by Moira Rogers
His steely grip on the doorframe eased somewhat. “If Katherine Gabriel comes in, you should always call me. And get her into a shielded room as fast as you can.”
“I know. She gave me her history.” History. The word seemed too innocuous to refer to the sort of death and psychic destruction Kat had mentioned.
Franklin seemed to echo her thought. “Words don’t quite do it justice. I was there, in the aftermath. A Conclave strike team tore open a man’s abdomen, and she attacked them. They were catatonic when I arrived.”
Carmen dropped to the sofa. It was an extreme response, one born of fear, and that’s exactly what Kat would have conveyed to the attackers—fear. Gut-wrenching, mind-numbing terror. “She said she killed them.”
“No. Someone else did that, once we realized what we were dealing with. I saw it happen once before, in the eighties…” He shuddered. “They made the mistake of keeping the guy alive. Trying to heal him. Three weeks later a psychic finally broke through and figured out he’d been reliving that one moment of terror on an endless loop. There’s no coming back from it.”
Lily touched his arm on her way into the kitchen. “Shouldn’t she be getting help or training or something?”
Carmen frowned at the toes of her sneakers. “Alec said she had. Callum Tyler, the hotshot English empath, took on her case.”
Both of Franklin’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Alec Jacobson stopped to chat? Did you have to tranq him?”
“Come on, Franklin. Give me a little credit.” She fixed him with her best stern glare. “That reminds me, why were you talking to him about me?”
“Because working with him helps me keep the clinic neutral. I can’t do it by ignoring all of the politics, no matter how much I want to.”
It was such a sensible reason that Carmen felt terrible for overreacting. “Sorry. I just got the feeling he thought I shouldn’t be there.”
“It’s not entirely personal. We had a little scuffle a few months ago when some lions immigrated here and brought a mercenary hit squad with them. The Conclave’s feeling defensive, and… Well, trust me when I say that’s not a good thing for anyone.”
“Because of my family.” And the empty Conclave seat.
“Because of your family,” Franklin agreed. “But that doesn’t mean Jake’s got a problem with you. He knows a little something about having family members trying to claw their way into power.”
The name made her sit straighter. “Jake? Alec Jacobson is the army buddy you talk about?”
“I never told you that?”
“No.” Though there was no reason he should have. Carmen wasn’t interested in wolf politics, and she wouldn’t be interested in Alec if they’d met under more mundane circumstances.
Yeah, tell yourself that, honey. She’d be interested, if only because he was attractive and commanding. It was a deadly combination, one that had never failed to ignite an intense, primal reaction inside her, no matter how much she tried to deny it.
Lily walked out of the kitchen with a plate of pizza and an open bottle of beer. She put both on the coffee table in front of Carmen and stared at her.
Carmen took a gulp of her beer, then another. Finally, she sighed. “What?”
“Nothing.” Lily’s gaze shifted to Franklin in a barely perceptible glance. “Is the girl all right? What happened to her attacker?”
“Kat will be okay. And I guess Jacobson was going after the guy who did it.”
Franklin hooked his arm over Lily’s shoulders and tugged her against his side. “Jake’ll take care of it, but we should follow up with Katherine. Just to make sure she’s doing okay mentally and physically.”
It was community medicine at its finest, and exactly why she’d chosen to work with him. Carmen nodded. “I’ve got it covered, unless you’d rather take it.”
“Better if you do. There’s a lot she might not tell me.” Franklin hesitated, and tense pain spiked strongly enough for Carmen to sense it from across the room as he continued in a quieter voice. “Kat and Sera were close.”
Carmen ached for him. His daughter was barely twenty-one, right around Miguel’s age, but she’d dropped out of high school and run off just before her eighteenth birthday to marry another coyote, an older man. Franklin had to physically restrain himself from hauling her back home, maintaining a fragile sort of peace, but at least this garnered him monthly phone calls about her well-being.
The pain rolling off Franklin didn’t subside, and Carmen closed her eyes against it, drawing slow, even breaths as she blocked it. “Kat was comfortable with me. She seems like a nice kid.”
“Kid,” Franklin agreed quietly. “She used to be a nice kid. Even though she was older than Sera, she was always…young. But shit, she grew up fast this year. Life made her grow up.”
He still missed Sera. Lily closed her hand around Franklin’s in quiet comfort, and Carmen looked away.
After a minute of silence, Lily spoke. “Your dad called again, Carmen. From a local number, not his cell. Is he in town?”
“He and Uncle Cesar both,” she confirmed. “That’s why I skipped dinner with Miguel. He wanted to go meet them, and I don’t have the energy for it tonight.”
Her friend’s blue eyes clouded with sympathy. “If he calls back, I’ll tell him to go fu—”
Carmen cut in. “If he calls back, I’ll talk to him.” She tilted her beer bottle from side to side, swirling the amber liquid. “Maybe this time, I can make him understand.”
And then he could go home, and she could stop wondering if every innocuous dinner invitation from her baby brother wasn’t so innocuous, after all.
Jackson hurried through the revolving door and skidded to a stop on the polished marble floor before turning to hold up both hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Alec stopped, more so he wouldn’t have to run Jackson over than out of any desire to discuss his plan. “No, I’m pretty damn sure I don’t, but it has to be done.”
“Okay, shit.” Jackson glanced around. “Wait here. I’ll go find out which room we’re hitting.”
Jackson sauntered off toward the front desk, his best lady-killing grin fixed firmly in place, and Alec tried not to look too closely at his surroundings. Harrah’s wasn’t his sort of place—this kind of opulence tended to give him unpleasant flashbacks to childhood and his mother’s rigid expectations of class and style. Heidi hadn’t cared for blind consumerism either—given two quarters, she’d donate one to charity.
But he’d brought her here. Once, just after she’d made her first major art sale to a private collector. The suite had cost more than she’d been paid, but Alec took the money from his inheritance and considered it well spent. They’d still been dating then, and he’d been in town looking to buy some land in the one city that ignored wolf politics. He’d been thinking about marrying her.
It had taken another year to convince her marriage didn’t have to mean giving in to society’s institutionalization of love. She’d gotten her hippie barefoot wedding, and he’d gotten tangible proof of what instinct had already decided—that she should be his.
And she was. For four years.
There should have been ghosts here, but instead it was gilded and shiny and so bright and cheerful it set his teeth on edge. He wanted to be gone, not chasing down leads that would bring him face-to-face with the sort of man who valued bloodlines and legacy and all the broken shit in their godawful world.
You wanted to be the boss. Suck it up.
Alec turned to check on Jackson’s progress with the girl behind the counter. He couldn’t quite make out the words they exchanged, but Jackson’s easy smile never slipped, even when she picked up the phone and dialed.
After a moment, she dropped the receiver and nodded, and Jackson blew out a deep breath as he motioned for Alec to join him. “No luck getting the room number until I dropped your name. She called up, and lo and behold—Cesar Mendoza wants to see you.”
That was about as su
rprising as ice in the arctic. “Great.” Now he knows we’re coming.
“Sorry, man. The charm usually works, but the woman was stone cold.”
“Charm’s never going to work again, Holt. Women can tell you’re a tamed man.”
“Then I need to either get smarter or find another line of work.”
“You’ll manage.” Alec jabbed the call button on the elevator and the doors slid open. “You sure you want to come up with me? They may not be friendly.”
Jackson stepped in, pressed the button for the top floor and shoved his hands in his pockets as he leaned against one side of the car. “All the more reason for you not to go alone. If that kid was telling the truth about the Mendozas’ involvement, there’ll be hell to pay. They might try to shut you up.”
They’d argued about it for most of the drive. Once he’d gotten good and scared, their prisoner had been all too happy to start pointing fingers. Too happy being the key words—anyone betraying the Mendozas should have been pissing himself at the thought of the retribution sure to follow. “I still don’t buy it, unless Kat is mixed up in some seriously questionable shit we don’t know about. I can’t think what could be worth that risk.”
Jackson nodded his agreement. “True, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business, it’s that sometimes people do ragingly stupid things. I wouldn’t rule it out just yet.”
It would be a waste of breath to try to convince Jackson that Cesar Mendoza wasn’t people. He was a ruthless, cold bastard who didn’t make impulsive decisions, or any decision at all, without considering a thousand possible consequences. Alec couldn’t imagine a scenario where hurting Kat could gain Mendoza anything—
Except an in for his niece. A darkly suspicious thought, but one that held Alec for a split second before he discarded it as nothing but his own paranoia surfacing. A hot Mendoza girl with just enough wolf blood to stir his instincts was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, but only a fool would trust in the precarious series of events that had led to Alec fighting down an uncomfortable attraction to Carmen Mendoza.
Her uncle was many things, but not a fool.
The elevator doors slid open, and Jackson nodded to the end of the hall. “That’s the suite number. What’s your approach?”
Alec stepped from the elevator and considered the door. “The one thing they’ll never see coming. The truth.”
Jackson raised both eyebrows. “And if they deny it, but they’re lying?”
“You asking how I’m going to tell, or what I’m going to do?”
“Telling’s the easy part. The hard part is explaining to the hotel manager why you slammed the lid of a baby grand on his guest’s head.”
“I did the piano thing once, Holt. Let it go.”
“Hey, it was quite the memorable performance.” Jackson lifted a fist and pounded on the door.
A man built like an NFL offensive lineman opened the door. “Jacobson?”
“And Holt,” Jackson added genially. “Your boss around?”
The man nodded once and stepped back. “He’s expecting you.”
The suite was as lavish as he remembered, and Cesar Mendoza met them with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Alexander.” He was dressed in dark pants and a white Oxford shirt, and he looked as though he’d just discarded a tie. “How have you been?”
Alec ignored the outstretched hand and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Been better. Got a wolf in my basement babbling that he mugged our secretary on your orders.”
Cesar looked genuinely taken aback. “I can assure you that I’ve done no such thing. My brother and I are in town to visit his children.” He gestured to the sofa and sat in an adjacent chair. “Diego’s younger son has been attending Tulane for several years now, and his daughter recently moved here.”
“I know.” They could take that however they wanted, though they’d probably view it as tacit acknowledgement of the rumor that Alec kept tabs on every supernatural in the city of New Orleans. He waited for Jackson to sit, then leaned against the arm of the couch and raised an eyebrow. “So who’d you piss off so bad they’re trying to use me to break your face?”
“Could have been any number of people.” Cesar signaled the guard by the door. The man nodded and stepped into the other room. “My presence in New Orleans may simply make me a convenient scapegoat.”
“Mm-hmm. I assume you know who my secretary is?”
Cesar smiled again. “I make it my business to know. I think you understand that.”
“Yes, I do. So you know that this little attack on her isn’t going to end up swept under the rug. What pisses off her cousin pisses off the Alpha’s daughter, and John Wesley Peyton’s already been contacted. An extraction team will be here to take the kid into custody tomorrow.”
He held up his hands. “It’s in my best interests for him to be questioned by the Conclave. Surely that would clear me of involvement.”
Not a flicker, not even a hint of worry. Alec trusted his instincts, and his instincts said Cesar Mendoza was telling the truth. “I didn’t think it was your sort of deal,” he acknowledged. “You wouldn’t have left any witnesses.”
“And I would have used my own men,” he added. “But you’re right. It’s not the sort of thing I’d do. I prefer more directness in my dealings.”
Alec didn’t care that his amused snort was a blatant insult. “I hope you don’t have any dealings in New Orleans that don’t involve visiting your brother’s kids. We don’t want your politics or your messes here.”
Cesar’s smile turned cold. Calculating. “New Orleans falls under the purview of the Southeast council, and I am a member. Who denies my right to be here? You?”
It was a trap, but Alec had been playing his game too long to walk into it. “No one’s denying you anything. Just expressing a lack of interest.”
“And how far does that lack of interest extend?”
“Miguel’s a kid at college. Your niece is working on neutral ground. They’re not here to bring trouble.”
“Of course they’re not.” Cesar rose and walked to the small bar in the corner, flashing Jackson a meaningful look as he passed. “I thought we might be able to talk in private, Alexander.”
It fell just short of being a rude command for Jackson to leave, but his partner stood anyway. “I’ll wait outside.”
Alec straightened as the door swung shut behind Jackson. “If this is about the empty Conclave seat, you’re wasting your time.”
He shook his head. “This is something of a more personal nature. Drink?”
Warning bells went off. “No thanks.”
Cesar poured a scant amount of whiskey and raised the glass to his lips. “I’d like to introduce you to my niece.”
Oh yeah, this was headed nowhere good. Alec crushed down every hint of interest he might have felt for that oh-so-dangerous little bit of temptation and made his voice as flat and bored as possible. “We’ve met.”
Cesar studied him over the rim of the glass. “You sound somewhat less than charmed.”
At least he’d managed that much. “Your niece was even less charmed, so if you’re about to suggest a dynastic alliance, maybe you should talk to her first.”
The older man waved the suggestion away. “Carmen is stubborn. If left to her own devices, she’ll continue to deny her nature. She says she’s not a wolf, but she isn’t human either. Of course, some might say that means she has the best of both worlds.”
Even if he hadn’t met the girl, such blatant disregard of her right to choose her own life would have raised Alec’s ire. “Maybe you haven’t been doing your research, Cesar. I’m not a big supporter of the shapeshifter custom of selling off our unwilling daughters to the highest bidder.”
Cesar shook his head and laughed. “Forget I asked. There are others vying for her hand. I thought it might be to our mutual advantage to ally our families, but if you’re not interested, you’re not.”
Protectiveness stirred inside
Alec. “Not if she’s not willing.”
Something sharpened in the other man’s eyes, though his expression didn’t change. “Sometimes all it takes to change that is a little romance.”
“Uh-huh. Might want to warn her more aggressive suitors that pushing a lady is a dangerous game in New Orleans. We play for keeps.”
Cesar’s glass hit the bar with a thump. “I owe your father a favor. See your way out now, Jacobson, and I’ll forget that insult.”
“Don’t bother.” Alec pushed off the couch and started for the door. “My father needs all the favors he can get.” Behind him, he heard Cesar pick up the phone and ask for security.
Jackson opened the door before he reached it. “I was listening,” he explained. “Just in case.”
In case I got us thrown out of the hotel? Alec couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t exactly the sort of reaction he’d wanted. The more the upper crust of wolf society loathed him, the more they avoided him. “We better move. Cesar’s pissed.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Jackson closed the door and fixed him with a stern look. “Admit it, man. You just like making them mad.”
“More fun than kicking a hornets’ nest.” Only this time he had the sinking feeling he might have miscalculated. Carmen wasn’t the usual shifter daughter, with the strength and magic to defend herself. If she was the one who ended up stung… Shit.
“He had a point.”
Alec jabbed the elevator call button more roughly than he meant to, and the plastic casing cracked under his finger. “What point?”
Jackson snorted. “A couple of times in there, I don’t think anyone would have blamed him for calling you out. But you like to dance around those challenges, huh?”
“You think I’m afraid I can’t win a challenge?”
The elevator arrived, and Jackson walked inside before answering. “Hell, Alec, you know you’ll win. That’s why you won’t fight.”
Alec settled for a noncommittal noise, because there was no answer. Jackson was right and he knew it. They all knew it. He’d protect his rag-tag circle of friends through whatever means necessary, but he wouldn’t validate the corrupt values the wolves worshiped. He wouldn’t join their fucked-up game.