Crossroads sa-2

by Moira Rogers

“No.” He tilted her head back again. “You need to get okay with the fact that there aren’t your fights and my fights anymore. This is our fight.”

  His conviction was absolute, and his strength both calmed and humbled Nick. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against him. “I think you’re getting the short end of the deal here.”

  Derek laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Only literally, baby. And that’s okay. We’ll get you a step stool.”

  She let go of his shirt and smoothed the fabric. “We have an advantage, you know. A big one.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My father. He’s seen Coleman fight before. He knows his moves.”

  “Then he can show me.” A feral smile curled his lips. “You have no idea how much I want to hit something. I got in a damn fistfight with Andrew.”

  “Did he deserve it in the slightest?”

  “Don’t think either of us deserved it, but we both needed it.”

  “Hopefully it helped you both blow off some steam.” She bit her lip. “How is he doing? And Kat?” She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t thought to ask.

  Derek closed his eyes, and she knew the news wasn’t good. His thumbs rubbed along her collarbones, the touch almost absentminded. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?”

  Nick stirred the mixture in the double boiler. “Almost ready. You still like cinnamon?”

  “I think so.” Michelle’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I never know how things will taste these days.”

  “You can try it first and see.” The thick chocolate had just started to foam, so she cut off the heat and reached for two mugs. “Did you and Luciano get things worked out?”

  “He agreed to everything.” Michelle sounded tense. Worried.

  “You don’t think he understands what you’re asking of him?”

  “I think he understands.” Her voice dropped, and Nick heard the first hint of pain. “I think I’m taking advantage of him, and he’s letting me.”

  “Sweetie.” Nick braced her hands on the counter and leaned down to catch Michelle’s gaze. “You think that, and you may be right. But it’s what he wants. He wants to be able to take care of you.”

  “I’m not going to love him, Nick. Even if I did some day, for some reason…it wouldn’t matter. I’m done.”

  Only a few days earlier, Nick would have protested the finality of the quiet declaration. “I understand.”

  Michelle tucked her hands in her lap. “I suppose what upsets me the most about it is that I’m not sorry. I’m using his feelings and doing it unkindly, and I should feel something. Anything.”

  She’d been walking around in a fog all morning, and Nick had the feeling it wouldn’t clear until things were settled. “I don’t think you should feel anything right now. If you could, it might drive you crazy.”

  “Maybe.” Awkward silence filled the kitchen for a few moments before Michelle changed the subject. “I talked to Dad. He said he’s issuing a challenge on behalf of the Peyton family.”

  “It’s nothing less than they expect.” What they couldn’t foresee was who exactly would be showing up to participate. “I wonder if they think he plans to fight Coleman himself.”

  “They can’t imagine a girl issuing a challenge. They could think Alec’s going to step in for us.”

  A hysterical giggle bubbled up in Nick’s chest. “God, can you imagine his father’s reaction to that?”

  Michelle didn’t laugh. “His father would be ecstatic if Alec defeated a Conclave member in a challenge. It would put Alec one step closer to being a serious contender for real power. And New Orleans is in the Southeast council.”

  Michelle wasn’t joking, not in the least, and a shiver claimed Nick. “If that’s what he still expects, he’s crazy. I don’t care if the council was headquartered in Alec’s front yard, he’d never take a spot on it. He’d wall himself up in his basement first.”

  “Do you think his father wants to believe that?”

  “No.” Alexander Jacobson would believe the earth was flat if he thought it might help elevate his station. The man craved power more than anything else.

  “But it won’t be Alec.” For the first time, something other than pain or blank stillness shone in Michelle’s eyes. She smiled, a trembling, tentative movement, and warm magic filled the kitchen. “He loves you so much.”

  “I know.” Derek loved her. Without her own uncertainty blurring her perceptions, she could see how much every time he looked at her. “We both spent so much time running.”

  “Aaron really liked him.”

  The mention of his name brought back memories of the day Aaron had forced her to promise him she’d take care of Michelle when he was gone. Nick tightened her hand around the edge of the marble counter. “He told me Derek was worth more than a few of these Conclave sons.”

  “He was right. He usually was.” Michelle’s smile wavered. “Except when he told me I’d be fine without him.”

  Nick had no words to comfort her, so she rounded the island, slid her arms around Michelle’s shoulders and rested her cheek on the top of her head. “I think…he wanted to believe it. For your sake.”

  “We’ll have a son,” Michelle whispered, her voice thick. “I need to be fine for him. I need—” Magic spiked in time with Michelle’s gasping sob, pain tearing through the room, riding on an edge of power that would have sent the Conclave scrambling in fear. “I can’t do this alone, Nick.”

  Michelle’s pain sparked her own, and Nick closed her eyes against the tears that welled. “I’d planned on selling the bar when I came here, and I think I’m still going to. Maybe I can visit you on the ranch? Stay for a while?”

  “I—” Another sob, and Michelle’s icy control shattered. Deep, jagged sobs wracked her body and her tears fell hot on Nick’s shoulder as her pent-up grief spilled out.

  “Shh. It’ll be okay.” Nick rocked her sister, only half believing the words she whispered. They may have figured out their options and made a plan to deal with things, but nothing could change what had happened, and what Michelle had lost.

  The only thing she could hope was that time would bring relief, and that Michelle would heal. At least she’d have something to live for—her son. Without him, the rest of her sister’s days seemed almost too bleak to imagine.

  Chapter 21

  Derek spent the three days leading up to the challenge learning why Nick’s father ruled the wolves. Seventy years and change, and John Wesley Peyton had still kicked Derek’s ass around the room with an ease that left his ego just as sore as his body. By the end of the second day, Derek was bruised and exhausted, and thanking every god he’d ever heard of that Andrew and his newly aggressive instincts were safely on the opposite end of the country.

  The interminable wait culminated in a lengthy drive upstate, their destination a private bit of land owned by the Conclave. When the scenery had shifted from urban sprawl to rolling woods, Derek glanced at Nick. “Do they use this property for anything other than beating the crap out of each other?”

  “Running,” she murmured. “Congregation. We used to come up here all the time when I was a kid.”

  The car slowed to turn down a long, unmarked drive lined with towering trees. “Guess it’s a good place to run.”

  Her hand tightened around his. “Don’t forget. He’s too aggressive. He leaves himself unguarded.”

  “I remember.” He took a breath. “So what do you think they’re going to do when they find out the representative of the Peyton family is a mutt?”

  “They’ll be scandalized, and Coleman will think you’re bound to be easily beaten.” She turned until she was facing him on the seat, pride shining in her eyes. “He’ll be wrong.”

  “Yeah, he will.” The expensive leather creaked as he shifted his weight and looped an arm around her shoulders. “How’s Michelle?”

  She leaned into him. “Holding up. She and Luciano should be married by the time we get back. Dad
seems to think they were right to not wait and ask the Conclave’s permission.”

  “Luke explained it to me.” It hadn’t seemed logical at first, but Derek had to admit there was a certain cunning in the maneuver. To the Machiavellian minds on the Conclave, it would probably look like Luciano had leapt at the chance to snatch up Michelle’s money while no one was around to stop him.

  “Mmm. They get rid of two problems—him and Michelle—all at once, and it looks just self-serving enough for them not to be too suspicious of his motives.”

  “His mother’s going to be furious, isn’t she?”

  “That doesn’t really cover it. Apoplectic with rage, maybe?”

  Derek slid his fingers through Nick’s hair, taking comfort from the soft strands on his skin. She was safe. She was his. Life would be perfect, if it weren’t for his impending fight to the death. “Can she do anything to hurt either of them?”

  “Not unless Hoffman and Ochoa don’t officially support Luciano’s plan, for some reason. Personally, she’ll never lower herself to acknowledge that it bothers her.” The car stopped, and Nick sat up and glanced out the window. “Here it is.”

  Here proved to be a graceful mansion with at least four stories and two distinct wings. It looked completely out of place nestled in untamed forest, and it took a few moments for Derek to realize it was the lack of landscaping that bothered him. Trees were trimmed back from the roof itself, but the only token attempt to control the wild around it came from the rough gravel drive that lead to two heavy oak doors adorned with massive carvings.

  He slid out of the car without waiting for someone to open the door for him and reached back a hand to Nick. “This is surreal.”

  Most of Nick’s attention as she climbed out of the car was focused on a group of men standing near the mansion. “More or less so because you’re about to be dueling in the backyard?”

  “At least it’s not pistols,” he murmured. Several of the men watched them closely. “That’s the Southeast council, I take it?”

  “Part of it,” she whispered, turning away from the group. “The Mendoza brothers and a few of their supporters. Cesar, the oldest, has been looking for a way to oust Coleman for years.”

  Derek couldn’t look away. Something feral rose in the face of such blatant appraisal, a feeling he’d choked back dozens of times. A wild hunger, one that demanded blood and violence.

  For the first time, he let the magic come. His skin tingled, and power settled around him with an almost tangible click. He felt the difference as he met the gaze of the tallest man and let the new awareness fill his eyes.

  Nick stepped closer to his side, her touch soothing on his arm. “Cesar challenged Coleman about five years ago and got his ass handed to him.”

  He held the man’s gaze for another few heartbeats before Cesar looked away, a grudging surrender accompanied by a sneer of disdain.

  Derek had seen that look enough times. “Looks like my total lack of reputation precedes me.”

  She pulled him toward the wide front doors of the house. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll know your name after today.”

  They knew his name already, and he’d bet his business on it. “They’re not sneering at me because they don’t know who I am, Nicky. They’re sneering at me because they know exactly who and what I am.”

  For a moment she looked almost shocked, as if he’d reminded her of something she’d forgotten, and her eyes hardened. “Then they won’t sneer for long.” Her thumb rubbed over the back of his hand. “I’m proud of you for doing this, Derek. For standing up to this sort of thing.”

  As if he was doing it to make a stand. Derek lifted her hand and kissed it, enjoying the shocked murmurs from behind them. “I’m not looking to become the poster boy for the disenfranchised, baby. I just don’t give a shit anymore, as long as I’ve got you.”

  The foyer was lined with more people standing along the walls. Among them was Nick’s father. “They’re waiting in the conference room.” He stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Are you ready?”

  Derek wasn’t sure which of them the question was meant for, but he answered it with all the courage he could muster. “Absolutely.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Nick didn’t release his hand as the crowd parted for them, though the murmurs and questions grew so loud he could easily make out the astonished words. She held her head high, her cheeks red with what he knew had to be anger rather than embarrassment, and gripped his hand tighter.

  The conference room turned out to be a large, open area with glass walls and ceiling, built more like a greenhouse or solarium than a boardroom. Instead of sitting around a table, the three remaining members of the Conclave waited in the middle of the room.

  One man wore a sling on one arm. Hoffman, Derek thought, and that meant the darker man pacing the stone floor was Ochoa. Enrica Maglieri had a cell phone to one ear and a frown on her face. Trying to call Luciano, probably, and Derek knew how useless that would be. Yesterday morning, Luciano and Michelle had used the chaos of the impending challenge to apply for their marriage license. By now they’d be in front of an official. By the time the challenge was over… Please let me be alive to buy them a stand mixer.

  The dark man stopped and frowned a little in Derek’s direction. “You’re late, Peyton.”

  “Everyone is,” Enrica interjected. “Did Luciano come with you?”

  John shook his head. “Luciano agreed that Michelle didn’t need to be alone during this trying time, so he stayed behind with her.”

  Enrica’s expression tightened. “I see.”

  I just bet you do. It was better not to give her too much time to think about it. If the Conclave had time to consider Michelle unsupervised in New York City or, worse, supervised only by Enrica’s son, they might be distracted. That could spell disaster for Luciano and Michelle.

  He knew one way to make sure everyone’s undivided attention stayed fixed on the upcoming challenge. Releasing Nick’s hand, he stepped forward, angling his body slightly in front of hers. “I’m here to challenge Noah Coleman on behalf of the Peyton family.”

  Hoffman laughed, the sound disdainful enough to spike Derek’s temper, but a vicious snarl from Nick’s father silenced the mockery.

  A look of disbelief and then anger spread across Ochoa’s features. “It’s not allowed, Peyton. You can’t just bring someone in off the street because your daughter isn’t strong enough to win a challenge.”

  Alec had told him what to say, but he wasn’t prepared for the swell of possessive satisfaction that came with speaking the words. “The right of challenge is mine as Nicole Peyton’s mate.”

  No one laughed at that. The dark-haired man’s scowl melted into openmouthed shock, his expression mirroring the others.

  John Peyton sighed. “I’m tired of pushing Nicole away by trying to make her life conform to what I want. She’s chosen her own path, her own mate…and I believe she’s chosen well.”

  Total silence.

  Derek had the insane urge to laugh at the display of flustered consternation. He didn’t know what had shocked them more—the idea that Nicole had chosen him over one of their precious sons, or the fact that her father seemed to approve.

  The seconds ticked by, and the silence became uncomfortable. Derek cleared his throat and repeated his challenge in a quiet, sure voice. “I’m here to challenge Noah Coleman on behalf of the Peyton family.”

  Enrica finally spoke. “We recognize your challenge. Whether Noah will fight is up to him.”

  They’d warned Derek of as much. He knew Nick was secretly hoping Noah Coleman would refuse the fight and cement his own disgrace. It was the only way of avoiding bloodshed, but Alec had assured him during his last phone call that it was a long shot at best. Refusing to fight would be seen as a sign of weakness. A sign of fear.

  A man like Noah Coleman couldn’t let anyone think he was afraid of a wolf two years made. Pride would drive him to fight. Desperation would force him
to fight hard.

  It was too late to back down, even if Derek wanted to. “I understand.”

  “Conrad.” She turned her head to the sandy-haired man. “Bring him out to hear his challenge.”

  No one moved. For a few seconds it seemed like no one breathed. Then the blond nodded sharply. As he strode from the room the other man spoke up, though his gaze stayed on Nick’s father, as if Derek was beneath his notice. “Does he understand what he’s doing?”

  “He’s standing right here,” Nick said tightly. “Why don’t you ask him, Ochoa?”

  Cold black eyes fixed on Derek’s face. “You’re challenging the leader of the Southeast council. In the event of your victory, you’ll take your place as a member of that council…until someone challenges you for your place. And, believe me, the challenges will come. Daily.”

  Derek grinned at him, a deliberate baring of teeth that was just short of a challenge on its own, and said the kind of infuriating thing he imagined Alec might say in his place. “Yep, might have heard something of the sort.”

  Ochoa snorted and cut a glance at John. “This one’s been spending too much time with Jacobson’s kid.”

  As if he’d had a choice. In spite of what he’d told Nick, in spite of swearing he wasn’t interested in changing their society, he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. “That’s because Alec Jacobson spends his time cleaning up after your messes. That’s what he’s doing right now, you know. Taking responsibility for the lives your commandos ruined.”

  Enrica paled. Ochoa just looked smug. “For your information, not everyone on this board approved that disastrous show of force.”

  Disgust rose inside him, and he didn’t try to hide it. “Don’t pretend you give a damn about the people they hurt. It’s insulting.”

  The man flushed. “You’ve got a smart mouth, kid.”

  Nick’s father stepped between them. “Jorge, that’s enough.”

  Dragging himself back under control was a formidable test of willpower, but Derek managed it. Nick caught his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze.