Crossroads: Southern Arcana, Book 2

by Moira Rogers

  When they’d both settled onto the seats, Nick leaned against the headrest. “Alec’s father was in there. He’s more than a little upset that his kid has no interest in trying to win my hand.”

  “Alec’s involvement in the situation hasn’t won his father any points with Jorge. He’s in danger of falling out of favor, and it’s made him desperate.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” Calmly discussing Conclave matters in front of Mahalia would only incense her further, but Nick couldn’t help it. “How long do you think I can make them wait before I decide which one to marry?”

  Her father tapped his fingers on the seat in an absent-minded gesture. “I think that depends on whether you have one of the sons in mind. Luciano’s the least qualified for leadership, but it could be argued that makes him a better candidate as a husband.”

  Mahalia made a choked noise. Nick ignored her as the splintering pain in her chest grew in intensity. “It makes no difference who I choose if I can’t string them all along until they make a formal decision about Michelle. That’s the only way we’ll get a majority vote.”

  “Knowing who you’ll choose isn’t the same as making the choice. I don’t think you should string them along at all. Defer the decision to me.” His lips twisted in something that almost looked like distaste. “They can excuse me from making the decision while my other daughter’s fate hangs in the balance, of course.”

  “This is bullshit.” Mahalia ground out the words. “You’re trading one girl’s freedom for the other’s.”

  Her father tensed, and Nick leaned forward. “Stop it, May. It’s my choice.”

  “Not when there aren’t any alternatives,” she argued. “John, how can you let her walk away from the man she loves for this kind of—of servitude?”

  Nick froze. She hadn’t told her father about her feelings for Derek, and it was the one thing she’d hoped he’d never discover.

  “Nicole?” Just her name, but there was no mistaking the command in it.

  I don’t love him. She tried to force out the words, but they tasted of betrayal. She fought back tears and whispered, “I made a choice.” Her vision blurred with tears, at once sudden and the culmination of days of misery. “I left him, because I made a choice.”

  Her father pressed a button on his armrest and a speaker crackled to life. “Paul, could you pull over for a minute, please?” He didn’t wait for a reply, just lifted his hand as the car rolled to a graceful stop. “Ms. Tate, I hope you’ll pardon my inexcusable rudeness in asking if you can walk the last block on your own. I need to have a private discussion with my daughter.”

  She opened the door and touched Nick’s hand. “Nicole—”

  “I know.” She tried to breathe through her tears. “You just don’t understand.”

  The door slammed behind Mahalia. Nick’s father turned to her and held out both arms. She fell into them, into the same strong embrace that had comforted her as a child. “I’m okay. I can do this.”

  “Shh.” Strong fingers stroked over her hair. “You should have told me, Nicole. I understand what’s at stake, but that just makes it more important for you to tell me the truth.”

  She swallowed a sob. “I didn’t want you to know. This is hard enough.”

  He rubbed her back gently. “I wish I could tell you there’s an easy solution. I’m still looking for the leverage I need, but the incident with your friend and Charles Talbot has left the Conclave unusually united on the Seer issue.”

  The truth was stark. Terrifying. “I’m the only leverage you have.”

  He didn’t lie. “Maybe. But if there’s any way to stall long enough to find more, we’ll do it.”

  To hold on to that hope only to have it dashed would be unbearable. Nick sat back in her seat. “I’ll make it clear you’re the one who’ll choose my husband. Each one will find in favor of Michelle and possibly even Aaron, just on the off-chance you’ll choose his son. His family.”

  “Most likely.” Her father pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “Noah’s the only one without a son to throw at you. It’s going to infuriate him, but he can’t stop it.”

  “That still leaves three members eager to make an alliance.” She looked out the window. “When the time comes, I’ll choose Luciano. I like him, and we respect and understand each other.”

  “I think he would make the best husband. I think he’d be…sympathetic to your responsibility to your sister.”

  A vise tightened painfully around her heart. “You mean we’d both be doing it because we love Michelle.”

  The car slowed to a stop in front of the hotel that housed her father’s penthouse. “Even with all of this, Nicole, it may not be enough to buy Aaron a reprieve. Their prejudice works in your sister’s favor, because she’s young and sheltered and in their minds may not have known better. But Aaron broke the oaths he made to the Conclave. He committed treason.”

  “No.” It wasn’t an option. “If they kill Aaron, we may as well let them keep Michelle locked up for the rest of her life.”

  “Aaron disagrees. Vehemently, I might add.”

  “Of course he does. He can’t think about leaving her behind, miserable and hopeless, so he’s convinced himself she’s going to be fine without him.”

  “Sometimes we lose the people we love, Nicole. We go on because other people need us.” His voice turned firm. “Because our children need us. Consider that before you condemn your future nephew to being born in a jail cell.”

  She bristled and barely managed to check her growl. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to fight Michelle’s imprisonment. But we need to find a way to save Aaron too.”

  “We’ll try.” Her father fixed her with a stern look. “I don’t like the realities of the situation any better than you do, but ignoring them won’t help your sister, and it won’t help Aaron.”

  “This is exhausting.” The confession escaped her along with a hoarse sigh. “It’s just so fucking exhausting.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d agree. Instead, he changed the subject. “Mrs. Kelly has prepared lunch for us. After that, you’ll have a few hours before we’re scheduled to meet with Enrica.”

  She would get through the day, and then the next, because she had to. Nick smoothed her disheveled hair and slid across the seat. “I’ll be ready.”

  ***

  Nick poured a second cup of tea and arched an eyebrow at the woman across from her. “Sugar?”

  “Please.” Veronica’s smile was a little shy. “Should we get the necessary unpleasantries out of the way? I’m sure you know I was sent to ferret out your evil plans like a dutiful daughter.”

  “I expected nothing less.” Nick handed over the cup and a saucer. “How is Mr. Coleman doing these days?”

  “Upset.” The spoon clinked gently against the side of the cup as Veronica stirred her tea. “With me, mostly. He’s convinced that if I’d done my job and convinced Luciano to fall desperately in love with me by now, Enrica would be on his side.”

  “What about Ochoa’s sons?”

  “Too many of them. I could have won one of them, but the other two could still go after you and upset any alliance I managed to secure.”

  “Same with Hoffman, I guess.” If there was anyone else in the world who knew what it was to be nothing more than a pawn to be taken, it was Veronica Coleman. “I’ve given the decision to my father.”

  “Smart. It might save you some of the worst of Oscar Ochoa’s come-ons, at least.” Veronica sipped her tea before rolling her eyes. “He courted me for a month before our fathers had their latest fight. Two years ago now, I think. He paid his assistant to bring me a dozen roses a day with cards that had my name spelled wrong.”

  “He apparently didn’t pay his assistant enough. You’re allergic to flowers.”

  “Mmm. When he found out you’d have thought I’d developed the allergies just to spite him.”

  “He must have inherited his father’s legendary sensitivity.”
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  “Ladies of the world, beware.” Veronica set her saucer on the table and placed her teacup on top of it, fidgeting with it until the handle lined up perfectly with the edge of the table. When she finally looked up at Nick again, her expression was guarded. “With the exception of Hoffman’s youngest, who’s barely nineteen, Luciano’s the only tolerable one in the bunch.”

  “I don’t want him, if that’s what you’re asking.” But Veronica deserved the truth. “My father will probably choose him, though. I hope you understand.”

  Veronica’s sadness was tangible. “I’m not in love with him. I don’t think it would be hard to love Luciano, but I know better. That sort of thing is a liability for women like us.”

  The only time love hadn’t felt like a liability was with Derek. Nick shoved back the memories. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s a man back home in New Orleans. He’s been a wolf for about two years now, and I…” She took a deep breath. “I left him. To come here.”

  “Oh, Nick.” Veronica leaned forward and held out her hand. “I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t have…”

  “That wasn’t my confession.” She set down her cup and saucer so they wouldn’t rattle as her hands shook. “The thing is, I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t have to do this. That I would never have to come back and be part of this life. So you’re smarter than me, Ronnie. You figured this shit out a long time ago.”

  “No. I just didn’t have the courage to fight them. I was never as strong as you are.”

  As if that strength mattered. She’d left her home and the man she loved, because nothing could spare her the responsibilities resting on her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now. That was…another lifetime.”

  Veronica covered Nick’s hands with her own and lowered her voice. “What can I do to help Michelle? I’ll tell my father whatever you want me to.”

  The plan was in place, and it was a good one. Foolproof. “Tell him that I’m miserable, and that my father’s having the devil’s own time keeping me in line. And that—that I refuse to marry for anything other than love.” Maybe Noah Coleman would at least feel vindicated by her suffering and be too distracted to cause problems.

  “Can I also tell him Oscar Ochoa has a snowball’s chance of winning you over?” Veronica smiled. “They might be the truest words I’ll ever speak to him.”

  Nick almost laughed. “Whatever else you choose to add is fine with me.”

  “Good. Now, while I’m here, I wanted to apologize for not having a chance to meet your friend yet. Marcus, I think?”

  “Marcus Talbot, yes. Did they assign you Eddie’s case?”

  “They did. But it’s low on their list, and I wasn’t in town anyway. My mother was sick. I’ve been in Atlanta for the last two months helping her get back on her feet.”

  Nick’s father had told her Noah still wanted a son so badly his wife kept getting pregnant though she’d been advised not to. Her latest pregnancy had ended in a late-term miscarriage. “I was sorry to hear about it, Ronnie.”

  Veronica closed her eyes, but not fast enough to hide the tears. “My father likes to make his opinion of the women in his life clear. Do you know what he said to me when he asked me to come over here?”

  “No, I don’t know.” She didn’t want to. The look on Veronica’s face was heartbreaking enough.

  “You’re going to steal Luciano from me. In my father’s mind, that trumps the fact that we grew up together, trumps friendship, trumps everything.” When she opened her eyes, there was anger there. “I’m a grown woman with a law degree, and he doesn’t credit me with a single thought of my own besides getting a man.”

  The whole truth was so much more insidious. “He isn’t crediting Luciano with much, either, if he thinks he could be so easily swayed.”

  “He will be,” Veronica replied quietly. “Just like I’ll end up marrying one of them even though I don’t want to. That’s the privileged fate we were all born into, Nick. Money and power and whatever life our parents think best.”

  Her tea had cooled, but Nick didn’t care. Her stomach had knotted into a cold, hard ball anyway, so she set the cup and saucer down again. “And I thought I’d gotten out. See, Ronnie? Stupid.”

  “Not stupid. Hopeful. You had the guts to get out. I wish I had.”

  “You still could.”

  Veronica shook her head. “Michelle is your hostage. My mother is mine. She failed to provide a suitable heir, and he’s never going to let her forget that.”

  Nick fought a shudder. “An awful lot of blackmail and arm-twisting for a supposedly civilized people, isn’t it?”

  “My mother likes to say it’s how we all stay civilized, by twisting arms instead of tearing them off like we used to.”

  It was a good rationalization. “The old way’s more honest. You always know where you stand with someone who’s trying to rip off your arm and beat you with it.”

  “You can say that because you’re strong enough to tear off arms.”

  “An excellent point.” Nick rose and walked to the window overlooking the park. “Want to go to Cedar Hill? Hide under Glade Arch like we did when we were kids?”

  Veronica laughed. “I was going to go shopping and find an appropriate dress to wear to the Ochoa dinner tonight. I’ve been told business professional will not be tolerated.”

  “I don’t own anything appropriate. Not anymore.” Nick turned and smiled weakly, reluctant to give up one of the few friendly faces left for her in the city. “Can I come along?”

  “Of course. You can help me pick out the frumpiest, most unflattering dress on sale in New York City.”

  Nick would have loved to employ the same trick. But she had to play her role to the fullest, and that involved looking sophisticated but demure, attractive but modest. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Derek dropped a stack of dirty dishes in the sink and indulged himself with another quick peek out the back window. Kat was safe enough roaming the backyard with Mackenzie keeping her company, but it wasn’t her physical well-being that concerned him anymore.

  Kat and Mackenzie were sitting on the old-fashioned swing Derek had helped his father build as his first wood-working project. His heart ached a little as he watched Mackenzie wrap an arm around Kat and pat her shoulder. Whatever words she spoke were too soft to be heard this far away, but Kat offered a small smile in response.

  He turned away from the window. “Mac seems to have bonded with Kat on your adventure to Georgia.”

  “Kenzie knows what it’s like to wake up one day and realize you can kill people without expending a hell of a lot of effort.” Jackson leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of, how’s Andrew been?”

  “Shitty.” He pulled two beers out of the refrigerator, handed one to Jackson and took the seat across from him. “Alec’s very close-mouthed about the whole thing, but I get the feeling things are seriously, seriously fucked up in that department.”

  “My partner is remarkably close-mouthed about a lot of things.” Jackson regarded his beer for a moment. “But if there’s anyone who can help Andrew, it’s Alec. You know that better than most.”

  “Yeah. Except at this point after my attack, I was still hiding in Alec’s basement, wincing at loud noises. Andrew’s…”

  “Don’t feel too bad. From what I can tell, you’re the norm, not this crazy shit.”

  Derek drained half his beer and slammed the bottle down on the table. “I’m not suffering a bruised ego. I’m worried about my friend.”

  “Hell, I know that. There isn’t a damn thing I can say or do to reassure you, though, and you deserve to know that.”

  Alec had said the same thing. “Franklin found someone to help Kat. An empath who splits his time between New Orleans and England. He’s due to be here in a few weeks, but I don’t know how to keep Kat from going nuts before then. She won’t talk to me.”

  Jackson’s bottle
thumped on the table. “Let me and Kenzie worry about Kat until then. Even if she could talk about it, she’s not going to burden you. Not right now. You’ve got your own shit.”

  “My shit is that I can’t help any of the people I care about deal with their shit.”

  “All Kat needs is time.”

  “And Andrew, and Nick. Is that what they need too?”

  “Do yourself a favor and focus on Kat and Andrew.” Jackson looked away. “You can’t help Nick.”

  Derek closed his eyes. “Is there news?”

  “Not really. Not news.” The other man’s bottle tapped rhythmically on the table. “Do you understand why she went back to New York? What she’s there to do?”

  “She’s there to save her sister.” Derek didn’t open his eyes, because the tone of Jackson’s voice had shifted. Wariness, or maybe even pity. “I don’t know the details, but she’s probably never getting her life back.”

  Jackson was silent for a long time. “It’s a trade. Michelle and her kid get a pass, such as it is…and Nicky gets auctioned off.”

  The pain of the last week disappeared in a black hole of agony. His instincts screamed for action, for him to charge up to New York and destroy anyone who might challenge him for his woman. His mate.

  His hands ached, and it was only then he realized he’d clenched them into fists so tight his fingernails were digging into his palms. It hurt to take a breath, but he managed. Speaking was worse, but he managed that too. “Anything I try to do will just make her life worse.” Please contradict me.

  “I’m sorry as hell, Derek.”

  If he saw sympathy in Jackson’s face he’d scream. “Don’t. She’s the one who has to…” He couldn’t even get the words out.

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—” The words melted into a curse, and Jackson’s chair slid back from the table. “Sometimes it hurts worse being the person on the sidelines.”

  “I’m not on the sidelines. I’m not invited to the game.”

  “I know. Shit.”

  Torturing Jackson about it wasn’t going to do any good. Derek met Jackson’s gaze. “Andrew and I are going to be at Franklin’s clinic for the next week, helping with some construction upstairs. I don’t know what to do about Kat. She can’t come with us but I don’t think she’s ready to go back to your office yet.” Maybe if he concentrated hard enough on micromanaging Kat and Andrew’s lives… Because sticking your head in the sand has been a huge fucking success so far.