Southern Shifters - Press Paws (Buchanan Clan #2) by Celia Kyle Page A

“What brings you here?”
    He quirked a brow. “Really? That’s your angle?”
    A girl had to try to lighten the mood, didn’t she? “The thing about it is…”
    Strong, warm hands came to rest on her shoulders and Ryland pulled her back until their bodies were flush. A gentle squeeze was the only hint of affection, and then her mate released her. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view entirely.
    “I acted alone.” Only because she’d let him, dammit.
    “But he—“
    “She didn’t touch him.”
    “Ryland,” she growled. “He—“
    “He died beneath my claw. Hannah wasn’t involved.”
    There was protecting and then there was being an idiot. “He started it!”
    Ha! She got the words out anyway. So there.
    The porch groaned and she peeked around her mate. Greer braced his legs, shoulder-width apart, and crossed his arms over his chest, a look of pure menace and intimidation filling his expression.
    Did he really think to cow them into submission with that blustering face? He had nothing on her father and she’d spent decades under that man’s roof. “How about someone tell me who he is and how he ended up dead.”
    Hannah hated to make light of the situation. A man died tonight, fallen beneath her mate’s claws, but she couldn’t help but be happy at being alive. And she refused to let Ryland dwell on Jeremy’s death.
    “It’s all my father’s fault. Really. You should drive on over to Buchanan lands and arrest him instead of Ryland. Oh!” She pasted on the fakest smile known to man but didn’t care if Greer saw through it. “You should arrest our attorney, too. He drew up the paperwork. And the notary—who’s also his secretary, but still. Her too.” Her heart hammered, pounding a mile a minute, and she was sure it’d blow right out of her chest at any moment. “And Jeremy’s father because he was in favor of the match as well.”
    “Hannah,” Ryland murmured, his serious stare colliding with her own. “It’s fine.”
    She shook her head and refused to acknowledge that tears stung her eyes. Emotion clogged her throat, stealing her voice, and she swallowed past the large lump that’d formed.
    “Yes, it is.” And to add a cherry to the morning, that was when her father strolled up.

15
    H annah’s father nearly glared a hole through Ryland when she’d announced their need for a shower. He’d grumbled as he took each stomping step up the stairs. And he’d snarled when Ryland even hinted at joining her. If she wasn’t thankful for his presence, she’d be annoyed. But she was, so she tolerated her overbearing daddy.
    And sneaked a kiss when he wasn’t looking.
    Now, fresh, clean, and coffee-d, they were ready to talk. Her father sat at the head of the oval shaped table, her mother and Katie to his right and Hannah on his left. Ryland took up the space between Hannah and Greer while giving the other male threatening glares. As if she’d leave him for a chopped liver guy like Greer.
    The heavy thud of a vehicle door slamming shut announced that the coroner was done—Jeremy’s body was to be taken from the scene and spirited away to his family.
    “Now,” Greer’s voice was a quiet drawl. “Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?”
    Not particularly.
    No one spoke, so Hannah figured she’d have to be the one to start. Unfortunately, (thankfully) her twin sister had other ideas. “The thing about it is…”
    Greer groaned and dropped his head forward.
    “I did that already. He doesn’t appreciate our humor,” Hannah leaned forward and murmured to Katie.
    “Is his funny bone broken?”
    “No,” Greer broke in. “My give a damn is broken. Now tell me what’s going on here.” The male glared at her father. Oh, that wasn’t a good idea. “Buchanan, every time your family comes here, someone dies. I’m starting to not like you.”
    Her father grunted with a half-snort that she easily translated. And?
    “What Angus means is—” There went her