LITMIR.BIZ

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smell his father’s cigar now as he thought about one of the last conversations they’d had.

      “The sins of the father are passed down to the son,” his father had said, tilting his head back and blowing out a thick stream of smoke. “You have to realize that the men in our family were not meant to be monogamous. This nature of ours—it is in our genes and there is nothing we can do about it. Our seed does not belong inside just one woman.”

      As far as Santiago knew, his father hadn’t produced any children outside his marriage, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying. His parents had been pressured to get married and have more offspring after his mother had gotten pregnant. Given the low birth rates among their people, when a pairing turned out to be fruitful, their society urged them to have more.

      Having seen what his father’s actions had done to his mother, Santiago swore he’d never do the same to any woman. If promiscuity truly was in their genes, then he didn’t want to destroy a woman like his father had done. Because when the mother suffered, so did the children. And he sure as hell didn’t want to produce sons who’d do the same thing. As far as he was concerned, the sins of the father stopped with him.

      Besides, there was something about Roxanne that unsettled him, caused him to think about things he’d rather not. And he happened to like himself just the way he was.

      “You two could play house,” Jackson said. “Who knows? You might actually like it.”

      For the second time tonight, Santiago pounded his fist on the conference room table. “Absolutely not.”

      THERE HAD TO be a crib here at region headquarters somewhere, Roxy thought. Mackenzie said there wasn’t, which seemed crazy. Miguel couldn’t be the only child to ever stay here, no matter how uncommon vampire children were. But if there really wasn’t a crib here, then Roxy planned to head into town and buy one. And Santiago would just have to run it through as an expense.

      She pushed open the door to his outer office, but it was empty. His assistant’s chair was tucked into her desk and the few personal things on the top were arranged neatly. Had the woman even been in today? It sure didn’t look like it. Either that or she was extremely neat and tidy. Glancing around at how orderly the colored files were behind her desk, Roxy figured the latter was true.

      She stared at the closed double doors, wondering what she should do. If she knocked, would he even answer? Her tracker senses told her he was there. Maybe she should come back another time when Jenella was around. As she debated what to do, she heard a series of crashes behind the doors. Without thinking, she grabbed the handles and pushed them open.

      The office was an absolute mess—chairs overturned, papers scattered everywhere, chunks of plaster and dust covered much of the floor. He’d thrown something—a chair, maybe?—at the ceiling at some point. With his back to her, Santiago said something in a language she didn’t recognize—no doubt a curse—and swiped a hand over the remaining items on his desk. Everything on top of it went flying, including his computer monitor.

      “Whoa,” she said, ducking. It landed with a crash on the wall about three feet away from her and shattered.

      He spun to face her, an angry fire blazing in his eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

      This was madness. What had gotten into him that he’d want to completely destroy his office like this? It wouldn’t be a matter of just righting a few desks and chairs and straightening papers. This would take a whole crew of repairmen to fix the damage.

      Breathing heavily, he stared at her, his nostrils flared, his mouth slightly ajar, exposing the tips of his fangs. His tattoo seemed darker all of a sudden, more ominous than it had before.

      At first, she thought about turning on her heel and coming back another time. Clearly, she was not meant to have witnessed this, but she wasn’t going to let him scare her off. Where was the in-control man she was used to seeing around the offices? The man who confidently fired off orders that people eagerly followed through on? Even though a part of her wanted to leave, she knew she needed to stay strong and continue.

      “I came to ask a question but I can see that the commanding officer has been possessed by a madman.”

      “Where’s Jenella?” His voice sounded as if he’d just straight-shot a glass of gravel. “Why did she let you in?”

      Roxy shrugged. “She wasn’t there.”

      He kicked at what she thought was a part of his printer. “You shouldn’t be here either. Leave.”

      She bristled. Not before she got what she came for.

      “Are you through yet?” She could see him stiffen, but she wasn’t dissuaded from continuing. Miguel needed a crib. Mackenzie needed him to sleep in one, in order for her to get some decent rest. Something told Roxy to keep pushing. “What’s gotten into you? Why have you destroyed your office?”

      “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he said. “No one was.”

      “Well, the noise was hard to miss.” Several books were balanced precariously on the edge of the shelf so she pushed them all the way in and stooped to pick up one from the floor.

      “Don’t.”

      “Don’t what?” She slid it back onto the bookshelf. Judging by the leather spines, there were some old ones here. It’d be a shame if any of them got bent or torn.

      “I don’t want you coming in here and…cleaning up.”

      Yeah, he probably expected his assistant to do it. Maybe that was why she was gone in the first place. She wanted her boss to clean up his own damn mess for once.

      His chest continued to rise and fall, the muscles in his arms bulging, reminding her of a bull in an arena ready to charge. Only she wasn’t scared. She’d always felt sorry for the bulls.

      “This wasn’t the reason I came.” She spotted another book on the floor behind the broken computer monitor. Oh, for goddsake. It was a first edition of The Call of the Wild. “What is the matter with you?”

      He exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. “What do you want?”

      She flung her hand around. “I want to know what this is about.”

      “There’s nothing for you to understand. I already told you to leave. This is none of your concern.”

      But she couldn’t just leave. She wanted to know more. Why the tantrum? He seemed like the most controlled and in-charge man she’d ever met. And this, she thought, looking at all the broken computer equipment and upended furniture, was far from that.

      She narrowed her eyes and studied him. He seemed to have calmed down a little; his pupils weren’t quite so dilated, his breathing had slowed. Maybe the problem was that he was cool on the outside while torment raged on the inside. She had no idea why, but for some reason, it was important for her to keep pushing in order to better understand him.

      “What if I don’t want to leave? What if I…care why you’ve done this?”

      His head snapped up as if he’d been slapped, his eyes dark and menacing. “Why would you care about me? I’ve not exactly been warm and welcoming to you.”

      He made it sound as if he’d been consciously trying to act like a jerk. She’d done nothing to warrant being treated like that on purpose. Then it dawned on her. Maybe her past had followed her. Maybe he’d heard the accusations from long ago and didn’t want her here.

      She stood a little taller and put a wall of iron around her heart. “Well, for one thing, I need to know how to get a crib set up in Mackenzie’s room. She’s exhausted and the only way she’s going to get any rest is if Miguel sleeps in his own bed. Which means the region needs a damn crib. If you don’t have one, then I’m driving to the nearest town right now and buying one. And you’re going to reimburse me.”

      His expression seemed to soften just a little and he leaned on the edge of his desk. “And

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