A Fragile Family

by J. J. Massa

  Hail Becker was a contradiction in terms in Jack’s opinion. Glancing at the lace covered windows of the house when the cab pulled to the curb, Jack knew Becker had made them himself. Crocheted by his own ham-fisted hands, Jack had no doubt.

  Once inside, Becker would strip him down, beat him good, take care of any other needs he had, and then tenderly treat whatever injuries he’d inflicted. Afterward, Jack would explain that he had to kill off a couple of people and explain how he intended to go about it. Becker would tell him what was wrong with his plans and then help him assemble a team of whatever kind of creatures he thought were best suited to the job.

  Jack didn’t care if they were giant insects. He’d get rid of that annoying little bitch he’d donated sperm for, and maybe her mother, for good measure. While he was at it, he’d dispense with Lilith’s little problem, too.

  Becker opened the door and greeted him with a nod. He knew the state of things.

  Jack would use Lilith Landon for his wants. Hail Becker would be there to meet his needs.

  ****

  Home of Riker and Bethany Montgomery

  Montgomery Mountain

  Franklin, North Carolina

  Acclaimed actor Riker Montgomery read the letter a second time before picking up the phone to call his brother. He hadn’t had the time to dial a single number when the door to his study opened to admit his cousin, Yancey, and his twin brother, Lakon.

  “What’s up, Rike?” Lakon asked. “We could smell the anger clear out there,” he aimed a pointing thumb over his left shoulder, indicating the front yard.

  Riker wasn’t a bit surprised. He was pissed as hell and there as no way he wasn’t throwing off sparks. He could feel his teeth lengthening and knew his hair was already shaggy.

  “I just got this today, dated a week ago,” he waved the document he’d been reading in front of the two men. “It says that Jack Aschtholdt was released from prison last week. Says he was sponsored by a local company and now lives in Atlanta. Atlanta! ” he growled to emphasize his point. “According to the letter, Timmons’ office got one just like it.”

  “What company? When? Why didn’t Sheriff Timmons say something?” Lakon growled rapid fire. “He’s still Sheriff over there, right? Why didn’t they tell him and…”

  “All right guys, listen.” Yancey was forever the voice of reason, especially when his older cousins were lost in some primal, testosterone-induced fog. “First, we ought to call Uncle Mik, don’t you think? Uncle Mik who is conveniently staying at Tav’s right now?”

  Riker reached out and clapped Yancey on the shoulder. “Thanks for speaking up before I got all fangy,” he half-smiled.

  “All fangy?” Yancey yelped, looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Uh, throwback from that vampire show I did…” Riker grinned sheepishly.

  “It still cracks me up that my brother the werewolf played a vampire on TV for five years,” Lakon chuckled. “But hey, whatever pays the bills. Thanks Yance,” he aimed a smile at his cousin, probably as grateful as Riker for Yancey’s lightening the moment in his own, straight-man way.

  “Okay, you guys have a seat, I’m gonna call Dad and Tav and see what everybody knows,” Riker instructed. “Maybe we can stop this before it goes bad…”

  He punched in a series of numbers and then hit the speaker button. The hollow sound of a phone ringing on speaker echoed throughout the room.

  “Hello?” it was Tav.

  “Hey, buddy!” Riker smiled. “It’s Riker, Lakon, and Yancey. I guess we need to talk to you and Dad.”

  A click could be heard and then Tav spoke again. “Hey, guys,” he greeted them.

  “It’s Riker, Lakon, and Yancey, Mik,” he informed the older Were. “Hang on, I’m gonna get Jacob in here, too. And Christopher if he thinks it’s called for.”

  “Uh, why?” Yancey asked, looking at Riker and then at Lakon. He’d been their cousin all their lives of course, and managed both their careers, Riker’s as a very famous actor and Lakon as a well know singer—as well as handling a great deal of Montgomery-Livingston pack business. But Yancey wasn’t an Alpha. Sometimes, Riker forgot what Yancey did and did not know.

  “Jacob and Christopher are pack seers,” Riker explained. Lakon didn’t say anything.

  “Two of ‘em? And … I didn’t think they were real,” Yancey murmured, brow furrowed.

  “Turns out they are,” Jacob answered, laughing over the speaker phone.

  Yancey turned red and ducked his head, his face not that much lighter than his ginger-colored hair.

  “Good to talk to you, Jacob, uh, and Christopher?” Riker asked as an afterthought.

  “Not this time,” Jacob responded. “He’s got some other things to tend to.”

  Riker decided to leave that alone—chances were, he didn’t really want to know what Jacob’s brother was doing. “Well, I called because I got a little love note from the Federal Bureau of Prisons,” he told them without preamble. “It seems our old nemesis Jack Asshole is a free man. Timmons’ office in Talking Rock got the letter; they just didn’t get around to telling you yet. Victims get personal notification, it seems,” Riker growled. “Thankfully, we had ‘em copying any correspondence to me.”

  “Shit,” Mik commented. “Jack Asshole, a free man. Just doesn’t seem right…”

  Riker identified the heavy breathing as coming from Tav. It wouldn’t surprise him to find that Tav was getting “fangy” as he’d joked about before.

  “Turns out he was sponsored by a local company and works in Atlanta,” Riker went on.

  “What company?” Tav demanded, his voice vibrating deep across the line.

  “Landon International,” Jacob answered quietly.

  “Holy hell! That can’t be a coincidence,” Mik growled. Riker wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but he couldn’t help but agree.

  “It isn’t,” Jacob responded. “I can’t give you chapter and verse, but Sherman Landon’s wife is a Were. He loves her…a lot. She,” he sighed heavily. “She isn’t as attached to him, it seems. They aren’t actually mated, but they are married.” It was a fine distinction, but noteworthy to two roomfuls of werewolves.

  “Okay,” Tav agreed cautiously. “So…and he’s coming here?” he all but yelped.

  “Why again?” he asked. “You told Myles to go get him…”

  “Sherman Landon is to be a member of our pack,” Jacob answered. Riker just listened, stunned. Jacob seemed to know what he was talking about. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice, in fact, he sounded almost commanding. “I don’t know who he is meant for, but he is under Myles’ protection now.”

  “Ooo-kay,” Lakon answered—his manner tense and careful. “So, um, why don’t we just load everyone up and bring them on over here where we can defend ‘em?”

  “Yeah,” Riker agreed eagerly. “That makes a lot of sense. It’s damned hard for anyone to bother us up here.”

  Jacob exhaled heavily. “That’s a problem because Sherman and Ashley need to be here. They’re…damaged. They need to be here.”

  “Yeah,” Riker sighed. “Of course. So…”

  “You sent for Tayler-puppy,” Mik rumbled. “Did you…why?” he demanded angrily.

  “They need him, Gandad,” Jacob replied evenly. “It’s very important that Tayler be here.” Everything was silent for long minutes. Finally Jacob growled, “Look, I don’t make this shit up.”

  Riker could hear the swish of fabric. He knew Tav was doing what he himself would be doing. Hugging his son.

  “Look, a bunch of us are gonna head that way,” Riker decided, checking with Lakon and Yancey for nods. “I know Kaden and Kameron will want to be with you, son,” he addressed Jacob, knowing that the young man would accept that. Jacob had always been close with Riker’s twin sons and now they played and sang together. Hopefully, having them nearby would be comforting to him.

  “Thanks,” Jacob answered huskily. “You can have the back half of the house. Sh
erman will be staying with Myles and Ashley.” His voice was a little muffled, no doubt by Tav’s shoulder. No matter how old and how knowing a man was, sometimes, he just needed his father.

  “Just, for God’s sake,” Mik growled, “make sure they leave little Tinker-Puppy at home.” Tinker was Kameron’s year old son. Before anyone could answer, he went on, “And if you tell me they need that puppy too, seer, I’ll bite you in the ass, grandson or not.”

  Riker managed to hit the disconnect button before the room erupted into deep, ringing laughter.

  Chapter Twelve

  Home of Tracey and Tavist Darke

  Darke Woods Road

  Talking Rock, GA

  Myles gingerly helped Sherman out of the car, closing the door behind him much as he had for Ashley. Sherman had stared straight ahead, saying nothing for the rest of the ride. Regardless, Myles knew he was holding himself together through strength of will alone. He was a strong man, but battered. A wave of profound respect shook him, deep admiration, almost reverence for this stalwart but beleaguered soul.

  The fact of the matter was that this man was as emotionally bruised as Ashley had been and possibly worse. After all, it wasn’t manly to break down, was it? Certainly not when someone was depending on you.

  Sherman seemed to take it as a matter of course that he could depend on Myles now. Perhaps because the person, well, the Were he’d depended on had let him down, and Myles had turned up fresh on the heels of that.

  Possibly Jacob could explain it, but it really didn’t matter. Without giving it any thought, Myles reached forward and caught Sherman’s arm when he stumbled, helping him up the wooden stairs of Tav’s porch.

  “Sherman?” Ashley’s voice floated through the open window. “Myles?” she called out. He could hear her rushing for the door.

  “S’okay, Princess,” Myles murmured, catching her in one arm and pulling her in front of Sherman. “Here he is.”

  “Sherm?” Ashley questioned in a husky whisper, almost as if she didn’t believe he was really there.

  Sherman cleared his throat and swallowed loudly. “She didn’t want me, Ash,” he choked, wrapping his arms around her.

  Ashley’s arms came up around Sherman, holding him tight. “I’m so sorry, Sherman. But…” she was crying now, too, choking back sobs. “But we want you, don’t we, Myles?”

  Myles vaguely wondered when his life had become a nursery or pre-prep class, but he put an arm around each of them. “Course we do, Princess. We’ll look after you, ducks,” he promised Sherman, herding his little group toward the front door.

  Sherman paused instead of going in, attempting to wipe his eyes on his shoulder.

  “I’m a mess, I’m sorry. I really don’t know why I’m so…weepy, I guess,” he shrugged, trying to turn away.

  Myles stopped him, keeping an arm firmly along his back. “The front room is empty there,” he told them both, grateful that everyone had cleared out for a few minutes.

  “You can go to the loo and have a little wash. I’ll see if Tracey will put a kettle on, shall I?”

  Ashley flashed him a relieved smile and led Sherman inside. Myles dropped a kiss on her head and headed for the kitchen.

  “He meant you can wash your face in the bathroom. He’s British—it’s a whole other language,” he heard Ashley tease.

  “It’s kind of a nice change of pace, isn’t it?” Sherman answered. Myles couldn’t help but wait and see what she said.

  “Yeah, it really is, huh?” Ashley agreed. “It sounds nice. I like listening to Myles talk.” Myles grinned. It wasn’t a major breakthrough, but it was acceptance and he’d take it.

  ****

  “Can I talk to you out here for a minute, son?” Mik called out, having heard Myles enter the kitchen.

  Jacob had ushered his mother in the other room where she was, surprisingly enough, making hot tea for everyone.

  Myles followed his nose and his ears until he made his way out onto the back porch where Tav, Mik, Jacob and Christopher were apparently having a meeting of the minds.

  “Something up?” he asked. “Or is that a daft question?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Jacob grinned.

  “To both…” Christopher tossed an arm across Myles’ shoulders and nudged him onto the railing next to him.

  Before he could respond, Tracey pushed the door open and handed Myles a steaming cup of tea. She arched a flaming brow at him until he accepted it.

  “Ta—I mean, thank you,” he murmured, looking pathetically grateful. “I’m parched.”

  Mik noted that she had used loose tea leaves and had sweetened it to Myles’ taste.

  He mulled over the possibility that she was coming around but shrugged that notion away. It was more than likely just simple cause and effect. Myles had done something right and Tracey was rewarding positive behavior.

  Everyone remained quiet for long minutes, just letting Myles savor the rich blend.

  Mik had spent enough time with Myles to know that Tracey had prepared it exactly the way he liked it. That woman never ceased to amaze him. She reminded him of his unpredictable Elke in so many ways. A quick look at Tav, who was shaking his head ruefully, made him suspect he wasn’t the only one harboring similar thoughts.

  “So,” Myles spoke up, “what’s going on?”

  “Do you remember Jack Aschtholdt, Myles?” Mik chose not to beat around the bush, getting directly to the point.

  Myles went still, raising his eyes slowly to Mik’s. He nodded.

  “Riker just called,” Tav informed him quietly. “He got a letter from the Federal Board of Prisons. Apparently the man was awarded parole. He was sponsored by a company in Atlanta.” Tav paused.

  Mik stepped forward. “He was sponsored last week…by Landon International.”

  Myles’ eyes flashed red for a minute. Even Tav caught his breath.

  “I know too bloody well what my boy in there was doing last week,” he growled low. “I promised him I’d go see her…his wife,” Myles explained.

  “You can’t just go blasting in there,” Mik insisted, looking askance at Jacob and Christopher, hoping for backup. The jury was still out about how useful seers were in his opinion, especially after that last phone call. “We can’t just go over there and pick a fight. Surely you two agree?”

  Both seers kept quiet, watching Myles.

  “I have no intention of picking a fight,” Myles informed Mik. He looked around at Tav, back at Mik, and then over at Jacob, who nodded.

  Myles then reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Flipping it open, a little beep was heard.

  “Contacts, call someone,” a pleasant female voice intoned.

  “Call Yancey,” Myles said evenly.

  “Calling Yancey,” the female voice of Myles’ cell phone repeated back to him.

  Myles hit another button and the woman’s voice said, “Speaker.”

  A half ring burbled across the back porch and then, “Yancey Livingston,” Yancey answered.

  “All right, Yance?” Myles greeted him.

  “My! We’re on our way to see you…sorta,” Yancey told him, sounding distracted.

  “Yeah, I need you to do something for me, mate,” Myles stopped him.

  “Okay, what?” Mik could tell that Yancey was now completely focused on Myles.

  “You’re licensed to practice law here in Georgia?” Myles questioned him.

  “I’m licensed in every state where we have pack holdings,” Yancey assured him, waiting.

  “I need you to draw up divorce paperwork on behalf of Sherman Landon— seeking a divorce from Lilith Landon.”

  “Myles…” Yancey began.

  “I will act as his agent and he will voluntarily sign in front of as many witnesses as you need. We can start with fraud as the reason, and you can go on and list as many other grounds for divorce as you can find. Bring it with you when you come,” Myles instructed him.

  “All right… I might need middle names. Let m
e see if I can access the original marriage paperwork. It won’t be hard to get the dates. You know if there’s a pre-nup?”

  Yancey was all business now.

  “No, I don’t know, so just find a way to make sure none of her heirs are entitled to anything. I can’t guarantee I won’t end up killing her,” Myles growled, locking eyes with Jacob. His eyes flashed again and Jacob shrugged. Apparently he knew which way things would go and wasn’t saying.

  “Will do,” Yancey agreed. “And I’m bringing Philly, that okay?”

  “Sure, pet, I know Princess would like to see her.”

  Mik shook his head, feeling dizzy. Well, Philly wasn’t helpless. Yancey’s wife was blind, but she was a werewolf. She could take care of herself. She might even be able to provide a little extra security for Ashley and Sherman while whatever was going to happen happened.

  ****

  Home of Hail Becker

  25 Rockwell Street

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Jack lowered himself gingerly in the scented water, leaning heavily on Becker as he did so. He held his breath, biting back any sound until Becker nodded.

  “Ahh,” Jack hissed as the oily water at first stung and then soothed his many aches and pains.

  With one notable exception, Becker hadn’t broken the skin, although he had beaten Jack very thoroughly. He’d cried, begged, pleaded, moaned and groaned, until his overtaxed vocal chords could barely push a sound out of his raw throat.

  As sore as he was, though, Jack doubted that he’d even bruise. Still, there wasn’t a single inch of his body that hadn’t been touched by Becker’s dubious loving attentions.

  Without giving it any real thought, Jack knew he wouldn’t be seeing Lilith for the rest of the day. On the off chance that she might show up at his apartment, he wouldn’t even go home. Not that he believed Becker would let him leave. The big man liked to see the results of his handiwork and Jack had learned the hard way to let him have what he wanted.

  And now that both men had worked out their more physical stresses, Becker would spend the next day or so pampering Jack. It had always been thus and frankly, Jack had missed it. Now that they were on the outside, Jack was curious to witness the extent of Becker’s indulgence since luxuries were so limitless.