Damon

by J. C. Daniels

  I felt Megan’s attention shift to me. “Why are you so interested?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar.” She nudged me with her shoulder and said in quiet voice, “I’m going to give you a word of advice…the MacDonald has a…well, a soft spot for her.”

  I met her eyes now, frowning. “Are they together?”

  “No.” She laughed a little, then added, “Hell, no. He’s too old-fashioned for that. She’s not much more than a kid in his eyes. She’s a few years older than Elizabeth, I think, but even that’s not much more than a child in Dair’s eyes.” Again, she smiled, clearly amused, but I couldn’t tell well why. “I’m just now convincing him I’m not a kid. But she’s a fighter. She annoys the hell out of me, but Dair…admires her. Probably because he understands her on some level—he used to be human, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Turning away from the window, I pushed the blonde out of my head. “Come, let’s go on up. I’ve got…”

  The dream flickered in my head again. I shoved it back.

  “Work,” I said. “I’ve got work.”

  Chapter Nine

  When I walked in, Alisdair MacDonald was swirling scotch in his glass. Peaty and strong, I had to admit, it smelled good.

  Judging from the way he drank it, I suspected he did it more out of habit than anything else.

  It wasn’t easy for a shifter to get wasted anyway. I couldn’t see Dair looking to drown his sorrows. Especially this early in the day.

  Loss of control wasn’t acceptable to any respectable shifter. Dair was a little above that level.

  As he took another sip, I moved deeper into the room.

  Megan closed the door behind me.

  She didn’t come in either.

  That was…out of the normal for her. She was Dair’s second in command and while she might not suspect me of putting a knife in his back, she was protective of her Alpha.

  That meant she’d been told to leave us in private.

  A second after I realized that, I spied the second tumbler of whiskey on the table. “Guess this is for me, Alpha?”

  Calling him by that title caused nowhere near the burn that it caused with Annette. She wasn’t my superior—then again, neither was he. But we were too different animals. A leopard and a wolf, so to speak, wouldn’t necessarily tangle unless there was a reason.

  And it was a courtesy.

  I knew the rules of courtesy and followed them…for the most part.

  He glanced back, only turning his head half way so I just saw his profile. “Yes. I’d apologize for keeping you waiting, but the meeting I had prior to yours had been scheduled for several days. I like to stick to my schedule.”

  The faint accent, left over from Scotland, lingered, no matter that he’d been America for well over a century. I didn’t know how old he was. I’d never asked.

  It had always struck me as weird that he’d still had the accent but then I’d mentioned it to Chang and he gave me a look like I was still some kid.

  His accent doesn’t make him stand out, Damon. He has no reason to lose it.

  You don’t have yours. I don’t have mine, I’d pointed out.

  You barely had one to begin with. You spoke hardly any of your native tongue when I found you. And I raised you to speak both Mandarin and English—with no accent in English. We already stick out, Damon. We can’t afford to call any more attention to ourselves than necessary.

  Eying Dair as he stood there, shoulders a stiff line, almost military in his bearing, I wondered if I should feel resentment.

  Maybe.

  But I was too fucking tired and too worried about Doyle.

  Grabbing the glass, I tossed half of it back as I sat down.

  “You abuse my fine Scotch,” Dair said, turning toward me. A half smile appeared for a moment. But as he crossed to sit down on the chair opposite mine, the smile faded. “I know why you’re here.”

  His tone, his words, even the way he eyed me had my instincts going on red alert. Casually, I leaned back in the seat, taking on a lazy slouch and sipping the whisky. Where are you going with this?

  I had no fucking clue.

  “That a fact?”

  “Let’s not play games, Damon. The two of us have always…been honest, haven’t we?” His amber eyes never left mine as he tossed back the rest of his scotch, then put the glass down. He continued to watch me shrewdly, those eyes expressionless in a sharply angled face. He wore his hair long, pulled back in a neat tail at the nape of his neck. Women would probably consider him elegant and handsome—he probably was. He had a refined manner, almost like Chang’s. But Chang’s was a mask. Dair’s was bred in.

  Dair leaned in, those elegant manners set aside as he braced his elbows on his knees. Eyes fixed on my face, he asked softly, “The boy ran away, didn’t he?”

  I must have stopped breathing.

  There wasn’t any sound for a few seconds, not even that of air moving in and out of my lungs.

  Slowly, I lowered my lashes, studying the glass I held through them as I pondered my options.

  Any one of them could get me fucked over.

  “Before you consider launching yourself at me,” Dair said, voice mild. “You should hear what I have to say.”

  “Should I?” I still didn’t look at him. “My kid is in danger and you knew he ran away…how did you know? I haven’t told anybody save for a very few people. None of them would tell you.”

  “Not every one who knows is one of yours, Damon.” He shrugged lazily, then added, “Although it’s foolish of me to refer to any of them as yours, isn’t it? Of course, they easily could be. We both know who is the strongest of the cats…from one alpha to another.”

  He leaned back in his chair and lazily hooked one ankle over his knee, giving me a pointed stare.

  Fuck. Shit. A million other things went through my mind, but I silenced them all. If I’d expected to hide myself from everything, forever, then I never should have come here.

  “What do you know?” I said stiffly. “Who told you?”

  “I know enough. But…you won’t speak to him,” Dair said, shaking his head. “I’ll relay what he’s told me and that will be it. Anything else I’ll consider an act of aggression from the Cat Clan. Are we clear?”

  “Yes.” He was serious. It wasn’t an idle threat. And if he decided to treat anything I did or said as act of aggression, a good twenty of his enforcers would be in here. Of course, he was the one I’d be fighting, but I’d have to kill him and twenty of his best.

  That was pushing it.

  “Very well. I’d…appreciate it if you could find a way to keep this information between us. I’d rather she not know.”

  Neither of us ever mentioned her name.

  It just hung there, unspoken, like a beautiful cancer.

  “She won’t.” I could appreciate now why he was protecting…whoever he was protecting. A kid. Had to be a kid. And if Annette ever found out, she’d move heaven and earth to kill him. Blowing out a breath, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “She won’t know. Tell me what you know and I leave. This is done between us.”

  “Thank you, Damon.” His tone was reserved now.

  Looking at him, I waited.

  But he didn’t illuminate me…yet.

  “One day,” he said softly. “One day, you will kill her and you will be Alpha. I won’t forget that you and I started as friends. We’ll continue as such, I believe.”

  “That’s not in the plan.” I clenched my jaw—and my fists. “Me killing her. Not in the plan.”

  “You won’t have much of a choice.” Dair shook his head. “You’re more than half her age, and you’re already jerking against the chains she tries to put on you. That she hasn’t seen it is a sign of her own sign-involvement. But one day, one who is either loyal to her, or one who thinks it will benefit him will force her to open her eyes. Then you’ll have no choice.”

  The amber in his
eyes rolled to gold, then back. He drew in a breath and blew it out.

  “Doyle is friends with one of my younger wolves. Or rather…Doyle has taken it upon himself to be one of the boy’s de facto guardians. His name is DeLano. His father was killed several years ago, out of state. His mother came here seeking sanctuary. But she’s…unwell.” His jaw tightened.

  Unwell. Yeah, I had a good idea what that meant. We had some unwell clan mates among the cats, too.

  Dair slid me a look. “They came from a pack with a man who more monster than anything else—he called himself alpha, but he was just stronger and meaner than the rest.” He cocked his head. “You probably know the sort.”

  “Get the point.”

  “This so-called alpha killed her husband in front of her and the boy. Then he threatened to kill the boy if she didn’t…cooperate.” Dair lifted a shoulder. “She pretended to do so. A few weeks later, when suspicion subsided, they ran. She has family here, so they came here, to me. DeLano is small, even for a shifter youth. He’s…not broken, but if he isn’t treated with care, he will be. And his father was on the way to becoming an Alpha. That’s why he was killed. You can understand what that means for DeLano.”

  “Yeah.” The kid would be strong, if he survived. And he could either be the right kind of strong…or the bad kind.

  “Doyle’s been good for him.” Dair lifted a shoulder lazily, smiling a little. “Kind. As have his friends. He’s almost like a younger brother to him and Marcus, even though they have only known each other a few months. A couple of weeks ago, I’m told, things with Doyle started to…change.”

  Dair’s pointed look put my back up, but he had information and he was showing an extreme about of trust here, so I decided to reciprocate—to a degree. He would already know anyway. “Doyle’s pretty close to his spike. It’s got him worried.”

  “More than worried.” Dair lowered his lids, eyeing me from under them. “He told Marcus and DeLano he’d kill himself before he went to Annette, Damon.”

  I waited. There had to be more to that. Kill himself…her. Me. Something more.

  But Dair offered nothing.

  “You’re serious.” I had to force the words out and it was painful to do it. Painful, because I couldn’t think of a time when I’d be that desperate. I’d known what it was like to want to kill, hurt, maim, destroy. But to want to die?

  And Doyle? He was a strong kid. He’d be a stronger man.

  “Haven’t you ever felt helpless, Damon?”

  At Dair’s voice, I jerked my head up. “Shut up,” I warned him, forgetting about the disparity in rank in that moment. Fuck. Forget that—it wasn’t a disparity. It was something I chose. He and I were equal and the fact that I had to pretend to show my throat just pissed me off.

  Bastard, asking me questions he’s got no right to ask, about the kid I love more than anything.

  Dair took a step toward me.

  “Well?” There was a challenge in his voice.

  Baring my teeth at him, I snarled.

  “That doesn’t concern me, cub,” Dair taunted. “You’re still on her leash, here to fetch her wayward nephew. Isn’t that what this is about?”

  I knew better than to let him taunt me.

  Letting the rage drain away—forcing it drain away, I sucked in a breath, then another.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “Okay.”

  Turning away from the challenge in Dair’s eyes, I moved over to the window.

  The blonde was still out in the parking lot, oddly enough. She held a knife—well, hell. Saying she held it would kind of like saying a jazz musician just played music.

  Silver danced above her fingers, playing with the light while a far-off look settled on her face.

  She didn’t even seem aware of what she was doing with the knife that danced and played over her fingers. And it never once slipped.

  “Was he serious?” I asked softly, trying not to get caught in the mesmerizing blur of silver.

  “I didn’t talk to him myself.” Dair’s voice had less of an edge.

  A moment later, he joined me at the window and offered me more scotch.

  A peace offering.

  Accepting it, I straightened from the window and sipped, still eying the woman.

  “What’s your take?” I didn’t like the way this was going. “Was he serious?”

  “I asked if you’d ever felt helpless, Damon. Perhaps you feel it’s overstepping, but I’m simply suggesting you put yourself in his shoes. Once he goes through a full shift, she wants him. We’ve heard as much even in the Wolf Pack. He’ll be among the lowest of her cats until he proves himself. And how does one prove himself in her clan?”

  Involuntarily I tightened my hand on the glass.

  It took blood and pain.

  Doyle would have to hurt, and cause hurt.

  He’d have to bleed, and cause others to do the same.

  I was under no illusions about what it took to survive in our world.

  But there was a difference between what we were and what Annette wanted to turn us into.

  Dair, proving himself to be all too insightful, didn’t want for my answer.

  “He wasn’t going to be another one of her amusements. He decided he’d have his own…path, I suppose.”

  Slowly, I turned and met Dair’s eyes. “And just what does that mean?”

  “Well, that is where I have nothing else I can tell you.” He smiled and it looked decidedly smug. “You see, DeLano asked him what he was planning and that was when he told my young pup that he needed to leave—said it was better if the kid didn’t know anything more. He was trying to protect him, I imagine.” Dair tipped his glass of scotch toward me. “You’re rubbing off on him. You should be proud.”

  I swallowed down the growl.

  Then, lifted the glass to my lips, I tossed back the scotch.

  “What more can you tell me? This was…what? A few weeks ago?”

  “To my knowledge.” Dair shrugged when we locked gazes. “And that’s quite a trail, even for us. I suppose you should go back out into the city—look for a trail.”

  “A trail.” Swearing, I turned back to the window.

  She was still there, but she’d sheathed the knife and turned, climbing into a rust bucket of indeterminate make and model. There was more primer on it than color and nothing held it together but hope and prayers. If she was working for the Pack, she should be able to afford better. “Who is she?”

  Dair didn’t even bother to join me this time.

  “She’s a courier, Damon.”

  Turning, I eyed him curiously. “That’s not what I heard. A courier didn’t hunt down a witch’s kid in the middle of a rat’s domain.”

  “True.” Dair studied me. “I’ve also used her on a few other tasks. She’s resourceful. Fast.”

  “Discreet?”

  There was a second of silence.

  Then Dair did something I’d never seen.

  He broke out into guffaws of laughter. He tried several times to speak, only to start laughing again.

  Son of a bitch even giggled once or twice.

  “Dis…” He stopped and snickered into his hand. “I’m sorry. Just…” He laughed again and got up, moving over to the bar service. “Damon, I apologize. Just…a moment, please.”

  “Yeah, the apology is ruined by the endless laughter, Dair.”

  Dair’s shoulders shook. He was still laughing.

  Finally, he turned and met my eyes, his own glinting brightly. “I can’t even apologize and mean it. Ask me if she’s good at what she does. The answer is yes. Ask me if I’d recommend her—a hundred times over, although I doubt I’d want you hiring her. Ask me if she’s competent—again, yes. But discreet?” His shoulder started shaking again in gales of silent laughter. “You might as well as me if you can change your spots, Damon. If a wolf would ever choose to meow instead of howl.”

  I twitched at the reference
to spots, not wanting to dwell on just what he might know.

  “Okay. I get the point.” I flicked a look out the window again.

  “I…well, normally, I wouldn’t be disposed to sharing information. But Doyle should be found. Would you like her information?”

  I snorted. “Hell, no. I can handle the kid. Thanks for taking the time.” I started toward the door.

  I didn’t make more than five feet before turned.

  Dair was standing there, a card extended.

  When I went to take it, he withdrew it, holding it just out of my reach. “I understand the need to find Doyle,” he warned. “But be careful…she’s not a shifter. Don’t draw her into our world without understanding the consequences.”

  Slowly, then, he offered the card and I took it.

  “The consequences are simple,” I said brusquely. “A shifter kid lives or he dies.”

  Dair’s lashes drooped.

  “There’s a movie…a classic now. Every man dies—we’ll amend it to say and every woman. Is it really living if you just pull him in for Annette’s schemes?”

  I opened my mouth, closed it.

  Then, with a shake of my head, I turned and left.

  I’d take the blonde’s information.

  But I wouldn’t need it.

  DeLano had talked to Marcus.

  Marcus had to have information.

  So I’d just talk to him.

  I’d figure this out, find the kind.

  All there was to it.

  Chapter Ten

  Kit Colbana.

  The card had been burning a hole through the pocket of my blue jeans for two days.

  I’d done exactly what Dair had suggested, gone back out into the city—and the surrounding area and tried to find a trail.

  There wasn’t one.

  Kit Colbana.

  That was her name.

  It was a sign of how pissed off, how distracted—or maybe a sign that I was starting to get—but I hadn’t remembered the name. I didn’t know how long it took my kind to show aging, but I did doubt that was the case. It was nice to have a fallback, of course.