by Tara Lain
Holy crap, the place he’d be driving as soon as he left there.
NARDO SAT calmly behind his desk. Underline calmly. If he exercised his true feelings, both of the idiots would be incinerated. Literally. But that was messy and a waste of manpower.
“Tell me every detail of what happened.” He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them.
The dark-haired wolf—what was his name, Ernie?—said, “We don’t remember much. We replaced the little yellow drinks, and the waitress took ’em in. Then they passed out, like you said they would. Roscoe here came in and told the guy at the desk that he’s the Vanessen kid’s uncle. He says the two kids’d been drinking before they arrived, and he needs to take his nephew home, and somebody else’ll come for the other kid. So I go in and we carry him out to the van, no problems. But as we’re opening the back of the van, this broad walks up. I mean, holy shit, is this female gorgeous. Like, unbelievable. Anyway, she smiles and starts asking us directions.” He shrugged. “Then we woke up here.”
Nardo frowned. He hadn’t told them that they hadn’t awakened—he’d restored them with magic. They’d still be unconscious vegetables if not for him. “What did she look like? Blonde?”
“No way. Dark and mysterious.”
“Was there a man with her? Young? A boy. Dark and handsome?”
“Nah. Just saw the kids we drugged. One blond, one redhead.”
Who the hell is this woman? “I see. And you remember nothing after the woman asked her question? What did she want?”
Ernie literally scratched his head. Incineration was sounding better and better. “Uh, something about how to get to Serpent on the Street or something?”
“Serpent on the Street?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“What else do you remember?”
He shrugged again.
“Clothes?”
If he shrugged one more time, Nardo was sending him back to catatonic. “Black. Just black. Even the thingy around her head,” Ernie finally said.
“Head?”
“Yeah, one of those sexy head scarves like women used to wear at night. She had these big eyes like you never saw. Whew.”
“What else?”
He closed his eyes, grimaced, then opened them. “Nothing. Whatever she did to us must have wiped some of our memories.”
“Okay. That’s all.” Nardo flicked his fingers. Ernie looked confused, but one of Nardo’s assistants took his arm and led him from the room.
He twirled the glass globe on his desk. A dark woman? Could Lysandra have disguised herself? And where is that protégé of hers? Why have two, or maybe three, of my men been rendered catatonic? Serpent on the Street? Serpent on… Sarpedon? Sarpedon Street? Like Greek?
He shook his head.
Evenride had told him Lysandra and her minion, Dash, had been at that picnic with Jazz. Then he’d said he was “pretty sure” that Dash was interning at Vanessen, along with Jazz and that brash girl, the governor’s daughter. Why? Is it just Jazz’s power that attracted Lysandra? Did her council send her and her minion to spy on the boy?
Or is her interest the same as mine?
That gave him a shiver. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony, if, after all these years, he and Lysandra were both closing in on the same goal? He smiled softly. Time for me to find out.
JAZZ SQUEALED the tires of the Prius as he cut corners in the parking garage and careened into an available space, hard to find this late in the morning. He grabbed his phone and texted Dash, Where are you guys?
Working.
Need to meet for lunch.
Early lunch.
Not very.
OK. C U there.
Five minutes later, he trotted into the lunchroom to see Dash and Carla already there, with salads. He stopped at the table. “Gonna grab some food.”
Carla smirked. “Of course you are.”
He made a face back at her and rushed to the food line, where he grabbed two roast beef and cheese sandwiches and a glass of milk, paid, and carried his bounty back to the table. As he sat down, BeBop came in, with Khadija walking beside him. Jazz took a bite and waved toward the line. “Get food.” It came out “Ga ood,” but they got the idea.
When all of them were together, BeBop asked, “What’d ya get?”
Jazz swallowed. “Nardo.”
Carla said, “Excuse me?”
Jazz watched the three of them to see their reaction to the name. Nothing. Damn. He sighed. “The person who told Marketo to vote against my grandfather is named Nardo. I was hoping one of you might have heard of him.”
All of them shook their heads.
“I’ll ask Lindsey and Pop-Pop, then. Apparently, this dude has some influence with Marketo.”
“Is he still gonna vote against Vanessen?” Carla asked.
“Uh, I don’t think so. I told him that I’d pull together the combined fury of all my family and friends against him and his, uh, family if he did.”
“Yes!” Carla pumped the air.
“But I’d sure like to find out who this Nardo is.” Jazz took another big bite. It’d been a long time since breakfast.
Khadija cocked her head. “Did you Google him?”
“Haven’t had time yet.”
“Too busy eating,” Carla quipped.
Dij pulled out her phone. Her dark eyes scanned the screen. “It seems he has no additional names, only Nardo. He’s classified as an entrepreneur with a number of patents he has licensed to other companies for manufacture and some racehorses that are very successful. It’s believed he has family wealth in addition to his own earned income, but no one knows who his family is. He has offices in New York City and property somewhere in the vicinity, but they don’t say where.” She put the phone down. “Obviously Wikipedia knows very little about Mr. Nardo.”
Jazz swallowed. “Thanks, Dij. At least it’s a start.”
“I may be able to dig up some more dirt about him,” BeBop said.
“Really? How?”
He leaned back in his chair, pushed up his glasses, and crossed his arms. “Never look the BeBop magic in the mouth, son. Truth is, my uncle has a lot of connections in the city. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t know this Nardo dude.”
“Do your worst.” Jazz extended a hand and got a BeBop high five. “Does anyone have anything else to report?”
Dash gave a wry smile. “How’s your prospective husband?”
Jazz shrugged. “Okay.”
“Did you have to promise to marry him in order to get this guy to withdraw his vote against Mr. Vanessen?”
“Hell no.”
Dash nodded once. But he smiled.
“Okay, I’ve got to get to work.” Jazz wiped his mouth, stood, and carried his dishes to the bussing station. When he got back to the table, Dash was waiting for him. “I’ll go back with you.”
“Okay.” He turned to the others. “Thanks guys. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with, BeBop.”
“Wait!” Carla called. “We can’t be a society unless we all exchange email and text numbers. Hand ’em over.”
They all passed their phones and entered their numbers. Carla raised hers. “Use at will!”
Jazz followed Dash into the hall and toward their department. He put a hand on Dash’s arm to stop his forward motion.
Dash turned, and Jazz’s heart leaped as it always did whenever those emerald eyes were focused on him. “Dash, I need you to teach me.”
Dash gave him a slow smile. “Can I choose the subject?”
Jazz stepped in. “You know the subject. It’s pretty obvious this dude is after me. I don’t know why, but if he’s more than a—” Jazz glanced in both directions. “—canine, I have to be able to protect myself. Please.”
“Do you think he is? More, I mean?”
“I don’t know, but it seems odd that he’d show up now, don’t you think? I mean, I’ve always been that other thing and nobody tried to grab me before.
You didn’t.”
His beautiful face got oddly serious. “I’d grab you no matter what you were.”
Jazz swallowed hard, not able to rip his eyes from Dash’s. Even without magic—Dash was magic. “Will you teach me?”
“It’s hard for me. It’s like you revealing what you are. I’m not a master. I’m not entitled to teach.”
“‘Help me, Obi-Won Kenobi. You’re my only hope.’”
Dash burst out laughing. “We’ll have to be really careful. Lys can sense when I do magic.”
“Meet me in the woods directly behind my house tonight, ’kay?” He started walking toward the department again.
From behind him, Dash said, “What? You’re not going to take me home to meet the family?”
Jazz stopped and grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I actually need to tell them about the Marketo meeting and what I learned. You can help. So meet me at the front door at six thirty and plan to stay for dinner.”
“Well, well, don’t mind if I do.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
DASH DROVE up the winding road and could see the beautiful old ivy-covered estate in the distance. Interesting. No big electric gates, fierce-looking guards, or even the acrid smell of protective magic. Just trees and flowers and serenity. No wonder they all loved living here. Of course, maybe a house full of alpha werewolves didn’t have that much to worry about.
His stomach flipped. He was excited, even a little scared. Whether it was because he was about to break bread with those alpha werewolves or just the thought of spending an evening with Jazz, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.
His phone rang. Of course. She could feel his excitement. Every time he spoke to Lysandra, he had to make bigger and bigger decisions on what to reveal and what to hold back. Damn, it wasn’t a situation he’d ever expected to be in.
Third ring. Get on it, asshole.
“Hi, Lys, you’ll never believe where I am.” Best defense and all that.
“Where?”
“Driving toward the Vanessen estate to have dinner with Jazz and his family.” Big silence. He smiled tightly and rushed on. “Oh, I thought you’d be pleased. It might give me a chance to see if any of his other family members are gifted.” Lysandra could pick up his feelings but wasn’t as good at perceiving lies as long as he didn’t feel super guilty about them—thank the goddess. Besides, what he’d just said wasn’t a lie. He was interested in whether any of the other werewolves were also mages.
“How did you happen to get invited?”
“Jazz asked me out of the blue.” He swallowed. “Some guys were hassling Jazz the other night, and I helped him. I guess this is his way of saying thank you.”
“Guys?”
“Yeah, he went on a date with that fix-up I told you about. I guess these dudes were giving him a hard time outside the restaurant.”
“Why were you on his date?” Her voice was neutral.
“We jokingly set up a code he could text if he wasn’t enjoying himself. He texted it. I was following him anyway, since I wanted to find out more about this guy they were trying to hook him up with, so when he texted, I was close. I showed up, and I guess since there were three of us and only two of the other guys, they got discouraged and gave up.”
“Who were they?”
“Just some dumb homophobes.”
“Oh, of course. I guess that can be a problem.” She sounded relieved. “Has Jazz shown any more signs?”
“No. Not around me.” His pants went up in flames. “So I’m here.” He pulled onto the circular drive in front of the big three-story home. “Anything in particular I should watch for?” He waited and could almost hear quiz show music playing in his head.
“No. I’ll be interested in your report.”
Yeah. So would he. He clicked off.
As he got out of the car, the front door opened and Jazz walked out. With a cute smile, he trotted down the steps and over to the car. “Hi.”
“Hi back.” Dash grinned.
“My mom’s going bonkers in there. We don’t get a lot of guests we’re not related to.”
Dash leaned in. “You mean who don’t grow fur.”
“Sh. You don’t know anything about that.”
“I know. No worries.”
“Let’s go see if Mom’s had a breakdown yet. Come on.”
They walked onto the porch and in through the front door.
Startling. Where the exterior of the building looked like something from a Brontë novel, the inside was bright, contemporary, and comfortable. The paintings in the towering entry could reasonably have been old masters, but instead they were brilliant modern art. Beyond the entry, they passed a huge staircase worthy of Scarlett O’Hara’s Tara and into a big but very comfortable living room—full of people. Well, sort of people.
The beautiful blonde woman he’d seen from a distance at the picnic came forward, her hands extended. “Dash, I’m Elizabeth Vanessen Thane, Jazz’s mother. I’m so happy Jazz finally invited you to meet us.” She took his hands.
“I’m honored, Mrs. Thane. I’ve never known anyone who loves his mom like Jazz does. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“That goes both ways.” She gave Jazz an adoring look. “Now meet our family.” She led Dash to Mr. Vanessen, who sat in a cozy upholstered chair with a footstool. “You know my father,” she said.
Vanessen extended a hand. “Good to see you, Dash. So glad you decided to join us.”
“And this is my husband, Damon Thane,” Mrs. Thane continued.
Dash turned to the man who rose from the couch. Wow. He was probably six-four, pale blond, and reeking of power. It didn’t take a mage to know this man was supernatural. “Happy to meet you, sir.”
“Just Damon is fine.” He shook Dash’s hand and never moved his gaze from Dash’s eyes. Finally he turned to his left. “You know my son, Lindsey.”
“Yes, hi, Lindsey.”
“Dash, this is my husband, Seth.”
“You’re the police detective,” Dash said.
“Sure am.” The guy wasn’t as large as Damon but somehow came off as even bigger—huge and scary body and a head capped off by a curly lion’s mane of hair. He shook Dash’s hand, but suspicion rolled off him.
“Beside Seth is my brother Winter,” Lindsey added.
Okay, holy crap. In a room full of larger-than-life beings, this one got the prize. At least six and a half feet tall, with hair so silver it redefined his name and with eyes of palest, most penetrating ice blue, Winter should have frozen the heart of the most honest man. Somehow, though, he came across as being casual and very, very cool. “Glad to meet you, man. This is my husband, Matt, and my father-in-law, Jason Partridge.”
“I’m so happy to meet you all.”
“Our good friends Cole and Paris aren’t here tonight, but I’m sure you’ll get to meet them sometime,” Jazz said.
Mrs. Thane smiled. “Now that we’ve put you through the receiving line, what can we get you to drink, Dash.”
Jazz grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
While Dash sat in the offered chair, Jazz hurried over to what looked like an old-fashioned cocktail cart, put ice in a glass, and poured something into it. He brought back a fizzy drink, and Dash grinned right off. Of course, it was vanilla cola.
When Jazz sat on the chair next to Dash, he said to the group, “Before we go in for dinner, let me bring you up-to-date on my Marketo meeting.” Seth glanced at Dash with his scary scowl, but Jazz added, “Dash already knows.”
Seth nodded, although he still frowned.
Jazz leaned on his knees. “I talked to Marketo. The guy who asked him to vote against you is named Nardo. Know him?”
Lindsey raised an eyebrow. “He does some speaking at business events and webinars. He’s quite a successful entrepreneur.”
Jazz nodded. “Yeah, we looked him up.”
“It’s possible he’s just trying to get a foothold in Vanessen Enterprises, and it has n
othing to do with you.”
Mr. Vanessen shook his head. “Nardo has been around for years and has never shown interest in Vanessen before.”
“And the number of, shall we call them ‘forays,’ against Jazz have to be more than coincidence,” Dash said.
“But Nardo’s a wealthy, powerful guy. These ‘forays,’ as you call them, seem somewhat amateurish and ineffectual,” Lindsey argued.
The guy has brains. “I agree. But I personally think they’re more like tests to see what happens. My guess is that he wants to know what response he’ll get when he takes certain steps.”
“Why?” Lindsey gazed at Dash.
Dash shook his head. “It could have something to do with Jazz’s birth family.”
Mrs. Thane made a soft noise.
“Do you think they mean Jazz harm?” Mr. Vanessen asked.
“As Lindsey said, their efforts have been clumsy and certainly not benign, but if someone wants to hurt a person, or worse, it’s pretty easy to do. This last attempt may have been a serious attempt at kidnapping, but Jazz wasn’t poisoned or otherwise injured. Whoever was behind the kidnapping, they wanted him alive and unimpaired, I’d guess.” Of course, he wasn’t sure if a werewolf could be poisoned.
Winter looked at his husband, Matt. “Do you think we can get the Bureau on it? Kidnapping’s in our job description.”
“No way,” Seth growled. He glanced at Dash, then away. “I doubt there’s enough evidence to open a case.”
“I agree,” Matt, a handsome, quiet guy, said. “But that’s not to say we can’t look into this Nardo informally.”
“Yeah, good plan.” Winter nodded.
Mrs. Thane stood. “I think dinner’s ready, and we’ve had more than enough of this discussion.”
Dinner was delicious even if he had to do a little sidestepping about his past. When he was asked about his parents, he said he lived with his aunt, and that seemed to satisfy everyone. Finally, after roast beef with a roast beef chaser—man, he thought Jazz could consume meat, but he’d never seen Winter eat!—Jazz suggested he and Dash go for a walk to look at the grounds. Jazz’s mom got a sappy smile, and his brothers exchanged glances.