Drawing Deep Read online

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  Chapter One

  Ria Montgomery firmly believed that every single myth known to man contained a kernel of truth. Exaggerated, mutated or romanticized, buried deep beneath layers of twists and turns, the truth lay hidden, rarely uncovered, because the myth was either, at the best, more entertaining, or, at the worst, more comforting.

  As for her current situation, she was just hoping the reality of one particular myth wasn’t about to reach across the coffee table and bite her in the butt. Literally.

  “The originals were too fragile to take from the building department so these are copies.” Ria’s co-worker, Lance Coultier, rolled out several half-sized blueprints of a house on the low coffee table that separated them from Andreas and Melinda Felix, the owners of that house.

  Andreas leaned forward, his brown eyes flashing with surprise. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  Settled to the left of Andreas on an overstuffed plaid brown chair sat Lance’s sister, Gwen. “Bribery?” She asked around a huge grin.

  Lance shot her a smirk. “No, Brat. It was a simple trade.”

  “What kind of trade?” Rome Felix, the second of Melinda and Andreas’s four sons, asked from the arm of the chair Gwen was sitting in. By the way Gwen leaned into the possessive hand Rome had on the back of her neck, his thumb stroking along the pulse at her throat, they were a couple. In that respect, the other woman had to know what kind of dangerous creatures surrounded them, and yet she was perfectly at ease. The sight made Ria’s brow crease slightly, puzzlement briefly cracking through the clamoring unease that had nearly paralyzed her the second she’d met these people.

  “Let’s just say I was in possession of something someone in authority wanted.”

  “Oh, dear.” Melinda remarked from the sofa next to her husband. “I hope it wasn’t terribly important.”

  Lance flicked his eyes to Ria before saying to the room at large, “Importance depends on each individual’s perspective. In this case, finding and creating these copies were worth the trade.”

  Ria knew the traded item had been an old authentic confederate pistol from the civil war. Not exactly rare, but in decent condition, worth close to a thousand dollars to an avid collector. Lance, Ria and the other members of their team had amassed countless historical, whimsical and collectible items over the years, often using them in the same manner, in exchange for information or other artifacts. Though valuable, the loss of the pistol wasn’t that important to Chris Gregor, their boss. He had two more, in even better condition.

  “You going to tell us what it was?” Porter, the youngest Felix son, wanted to know.

  “Porter,” Melinda chided him.

  “What?” Porter lifted his hands, palms up, an infectious grin on his face. “Inquiring minds and all that.”

  “I second that.” Scott Boeing, a family friend, piped up from his position in front of the large, stone fireplace, empty now in the heat of the late summer.

  As the group talked and teased each other, Ria surreptitiously eyed the room occupants. It was impossible to miss how closely the Felix sons resembled their ruggedly handsome father. They all shared the same deep-brown eyes, dark-hair – though the length differed per son – and bronze skin tone. It was like looking into a box of delicious, mouth-watering caramels.

  On the surface, everything seemed innocent enough. She and Lance were ensconced on an overstuffed, extremely comfortable couch made of buttery-soft, deep brown leather in the inviting parlor of a bed-and-breakfast in the sunny state of Florida. It was this house depicted in the blue prints spread before them. Melinda and Andreas sat on a matching loveseat. Gwen and Rome were at Andreas’s left while Porter, the youngest and twin of Del who was presently living in another state, was on a footstool at his mother’s side, Scott lounged on the floor.

  Melinda had welcomed Ria and Lance with genuine warmth, Gwen with laughter and hugs, and the men with interest.

  Well. Most of the men.

  Ria slanted her gaze to the doorway. The eldest son, Santos, wasn’t lounging around, nor did he appear inviting, interested or at all happy. He stood at the threshold of the door, his back against the doorjamb, partially blocking the exit, causing her female instincts to quiver at the masculine display of predatory strength and sensuality. He wore loose, faded jeans that did nothing to mask muscled thighs built for power and endurance. The navy t-shirt, bearing the Orchard’s logo on his left pec, stretched over wide shoulders. More muscles rippled along the forearms he crossed over his chest. Skin the color of honey-bronze gleamed with health and vitality, enhanced by the sun shining through the large windows at Ria’s back. Windows that overlooked the side of the house and bay that curved out and around the residence to form a cove of sorts, before ending in swampland that served as a nesting ground for alligators.

  She swallowed, unnerved by the way his presence both fascinated and alarmed her enough that her heart, which she had forced back into a steady rhythm mere moments after realizing what kind of creatures surrounded her, once again kicked into high gear. Knowing the rapid pulse might be picked up by others in the room, she concentrated on slowing the organ down, missing some of the conversation around her.

  When Ria and Santos had first been introduced, confusion had flashed for a brief second in eyes the deepest and richest of browns. Like pools of melted chocolate. Combined with that was the flaring of his nostrils, as if he needed a deeper inhalation to figure out what she was.

  Ria understood. She had been purposely altering her scent for years for this very reason.

  Why she was sitting in this room, struggling to subdue the tension coiling inside and remaining uncharacteristically quiet, which caused Lance to shoot her a look of concern more than once, resided primarily with him. Or, more accurately, his sister. Gwen was one of the park rangers that oversaw the forest reserve, owned by the Felix family, which was situated at the far north end of their massive estate. Or plantation. Actually, it was an orchard, filled with rows and rows of orange, black olive and avocado trees. The three-story house was also a bed-and-breakfast, with hiking, horse-back riding and boating activities available to their guests, all on the same property.

  Chaotic, crazy and clever. Ria just might admire them, if she could get past her blood-chilling fear.

  Lance and their boss had wanted to take a quick peek into the Orchard’s titillating stories of hidden treasure, ancestral pirates and buried tunnels. The last of which might give some credence to the first as it had been discovered when the ground literally fell away under Gwen’s feet during an earthquake brought on by drilling work in the gulf.

  A rectangle pit would be a more accurate description rather than tunnel, as it was surrounded on all sides by earth and stretched approximately twenty feet across and seventy feet long. But it was the set of wide, shallow stone steps that appeared fully intact that called for a closer inspection.

  And what had drawn Ria. Her fingers had itched with the desire to touch that painstakingly man-made staircase, to trace each crevice and discover its secrets. Luckily their boss was interested in just about anything related to hidden treasure and he’d paid for this overnight trip to scope out any and all possibilities. Granted, anything of value would belong to the Felix family, given that the cavity was located on private property, but the credit for the find, whether it be actual treasure or something of historical importance, would go to her boss. If it ended up the latter, it would provide their group some bragging rights within the scientific community where they were thought of as treasure hunters, or pseudoarcheologists. A label that never made sense to Ria, because, in their own way, everyone digging into the pa
st was a treasure hunter. Seekers of truth. If that truth produced a fortune, all the better. No one she knew could live on accolades alone. Monetary funds were a necessary evil, and while their last discovery had produced an extremely nice bonus for the team, the money wasn’t going to last forever.

  The thought of money and the need to keep a roof over her head brought her back to the present. Her muscles began to ache from the instinctive fight or flight tautness, even as her brain had wandered. Not because she was outnumbered by the testosterone-laden sex, or by those who thought they were badasses. No. The difference with this group of males was that every single one, sans Lance, was a one hundred percent, full-blooded, deadly shapeshifter. The original badass.

  Ria knew this right down to her bones. It wasn’t only in the way they moved their large, masculine bodies, comfortably fluid with a hefty amount of swagger, or how they remained alert, seemingly aware of everything in the vicinity. It was also the sheer power they exuded from every pore of their being. A low electrical hum that made the tiny hairs on her body want to stand up and flee for their lives.

  Not quite human, but not fully an animal, the men surrounded her, made her shove all her emotions into a box, lock it and seal the edges with duct tape. They were predatory shifters, capable of shifting their human form into the creature they carried. What sat in the room with her was a pride of cats if her instincts were correct, and she had only lived this long by heeding her instincts. Except Scott. There was something about him that didn’t jive with the others. Ria couldn’t have described that difference to save her life, but she gathered he might be a wolf shifter, which in and of itself was another strange twist. She’d been taught that shifters of different species never cavorted with one another.

  Never.

  Yet another childhood lesson shot to hell. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her upbringing, after all, had been full of judgment, lies and pain.

  Knowing that didn’t make her any less uneasy, because each shifter species still retained the characteristics of their wild brethren, and cats – lions, leopards, jaguars – where unpredictably deadly. They had the patience to wait for hours in absolute stillness, silent, calculating. Then they pounced, and their prey was toast.

  Ria’s palms grew warm and she curled her fingers into two loose fists on her lap. Her uncertainty and fear was causing her body to ready itself in defense, and that would only show her true colors before she was ready. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. There’d been no overt threat posed, just an underlying current of potential, based on her own preconceived notions. And while it wasn’t the first time Ria had found herself in a hostile situation, it was certainly the most daunting because of that potential.

  They could be the most accepting group of shifters on the planet, but if they ever find out what Ria was, they might very well tear her to pieces first and ask questions later.

  “Don’t even think it, Porter.” Melinda’s voice yanked Ria back to the conversation. “I’m not allowing my flooring to be destroyed because of some theory about hidden treasure. Again.” Her final word was not only drawn out but emphasized by both her tone and the narrowing of her eyes as she laid them on each one of her sons in lingering authority.

  It had an amazing effect. Three deadly predators suddenly looked like human boys caught doing something naughty, and it caused Ria to rethink the hierarchy of the family. Even the strong, silent Santos, who for some reason kept snagging her attention and making her belly flutter with something other than sheer terror, shifted slightly under the accusing gaze, his own flashing out into the hallway as if something of the utmost importance caught his eye.

  The normalcy of it all made her lips want to twitch. This second crack in her fear had her mouth engaging before her brain could caution her at drawing attention to herself. “Again?”

  “Hmm.” Melinda turned her eyes to Ria, their depths lit with exasperated amusement. “My boys, in the infinite wisdom of their youth and fueled by the thought of pirates and hidden treasure, decided to look for said treasure. Everywhere. Including ripping up several planks of the flooring, some of the carpeting and even sections of the linoleum in the kitchen to see if there was anything underneath. Like a hidden trapdoor.” She flicked her attention to Lance. “There wasn’t. Even when we eventually pulled all the flooring up in the remodel, there was nothing. Sorry, Lance.”

  Lance leaned back on the sofa. “It was just a theory anyway. The way they constructed the crawlspace beneath the house is peculiar. All those rectangular structures made me think that any one of the them would make a perfect escape hatch.”

  On the heels of his statement came a sharp, short, buzzing sound from Scott, who abruptly rose to his feet. “Gotta go. Duty calls.”

  Rome and Gwen stood as well. “And we should head on out to the site before it gets much later,” Gwen said. “With your experience, maybe you can see something beyond a large pit.”

  That was fine with Ria. More than fine. Outside held freedom, even if it was only an illusion, because there was no possible way she could outrun a cat.

  As Scott was saying his goodbyes, Ria was treated to another discombobulated observation. Melinda reached up to cup Scott’s face and place a warm, motherly kiss on his check. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

  Not only cross-species acceptance, but, by the way the Felix men took the display without any indication of aggression, actual affection.

  It was all starting to make her brain hurt.

  Ten minutes later, Ria was sitting in the back of one of the Orchards’s jeeps and listening as Gwen gave Lance and Ria a quick rundown on Olivia’s Orchards, pointing out the various buildings and activities on the property. They even had a barn with horses and a boathouse.

  Talk about an expansive undertaking.

  Rome halted the jeep at the edge of the thickly forested reserve that was surrounded by a tall, metal fence. As they piled out of the jeep, a second one pulled up and Porter and Santos exited. Melinda and Andreas had remained at the house.

  Making their way past the wide gate and along one of the trails, Ria had another moment of nerves before she managed to stomp it firmly into the hard dirt under her booted feet. Based on what she’d seen and heard so far, she didn’t think these men were about to run her to ground like prey. Lance walked at her side and as he was Gwen’s brother, Ria figured she was safe by association. As long as her own secret remained buried, she had no choice but to accept that theory.

  Unfortunately, residual responses to childhood teaching wasn’t easy to overcome, which was why only part of her attention was on Lance, Rome, and Gwen as they talked about the pit, the pirate Claude Morgan who supposedly not only built the house but was also the Felix’s ancestor, and the danger Gwen and Rome had faced when armed men had chased them down in the reserve, determined to find Morgan’s hidden treasure. The rest of it was on the pair of males at her back.

  Which was how she heard what sounded like a muffled slap followed by words so low she knew she wasn’t supposed to hear.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Ria wanted to turn at Porter’s nearly inaudible question, but knew to do so might give her away. While she certainly didn’t possess a shifter’s heightened senses, she wasn’t without her own bag of tricks, both offensive and defensive. And those defensive skills really wanted to know what the hell was going on behind her, and what exactly the silent Santos was doing that would cause his younger brother to ask such a thing.

  Trying to be casual, she turned her head slightly to look at her surroundings. The forest spread out from the trail on either side, dense and healthy and full of life. Birds chirped happily all around them while ground dwelling animals scurried over the forest floor. She glanced down to check her footing and noticed for the first time the faint ruts that lined the trial. Pausing, she toed the impressions, thinking her concentration really was shot to hell if she only now noticed them. “What are these from?”

  “We had to use the quads to haul out t
he debris of the building that fell into the tunnel along with Rome and I.” Gwen explained, the whole group coming to a halt when Ria did.

  Her truth seeking nature contracted in horror. “You got rid of it?”

  Gwen flashed her an are-you-crazy look before flicking them to Lance. “Please. Considering that I’m the sister of the most anal man in the universe, I know better. We had to move it for safety reasons, but everything we pulled out is separated into piles behind Santos’s house.”

  Ria glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. “Your house?”

  His handsome face revealed absolutely nothing of what was going on in his head. “Yes.”

  Not the most talkative of men, that one.

  It was Porter who supplied the information after shooting his eldest brother an undecipherable look. “The two-story about a quarter mile northwest of the main house. You might have seen it. Boring brown.”

  Santos slanted his eyes to his brother. “At least I don’t live in a barn.”

  “Over the barn, you ass. Over the barn.” Porter flicked Santos in the ear in feigned outrage, making the older male grin.

  The sight nearly made Ria stumble as they continued on. Grooves, too deep to be called dimples, appeared on either side of his mouth. Those deep brown eyes sparked with vibrant life and laughter, changing his silent countenance into something that made her belly flip-flop and her eyes want to glaze over.

  Shocked at her response, she jerked her head forward, only to abruptly stop several feet later as the trees fell away.

  The first thing Ria saw was the gaping hole in the roughly three acre clearing. It was hard to miss as it lay only yards from where the trail dumped the group out. Though it caught her eye, it wasn’t the only thing she saw. Gwen had told her that an old brick and wood building had stood over that pit, but that wasn’t the only thing missing. The clearing was empty. Not in the “duh” sense as a devoid of growth was the definition of a forest clearing, but in a bereft way. Something once filled that clearing, but was now gone.