by Chant, Zoe
“She was trying to kill me,” he said deliberately. “What do you know about that?”
Marlo reared back. “Nothing! I would never compromise my professional career by being party to something like that!” Her face blanched as if she were about to be ill, then mottled red suffused her cheeks. “I wondered why she suddenly appeared back in my life. I believed her story about appreciating my gifts with therapy, and how wonderful my project was, though she used to make fun of it during our college days.” Her gaze shifted away.
“How long have you known her?” Jameson asked, watching her closely.
Marlo grimaced as if she had a pounding headache. “I met her my first year of pre-med in college. We both switched majors—I hated the labs—and she said from the beginning that nursing was the best way to find rich old men ripe for the plucking.”
Jameson said, “And?”
“I’d begun studying genetics, because I swear to God, when I was a kid, I saw this woman on the beach turn into a crane. And fly away. My parents put me in therapy, which I discovered I liked, though it never shook my conviction.”
Jameson said nothing.
Marlo sighed. “And you don’t believe me, either. I’m used to that.”
She looked so tired and worn out that he sympathized, and was almost tempted to tell her to keep looking.
She said in a low voice, “In subsequent years, as I surfed Usenet—that was before Google—I kept seeing references to what some call meta humans, but there are other names. Shape-shifters, and yes, I know it’s mostly myth, don’t waste your breath. But I saw what I saw.”
Jameson said, “Go on.”
“So I found intriguing hints. Always secondhand. I couldn’t stick the labs in med school, so I made a sideways transfer to therapy, while she focused on geriatric nursing. But I never lost sight of my hope of finding meta humans.”
She rubbed her eyes. “But you wanted to talk about Beth—and I just realized she set me up, too! Going to interview people at that motel had been her idea!”
“Wrap us all up at once, no witnesses. Real convenient,” Jameson said. “Go on.”
“We were both in apartments by senior year, and somewhere along the line she went from being the ElizaBeth Schultz I’d had as a roommate to Beth Cannon, who adopted a Boston accent, shopped in New York, and read high society news. She dropped me like a hot rock, me and my weird obsession, as she called it. I lost track of her after graduation and internships, except for occasional lunches. I began working for Tranquil Breezes five years ago.”
“It’s a place to house rich patients who have mental problems,” he said.
“Yes. And they also do some experimental work in rehab. That’s what attracted me—that and the pay is good.”
“And so she contacted you?”
“Yes. Said she had a patient with severe mental as well as physical trauma. She paid a lot to set you up with the false name—she said your brother had tried to kill you.”
“That was a lie.”
Marlo spread her hands. “She also said that the old man—excuse me, your father, but she always called him ‘the old man’—had let slip some words about men who became bears, that I realize now had to be total lies, meant to get me on board. See, I’d seen several Internet references to meta human sightings in this area.”
“Aren’t those rumors always third hand?” he asked, without the slightest vestige of a qualm.
“Yes, mostly, but these were so very specific. And yet with all my digging the past few days, I never found a vestige of a first-hand source. Everyone seems to think I’m talking about hippies, or cults, or just want to know what I’ve been smoking.”
She rubbed her eyes again. “A big scam, in other words,” she said bitterly. “But why do these rumors persist?” She seemed to rouse a little. “If I could just find evidence, and get a couple of them into a lab—there are two doctors at Tranquil Breezes who would do anything to get their hands on human alternatives, as they call them, for genome tests—I wouldn’t have to marry a fortune. I’d make one, studying their DNA and publishing in the medical world.”
“Sounds like something from the SyFy Channel,” Jameson said.
She didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes had widened with greed. “Think of the possibilities for gene therapies, especially for the wealthy, who would pay anything for super-powered genetics. And even if they couldn’t make that work, there’s always the fallback of the media. Not that I’d waste proof of alternative humans on NPR, I’d take it straight to the networks for top dollar. I’d never have to work again, and without having to play footsie with geriatric husbands.” She made a disgusted face.
Jameson shrugged, the last shred of his sympathy totally gone. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your manimals, but I really think someone was smoking a little too much Maui Wowie.”
Marlo sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Yes. After listening to these cretins in the other room ramble on about bears and porcupines, I came to the reluctant conclusion that someone has perpetrated a gigantic con, probably to attract tourists, because there sure is nothing else in this crap town. And I let the desired outcome dictate my research methods, and how I evaluated the data. I’m giving it up and going home.”
“That sounds more rational than chasing nudist cults,” Jameson said.
She gave her head a last rub, and dropped her hands. “So I’m leaving the minute the police are done with me. I take it you are going to release yourself from rehab?”
“You’re free of one responsibility, at least. You don’t even need to call Beth—I strongly suspect by the time we are done here she will be on her way to Boston’s lockup.”
She nodded. “I’m glad your memory returned. I never liked that doctor who Beth insisted be in charge of your case—I thought he was over-prescribing for you—but his methods seem to have worked, since here you are.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Right now I need a hot bath and a cold drink.”
“I’ll leave you alone,” he said. “Take care.”
She nodded, and he went out, closing the door softly behind him.
He stood on the balcony, breathing in the sea-salt air. He had recovered his bear, he had his memory back, his brother was wrapping up the loose ends, and the home-wrecker who had ruined what should have been his parents’ last years together would soon be on her way to a long career behind bars.
And—most important of all—he had found his mate.
Ten minutes later, he was in her waiting arms.
Epilogue
“Are you sure these aren’t too tight?” Kesley asked her sister as she glanced in the mirror at the bright jeggings under the clingy tunic top.
“Rock those curves, Bandit,” McKenzi said. “You know Jameson is going to take one look and steam will rise out of his ears. The question is, do you like them?”
Kesley stared at herself in the mirror. The truth was, she had always wanted to dress like her sister, but had never dared. During their teen years, McKenzi had never given a damn what anyone said, but Kesley wasn’t made that way. When her few boyfriends had made comments about weight, and clothes that hid fat, she had put up with it because she hadn’t expected anything better.
Those days were over, she thought as she looked at the low-scooped top, showing her cleavage. Jameson had made it clear in every possible way that he adored her just the way she was.
“I love this outfit,” she stated.
She felt good as she walked out of her little house to the brand new car Jameson had given her. She was going to have to get used to that. She had tried to protest until she’d seen how much pleasure he got out of giving her things.
McKenzi, of course, threw herself into the sports car, spreading out luxuriously on the fine leather seats. “He has great taste, your Jameson,” she said. “I could almost stick to one guy if I could find one like him.”
“There isn’t anyone like him,” Kesley said loyally.
“Well,
I want to get a load of this brother,” McKenzi said, wiggling her brows. “I only got the briefest glimpse of him during the fight. Daay-am, he was hot! Then he vanished like some kind of Robin Hood. If lawyers and Robin Hood belong in the same sentence.”
“Charlie decided to fly back east and personally see to wrapping up the mess that woman caused.”
“Yeah, and when you have a private jet you can do that sort of thing,” McKenzi said, sighing. “I suppose it’s too much to hope he would take one look at me and fall in love. Though I’m not sure I could stick a long-term thing, maybe having a few million spent on me would cushion the blow?”
Kesley had to laugh. “I doubt it works that way.”
“Well, a girl can dream,” McKenzi said as Kesley drove them down the mountain.
Jameson was there waiting with Charlie. Now that Kesley could see them together, she noticed that Charlie was nearly as tall as Jameson, and every bit as big. What kind of shifter was he? Maybe it was too nosy a question on a first meeting. She had lived among shifters so long that she had no idea about the etiquette of meeting a new one.
Her mate greeted Kesley with that sweet, private smile, and gave her an admiring look that made her feel like she was made of light. Then he introduced his brother. Close up, Charlie was indeed handsome, with blue eyes instead of hazel, and somewhat lighter hair. His clothes looked really expensive—as did Jameson’s, his brother having brought a lot of his wardrobe back from the east coast.
Kesley found them a little intimidating, these big, drop-dead hot guys standing side by side, until Charlie came forward with a broad smile a little like Jameson’s as he said, “I’m so glad to meet you in saner circumstances. Thanks for looking out for my big bro while his brains were out to lunch.”
They all laughed, and suddenly the atmosphere was easy.
The four of them went to Ralph’s. Charlie looked around with interest, then gave his brother a look that Kesley found difficult to interpret. Charlie shrugged one shoulder, then Jameson said, “Even with my memory gone, I should have known something was wrong when that expensive perfume of Beth’s nearly gave me hives.”
He paused as Ralph and his son approached with big trays of barbecued ribs, crispy fries, and tart cole slaw.
After they had all been served, Charlie leaned forward. “Among the million chores I felt I had to personally oversee back east, I felt I was due one pleasure: watching her get indicted. She’s now sitting in the can, without bail. Her quack doctor is also behind bars, with people from three states flying in to add to the charges. There’s also a high-powered forensics team all over the plane wreckage, as the red tape tying everything up vanished like a mirage as soon as the DA filed charges against Beth. If she really was behind the sabotage, that will be three murders as well as all the attempts on you. Fletcher Burns sang like a vulture, and Marlo Evans will also testify, having overheard some of those shit-heads bragging about what they expected to be their first hit-for-hire.”
“Where the hell did Beth finds those idiots?” Jameson asked.
“Where else?” Charlie spread his hands. “Off the internet, if you can believe that.”
“At this point I believe anything.”
“The take-away here is, she’s going down hard,” Charlie said with satisfaction.
“I still can’t believe she thought she could get away with it,” Jameson said.
Charlie shrugged. “Well, I’m also having dad’s death looked into. Because I don’t think she was stopping with you. She seems to have thought she could get away with anything, and I’m pretty sure I was next on her hit list. But I’d be harder to pin down than a guy flat on his back in the hospital with no memory.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Jameson said. “How’s Mom holding up?”
“She’s fine. You need to come home to see her, and she’ll be even better.”
Jameson turned to Kesley, who nodded. They’d talked about this. “We’ll be on a plane back east as soon as stuff is finished up here.”
“And then?” Charlie asked.
“And then we’ll do whatever Kesley wants,” Jameson said. “Travel or stay here, until we decide what’s next. I left good people in charge of the Rescue, so it won’t be needing my attention immediately.”
Charlie nodded. “I can’t talk you into moving back home?”
Home is where you are, Jameson had said to Kesley, his lips whispering against her neck under her ear.
“Right now, I like it here,” Jameson said to Charlie. “This town is my new project.”
Charlie looked around, and made a face. “You’re not going to knock it all down and put up condos?”
“Hell no. Opposite. A little bit of repair work here, a little paint there, and the place will fix itself. After that, I want to take Kesley to New York to visit the Met, then Paris, and then . . . who knows?”
All the possibilities of life spread before Kesley, but right now the greatest joy was the realization that whatever she did, Jameson would be by her side.
She sat with her hands cradling the tea cup as McKenzi flirted outrageously with Charlie, who riposted with funny comments. They ate up the food, had hot apple pie with ice cream, and then the brothers went off to finish up some of their own business.
Kesley walked down to the Flying Cranes to help paint an order. Grandma Zhao greeted her with a quiet, “He is good, your young man. I believe you will have a long and happy life together.”
“I’m so lucky,” Kesley whispered, her eyes stinging.
“I think he is, and the best I know of him is that he believes so, too.”
* * *
Kesley was thinking about that later as she climbed into bed. Charlie had departed for the airport, and Marlo was also gone, taking her clipboard and her lab rat plans with her. Life was returning to normal, or the new normal.
Kesley heard the shower shut off, and a short time later Jameson joined her in bed. He reached for her, and they kissed until she was on fire. As his hands explored every contour of her body, he murmured, “Now what was that list again you were muttering about this morning, before I had to run to the airport? ‘I want you to take me from behind . . .’”
“Oh, that list has gotten longer,” Kesley said. “A whole lot longer.”
“Then we’d better get started,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
And they did.
A note from Zoe Chant
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