by Nancy Gideon
Cale came around with a combative snarl, his solid black eyes rolling in a frenzy as Colin clamped a big hand over his mouth to muffle the sound and contain his struggles.
“What did you do?” he repeated with that same fierce composure, leaning close to study wide rolling eyes as foam and spit seeped through his fingers. “Did you take something? What did they give you?”
When Cale writhed and growled and kicked in an attempt to get free, Colin gripped the back of his neck, jamming fingers down his throat, stepping quickly out of the way as the content of his brother’s stomach came spewing out.
Holding him by the collar of his coat, Colin dangled him off the edge of the tailgate until the explosive spasms and dry heaves quieted. Then, hoisting his limp figure over his shoulder once more, he gave his brother a gentle pat, murmuring, “Let’s get you outta here.”
“Where to?” Babineau asked as 90 took them to the other side of the Mississippi. “To Savoie’s? That’s where Kendra’s staying.” He didn’t offer his own home, unwilling to risk his family’s safety should Cale not return to his senses before he recovered his strength.
“To The Saint on Canal. We have rooms there.”
“Was it Kick? Is that what it does?”
“I don’t know. I don’t do stupid shit. My body is a temple, not an amusement park.” A faint smile. “Unless sex in involved. Then I’m a regular Six Flags.”
“Does he do stupid shit?” Alain’s glance touched on Cale’s shivering form.
“No,” followed by a more tempered, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Then he added in a whisper against the sweat dampened hair, “Dammit, Cale. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Did you see who he was with?”
Those intense green eyes canted away. “No. I wasn’t with him.” Lower, deeper, drawn with regret, he muttered, “I should have been with him.”
They didn’t speak again until they entered the business district. Babineau pulled up in front of the expensive hotel and waited at an idle.
“Need help with him?”
“Naw, I got it. Back in a sec.”
He got out, went inside, returning with a luggage trolley. After angling it by the open rear door, Colin dragged his brother out, dumped him onto it like so much baggage, and covered him with his hip-length coat.
“Call me if you need anything.”
Colin took that offer with an unblinking stare before quirking a half-smile. “Right. I’ll do that.”
When hell freezes over. Yeah, Alain got that. They took care of their own. Not waiting for the Shifter to maneuver his burden inside, Babineau drove toward his own problems.
*
His little suburban castle sat dark and quiet, the light over the kitchen sink left considerately on to help him find his way. Pizza and beer remnants had been cleaned up and every surface gleamed with care. What more could a man ask for?
He moved quietly toward the back bedrooms, noting Oscar’s closed door, offering no invitation for him to check in. His stood open and waiting. There, he paused, taking in the sight of his wife’s gentle curves outlined by the floral patterned sheet. He heard her breathing slow and deep in slumber.
Though tempted to simply drop into bed, he turned instead to the shower, scrubbing off all traces of the job he’d been doing. For a long moment, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, like that foggy image, out of focus, without definition.
He didn’t know what to do with what he’d discovered in the sleazy club—hell, who he’d discovered, or how to turn that happenstance meeting to his best advantage. He wished his partner was back from her honeymoon to be his sounding board.
But he couldn’t take this to her. Considering.
He thought briefly of calling MacCreedy. But as much as he liked and respected the tall Shifter, he didn’t completely trust his motives. Beyond who he was, a damned fine detective, there was what he was, an unnatural being with unknown agendas involving his own kind. That left him to his own devices.
He sighed and switched off the light, ambling down the hall in just his boxers to a bed that provided no comfort. He slid under the covers, easing down on the mattress in hopes of not disturbing his wife. But the second he settled beside her, she was alert to his presence.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I tried not to wake you.”
“That’s all right. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“Trouble at school?” Did it make him a bad step-father because he hoped that was the reason?
“Academically, no. Coach Betz approached me. He wants Oscar back on the team.”
“Really? Why the sudden change?”
“He didn’t say. Ozzy was pretty definite about not returning. Could you talk to him?” she broached hopefully.
“The boy knows his own mind, Tina.” When she sighed quietly, he added, “But I’ll make sure he’s thinking with his head instead of his pride.”
“Thank you.”
He’ll be fine.”
She chose not to comment, instead saying, “Cale was here?”
“Went for a little male bonding with one of his brothers.”
“I haven’t met them yet. Ozzy thinks they’re superheroes.” Of course, he would.
“I’m glad you get along,” she added optimistically.
“One big, happy, supernatural family.” He’d meant for it to sound amusing, but missed the mark. Her soft inhalation shook slightly. Making him feel like shit because he was acting like one. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”
“I know. Thank you.”
She sounded so damned appreciative. So anxious not to offend or upset him. Which, of course, offended and upset him to think she’d feel that way. He started to speak when her fingertips touched his cheek. That whisper soft contact startled a flood of responses, emotional and physical, so sudden and strong he feared to act on them.
Until she leaned in to kiss him.
The feel of her, so silky, the taste, so sweet. Longing tore through him for those beautiful years they’d shared.
Before he’d learned the truth. Before uncovering her lies.
He tried to make those things matter, but on this sad, lonely night, he couldn’t make them important enough to deny what ached within him. A need for closeness, for connection to this sensitive soul who understood him so completely.
He parted her tender lips with his tongue. She offered him everything with a welcoming moan. They kissed. They touched. They shed what few clothes lay between them as need flamed to desire. And then he lifted out of her arms, to reach into the drawer of the night table to sheath his body the way he’d protected his heart from the effects of intimacy. And though that barrier was thin and barely noticeable, they both were aware of it, keeping the moment of passion from becoming one steeped in love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cale’s eyes blinked open to find a six foot golden angel outlined in glowing light standing over him upon a bank of clouds. Holy hell! Talk about the last place he ever expected to wake up!
He twisted his head to look around, the movement exciting a riot of pain between his temples. A huge white leather headboard beneath a blue ceiling. Expensive sheets. How had he gotten between them?
And why was he naked? Especially without Kendra beside him!
“I wasn’t going to say anything because the look on your face is so damned entertaining.”
Cale sat up long enough to see Colin standing between a pair of open sliding glass doors, observing him in amusement. He dropped back with a groan. “Where am I?”
“My room.”
A frown. “Where are my clothes?”
“As much as I’d like to torment you by saying a pair of high priced hookers took them off you before riding you all night like a brahma bull, truth is you puked all over them, and there was no way anything smelling like that was spending the night in here. When a shower couldn’t bring you around, I just dumped your dumb ass there.”
“You . . . bathed me?”
Pride mollified, he muttered, “What time’s it?” trying to force details from the prior night back into his mind.
Colin went to the window shade housing his Heavenly Host and gave it a tug. Brilliant daylight cut through his eyeballs with surgical precision.
“Oh, shit! I’ve got work.”
“It’s Saturday. What you’ve got is company waiting in the other room.” The way he drawled that spoke of his displeasure. “MacCreedy. He’s drinking up our good coffee and mad as hell.”
“Oh, fuck him.”
Colin smirked. “I could have told you that you did that last night, and you’d have never been the wiser. Your cleaned clothes are on the chair. Or do you need me to dress you, too?”
An explicit hand gesture might have been premature because the instant he tried to get out of bed, the room began to roll and sway. He clutched his head between his palms only to wince in surprise.
“Ow! What hit me? A baseball bat?” Tenderly, he felt along the bruise at his temple.
“Something like that.” Colin brought over clothes still in the hotel’s cleaning bag and knelt to patiently put each garment on him as if dressing a helpless child. Cale leaned into him, eyes closed, enduring it because he had no strength to object.
“Thanks, Momma.”
“No problem.” Colin patted his head to incite a riot of misery and stood, dragging his brother to his feet with him. “Time to face the music, and it’s not a tune you’re gonna want to dance to.”
“What did you tell him? About last night?”
Colin’s steady gaze was unblinking. “Why would I tell him anything?”
Cale made it to the glass topped dining table on the other side of the clear bedroom doors. Colin let him slide into one of the acrylic ghost chairs where he slumped, eyes half shut, trying to ignore the way MacCreedy glowered at him from his stool at the breakfast bar.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Dammit! He’d talked to Babineau.
Cale responded with a mild, “About what?” Gratefully, he cradled the cup of coffee Colin brought him, hoping the strong aroma would steam open his memory. When he tried to lift the cup to his lips, liquid slopped over the edges. His hands shook so badly, he had to put it back down. Examined those trembling fingers, an equally shaky recall ebbed back.
Silas glared at Colin. “Take a walk.”
Colin glowered back at him, eyes flashing a dangerous silver until Cale murmured, “It’s okay, Col. Give us the room.”
“You mean my room, don’t you?” he grumbled, but obligingly added, “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
After he returned to his bedroom and drew white curtains across the closed doors for privacy, Silas jumped in with both feet, kicking for the groin.
“What the hell did you do?”
In sketchy fashion, Cale relayed Brigit’s return and Kendra’s retreat to Savoie’s, how he, his brother, and Alain Babineau pursued T-Ray’s lead to Maisy J’s where details got a lot more vague. He’d taken Kick because he’d had no choice if he was to keep his cover. And it had unleashed hell.
For a long beat, MacCreedy just stared at him through narrowed eyes, then said low and fierce, “You lied to me. You let me think this shit wouldn’t be a problem for you. But that’s not true, is it?”
Cornered, a terrible guilt ripped through him. Finally, he pulled a steadying breath. “You just don’t get it, do you? You have no idea what this stuff is, what it does. Just once, just a taste, and it has you. I didn’t know what it was, what it would turn me into. I went through hell trying to escape it, for my clan, for my queen, but it doesn’t let go. Not ever. Do you understand that? Not. Ever.
“You think I’m here, doing this because I owe you something? Fuck you, MacCreedy. I’m here to save my people from becoming slaves to something they can’t control. No matter what the cost. So spare me your contempt, you son of a bitch.”
They regarded one another for a long tense minute until Silas said simply, “Fair enough.”
Cale managed to slurp up some of his coffee without spilling it before growling, “What do you want, Silas?”
“It’s not what I want. Casper Lee called.”
So it wasn’t Babineau who spilled the ugly details.
“He wants to talk to you. Downstairs. Now.”
*
Cale stopped in his room long enough to splash water on his face, brush his teeth, and inhale the scent even the most thorough housekeeper couldn’t erase.
He hadn’t called her, hadn’t spoken to her since he’d shipped her off with Brigit. But she was safe, and that had to be enough for the moment. Now wasn’t the time to try to make amends, even though he craved the steadying sound of her voice.
With no reason to linger, he strode by Silas in the living room, nodding in passing to a half-dressed, bleary-eyed Rico as he headed out the door.
Time to get down to business.
Casper Lee sat in the nearly empty bar, looking relaxed and regal in one of the antique wing backed chairs circling a small table. He could have been a businessman in his tidy pinstriped suit. Or a pimp. He greeted them with a pleasant smile. So perhaps he hadn’t heard about the excitement at Maisy J’s.
“Mr. Creed, Mr. Terry, please join me. They have excellent pressed coffee. I took the liberty of ordering for the both of you. I have good news to share.”
Silas and Cale exchanged cautious looks and sat down.
“I hope you’re well rested, Mr. Terry. You’ve been requested for a special performance this evening.”
Before Silas could intercept him, Cale drawled, “What do I have to do? Juggle, play the piano, tell jokes?”
Lee’s smile narrowed only slightly. “You’ll do what you do best. Exact unholy violence upon another of your kind for a massive amount of money.”
“Define massive,” Silas encouraged.
“Enough for you to become a power and a partner in your own right. I believe that’s what you said you wanted, isn’t it? That would make for sweet revenge against Carmen Blutafino.”
A slow smile spread. “You’re taking over Manny Blu’s action.”
“And I’d like you to help me run it. The man is a loud, tasteless swine with no sense of honor or style, and I’d loathe him on principle if I didn’t already covet what he’s achieved in this city.” The strong scented coffee arrived, distracting him for a moment as he added an obscene amount of sugar. He sipped and sighed then looked to MacCreedy once again.
“You’d handle his clubs and his gambling action. And if you want more, prove yourself there, and then we’ll see. I like you, Mr. Creed. You have class. That was something Carmen never understood or appreciated.”
“You’re giving me all this? What do you want in return?”
“A reasonable percentage. And one other thing. Him.”
Cale sat up straight as Lee’s pale gaze met his.
“I want you to release Mr. Terry into my care and control. Any debt he has to you will be paid, and he’ll have no further obligation to you whatsoever. Provided he wins this evening. Is that agreeable to you, Mr. Creed?”
“I don’t own him. I can’t sell him to you. It’s up to him.”
“Then go away, Mr. Creed, so we can discuss it between the two of us.”
Silas looked to Cale for direction, and at his slight nod, finished his coffee, stood and extended his hand to Lee. “I look forward to working with you.” They shook on that, and MacCreedy left without another word.
Cale immediately took the defensive. “I’m not a whore.”
Lee arched a fair brow. “Is that how you see yourself, Mr. Terry, as someone to be bought and sold?”
“Isn’t that what jus
t happened? Did I misunderstand something? If so, explain it to me.”
“You wanted out of your arrangement with Creed. Here’s your opportunity.”
“By becoming your bitch? I don’t think so. I already have rich friends who buy me things.”
“If I wanted you for my, how did you delicately put it, my bitch, that would have already happened. For all your posturing, you have a very low opinion of yourself. And of me, apparently. Apologize for both those things. Now.”
A long beat then a gruff, “I apologize.”
“I accept, for the moment. I’m not such a fool as to think you really mean it.”
“Why me?”
A slow, candid smile. “I like you. You’re unexpected. And you’re dangerous. I find those things intriguing.”
“Yeah, for the moment. And what happens when I’m not so entertaining anymore? Back on the street with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I’ve had enough of being tossed aside.”
“If you leave, it will be by your choice, not mine.”
A long, wary study. “And what if I’d rather just fight for you than fuck you?”
“That, too, would be your choice.”
“I assume there are rules.”
“Yes, of course. A man in my position must insist on boundaries. What’s mine is mine. I will not share, for instance, with that pretty little blonde who occupies your bed.”
Cale registered no emotion. “She’s just someone from my past who was available and willing. She was always more interested in Creed. She’s gone now, anyway.”
“And your pretty friends?”
“Are the brothers I always wanted when I was growing up alone. They’re friends. That’s all. I don’t have time for romance. Sex is easier. Fighting is better still.”
“Let me see your hands.” He beckoned with his own until Cale cautiously slid his across the table top. Lee lifted them several inches off the surface, letting go so his palms rested on air. And shook as if from some fierce turbulence. Cale made quick fists and tucked them out of sight.
“You didn’t think I’d hear about last night?” Casper began conversationally. “You didn’t think I’d find out that my top fighter was scoring illegals and brawling in a public place? Or that I would be all right with those things?”