Free Bleacke's Geek (Bleacke Shifters) by Lesli Richardson Page A

parked outside and opened the passenger door. “Get in, ye lovestruck man.”
    Ken realized the thick stands of pine lining the drive actually comprised a tree farm. As they drove toward the main gate, Badger noticed his reaction. “Lots of privacy out here,” he said. “No neighbors close by, and we’ve got a large place to begin with. Nearly five hundred acres.”
    Something still bothered him. “Where are her parents? Do they live in Idaho, too?”
    Badger’s expression darkened. “Dead. When she was just a wee, tiny pup, only six months old. Murdered. Bastard nearly killed her, too.” As if anticipating Ken’s next question, he continued. “By a rogue, or maybe. We don’t know for sure. There’s some that thinks what Dewi went through is what triggered her Prime. She was a fighter from the beginning. In the hospital she fought to stay alive despite her injuries.”
    “How long have you been with her?”
    “I raised her. Peyton and Trent were too busy to do it, what with losing their parents and running the pack. They asked me to step in. Not that they didn’t love her, because they do. She’s their baby sister, after all. But they knew her being a Prime would lead to special problems later.”
    “So you are her father.”
    “I raised her, if that’s what ye mean. In her heart, perhaps I am her father, but not by blood.” He looked at Ken as he slowed for the gate to open. “Do ye know how long it’s been since we’ve seen her smile, lad?”
    Confused, Ken shook his head. She’d smiled a lot in the short time he’d known her.
    “Until she met ye, the last time I saw her smile was before her parents were murdered. And she was only six months old when that happened. Like I said, just a wee, tiny pup.” He returned his attention to the road. “I just wanted ye to know that. If ye have any doubts about how she feels about ye—don’t.”

    * * * *

    Yellow crime scene tape still blocked the entrance to the pub, but they didn’t see any marked police cruisers. There were cars in the lot, the other businesses normally open on Sundays doing trade as usual. Badger stopped the truck at the far end of the parking lot as his shrewd gaze scanned the area.
    “I don’t think there’s any cops around. Where is your bike? Let’s get this done quick.”
    Ken pointed at his bike, the only one chained to the rack three stores down from the pub. Badger pulled up next to it and got out with him, the older man scanning the area.
    The pub door opened. A man Ken suspected was a detective walked out and toward them.
    Under his breath, Badger uttered a foreign oath Ken thought might be Gaelic.
    “Steady, lad,” Badger muttered to Ken.
    The detective walked up to them and flashed a badge. “Detective Berringer, Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office. Is this your bike, sir?”
    Ken nodded, resisting the urge to swallow nervously.
    “Were you here at the pub last night?”
    He nodded again, his heart racing.
    “Were you alone or with someone?”
    “Alone.”
    “A man was murdered here last night. Did you see anything?”
    Badger reached out and touched Ken’s arm, as if the news shocked him and he needed to hold on to steady himself. Then Ken heard the whisper of Badger’s voice in his head, telling him what to say. “I was already on my way out the door when I heard a loud bang,” Ken said. “I didn’t look back because everyone started running. I figured I’d better start running, too.”
    The detective nodded and whipped out a notepad. “What’s your name, sir?”
    “Ken.” He winced as he felt Badger’s amusement. “Dr. Heathcliff McKenzie Ethelbert. My…family calls me Ken.” Strangely, he realized that didn’t feel like a lie.
    They were his family now.
    The cop shook his head, obviously wanting to laugh and only his professional demeanor holding him back. “Why did you leave your bike here, sir?”
    More silent nudging from Badger. “I don’t live far. When I heard people talking