Gator's Challenge

C
opyright © October 2015
, Eve Langlais

Cover Art by Yocla Designs © July 2015

Edited by Devin Govaere

2
^nd
Edit by Amanda Pederick

Copy Edited by Brieanna Robertson

Produced in Canada

Published by Eve Langlais

1606 Main Street, PO Box 151, Stittsville, Ontario, Canada, K2S1A3

http://www.EveLanglais.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Gator’s Challenge
is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

O
nce upon a time
, a girl loved a boy but married another man. What a mistake, especially since that man has been using her as part of his sick plot to experiment on shifters. And he’s got a plan to use their sons.

Over my dead body.
But Melanie might need help keeping her boys safe.

Wes is keeping secrets, lots of them, but he doesn’t have a choice. The people he cares about are in danger, and he’ll do anything to protect them, but that struggle intensifies when the girl he never stopped loving is drawn into danger.

Can this gator meet the challenge of not only freeing himself from the blackmailing grip of Bittech, but also find a way to be with Melanie, too?

A
long time ago
, a young girl loved a boy from the wrong side of the swamp. Everyone told her to stay away.
He’s bad news.
He was a Mercer, the family everyone talked about with a sneer and contempt.

Good girls shouldn’t associate with bad boys. She never claimed to be a good girl, and no one told her what to do. She made her own decisions, and she decided she wanted him.

From the first moment she met Wes in high school—a high school she was late attending since her mother insisted good girls went to Catholic school—she saw right away that the boy with the lanky hair and leather jacket had potential. For one thing, he turned out to be a lot different from what the rumors claimed. Wes wanted better for himself and his family. Wes had goals and dreams, dreams he shared under shaded boughs in between kisses. Back then, she believed they would have a happily ever after. Believed a boy when he said he loved her.

Young, in love, and innocent—until the day he dumped her. For her own good, so he claimed, the icing on a bitter, heartbroken cake—and she meant that quite literally. The jerk broke her heart on Valentine’s Day, right after he ate the cupcake she’d made that said “I love you.”

“You’re better off without me,” he said, wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils, as he couldn’t help a nervous drag from his cigarette. A nasty habit she planned to cure him of, along with his tendency to wear black shirts with heavy metal bands on them.

“I don’t understand. You’re breaking up with me?” She couldn’t miss the nod of his head. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because isn’t an answer.”

“It is when you’re a Mercer.”

“You promised you’d love me forever.”

“I lied.”

He didn’t love her. He’d never loved her. All that they’d shared? A big, fat lie.

Those words smashed her heart into pieces. Such a mournful meow moment. Such an eye opener. It was also the first time she’d truly let her Latina rage overcome her.

Anger led her to cleanse herself of him by burning every single picture and thing he’d given her—even that stupidly adorable stuffed gator wearing the shades. For days, weeks, even years afterward, she claimed to hate him—stupid, rotten jerk. She believed that with all of her being. Yet, her heart still pitter-pattered every time she caught a glimpse or heard Wes’s voice. It irked her to no end that she never felt the same kind of pitter-patter for her husband. Poor Andrew, he just didn’t inspire that kind of passion.

And she missed the spurt of excitement, that quick rush of her heart and the heat of anticipation. So many times, Melanie couldn’t help but long for what could have been.

We could have been so great together if he’d given us a chance.

She forgot all her foolish dreams when she shot him. She should probably add she’d shot her husband, too.

Rewind a few moments, though, to the hour before she pulled the trigger. Picture her as she alternated sitting on the couch and pacing her living room floor, a polished oak that required a little too much wood polish to stay pretty. Imagine her chewing her fingers after promising Daryl, her brother, that she wouldn’t do anything foolish. As if anybody who knew her would believe that.

At the click of a key in the lock, Melanie stood from the couch, every atom in her body trembling. Ever since she’d gotten the call about the explosion at Bittech, she’d wondered,
Was Andrew in there when the bombs went off?

At least they
thought
it was explosives that had taken down the medical institute. How else to explain the massive boom and rumble resulting in the utter destruction of a building made to withstand hurricanes?

Is my husband dead or alive?
And if alive, had he played a part in the demolition?

Once upon a time, Melanie would have claimed no way. Her benign husband, with his love of documentaries and a sizzling game of chess, would never stoop to something so heinous. But that was before she and her friends discovered the truth behind rumors of Bittech Institute running an underground installation that experimented on shifters. More sobering, Andrew had to know about the testing, the kidnappings, and the monsters killing innocent folk in and around town. It shocked her to realize, as more and more of the truth unfolded, that she didn’t know the man she’d slept beside for years.

Have I truly been so blind?

Told you not to mate him.
Her inner feline never had cared for Andrew. As if she’d trust her cat after she’d been so wrong about Wes.

The bright red door, which she’d painted to stand out from the others in the cookie-cutter neighborhood, swung open, and through it stepped Andrew.

Her husband.

Possibly a traitor to all shifter kind.

Even now, she didn’t want to believe it. Believing it meant reevaluating her entire life since high school. It meant admitting she’d made a colossal mistake in marrying Andrew.

Being wrong meant listening to her brother’s taunting “I told you so.” Daryl never had liked her husband.

Andrew walked in as if he still held the right.

I’ll be the judge of that.

The gun that she’d removed from the safe felt heavy in her hands. She still raised and steadied it in his direction. Usually, she wouldn’t touch the thing. Weapons were for prey. As a panther shifter, she preferred to let her predator take care of problems menacing her. Yet, her cat couldn’t ask questions, so she brought out the weapon Andrew had bought a few years ago as protection against neighborhood vandals. The reality that he could shift into a bear and tear the head off any idiot who entered never factored into the equation of whether they should get a weapon. When it came to his wild side, Andrew was woefully lacking.

That’s not the only thing he lacks,
her kitty slyly reminded.

It wasn’t always about size, although, in this case, Melanie had the furry balls to keep the weapon aimed with a threatened, “Don’t take another step.”

Despite the warning, Andrew didn’t listen or even spare her a glance. He never spared her anything, not his attention or his love. He definitely never let her borrow his nice and shiny BMW. She got stuck with the practical mini van. She enjoyed her petty revenge by sending the boys with their daddy in his pretty car—with slushies.

Tossing his keys on the side table, Andrew dropped his briefcase. He still had yet to acknowledge her or the weapon she aimed.

“I said don’t move. Or, even better, get out.”

Yes, run. So we can chase.
Her cat was in dire need of exercise.

Her words finally drew his attention. Andrew raised his gaze to meet hers. No surprise. No trepidation. Only disdain, an expression she’d never seen on him before. “Is that any way to greet me, dear wife?”

“It is when I’ve been listening to reports all night long about the stuff happening at Bittech.”

“Did the town gossips run to tattle on me?” He smirked.

“It’s more than gossip.”

“You’re right. It is.” His smile taunted and threw her for a loop. How entirely out of character. Who was this man?

“You’re not going to deny it.”

“Why would I? It’s true? Now, put that thing down.” He took a step toward her.

She steadied her hands. “I said don’t move.”

He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Or you’ll what, Melanie? Shoot me? We both know you don’t have the guts. So stop wasting my time. You need to pack a bag. Quickly. Wake the boys, too. We all need to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” And neither were her boys.

“I’m sorry, did I say you had a choice?” Andrew’s hand shot out and grabbed hold of the wrist of the hand holding the gun. He possessed a stronger wiry strength than she would have credited. He held her with ease.

In her mind, her cat snarled, not liking this unexpected turn of events.

“Asshole. Let go of me. You can’t force me to go anywhere.” She struck at him with her free hand, but the man she thought she knew, the one who couldn’t stand the sight of blood, the one who wouldn’t even squish a spider, held fast. Held her firmly.

When did he become so strong?

“Shut your annoying mouth. I’ve heard quite enough from you.” With his free hand, he slapped her.

Slapped. Me!

Her head rocked to the side. She tasted blood as the edge of her teeth cut her lip. She didn’t know what shocked her more, the fact Andrew had hit her or the fact she didn’t shift into her cat and rip his face off. Her feline certainly growled inside her mind.

Come on out, kitty. Show him who’s more vicious.

Rowr
! Which, translated from kitty speak, meant with pleasure.

Except, when she pulled at her inner beast, tried to coax her out… Nothing.

I can’t shift!

Fear made her eye Andrew differently, with a reminder of what the rumors claimed. “What did you do to me? My panther can’t come out.”

“Much as I’d love to play with your pussy,” he said with a leer that just looked plain unnatural, “I know what your claws are capable of. So I gave you a little something to keep you in your skin.”

“You drugged me!” She screeched, struggling anew, only to reel as he cuffed her again, a stronger blow that made her see little birdies.

Swat at one and let’s see how they taste.

Blink.

“Don’t hit her.” The low, growled warning came from behind Andrew.

Her heart stuttered.

Usually, running into Wes meant trying to hide her discomfort—and resisting an urge to kick him in the manparts. Not this time. She’d never been happier to see the big Mercer.

Andrew’s in trouble.
She practically sang the words in her head. Despite her throbbing cheek, she still turned a triumphant smile on Andrew. “Yeah, Andrew. Don’t hit me.”
Or Wes will hit you back harder.

Meow
. Nothing like the prospect of a smackdown to make her feline regain some pride.

“You meddle in things that are none of your business, gator,” Andrew barked over his shoulder as Wes filled the open doorway—and she meant filled, considering the width of his shoulders.

“Men don’t hit women.” A flat statement.

Chauvinistic, but she’d take it.

“And employees don’t backtalk to their bosses. So mind your place, gator, or you won’t have that cushy job anymore. I brought you along to help me, not give me lip.”

“Help you?” Melanie managed to utter the words through frozen lips.

Peeking at Wes, she noted his stony expression as she waited for him to refute Andrew’s words. Even better, she hoped Wes would slap her bastard husband upside the head. Instead, Wes tightened his lips.

He’s not here to save me.
The realization hurt more than it should have.

“How could you?” she whispered.
How could he betray me again?

He said the same thing to her now that he had when they’d broken up and she’d cried why.

“Because.”

But Melanie wasn’t a teenage girl anymore, and as she slammed her foot down on Andrew’s—
take that, you bastard—
forcing him to loose her gun-wielding hand, she retorted, “Because isn’t an answer.”

Neither was shooting first her husband or her ex boyfriend—
Bang
!
Bang
!—but it sure felt damned good.