“I promise, honey.” She looked at him closely. “Anything else bothering you?”
Hell yeah. But they’d decided not to tell her about the vamp on her trail. He figured she had enough to worry about with one guy wanting her dead. “He’s not going to give up, Crissy. He’s got too much at stake. We just don’t know which direction he’s coming from next.”
“Can’t we just give him the memory card? That must be what he was aiming for that night the first guy attacked me.”
“I think it’s gone beyond that.”
“But you’re a werewolf too. Can’t you just go to him and explain? Tell him that we won’t say a word?”
“We’re no different than you, Crissy. There are good ones and bad ones. Him being like— Him being a werewolf is only part of it. Do you know who his wife is?”
“Sylvia de Marigny. I’ve seen her at a few events I’ve snapped. High society. Family’s rich as sin, right?”
“Yeah, but I’d be surprised if theirs was a love match, especially in light of his nocturnal activities. We’re talking Louisiana blue blood. Somehow I doubt they’d be too thrilled to know one of their daughters is married to one of us. Oh, and let’s not forget he’s either gay or bi into the bargain. You want to guess where Gangone’s finance is coming from for his election?”
“Oh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“This is a mess.”
“You got that right, babe.”
* * * * *
That night, Crissy found it hard to sleep. Even with Randy beside her, she was restless. Climbing out of bed, she walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look outside.
“Crissy? What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I just keep thinking about everything.” She heard him pad over to her, felt the heat from his body before he even reached her. “I just want this to be ov—”
“Shit! Get dressed, babe. Quick as you can.”
She spun around to see Randy hopping into his jeans.
“Why? What?”
“Don’t ask questions, just do it!”
The urgency in his tone got her moving.
She was reaching for her shoes when he grasped her arm. “Grab them and come on.” She picked them up and flew down the stairs behind him. Then she smelt it. Smoke.
“Quick, out the front door.”
She started to turn for the kitchen, but he pushed her in the other direction. “But my bag—”
“I’ll grab it. Go, go!”
He raced in the direction of the kitchen as she headed toward the door. The smoke was getting thicker. By the time she reached the door and wrenched it open, her eyes were watering.
She didn’t stop until she reached the street, then turned around, unable to believe her eyes. She ducked reflexively as a muffled explosion from the rear of the house reached her ears, followed by the sound of breaking glass. A golden glow lit the night, indication the flames were taking hold of the rear of her house. Smoke started to pour out the lower floor windows.
“Randy?” She tried to see into the house, looking for any sign of him, but the smoke, acrid and thick, made it impossible. Tears ran down her face and she paced in frustration. Where the hell was he?
Out of nowhere, a hand holding a cotton pad was clamped over her mouth.
She was so surprised, that some small gem of self-defense knowledge from Georgie’s lessons must have penetrated, and she stomped down hard—real hard—on the instep of the owner of the foot, while driving an elbow into his ribs.
A violent curse was all she heard as she bent over and gasped in a breath of night air, trying to clear the fuzziness from her head, before the blaring scream of sirens tore through the night. She spun around to see who her attacker was just as two fire engines pulled up, spewing men running as soon as their feet hit the ground. There was no one there. A square of white caught her eye on the ground, and after a quick look around, she bent to pick it up.
Meanwhile, hoses were unfurled, orders barked—the whole scene was under a semblance of chaotic control within minutes.
She grabbed the man who was issuing orders, his steely eyes determined and sharp, who seemed to be in charge.
“My boyfriend is still in there!” she screamed at him.
He held her arm in a firm grip. “Okay, miss, we’ll try and send someone in to see if we can locate him. Where was he last you saw?”
She told him the basic layout and where Randy was headed. He nodded and spoke to a couple of his men, then asked her some questions which she did her best to answer.
“Just stay there, miss. We find him, we’ll let you know.”
She paced anxiously, wondering where the hell Randy was, searching the men running around for any sign of him.
She jumped when someone grabbed her elbow, prepared to attack once again.
“Hey, hey, babe. Settle down. It’s just me.”
Sighing with relief at the voice, Crissy turned around to see Randy, face streaked with black, clothes slightly singed, standing there with her handbag in his hand.
“Randy! Oh, God, I thought…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on as the sour taste of fear bled out of her system.
The fireman turned back to them and looked Randy over from top to toe. “You’re the boyfriend, I assume.”
He kissed the top of Crissy’s head. “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend.”
“Now it’s empty?” He looked at both of them, waiting for an answer.
“Fatso!” cried Crissy, grabbing Randy’s arm. “I forgot about Fatso.”
“Fatso?”
“Her cat,” said Randy, rolling his eyes at the fireman. “He must have gotten out, Crissy. He wasn’t in the house. I looked. That’s partly what took me so long to get out here.”
Crissy was stunned. Randy had gone looking for her cat? Just the thought of it nearly made her cry.
“Any idea what we’re dealing with?” asked the fireman.
“Chemicals,” offered Randy. “Judging from the strongest part of the blaze, I’m guessing the fire started in Crissy’s darkroom. She’s a photographer.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Are you hurt?” asked Crissy, running her eyes over him. “I was going crazy out here…”
“Hey, shhh.” He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m fine. I grabbed my phone to call the fire department then got caught when the fire tore up the hallway. Had to climb out through the kitchen window. It’s kinda nice, though, to know you were so worried about me.”
“Worried? I was frantic, you dolt! Don’t you ever do that to me again.” She buried her head in his chest, concentrating on taking deep breaths to slow her racing heart. Later she’d tell him about the unknown assailant. Right now she was just relieved Randy was still alive.
“Looks like I finally get to take you home with me, babe.”
Crissy turned in his arms, looking at her house fully ablaze and surrendered to the tears. “My home. It’s all gone, Randy. Everything. First the attacks, now this.”
“Shhh.” He pulled her in tight, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ll get through this, honey.”
She pushed back from him. “But it’s all gone! My home. What am I going to do now?”
“You’re coming home with me. Permanently, Crissy.”
“But—”
“Hey, either of you two own this cat?” A different fireman walked toward them holding a wet and shivering Fatso.
“Fatso!” She rushed over to take him from the fireman. He looked just like he had the first night she found him—wet and pathetic. She looked over at Randy with pleading eyes. “You know what they say…love me, love my cat…”
“No, babe, that’s dog—love me, love my dog.” A groan left his lips.
She batted her eyelashes at him, causing him to snort.
“Ah, hell.” He put his hands on his hips and grimaced. “Only if he stays outside, Crissy. I don’t want him shedding all over the place.”
* * * * *
After a hot shower to clean off the ash and remove the smell of smoke, he settled Crissy into his big four-poster. Exhausted, she’d fallen asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow. He wrapped his arm around the carved wooden post at the end of the bed and watched her sleep. Curled up in his bed, she just looked…right.
With a satisfied grin, he turned and padded out of the room, the thick carpet muffling his footfalls. Damn, he finally got her in his bed, and he couldn’t even join her. But then, he had a little appointment that was, this once, infinitely more important than cuddling up to his mate.
He reached the landing just as the front door opened to admit Chad and his father.
“You good to go, Son?”
“Sure, Dad. Chad? Arm the security as we go. Where’s Zig?”
“Keeping an eye on the externals. Crissy asleep?”
“Yeah. She’s exhausted, so she should hopefully stay that way while we’re gone. But if she wakes, don’t tell her who we’ve gone to see—she’ll only worry.”
“You mean, you want me to lie?”
“No, I mean I want you to be creative—tell her I’ve gone to answer questions at the fire department or something.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
“Let’s go, Dad.”
“Now listen, Son,” said Rod Trudeau as they walked toward his big black Hummer, “I know you want to rip this bastard’s arms off and shove them down his throat…”
“You got that right…”
Rod slapped his son on the back as they walked down the path. “But just let me do the talking, okay?”
Yeah, well, that was another little revelation he was having trouble absorbing. As soon as his dad had heard the name Gangone, his face had hardened and a cold smile had lit his eyes. How the hell did his father know Gangone? And, more importantly, what the hell did he have on him that it was big enough to lift a contract like the one he had out on Crissy? Whatever, where his mate’s life was concerned, he’d take all the help he could get.
“No problem, Dad. As long as he plays ball. Otherwise I know an alligator that has his goddamn name on it.”
* * * * *
Randy looked around at the dark warehouse with growing suspicion. “You sure this is a good idea, Dad?”
“Trust me, Randy. I have had a little bit of experience in these things…”
Randy pulled his eyes back to his father and looked at him closely, a frown creasing his forehead. “Obviously. And I think Zig and I may need to have a little talk to you about that too.”
A disarming grin kicked up the corner of Rod’s mouth, but they both swung around slowly when a side door creaked open. “More on this later, Pops,” whispered Randy out of the corner of his mouth. “You can count on it.”
A man in his early fifties, dressed immaculately in suit and tie, quite at odds with the dirty, dusty environment he entered, walked toward them, followed by two bodyguards who definitely needed the custom-made section of the suit section.
“Ah, Rod Trudeau. It’s been so many years…”
Rod nodded at him, his face stern, his eyes dangerous. “Paul.”
Paul Gangone looked around him at the warehouse and raised an eyebrow as he met Rod’s eyes. “A bit melodramatic, don’t you think? I must admit, I’m curious. You’re the last person I expected to have call me. You mind telling me what this is all about?”
“Call your dogs off Crissy Carter. Now. And that means canceling the contract you have out on her. The whole shebang. Unless you want me and my men to get involved…”
Gangone’s eyes narrowed, but not before a brief flicker of fear crossed them. “My, my. Straight to the point as usual, Rod.” It was obvious he was trying to work out what the real deal was, but his father’s face gave away nothing. “But she’s a little young for you, isn’t she? Besides, whatever would Vi say… How is your delightful wife, by the way?”
“Vi is just fine, Paul. And Sylvia?”
Gangone scowled. “Sylvia is…Sylvia. As long as Sylvia gets what she wants, she’s happy.” He paused and tapped his chin. “But Crissy Carter… Now there’s a woman who looks like she’d know how to please a man. From what my boys tell me, she’s certainly a tasty morsel. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having a taste myself—”
“You sonofabitch!” spat Randy, lunging for the other man before his father grabbed his arm and stepped in front of him.
“Why the contract on her?” asked Rod, his voice, though quiet, no less dangerous. “I know you play some dirty political games, but this is a bit extreme even for you.”
Gangone’s eyes turned flinty, his expression cautious, and when he spoke, his words were measured. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘contract’, Rod. That’s a bit…harsh, don’t you think?”
“Cut the political double-talk, Paul. I’m not interested in your version of semantics. I asked you why.”
“I think you know, Rod.” Gangone’s face hardened. “This is my whole life we’re talking about here, everything I’ve struggled for, about to be destroyed. I only wanted the photo, but it’s gone on too long. She must know what she has by now, and I can’t take the risk of it leaking out.”
Like a large predator, Rod moved the few steps to Gangone and stopped, hands on his hips as he leaned over the smaller man. “Bad move, Paul. You see, this is my son Randy. Crissy is his mate. You mess with mine, you mess with me—you know that.” Gangone looked ready to speak, but Rod held up his hand. “Now, you see, Vi has a hankering for grandbabies and your little contract—or whatever you want to call it—on Crissy is going to shoot that down in flames, and she wouldn’t take too kindly to you being responsible for doing away with her only daughter-in-law. And you know how I hate to see my wife pissed off, Paul.” Rod’s voice had deepened, his tone cold and menacing. “So, here we are. As I understand it, Crissy took a photo that unintentionally got you in the shot.” Rod leaned closer until he was right in Gangone’s face, forcing the politician to take a step back. “Take my word that it will be destroyed—any and all copies.”
Paul snorted. “You’re kidding, right? Do you take me for a fool?”
“You calling me a liar, Paul?” Rod stared at him coolly, but the words were chilling, the glint in his eyes a warning of danger. “Look, we can play this nice like gentlemen, or I can play by your rules. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. Won’t be the first time.”
“And I just take your word for it?” Gangone must have had a death wish, from the look that crossed Rod’s face.
Randy noticed a rare flush of anger start to show on his father’s normally calm face. Rod thrust his hands in his pockets. “Personally I don’t care if you screw your little boyfriends from here to Alaska, Paul. That’s your business. But you come after my family, and you better be prepared for the consequences. Besides…” He paused and his voice lowered. “Consider this payment for that little bit of assistance the boys and I gave you years ago…”
Gangone cast an anxious glance around the shadowy warehouse. “I suppose the rest of the team is around here somewhere?”
Team? thought Randy. What fucking team?
His father smiled at Gangone, the look lacking any warmth. “That would imply a lack of trust, Paul. How many goons did you bring?”
“Enough.”
Rod snorted and shook his head. “Against my men? You seriously believe that?” Gangone shuffled nervously as Rod waved his hand in the air, as if dismissing the potential threat they offered as not even worth considering. “So, what’s the answer going to be?”
The smaller man appeared to think for a moment, considering his options, before looking back up at Rod. “Fine. But I hear even a whisper—”
“You won’t. Do it now. Before you leave. Make the call so I can hear you say it.”
“Trusting bastard, aren’t you?”
Rod shrugged and smirked. “You know what they say about politicians…”
They waited while Gangone made two calls, his words low, but not low enoug
h that they couldn’t hear what he said.
He snapped the cell phone shut when he was finished. “Done. I’d like to say it’s been nice—”
“One more thing,” said Rod. “Crissy’s house. Were your goons responsible for that?”
“Hey! Now that was an accident. One of the boys got a bit clumsy…” Gangone rolled his eyes. “What? You want me to rebuild it?”
Rod smiled. “You know me so well. But better still, you just deposit the market value into my account and we’ll call it even. I’ll give it to Crissy and Randy as a wedding present—she’ll never even suspect.”
Gangone turned to Randy and stared at him hard, before looking back at Rod. “Done. And then this is over.”
“It will be if you keep your nose clean, Paul. I’ll be watching—you know that.”
With a sharp nod at Randy and Rod, Gangone turned and left, taking his two anabolic steroids in suits with him.
When they heard the door bang shut, Randy turned to his father. “Okay, you want to explain all that? How the hell do you know that little weasel?”
A prickle ran down Randy’s back and he turned, not due to a noise—more a displacement of air than anything. Five large men dressed in skintight black carrying various forms of sinister-looking, and most likely highly illegal, hardware were suddenly standing there.
His eyes widened before he glanced back at his father. “The ‘team’, I take it?”
Rod just grinned.
“Mom know?”
Rod nodded once.
“Damn! Who would have thought? What, Special Forces?”
“SEALs.”
Randy shook his head. “You sly dog. How come Zig and I were never told?”
“You never asked,” Rod said with a laugh and turned to the shadows waiting like statues behind them. “Thanks, guys,” he said before the “team” disappeared in front of their eyes.
“You still didn’t answer my question about Gangone.”
“I know.” Rod turned and headed toward the side door. “You weren’t really expecting an answer, were you?” he threw over his shoulder.
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