Sharkbait

Amy was shocked again. “How far along, Mom?”

“Two weeks. I was a week late, which isn’t uncommon at my age, but I figured I’d take one the morning before Thanksgiving. It was positive. We haven’t told anyone else yet, so I’d appreciate it if you’d not say anything. We haven’t even seen a doctor yet.”

“We won’t,” I said. They wouldn’t be able to keep the secret for long; right now her scent change was only noticeable at an intimate distance, but in a few weeks, sensitive noses would pick it up just being around her. It made sense now why they were getting married so quickly, as they could pass it off as a honeymoon baby. Hammer was already a possessive male, and a pregnant mate gave him more drive to survive the change. “Congratulations!”

“You’re happy, right?”

“I’m over the moon,” Susan said. “I thought we might have difficulty with getting pregnant.”

“You had no difficulty with HOW to get pregnant,” Amy teased. “I think the whole neighborhood knew what a stud you had in your bed.” Hammer looked proud at this, while Susan was a little embarrassed.

“I’m still in shock,” Hammer confessed. “I was happy with meeting Susan’s granddaughter when she visited Miesville for Thanksgiving, and she’s due in three weeks with a son. With this news, everything had to move up. I decided to move now because I don’t want to be doing it while she’s eight months pregnant.”

“Things can change fast, we’ve all seen that this year,” I said.

“It was all going to happen anyway, Mom,” Amy said. “He’s your mate. You belong together, and I love you both.” She wiped her tears away as Hammer kissed her forehead, hugging them both. “What about Siena? She won’t see your wedding.”

“She’s going to watch the livestream with the Miesville Pack,” Susan replied. “She barely made it through the flight from Michigan with April; a tiny bladder and a toddler isn’t a great combo for travel. There was no way in hell she was flying for thirty hours to get here, and we didn’t want to wait until your tour was over. So, beach wedding with family and a few friends!”

The friend thing triggered a memory from when the girls came out as werewolves to their mates. “Are you going to meet up with Ian while you’re down under?”

“He’s flight from Port Arthur should arrive in two hours; he’s coming with his wife and son for the wedding,” Hammer said. “I can’t wait to see him again. Want to come to the airport to pick him up? His son is your date tonight.”

I wasn’t in the wedding party, so I just had to show up in a bikini with a light dress over it. I looked at my phone. “Sure.”

We were pulling into the hotel, so the rest of the conversations would have to wait. We checked in and dropped our luggage off, then our whole group headed to the lounge for a late lunch.

There was no way I was waiting six more hours to eat, after all.

Amy and Susan had appointments at the spa, so they took off to start preparing. Luke, Noelani, Makani, and few others wanted to hit the beach for the afternoon, and I sent Carly to watch over the girls. Linda needed to work on editing, so she left for her room. Fiona rode with Hammer and I in the limo to the airport.

“What do you know about his son,” I asked Hammer.

“Not that much, actually. Ian didn’t say much about them.”

“Are they werewolves too?”

“I’ve never asked.” I used my phone to look up Ian Corcoran on the Web. There was a lot of material on his Victoria Cross, the Australian equivalent of the US Medal of Honor. The page had a photograph of the Queen presenting the medal to him. He was a handsome man in his Special Air Service uniform, thirty-four years old then, and leaning on crutches and a bandage on his left ear. The citation confirmed what Hammer told me, minus the ‘wolfing out’ thing. The survivor’s swore that he left with only a knife, attacking multiple enemy positions on his own. He didn’t stop until the attack was broken, and he spent the next two months in the hospital. Retired from the service due to permanent hearing loss and damage to his left knee, he retired to the family home in Port Lincoln. There were no photos of his wife Dorothy, although they married in 2008, and their son Nicholas was born in 2010. That would make his son twenty-two years old, I thought.

A search on Nicholas didn’t find much. He wasn’t on social media, but I did get his student photo from the University of Adelaide School of Medicine. My heart skipped a beat; he was hot as hell. Drool-worthy, effortlessly hot. Wavy light-brown hair to his shoulders, tanned skin, bright blue eyes, a strong jawline and broad shoulders had me thanking Luna for little favors like tonight’s blind date. “Call me a Doctor,” I muttered to myself. PLEASE, LUNA, don’t let him be a jerk!

“What did you tell him about us,” I asked Hammer.

“Nothing. I called him to say I was getting married in Brisbane, and I’d love to see him if he could make it. I didn’t want to say anything about supernaturals over the phone.”

“This should be interesting. I asked Adrienne if the Council knew of any werewolves in Australia; they had no reports. Ian and his family have stayed off their radar, perhaps for centuries.” Ian was born in Port Lincoln in 1987, so there had been werewolves in Australia for at least a half century. “How can a Pack operate that long without anyone knowing?”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said. “How could you function without the chance to find a mate? Do they have an Alpha to keep them stable?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon,” Hammer said. I started reading up on Port Lincoln, since I’d run out of material on Nicholas. The city of 15,000 on the Southern Ocean was known as the Seafood Capitol of Australia, with sport and commercial fishing and a thriving aquaculture industry. It was a good place to find big Great Whites, and a popular vacation destination. It had the highest per-capita concentration of millionaires in Australia, and the port was filled with fancy yachts during the summer. It was over seven thousand nautical miles from San Diego, though; that was a LONG ways away.

I started clicking on shark-diving tours and YouTube videos; I liked the diving. Clear water and big sharks was a good combination. It was too bad we only had time for Melbourne and Perth after diving the Great Barrier Reef in a few days. Adelaide wasn’t a big enough city for Bodyglove to stop in.

We pulled up to the airport and Hammer sent a text with where we were waiting. “Come on, let’s stretch our legs,” he said as he opened the door. Fiona stood behind us as we waited for them to come out; a few people recognized me, but no one approached. Finally, Ian and Dorothy came out the door, his right hand holding hers, his left on his cane. His hairline was receding, there was a vivid red scar from his left cheek to what was left of his ear, but it was the same proud man from the ceremony. “IAN,” Hammer said with a big smile.

They got within five yards when Ian suddenly stopped, pulling his wife behind him. His nose was taking a deep breath, and his eyes dilated and darkened as his wolf came forward. He straightened up and started to growl as he looked first at Fiona, then at me. His wolf tried and failed to dominate me, lowering his eyes first. His wife was human, which I found interesting. The whole dominance posturing thing was over in five seconds, with no one outside our group noticing. “What ARE you,” he asked.

Hammer had noticed the behavior. “That’s best talked about in the limousine,” he replied. “This is Vicki Lawrence, she’s the best friend of my future daughter and head of Sharkbait Productions. Her bodyguard, Fiona, is behind her. Vicki, Fiona, this is Ian and Dorothy Corcoran.”

“It is an honor to meet the man who saved Hammer’s ass,” I said with a grin as I offered my hand to them. My wolf was pushing forward, but not in an aggressive way. It was something else that was bothering her, and she wasn’t saying.

That broke the ice, and Ian laughed heartily as he took my hand. “I won’t let him forget it, either,” Ian said with a grin. “It was a bad day, and we were lucky any of us survived.”

“You don’t get awarded the Victoria’s Cross for being lucky,” I said. “I’ve met plenty of SEALs, but you’re the first Special Air Service veteran. I’m curious if you lads are as tough as your reputation.”

“The SEALs aren’t bad for bloody Yanks,” Ian teased. “You get tougher men training in the cold and rain of the Highlands than the warm beaches of Coronado." I snuck a look at Hammer, who rolled his eyes. "Nicholas is getting our luggage, he should be out in a few minutes.”

The longer I stood here, the more active my wolf was becoming. I didn’t figure out why until the sliding doors opened and Nicholas walked out, carrying two suitcases and a backpack.

My wolf pushed forward, her tail wagging fiercely in my mind. I whispered a single word as I stood motionless, my body unsure what to do next. “Mate…”

The story continues in Book 3, "Sharkbait Down Under"