Nocturnal Revelations

by Amanda S Green

  “Jael,” Jackson growled.

  “No, Jack. She’s right.” Mac spoke softly but it didn’t hide her own anger. “But I have a few conditions of my own.”

  “Don’t suggest you get to leave here as well. That’s not going to happen,” her grandmother said.

  “No. But I want a video feed to the pride meeting. I need to see what happens.”

  “Done,” Jael agreed before Mac could think of anything else. “Now, Sgt. Lee and a team are waiting in the corridor. They’ll escort you to the new safehouse. You have to promise to stay there until time to leave tonight.”

  “We’ll do as you say,” Ellen promised.

  “Thank you.” She gave them a slight smile. “I’ll give you a few moments.”

  As the door closed behind her, she sighed in relief. So far, so good. Hopefully, that was a sign nothing else was going to happen.

  Pat, anything new? she texted half an hour later as she paced the length of the corridor outside Mac’s room.

  Not sure. Murray checked on W’s kids. They aren’t in school. Broke pattern yesterday. W usually drops them off. Out of the ordinary enough for the staff to take note. Same with W’s father picking them up after school.

  Jael considered that bit of information before responding. Word on them today?

  Supposedly home sick. Have Sears & Nguyen checking it out.

  ‘k. Keep me informed.

  What were they missing? Where was the connection between Wysocki and Caudell and the lycans?

  * * *

  Jacob Branson watched the video feed. A smile of satisfaction lit his expression. Then he leaned forward, studying his prey. Wysocki still thought she had a chance to save her husband and herself. That’s what made this so much fun. As long as she held out hope, she’d do as she was told. She might not be much of a wife—not that he blamed her. Caudell was an insect to be crushed—but she loved her children. She’d do whatever she had to in order to protect them. By the time she realized the futility of it all, it would be too late.

  Maybe he’d play with her a little before killing her. It might be interesting to see if he could turn her. He’d been disappointed when Santos wasn’t turned after Wilcox attacked her. Instead, she became their worst nightmare. All because Wilcox hadn’t stayed long enough to make sure he finished the job. Instead, he’d run off to lick his wounds. Branson hadn’t mourned his death one moment.

  What he did mourn was the downfall of the pack. For years, he’d been satisfied in his role as the pack’s enforcer. Connor Ferguson had been a strong leader, unbowed by the Conclave or by the local pride. More than that, he’d been smart. He’d known how to let his wolves do what came natural for their kind without bringing them to the attention of the pures. Wilcox, with his attack on Santos, ruined that. The local pride, not to mention the Conclave, focused on them and Ferguson was forced to curtail the pack’s activities.

  After Santos met Wilcox in the Circle, Ferguson changed. He deferred to the pride leadership. Gone was the strong alpha. Oh, he maintained his role in the pack but the pack turned into a pale shadow of what it once was. It grew even worse after Cassandra Wilkinson ordered her followers to kidnap Ferguson and others of the shifter community. Ferguson felt some sort of loyalty to the pride for forcing their kidnappers to release them. He’d allowed them—their enemy—to treat him and the others of their kind taken with him. He’d become little more than a lapdog to the enemy. No wolf should ever show its belly to a cat and that’s what Ferguson had done, figuratively if not literally.

  Branson looked away from the monitors. Half a dozen of the pack crowded the small office. They had been the first to come to him, asking him to assume leadership of the pack. The five men and one woman had objected when Ferguson offered Wilcox up to the Conclave to placate them and the pride for the attack on Santos two years earlier. Now they were ready for him to take the next step.

  “Yu, find out where Bartholomew is. He should have been back by now.”

  “He’s a lazy bastard, boss. Probably went home and got drunk,” the muscular young man said. When Branson narrowed his eyes, he swallowed hard and nodded once before slipping out of the office.

  “Cara, you’ve been wanting to play with our guest. Go have some fun.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t kill him—yet.”

  “How much fun can I have?” the brunette asked, an unholy gleam in her eyes.

  Branson considered the question. Then one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that would send chills down most people’s spines. “He liked to sample the product without paying for it. So mix him one of your special cocktails. Make sure he doesn’t have an easy trip. He needs to learn how foolish it is to not only hold out on me but to try to rob me.”

  The woman, one of the best street chemists he knew, nodded and started out of the office. She stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Can I turn him?”

  “Not yet. I want to make it a family affair. We’ll wait until his wife joins him.”

  Even as he noted the disappointment in her eyes, she nodded. Trusting her to do as he instructed, he turned his attention to the others.

  “Stone, Wongo, confirm the pride is still meeting tonight and find out where.”

  “On it, boss.”

  The two left the office, already discussing how they would learn the information. Stone suggested hacking emails and Wongo wanted to grab up a member of the pride and make them talk. Branson bet himself Stone would prevail. His level head was why Branson partnered the two so often.

  “You two gather the others. Make sure no one says anything that will tip off Ferguson. Let’s deal with the pride and then I will deal with our alpha. It is time for us to quit hiding in the shadows. The others know today begins the war.”

  With that, he turned back to the monitors, chuckling softly as Cara stepped into view. He originally planned on letting her give Caudell an overdose before they dumped his body with enough evidence to link him to Santos’ shooting. Now he considered letting her work her pharmaceutical magic on Ferguson as well. It would send a message to everyone if they simply took the pack leader instead of giving him the dignity of fighting in the Circle.

  He never wanted to lead the pack. Ferguson and the pride forced his hand. Now he would lead his people to their rightful role at the top of the food chain. Tonight was just the first step, the opening salvo. Soon, it would be war, a war he intended the lycans to win.

  25

  Mac carefully sank onto the edge of the bed. As she did, her nurse checked her pulse. Then she moved to help Mac swing her legs onto the mattress. Mac shook her head. The walk to the nursing station and back left her weak as a kitten. But she didn’t care. It beat staying in bed. All she wanted now was to sit up for a few minutes.

  “After you rest,” the nurse said before Mac could say anything. “But you did very well. How do you feel?”

  “Weak but better than I expected.” She smiled slightly as her jaguar sent her an image of a jaguar cub collapsing in a heap on the ground after playing. “I don’t hurt as much.”

  “Good.” The nurse lifted Mac’s legs onto the bed and helped her settle back. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, thanks.” She nodded as Jael and Marie appeared in the doorway. They entered the room as the nurse left. Mac caught the scent of burgers and fries and grinned. “If that’s for me, you have my undying gratitude.”

  “I don’t know, Marie. What do you think?” Jael teased as the woman set the bags she carried on the table.

  “I think she deserves a reward. She didn’t argue with the nurse, at least not too much.” Marie’s eyes twinkled. Then she sobered and reached for Mac’s uninjured hand. “How do you feel?”

  “Better for having been up for a few minutes but weaker than I’d like.” Seeing how they both looked at her in surprise, she gave a one shoulder shrug. “You know me. I hate being helpless almost as much as I hate being told I can’t do something.”

  “But you have motivation now to do eve
rything you can to heal,” Marie said. “You can’t expect it to happen overnight.”

  Mac looked from her admin to Jael, her brows drawing together in a frown. Marie’s comment might mean nothing, but it might also mean a great deal. Either way, she had a feeling Marie knew more than she suspected. The fact Jael didn’t seem concerned by what the woman said only increased Mac’s suspicion that they knew something she didn’t.

  “What?” she asked simply. “Or, more to the point, what do you mean, Marie?”

  Marie and Jael looked at one another and then back to her.

  “You don’t have to watch what you say around her, Mac,” Jael finally said. “Captain King read her in a while back. Culver knows and has done everything but pull her into our special squad.”

  Relieved, Mac smiled and reached for Marie’s hand. She’d had her suspicions but was glad to know for sure.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.

  “I knew you’d say something when you were ready, Mac. Until then, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or worry you.” She turned her attention to finishing laying out the burgers and fries. “Now eat up. After you do, I’ll answer any questions you might have.”

  “I have only one right now.” She accepted the burger Marie handed her and took a bite, all but moaning in pleasure. She chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Will you accept the pride’s friendship, loyalty and protection, let us help you in any way we can as you helped Mike before his death and as you’ve been helping me since then?” It wasn’t a formal induction into the pride but it was the first step to making her a part of it—if she agreed.

  “I would be proud to.” Marie smiled, affection easing the tension in her expression. “Alpha.”

  Mac laughed and took another bite of her burger. There would be more to discuss later. But, for now, she wanted to eat and consider what the next step should be in the investigation. She might be the victim but she was a cop, damn it, and they couldn’t expect her to stay out of it. Hell, even if they did, she wasn’t going to. Not with the connection between what happened and the lycans.

  “Thanks.”

  She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. One-handed, she wadded it up and tossed it in the direction of the small trash can near her bed. When it hit the rim of the can and bounced off, she sighed and shrugged. Jael chuckled and bent to retrieve the wad, deftly tossing it into the trash. Then she looked at Mac, cocking her head to one side.

  “You’re up to something,” she said, a frown playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Maybe.” How Jael answered her next question would determine if she was or not. “Any news from Pat?”

  “They haven’t found Caudell yet. He seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth, not that that’s anything new. My money’s on Wysocki having stashed him somewhere until this blows over.”

  “Have you fully briefed Marie?” The slight emphasis she placed on fully the only indication what she meant.

  “I have.”

  “Good. That makes things easier.” She reached over and pressed the button to adjust the angle of the bed some. “I assume Culver said not to do anything to tip Wysocki off.”

  “Correct,” Jael said.

  “I also assume she is still making noises that IAB should be involved in the case because a cop was shot.”

  This time, both Marie and Jael shook their heads, their expressions serious. “No, and that should have been our first red flag.” Jael’s frustration that none of them realized the woman might have been involved was obvious. “After Culver last met with her and told her to back off or he’d have to start asking why she kept digging at you, she’s been strangely silent about the investigation.”

  For a moment, Mac didn’t say anything. Instead, she considered her options. She knew what she wanted to do. Whether she could get her companions to agree, she didn’t know. But she had to give it a try.

  “Why don’t we give her a little nudge?” Mac suggested.

  “What do you mean?” Marie crossed her arms and looked at her much like a mother looked at a child about to suggest doing something very foolish.

  “Why don’t you call her and say I’m conscious and learned she’d wanted to speak with me? I wouldn’t have reason to know she’d been told to leave the case alone. As far as I’m concerned, she is part of the investigative team. Let her come and let’s see what she has to say.”

  For a moment, Marie and Jael looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then Jael cursed and stalked away from the bed, as if not trusting herself to stand too close to Mac just then. From the look on her friend’s face, Mac was glad. She had a feeling Jael wanted very badly to reach out and shake her until she saw sense. But it was the thoughtful expression on Marie’s face that brought her up short. She saw the disapproval in the older woman’s eyes but at least she hadn’t rejected the idea out of hand.

  “Tell us what you have in mind,” Marie said, waving Jael to silence before the woman could protest.

  Mac quickly laid it out. Wysocki wouldn’t be able to stop herself from coming if she knew Mac wanted to talk. The trick would be getting her to say something they could use as leverage against her. Mac felt sure she could do it, especially since Wysocki wouldn’t see her as a threat. It would mean playing up her injuries and her pain, but it was a small enough price to pay if it led them to identifying everyone involved in the plot to kill her—and whatever the underlying plot might be. She couldn’t help thinking there was more to it than murdering her. But what and how the hell had Wysocki and her husband gotten tied up with the lycans?

  “If we do this—and I’m not saying I agree—we take precautions.” Jael spoke without turning from the window she stared out of. “I want cameras set up, recording everything that happens. I want to make sure you aren’t alone in the room with her. And you aren’t to do anything to put yourself in danger.”

  Mac gritted her teeth. She wanted to object but didn’t. Not only was Jael thinking like a cop, she was doing her duty to the pride by making sure nothing was left to chance. Like it or not, Mac needed to agree.

  “All right. How long do you need to set it up?”

  Jael considered for a moment before answering. “An hour should be enough.”

  “Then get it done.” Mac turned her attention to Marie. “Call Wysocki in half an hour. Ask her if she still wants to speak with me. If she does, tell her she can come right away.”

  “I understand.”

  “Let’s hope this works.”

  It had to. Time was running out. She could feel it. If they didn’t find out what was really going on soon, it might be too late for all of them.

  * * *

  Julia Wysocki pulled into a parking space beneath one of the many buildings that made up Baylor University Medical Center. As she did, the announcer on the radio noted the time. 11:08. The latest traffic report started. All around her, the world went on even as her world collapsed. She didn’t care about the weather. She didn’t care the morning rush hour was over. She didn’t care about the latest economic reports out of Washington. None of it mattered.

  Nothing mattered except keeping her children safe.

  She switched off the engine and reached for her briefcase. Making sure no one was close enough to see what she did, she withdrew several items. The first was a Smith & Wesson .38. The grip was wrapped in tape. The metal scratched and worn. How many gang bangers and others had used the weapon before it had been seized in a drug sting? Not that it mattered. All she cared about was the fact it couldn’t be traced back to her.

  She slid it into the holster at her waist, confident her leather jacket would hide it. Then she studied the box. No larger than the palm of her hand, it held the means of Santos’ death. If everything went as planned, she’d inject the contents of the syringe resting inside the box into Santos’ IV and be gone before the monitors registered anything wrong. If luck was on her side, the doctors wouldn’t do an autopsy because they’d assume the woman died o
f her wounds.

  She slipped the box into her jacket pocket and climbed out of the car. As she did, she checked her phone. The office thought she was in the field working an investigation. Her children were safe out-of-state with her parents. Now all she had to do was deal with Santos. She didn’t care what happened to Roy after that as long as he stayed away from her and their kids. He’d caused enough hurt over the years. This was the last straw.

  Santos. Wysocki’s right hand fisted at her side at the thought of the woman who’d been a thorn in her side for so long. But not for that much longer. The bitch even gave her the chance to end this, once and for all. When Marie Duncan called, asking if she still wanted to talk with “Captain Santos”, she couldn’t believe it. Suspicion was quickly replaced by relief. She’d learned long ago not to look the proverbial gifted horse in the mouth and this was the break she’d been looking for.

  All she had to do was play this smart. If she did, Santos would be dead and no one would be the wiser for it.

  A few minutes later, she stepped off the elevator and walked slowly toward the entrance to the security wing. A heavily muscled man in a black shirt sat behind the desk next to the doors. As she neared, he glanced in her direction. By the time she reached him, he was on his feet, a clipboard in one hand, his cellphone in the other. Even though she didn’t see a weapon, instinct told her he was heavily armed. It also told her he wasn’t a cop. Interesting. Had the family hired private security? If so, where was the uniform Chief Culver assigned to Santos’ security detail?

  “May I help you?” the man asked with surprising courtesy. Even so, his eyes remained hard as they seemed to take in every detail of her appearance.

  Unlike the last time she’d been there, she didn’t have to force her way inside. Instead, she reached under her blouse and pulled out her ID on its chain. Then she gave him her best “I’m not a danger” smile. This was a game she knew how to play, one she knew how to win.