Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(35)

“Hi, Layla,” Beck greeted the pretty blonde.

“Publicist,” Layla said, pointing her pen at her. “What do you actually want because I saw your face when you downed your drink. It wasn’t your favorite.”

“I’ll have a long island ice tea, thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Layla said. “I heard what you’re doing for us. I’m a fan of anyone rallying for us.”

“For us?” Robbie said, his dark eyes narrowing to hate-filled slits at the bartender. “Are you one of those shifters, too?” He said the word like a curse, which was ridiculous because he’d been married to a shifter once and his son was also a shifter.

Beck wanted to throat-punch the judgmental *.

Layla plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I am not a shifter.”

“Good for you,” Robbie slurred.

“But he is,” Layla said, pointing to a tatted-up, dark-headed behemoth behind the bar. Kong narrowed his eyes at Robbie. Layla smoothed her apron over the swell of her belly, “And my baby will be, too.” Her smile dipped to nothing. “Start shit in here, and I’ll throw you out so fast you’ll think I’m a f*cking wizard.” She turned to her mate and called out, “A long island for our mighty publicist and nothing more for this dick. He’s cut off.”

“Yeeep,” Kong said as he spun a glass in his palm like a bartending pro. His angry eyes flashed an inhuman green at Robbie before Kong went back to work.

Mason broke a rack of balls over on the pool table where he was hanging out with Haydan and Kellen of the Ashe Crew, who’d just walked in. The sound of balls scattering was deafening in the bar. It wasn’t yet rush hour, and only a few of the tables were full. Even with his eyes flashing a furious, inhuman color, Mason looked sexy as hell lining up his next shot.

“Hellooo,” Robbie said, snapping in front of her face.

With a slow, infuriated blink, she gave McFartFace her attention again.

“What I have to say will make you angry.”

“Just say it,” she muttered.

“Shelly and I are getting married.”

Not shocking. They’d been together through half of Beck and Robbie’s marriage. “Congratulations,” she said in a dead voice.

“Because she’s pregnant.”

How romantic. “Double congratulations.”

“With twins.”

Beck prayed for patience, counted to three, then murmured, “Robbie, that’s fine. I’m not angry. I’m glad for you that you’re sticking with Shelly. I mean, you two have been together for a long time.” She had tried not to sound bitter, but a little eked through. “And it’ll be good for Ryder to have some half-siblings.” She guessed. But on second thought, maybe this would hurt him if he saw his father being a good parent to his other kids. Huh. Now her chest was filling with dread. She hadn’t been able to mold Robbie into good father material, but maybe Shelly had powers Beck didn’t possess.

“The thing is…my other babies will be human.”

Uh oh. Beck dragged her hands under the table and clenched them in her lap until her nails dug into her palms. “So?”

“So Shelly doesn’t like that Ryder Changes into that hairy little bird whenever he wants. She don’t like taking care of him.”

“Well, she doesn’t take care of him, so crisis averted.”

“Yeah, but having him a month a year is going to be hard if she don’t want him in our house.”

“Robbie, you’re his father—”

“And as his father I should have a say in his treatment.”

“Treatment?”

Robbie pulled a stack of pamphlets from his pocket and slammed them on the table. The title of the first one shocked her into stillness. Experimental Gene Treatment.

Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks, then landed in her ears as she pulled the pamphlet open. The first paragraph alone made her sick to her stomach.

“They are trying to fix shifters.”

“Fix. Shifters.” Her voice shook like a leaf in a hurricane.

“Yeah, Beck, fix shifters because I’ll be good goddamned if I watch you become all loud and proud, registering and shit, and shaming my name. My kid ain’t meant to have a f*cking owl in him.” Robbie’s voice filled with bone-chilling vitriol. “You tricked me. You never admitted you were a shifter. Not when we were dating, not when you got pregnant, not when we got married. I had a right to know what I was getting myself into.”

“I didn’t tell you because you’re anti-shifter, Robbie!”

“Doesn’t matter your reasons, Beck. I had to find out my kid was a freak when he turned into a f*cking fuzzy baby owl right after his first birthday. That’s messed up.”

“Ryder’s not a freak.” She clenched her hands tighter until warmth trickled down her palms from where her nails dug in. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to Change and claw his eyes out for what he was suggesting. “Six months, Robbie. This pamphlet says the experiments will last half a damned year. You would torture the animal from our son, then? Is that what this is? You’d rather him be ‘normal’ than healthy? He is normal! I’m normal,” she said, pressing her bleeding palms against her chest.