Sweet Discovery (The Jessica Sweet Trilogy Book 2)

by Aliya DalRae

  As she disappeared around the corner, a little girl came from the opposite direction. Her face had barely registered, when I heard her squeal my name, and I was hit around the middle with a miniature bear hug that nearly took me off my feet.

  “Allie,” I said, eyes wide and heart full as I knelt down and held her at arm’s length so I could get a good look at her. It was really her, the little blonde Werewolf with ice blue eyes, eyes that were now shining so bright, I could hardly stand it. I pulled her back into my arms and whispered, “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Me too,” she whispered back. We eventually stopped hugging, but Allie’s chatter continued on.

  “Look,” she was saying, and the tears for Mandy I had managed to rein in, were swimming in my eyes again. It was great to see Allie looking so well. The last time I saw her she was injured and dirty and frightened. Now, however, she was radiant in a pretty blue sweater with black leggings, and prattling away as she showed me a small, beaded bracelet, with my name spelled out in pink cubes.

  “When I got home, I was really sad because, well, I forgot your name.” She whispered the last, and her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry, Jessica, I really am. I didn’t mean to forget, but I was tired, and hurt and…” she gave the room a quick glance then leaned into me and whispered, “You know.”

  She twisted the bracelet around so she could read the beads. “After we found out about you, my daddy gave this to me. He said if I wear it you will always be close to me. And I do, Jessica. I wear it every day,” she raised her hand in a solemn oath. I took a closer look at the bracelet, and something tugged at my memory.

  “My birth daddy gave me a bracelet like this when I was little,” I said aloud, holding Allie’s wrist and turning the beads around on their elastic band. “I wonder whatever happened to it.”

  “What’s a birth daddy?” Allie asked.

  “Never mind, sweetie,” I said, shaking my head to dismiss the thought. “I wanted to check on you, Allie, I really did, but…”

  The Vampires wouldn’t let me?

  “I didn’t want to remind you of—”

  “It’s okay, Jessica,” Allie placed her small hand on my shoulder and patted me, comforted me. “I try not to think about it much, but you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I never want to forget you. I wanted to call you, too, but my daddy said you were too busy, and that I shouldn’t bother you. They said it wouldn’t be fair for you to have to be around, well, someone like me. Like us,” she finished in another gloomy whisper.

  That lip was quivering again, and I was so afraid she was going to cry. I really hoped her parents hadn’t been so blunt with her. The fact that she was a Werewolf was the last reason I would have for staying away from her. The Legion, or rather Mason, however, had felt it in my best interest not to get too involved with the local Were Pack. They were grateful and all, but I was a human who knew their secret, so yeah. Unwelcome.

  But to make Allie feel like I wouldn’t want to see her because she was different? That was so wrong. I pulled out a stack of business cards that I kept in my jeans pocket, just in case, and handed one to her.

  “Here,” I said, wrapping her fingers around the cardboard rectangle. “This is my number. If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, even if it’s just to talk, or you want to say hi, you call me. I will always be there for you, Allie. Always.”

  Allie threw her arms around my neck, her eyes squeezed shut, and I wanted to hold her like this forever. “You smell so good,” she said, breathing deeply at my neck.

  “So do you, Allie-cat,” I said, and she giggled, pulling back from our hug and looking me dead in the eye.

  “I’m not a cat, Jessica. Remember?”

  “Oh, I do remember,” I said, ruffling her hair. “You are definitely not a cat.”

  We were both still laughing, when a woman came from the restrooms in a rush, searching the lobby left and right. When her eyes lit on us she said, “Allie—there you are. I told you to wait right outside.”

  She ran up to Allie and pulled her into a frantic hug. “Please don’t do that,” she whispered. “You scared me half to death.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, standing up and offering my hand. “My fault. We were just catching up. I’m Jessica Sweet.”

  Now, I know I was coming off a serious hangover, but the woman looked at me as though she had seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide and wild, looking everywhere but at me, and she ignored my hand completely.

  “Yes, yes,” she mumbled, turning her back to me, and then, “Come on, Allie. We have to go.” Before I knew it, she was pulling the little Werewolf to the exit.

  “But I didn’t get my ice cream,” Allie cried, suddenly a normal little girl with normal disappointments.

  “I know, I know, we’ll just have to come back. Mommy has something she needs to do right away.” The woman practically ran from the Polar King, dragging Allie behind her, and all I could do was stare after them.

  “Bye, Jessica,” Allie called over her shoulder, waving a hand that carefully concealed the business card I had given her.

  “Well, that was weird,” Piper said, walking up with our tray of food. “That woman couldn’t get out of here fast enough. What the heck did you say to her?”

  “Nothing,” I said, that ‘something’ tugging at my brain again. “I never got a chance.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  P iper and I were fortunate to get our favorite booth by the entrance, and we dug into our food without further thought to that woman’s strange behavior. I was in mid bite, with the larger part of a chili dog hanging out of my mouth when a familiar, silky voice said, “If this isn’t my lucky day.”

  I closed my eyes for a second, hoping when I opened them I would not see what I thought I would, but apparently it was not my lucky day. Mac Gatta was standing next to our booth, watching me struggle with the unladylike bite of food I’d just taken in.

  His smile was like a camera flash, and his eyes were even greener in the light of day. As before, his dreads were pulled back with that leather strap, and a hint of facial scruff did nothing to mar his flawless beauty.

  It was taking much too long for me to chew and swallow, and my face was turning eighteen shades of red. Thankfully, Piper was quick to discern my predicament, and took up the conversation.

  “Hey Mac. Long time no see,” she said, lounging against the back of the booth and taking a casual bite out of a French fry.

  “Indeed,” he replied, and Piper couldn’t help but return his compelling smile. “Is this a private lunch, or may I join you ladies?” So proper.

  “Nope, not private. In fact I have to…uh…” and with another grin, she took off toward the restrooms again.

  “But you just—”

  “Back in a flash,” she chimed, leaving me there to swallow the last bit of dog in my mouth. And to figure out what to say to this gorgeous man that I absolutely could not get involved with.

  “May I sit?” he asked.

  “Of course.” I took a napkin to my face to remove any unwanted chili and hoped that there was no cheese stuck in my teeth. We sat in silence for a moment, and he had that funny little smile going again—the one that woke up that tiny butterfly in my belly. Guess it hadn’t been a margarita-induced hallucination after all.

  “You look no worse for wear,” he said, smirking a bit. I wanted to be offended, but those eyes made it difficult.

  “Thanks,” I said, still worried about my teeth. “I think.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his brows narrowing, sharpening the angles of his face. “You were upset the last time I saw you.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, pushing my chili dog to the side. At least he hadn’t been talking about my hangover.

  “The ex?”

  “Yeah, about that,” I said, still not sure how to proceed. This guy was really hard to push away.

  “Not so much an ex?” Mac’s face fell a little, but the true sadness was in those
shining emeralds he used for eyes.

  “It’s complicated,” I said after a pause.

  “It always is,” he said. “I take it you talked? Worked things out?”

  “Not exactly. Truth is, we never ‘officially’ broke up.”

  “I see,” Mac said, and turned the wattage back up on his smile. “Well, let me propose this,” he said, leaning forward on the table, holding my gaze.

  “I’m listening.” I folding my arms on the table in front of me.

  “I’m assuming the item of contention between us would be the amazing kiss we shared.”

  I blushed again. “You could say that.”

  “Let’s take it off the table.” The words seemed forced, difficult for him to say, but he continued. “Pretend it never happened.”

  “And why would we do that?” I asked, unable to stop the flirtatious note in my voice.

  “It makes you uncomfortable.”

  That was true, but not exactly for the reasons I had given him.

  “Look, Jessica. As I said, I’m new in town. I don’t have a lot of friends, and I’d like to keep the one or two I’ve met so far.” That smile was back, and the ease I had felt with him the night before returned. Being around him felt like coming home.

  “So you want to be friends?” I asked, hoping he would be okay with that.

  “Yes, I want to be friends. With you, and Piper and even Alex and Lisha if they’re up for it. You seem like a good group of people, and I could use folks like that in my life right now.”

  I saw Piper peeking around the corner of the hall to the restrooms, and I gave her a wave to come back.

  “I think you could get more from Piper, if you wanted,” I said before she got close enough to hear us.

  “If I wanted more,” he whispered, “I would want it from you.”

  I pretended not hear him.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  M alcolm left the Polar King with mixed feelings. He had given Jessica his cell phone number—a phone that he kept hidden in an unused portion of her barn—and she had put it directly into her contacts list. Of course, he’d had to exchange digits with Piper as well, but that could come in handy later, so he didn’t really mind.

  He climbed into his 2008 Pontiac and wished he didn’t have to drive such an inconspicuous ride. He had a Jag at his house north of town, but didn’t dare drive it in case he had to get back to Jessica’s in a hurry. There was no way he was ditching that car in his hiding place off Reserve Road. But the Pontiac had a decent radio, and as he flipped through the stations, a broad smile spread across his face.

  He had moved too fast the night before, taken advantage of an opportunity he was unable to resist. Now they had found a proper starting ground, and his relationship with Jessica would only grow. Soon, she would toss that Vampire to the curb, and good old “Mac,” friend and confidant, would be there to pick up the pieces.

  He turned the Pontiac north, deciding there were a few things he needed to pick up at his house, and maybe go for a run in the woods. He missed his woods.

  When Anna died, Malcolm had spent a lot of days and nights out among the trees and the forest animals. He thought he would never want to be human again. It was part of the reason he had taken the job watching Jessica, an opportunity to keep his feline form without constant harping from his Clowder.

  He was still clueless as to why the Were Pack was interested in Jessica, but at the moment it was a passing thought. With his long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and the music blaring on the radio, he was reminded that there were some real benefits to being in this form.

  It seemed odd to go from never wanting to be human again to wishing he could stay like this a while. The thought of shifting back and returning to Jessica’s as a cat had him twisting in his seat. Now that he could communicate with her, person to person, sneaking back into her life as Malcolm the Cat seemed…dishonest.

  Malcolm slowed for a red light and rested his head on the back of the seat.

  Face it, dude. There’s not an honest thing about you.

  Except how I feel.

  That line of thinking was going nowhere, so he headed to his house to take a long, hot shower, and try to relax in front of the TV, the latter of which proved to be impossible.

  His mind returned to the Weres for the hundredth time. It reminded him that he had nearly been run down by the Alpha’s mate coming out of the Polar King, her little girl in tow. At the time, he hadn’t given it a second thought.

  He had only seen Maggie Dane once or twice, and she seemed to be wound tight by nature. However today, the woman was off-the-charts freaking out and he wondered what had set her off. The memory of the little girl calling Jessica’s name as they left had him sitting up straight.

  Was that the Were pup Jessica had saved from the Sorcerers? The Vampires hadn’t bothered to fill him in on every last detail of this past summer’s skirmish. He only knew that there had been Were kids involved, and that Jessica had freed the only surviving pup before being taken and tortured herself. At that point, Jessica was all he cared about.

  By Malcolm’s thinking, if Jessica had rescued the Alpha’s kid, she should have been given a place of honor among the Pack. As far as he knew, they had never even thanked her, and given Maggie Dane’s actions today, it didn’t look like that was going to happen any time soon.

  Malcolm grabbed his things, ran out to the car, jumped in, and revved the engine. It was impulsive, but he tried not to think about what he was doing as he aimed the old Pontiac toward Patrick Dane’s cabin. A conversation with his employer was long overdue.

  Chapter Forty

  A lfons Lockman was not at all what I expected, and I had lots of pictures in my head to choose from. My first thought was that he would be a scrawny, fifty-something nerd with thick glasses, thin lips and a bad comb-over. The second image was one of an ancient man, like a hundred years old, who looked like Professor Dumbledore from Harry Potter. My third guess was a twenty-year-old hippie wannabe, complete with tie-dye shirt, thong-tied ponytail and Birkenstocks.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong. Alfons Lockman was—normal. He was maybe in his thirties, with sandy brown hair, cut in a tidy, modern style, hazel eyes and a pleasant face. He stood about five foot nine, with a runner’s build, and he wore hole-less jeans and a blue striped Oxford shirt with the first two buttons undone. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, nor was he completely unfortunate looking.

  In fact, Lockman was forgettable.

  “You must be Jessica,” he said in a pleasant voice that matched his face, and he offered me his hand.

  “Mr. Lockman, hi. Yes, I’m Jessica. Nice to meet you.” I hesitated before shaking his hand, but relaxed as our palms met and it became clear this would be a vision-free greeting. Hey, you never knew. The man was a psychic.

  “Please come in,” he said, motioning for me to enter his tiny foyer. Lockman lived in a loft on the edge of town, above Perky’s Pizza Place. The smell of pepperoni broiling in the ovens below had my mouth watering as I climbed the steps that opened into a spacious living room.

  “So,” I said by way of polite conversation, “do you like pizza or has living here ruined it for you?”

  “I love the smell of pepperoni in the morning,” Lockman quipped, and I laughed. “Honestly, that one never gets old.” He smiled and offered me a seat on a casual sofa, while he took the matching chair located on the other side of a plain, maple coffee table.

  “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Pop?”

  “I’m fine thanks,” I said, taking off my jacket and making a command decision to grab a pizza on my way out. I was definitely going to have to hit the dojo tomorrow.

  “So, you are a friend of Mason’s?” Lockman hedged.

  “He didn’t tell you? No, wait. You’re psychic. He didn’t think he had to, right?” Don’t know where the sarcasm came from, but Lockman took it in stride.

  “That one never gets old either,” he said with a smile, not
the least perturbed.

  “What did Mason tell you?” I wasn’t sure how this worked. Was I supposed to make him guess everything, or fill him in on all the gory details?

  “Actually, I spoke with Merlin. He said that there was a situation with one of the race and that you had a related vision?” I nodded for him to continue. “Can you tell me what it is I’m supposed to help you resolve?” When I hesitated again he suggested, “Perhaps a little background on your gift would help.”

  That I could do.

  “I have visions,” I said. “I’ve had them from the time I was little. But ever since I met Raven—the guy in question—a lot of my visions seem to revolve around him and the Legion.”

  “And this most recent vision?” he asked, sitting back in his chair like he was settling in.

  I hesitated. “Exactly what kind of clearance do you have?”

  “The highest,” he assured me.

  Mason sent me to this guy, but I’d sworn a vow that I wouldn’t talk about the supernatural beings to anyone. Up to now I’d kept that promise, so even with permission, it seemed wrong somehow.

  Still, if Mason felt that Lockman could help figure out who and what I had seen in my vision, that could go a long way to clearing Raven. I guessed I owed it to everyone to do whatever I could to help get to the bottom of things. But if it all went tits up, I could be condemning the man I loved. I had to decide.

  “Okay,” I said after a minute. “Okay,” and I told him about the vision. In detail.

  When I finished, Lockman watched me for a moment before asking if he could touch me. I offered my hand across the coffee table and he took it between both of his, holding it for a bit before turning it over and brushing his fingers across my palm. His eyes were closed, and I noticed he had long eyelashes that fanned against his skin.

  After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes and I jumped. The hazel irises were now completely black and much larger than they had been before. When he spoke, his tone was flat and eerie, as though he were speaking from another dimension.