disposable rag.

“And we are done,” Gordon said as the man got up. Gordon walked him over to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall so the client could get a good unobstructed view of his new tattoo.

“Damn, you do great work,” the man said, admiring his new ink.

“Thank you. Follow me, and we can settle the fee,” Gordon took the client to the front room and rung up the cost of the tattoo along with the cost of some care products to help the man keep it clean while it healed and avoid a staph infection. The man paid with a credit card and thanked Gordon one last time as he left.

With his business concluded, Gordon went back to clean up. He found Mackenzie already cleaning up. They sterilized everything except his needle, which he removed from the machine completely and threw out. For health and safety, he never used the same needle twice. Responsible tattoo artists never did. Then again, there were the occasional unscrupulous shop owners who cleaned and reused old needles. It was unconscionable, but it did happen; the customers were the ones who paid the price when they contracted infections or worse.

Once things were clean, they sat down together and enjoyed their lunch while they waited for the next appointment to arrive. This afternoon the baby was fairly active. Mackenzie told him the baby was kicking like crazy, which Gordon took as a good sign. During their lunch, Gordon sat next to Mackenzie with both his hands on her belly so he could feel his child moving. When the baby kicked his hand, Gordon smiled. It was a good strong kick. “He’s strong.”

“She’s strong,” Mackenzie snickered.

“Naw, with a kick like that, it’s defiantly a boy.”

“You don’t think a girl can be strong?” She teased.

“I’m not going to get sucked into a gender war,” he chuckled. “I’ll love it no matter what it is, but I hope it’s a boy. I already have one daughter.”

The chime from the door alerted them to someone coming into the shop. Gordon looked at the clock on the wall and was confused. He was not expecting his next client for another forty minutes. He got up from his seat, and he walked to the front of the shop, where he was met by a man dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He was a younger man, probably in his early thirties.

“Can I help you?” Gordon asked.

The man pulled the bottom of his open jacket aside, flashing Gordon a badge clipped to his belt on his right hip. “I’m Detective Winthrop with the Colorado State Patrol. I’m investigating some strange occurrences on the highway this last year,” the man said, identifying himself as law enforcement.

The man did not look like a cop. He was a First Nation’s gentleman. His complexation was deeply bronzed, and his thin ebony hair was long but tied back. He was a fit man with broad shoulders and long legs. He looked like he knew how to hold his own in a fight. He was awful young looking to be a plainclothes State Detective.

“Do you have time to answer some questions?” Detective Winthrop asked. It was clearly a rhetorical question. Gordon did not believe he had a choice in the matter.

have another client coming in, and most of my clientele are bikers, and cops make them

you have heard, but there have been a few incidents on the highways around Feral mostly. People are getting run off the road. There has been some

dangerous. Careless drivers die,” Gordon said, trying to sound

Detective Winthrop agreed. “Thing about these specific wrecks is that the crash is not

“Oh?”

his fingers to illustrate that he did not believe these accidents were accidents, “weren’t killed by the crashes. They were torn apart by animals. In fact, one car showed

Gordon acted surprised by

must be massive and dangerous. You haven’t

that you were with the State Patrol. Isn’t

and using these dogs to kill the

pretended to think about his answer. “No,” he finally said,

died because he knew too much. He was investigating a case and

anything. Feral is a fairly uneventful place,” both men stood there, their confident gaze holding the other, staring each other down. The

is going on, Baby?” Mackenzie asked, coming from the back when he had not

Gordon said firmly. “Go back into the back room. I’ll be back in a

Winthrop said, putting up his hand to stop her from leaving. “I want to ask her a few

Gordon answered.

I want to hear her answers,

a look he hoped she understood to mean she was not to tell this

you?” Detective

“I’m Mackenzie Starr.”

live

“Yes.”

She shook her head, no. “Do you know anyone

say

we don’t know anything,” Gordon stressed. “Now, if you don’t mind, we

jacket pocket and took out his wallet. He removed a business card and handed it to Gordon. “If either of you remembers anything, we

accepted the card.

door opened, and the chimes sounded as Aster came into the shop. The Detective took one look at Aster, and his gruff exterior softened as he smiled at her. Gordon knew the cop would likely stop Aster and

Winthrop smiled

“Hello,” she smiled back.

Winthrop, allow me to introduce my daughter Aster Wilder. Aster, honey, this is Detective Winthrop with

and then she smiled once more and shook the

to meet you, Miss. Wilder,” he smiled back as he shook her hand.

around here,” Gordon informed his daughter. It was all he

know anything about them?”

news. I