by C V Leigh
“He had to take a call from Drake.”
Jacob frowned.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just checking we’ve got here without you two killing each other.” She paused. “I’m sorry you’re the one being punished.”
Jacob shrugged. “I’m glad it’s me, and not you.” He looked over her shoulder. Tess turned and followed his gaze to see Zane coming back to them.
“That was Drake,” Zane said when he caught up with them. “Police have closed the case on Nathan and Nicholas. Nicholas’ death was ruled an accident. The London Met confirmed his body was found in a car wreck, and Heathrow sent them a copy of the flight plan that had Nathan on a plane leaving for New York.”
They all sighed with relief.
“You two are good together,” Jacob said, looking between his brother and Tess. He thrust a hand out. For a while, Zane simply stared at it, but eventually took the offer. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
Zane gave a small nod. “It was only a kiss,” he said, although his tone implied it felt like so much more. “And none of us were in a good place. Have a safe flight.”
Tess slipped her hand in Zane’s. “You’ll call when you land, won’t you?”
“Yeah, of course, and I’ll email over anything I find. I’ll make sure to tell you everything.” His sights were set firmly on Zane. “This family has enough secrets. It doesn’t need more.” He hooked his holdall onto his shoulder. “I’m going to go through now. It’s a long flight, and I could do with a drink.”
They watched as he made his way towards the security check area. When he disappeared from sight, Zane looked at Tess. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she said, squeezing his fingers, revelling in the sensation of the pad of his thumb brushing over the white dots that connected them. “Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
Jacob relaxed as much as he could into the seat. He wriggled like an impatient child until he found a position that was marginally more comfortable. The seats in business class might be wider than economy, but he was wider than the average person. He pressed his head into the headrest and let out an irritated groan.
“Eight hours,” said the woman on the other side of the aisle. “At least we’re not in coach.” She laughed.
Jacob glanced at her, then over his shoulder at the blue curtain separating them from the masses. He was grateful Alistair had upgraded him. “It’s more the confined space than the length of time. I’m not good at being closed in. I feel… trapped.”
“Ahh, claustrophobia.” She sucked on her black-painted bottom lip and nodded.
“Something like that.”
“And you’re British. Your accent is kinda cute.” She chuckled. “Sorry. That sounds like a really bad pick-up line. It wasn’t.” She shook her head, jet-black hair falling over her shoulders. “I mean, you’re attractive and all, but I don’t make a habit of coming onto men I’ve just met.” She rolled her dark-green eyes and held out a hand. “Lauren Summers.”
“Jacob Kincaid.” He took her hand, and they shook, his fingers lingering on hers a moment too long. “Are you from New York?”
Lauren screwed her face up. “No. Boston, Massachusetts.”
“What are you doing in Edinburgh?”
The seatbelt lights pinged on, and an air hostess came around, checking everyone was buckled up. Then she positioned herself in the aisle in front of them, ready to perform the safety demonstration.
“Work,” Lauren continued as a voice came over the loudspeaker system, explaining where the emergency exits were. “The company I work for is based in Boston, but we have offices all over the world. It’s my job to make sure everyone is communicating properly. I travel a lot. Paris, Milan, London, New York, Edinburgh.” She gestured towards the window.
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, sure.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I get to travel all over the world, but it leaves very little time for fun.”
“Hence trying to chat up strangers on a plane.”
“Hey! I said it wasn’t a pick-up line.”
Jacob laughed.
“So, what do you do?” she asked.
“I’m a lawyer.” He pushed his shoulders into the seat and faced the front, watching the end of the demonstrations. The air hostess, still wearing the deflated lifejacket, double-checked everyone’s seatbelts.
“Ahh, a handsome, rich lawyer.”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She took a sip from a bottle of water and stifled a laugh. “It wasn’t a pick-up line,” she said again. “I promise you. I’m not some kind of gold-digger, desperate to get my claws into you.”
“Really.” Jacob closed his eyes, trying to ignore the vibrations of the seat as the plane fired up its engines.
“Yeah.” Lauren cleared her throat. “So… are you one of the Kincaid brothers from Sanguis Luna Law?”
The plane’s wheels rolled along the tarmac.
Jacob twisted to look at her and frowned as things fell into place.
“Oh yeah, I know all about Sanguis Luna Law.” She looked out the window as the plane lifted off, and ground changed to sky. “I believe we had a mutual friend.” She faced him. “Nathan Trevell?”
Jacob snorted a laugh. “So, you’re the one who’s been following us? Raven hair, green eyes…” He nodded. “You’re a witch. I should have known.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so much more.” Her dark lips curved into a sinful smile.
“And that’s why you’ve been in Scotland,” he said, keeping his voice low, and his eyes on the flight staff as they got ready to serve drinks and snacks to the passengers.
“We heard Nathan had returned to the UK and he had a source on the inside of Sanguis Luna Law. We keep tabs on any UK business that has offices in the States. I was sent to keep a close eye on your family. I was sorry to hear about your uncle.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“I came here to track Nathan down. He stole something from us. We wanted it back. Turns out I was too late. By the time I found him, he was nothing more than a pile of bone and ash.”
Jacob swallowed. “You’ve been to Faol Hall?”
She shrugged. “One of the things about being a witch is you know spells that can hide your tracks,” she said with a wink. “We suspected Nathan was after Megan Kincaid and her family. I wanted to make sure you were all safe.”
“And what do you want now?”
“There’s nothing more I can do now that Nathan’s dead. So, it’s time to go home.”
“Because it’s pure coincidence that we both happen to be on the same flight, and sat next to each other,” Jacob said dryly.
“Look, you want to make an alliance with CAPA. I happen to be the daughter of the woman who sits at the head of that very long table. You want an in? I might be able to help.”
“What do you want in return?”
She pursed her lips. Sunlight glinted off the silver ring through her right eyebrow. “We’ll call it a favour owed. One day, I’ll ask for your help.”
“We need memory magic.”
“You need a high priestess. My mother is a high priestess. I’ve been watching you, Jacob. I like you, and your family. I want to help.”
Jacob ground his back teeth together. “Alistair won’t like this.”
“Is Alistair Head of the Council, or just a pack leader who happens to have a seat?” She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m right.”
He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable again. “Why should I trust you?”
“Settle down, sit back, and relax, Mr. Lycanthrope. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, and a lot to talk about.”
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ABOUT C.V. LEIGH
Originally from the Nottingham/Lincoln borders, C.V. Leigh now lives in Somerset with her family and pets. She comes from a long line of natural witches, and spent her childhood learning to read tea leaves from her grandmother and Tarot from her mother, so it's no surprise that she has a love for the fantastical and paranormal.
When she's not creating new worlds, C.V. enjoys reading with a hot cup of tea, or exploring the beautiful countryside that Somerset has to offer.
C.V. Leigh's favourite authors include Kelley Armstrong, George R.R. Martin, Douglas Adams, Grant Naylor, Terry Pratchett, and Roald Dahl.
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