by Nancy Gideon
Giles grinned at her. “Yeah. 'Less you want me to kick him while he’s lying there bleeding. I might enjoy that, too.”
Her prickly manner eased into an appreciative gleam that promised a reward for his defense of her honor. “No need.”
To Cale, he said, “Then I guess that squares us for now, cowboy, 'less you got some other smartass thing to say to me.”
Cale waved him off with a muffled, “No. I’m good.” After Giles sauntered away, he sighed and sagged on the steps with a groan, blinking still watery eyes. “Damn that hurt.”
Brigit sat beside him on the steps. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Cale mumbled. “Letting him feel like a hero?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
A rueful laugh. “At least one of us will get laid tonight.” He slid her a look, both mystified and admiring. “You really take out Foster?”
“Blew him to hell.”
Then he grew serious. “Did they hurt you?”
“Not as much as I hurt them.”
Catching the underlying meaning of that statement, he growled, “Sonsabitches. I never would have sent them to do that. You know that, right?”
“Sure.”
Her unconvincing reply made him frown, but he didn’t make more of it for both their sakes.
The bleeding had stopped, but Cale’s nose was ballooning with the promise of black eyes to come. Nodding at Brigit’s suggestion that he get some ice on it sooner rather than later, he glanced her way again. “You serious about that . . . human?”
“Serious enough to marry him.”
He gasped, astonished. “Really? Never figured you as one who’d go for Upright religious stuff.”
“It’ll make him happy, and that’s my religion now.” She leaned on her elbow to look at him, mood softening between them. “Are you making Kendra happy, Cale? You promised me you would.”
“She goes to sleep smiling every night, if that’s what you want to know.” With her not amused scowl to prompt him, he told her honestly, “I’m doing my damnedest. Guess we have the same religion. This wedding stuff, Kendra doesn’t know about it? Good. She’ll be so excited she won’t be snapping at me when I tell her I won’t be back for a while.”
“Why are you staying?”
Cee Cee stiffened. This was when she’d find out if Cale Terriot could be trusted. But he quickly put her fears to rest.
“Got some kingly business to take care of with Savoie. Much as I hate to admit it, going to war with the other clans doesn’t appeal to me as much as when I was younger. I’m not interested in being dragged from my own warm bed and the woman in it.”
As if on cue, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and answered with a crooning, “Hey, mama. Just talking about you.”
“Don’t you tell her, Cale. I want to.”
He was grinning, rolling onto his side, pushing away Brigit’s grabby hands as if they were still kids to put the phone to his other ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t call when I got here. They were just sitting down to dinner, and you know how I hate to miss a meal.” A laugh. “Yeah, Savoie made me feel right at home. Swept me off my feet with his charm and good nature.” He glanced at Brigit. “Yeah, I met him.” He crinkled his sore nose and winced. “You’ll like him. Yeah, I think he’s a sweetheart.
“Hey, baby, looks like I’m gonna be here for a while. Silas and Savoie roped me into some clan business and I might as well get it over with so I can get home to you. Next time, I promise. Maybe sooner than you think.” As Brigit tried to grab the phone away, he relented. “Just a second. Bree has something to tell you. What?” He went still. His voice lowered to a husky rumble. “You know I do. Yeah, me too.” Then he reluctantly surrendered the phone and stood. Before she answered, the redhead mouthed, “Thank you,” making him hesitate then smile.
Cale stepped into the parlor, pulling up sharply when he saw Cee Cee. She gestured to the sideboard.
“Ice.”
After a pause, he went to roll some cubes up in a cloth napkin and put it to his nose. His eyes closed in relief but it was short lived. He cracked one open to study his hostess. “You heard all that?”
“Drama’s nothing new in this house. I appreciate you not letting it get out of hand . . . and for keeping your word.”
He grimaced. “The first was easier to keep than the second. I don’t enjoy lying to my mate. She’s had to be very tolerant of me, and I don’t like to press my luck.”
“Believe me, I can appreciate the sacrifice.” She gestured to the pretty yet uncomfortable sofa, and he sat with a weary groan while she remained on her feet, suddenly all professional. “What can you tell me about your brother?”
“Jamie? He’s clever and motivated to rule.” Cale leaned to the side and hoisted the hem of his shirt. She gave a low whistle at the trio of scars. Stab wounds in the back just below his ribcage. “He’d hoped to inherit our father’s crown and got onboard with a plan to hurry it along by poisoning our king and murdering anyone who got in the way, including two of my younger brothers who weren’t as lucky as I was.” That brought a grim twist to his features. “I didn’t take it personally, but I do take it seriously. He sent those boys to kill Brigit.”
“Tell me about Kick.”
His gaze slanted away. Just a little thing while he had a quick mental debate on what to reveal. Finally that direct stare flashed up. He gestured to a thin, barely visible scar that ran through his left eyebrow down to his cheek bone, making a diagonal cut across his eye. “Silas gave me this when we were boys. I lost most of my sight.” He waved a hand her way. “It’s no big deal. Those were harsh times and he had good reason. I did worse things to him.”
Things that would make Cale risk so much to gain absolution? What had they been? How dark a path had this man walked, and did he walk it still?
“Weakness had no place under my father’s rule. I’m a survivor, Detective. I wanted things and wasn’t shy about doing whatever I had to do to get them. My father’s mistress gave him an herbal remedy to bring back his health and strength when he got injured mixing it up with the Guedry clan. Her daughter Sylvia offered it to me for a price I was willing to pay at the time. It made me stronger, faster. And it brought back my sight, at least for a while. I had to keep taking it or lose the edge it gave me over the others.”
“But it wasn’t safe,” Cee Cee surmised.
“It was,” he protested. “At least at first, when Sylvia wanted something from me and thought she’d get more. But then Kendra and I got together, and she saw all her plans going to shit. So her mother found her another plan.”
He leaned back to stare pensively at the ceiling. “I knew something was different but I didn’t know what. The rush— indescribable. The power.” His breath sighed out. “I felt like a goddamn superhero. Nothing could hurt me. No one could beat me.”
“She’d started giving you Kick.”
“Yeah. It made my father crazy, into a monster. It made me something I don’t ever want to be again, not if I want to keep my queen and my crown.”
When she said nothing, he regarded her with a brutal intensity. “This stuff, this Kick, it’s more than just a way to get juiced up and run wild. It’s the most dangerous and seductive whore you can imagine. It’ll love you up, all hot and sexy and full of promises, until you feel so incredible you think you can fly.” His eyes closed, an almost rapturous expression coming over his face. “It does things to you that you didn’t know were possible. Wonderful, wicked things until you’d sell your soul just to hang onto that feeling forever.
“And that’s when you find out that exciting, tempting bitch has given you a disease you can’t cure.” He glanced at Cee Cee. “They’ve got to be stopped. I just don’t know if I’m the one who can do it for you.”
His bleakness alarmed her, making Cee Cee argue, “Silas said you took out three opponents in the ring in Reno. Sounds like you’ve got what it takes.”
A harsh laugh. “I tore them up a
nd ate them alive because that’s what I am when Kick’s got a hold on me.” Restless hands clutched his knees. “I’m good. I’m abso-fucking-lutely awesome, but without it, I don’t know if I’d have had that edge.” He fell silent for a moment, then that concentrated gaze fixed on hers again. “But you don’t know the worst. You don’t know the kind of grip it has even after you’re smart enough to get away from it. Even knowing what it’ll do, what it can cost you, you wake up every day craving it more than your next breath.”
Cale looked out through the doors to where Brigit talked animatedly with his mate. Cee Cee read in his anguished eyes how that truth haunted him as he concluded, “Craving it more than your pride or your people. Almost more than your queen. Almost.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When he stepped into the dining room for coffee, Max thought he was the first one awake in the big, silent house. He hadn’t rested well next to Cee Cee with their unsettling secrets between them. Hers with her job and that something more she was eager to discuss, his keeping him from the closeness they both desired. He’d come to think of this house as his sanctuary from the city stresses, but last night they’d followed through the wrought iron gates and this morning, they remained.
He caught sight of movement outside in the misty dawn, relaxing when he recognized their unexpected house guest taking advantage of the early hour to work out. Carrying his coffee onto the porch, he discovered he wasn’t the only one curious. Oscar stood at the rail, turning to smile in greeting.
“Hey, Max.” He nodded toward the slight figure moving through a smooth kata. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Max agreed. But he wasn’t sure what.
Because of the earbuds plugging him into his music, his closed eyes and concentration deep, Cale seemed unaware of his audience. He’d tossed his sweat jacket to the side despite the cool temperature, and the skin bared by his tank top was slick from the moisture-laden air and exertion. His bare feet were sure even on the wet lawn as he glided through the fluid routine. Max wasn’t fooled by the graceful ballet of steps or the other’s small stature. Power channeled along the ripple of muscle. Deadly strength was telegraphed in each flawless gesture and well-timed turn. Cale Terriot was a finely tuned weapon.
“Think he’d show me some of those moves?” Oscar asked as he watched the exercise with near reverence.
“You know martial arts, do you?”
“Naw. Just what you taught me about boxing.” Oscar gave him a quick, saddened glance. “You were going to teach me, but then you got hurt.”
Feeling a twinge of guilt for what he’d had no control over, Max smiled. “I’m feeling better now. We can get back to it if it’s okay with your folks.”
The boy’s features tightened. His shrug was full of meaning. Max should have understood and was frustrated because he didn’t.
Cale was in the middle of a low sweeping spin when he caught sight of them. He straightened and smiled as he pulled out one of his earpieces.
“Morning! Figured I’d get some stretching in early before this place turns into a fucking sauna.” At Max’s scowl, he turned apologetically to the near-teen. “Sorry about the language.”
Oscar grinned and called, “It’s not like I’ve never heard the word before.”
“Probably tumbling out of those loose lips at dinner last night,” Max grumbled.
Cale grinned. “What can I say? I like my adjectives. I’ll try to keep a lock on it.” He made a zipping gesture across his mouth but his eyes crinkled in amusement. He gestured to the lawn behind him. “Care to go a few rounds, Savoie? Just for fun.” His smile grew wolfish, showing a long row of teeth.
Max held up his coffee cup. “Maybe after the tank’s full.”
“How 'bout you, little brother? Done any sparring?”
Oscar glanced up for Max’s nod then said eagerly, “A little.”
Cale gestured with his fingers. “Show me what you got.”
Max leaned against one of the porch supports as Oscar raced to where Cale waited. He sipped the hot liquid cautiously and approached Terriot the same way.
“Whatchu listening to?” Oscar wanted to know as he stripped out of his sweater. He stood nearly eye to eye with Cale but was whipcord lean, still more lanky cub than dangerous Alpha. He winced at the boom of sound when Cale hooked him up to the dangling earbud. Then he nodded in appreciation. “I like it.”
“Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. They’re kick a—butt for a workout. You don’t listen to tunes?”
Oscar shook his head. “Just the radio on the way to school. My mom isn’t into metal.”
“Neither was mine.” Cale grinned, but there was something more in his expression. A sort of sorrow that reminded Max of his own when Oscar had spoken about their missed training dates. What else was he missing?
Cale took off the iPod and gave it a flip onto his discarded jacket. “What do you want me to teach you?” He lifted Oscar’s hands in his, examining them, doing a push-pull motion.
Oscar didn’t hesitate. “I want to learn to fight. I’ve done a little boxing, but I need to know some moves that’ll take a man out. You know.”
Cale’s smile took a wry twist. “Yeah, I know. Are you sure that’s the most important thing to learn first?”
The boy’s expression toughened to one far older than his years. “That’s all I need to know to take care of my family.”
“You think brawling is going to do that for you? All right, let’s see what you know.” And he reached out to cuff the boy sharply.
Oscar blinked in surprise, holding his ear. “Hey! I wasn’t ready!”
“Nobody’s gonna read the rules and ring a bell when it’s man-to-man. You ready now?”
“Yeah.” He’d started to assume a stance when Cale caught the side of his head with an elbow, sending him stumbling.
“I thought you were ready,” Cale taunted.
Oscar lunged in, swinging purposefully, but when Cale simply skipped back out of reach, he yelled, “How am I supposed to hit you if you keep dancing around?”
Cale laughed at him. “I’m not gonna stand there and let you hit me. C’mon, brother. Bring it.”
Oscar charged him. At the last instant, Cale feinted to one side, spinning to smack the bare sole of his foot between the boy’s shoulders to send him skidding on the grass.
Max straightened, a defending growl starting up in his throat. He caught it back, frowning but willing to see what type of lesson Terriot was trying to teach.
Cale put down his hand and hauled the grass-stained boy off the ground. The mockery left his voice as he asked again, “What do you need to learn, kid?”
“How to fight,” Ozzy growled and flung himself at his opponent, managing to land a glancing blow before Cale planted one of his own. Oscar went down, planets spinning out of alignment. When he was finally able to sit up and wipe the blood from his lip, he glared up seething with frustration.
Max sensed a hurricane of movement coming up behind him and reached out to snag Giles by the arm, wrestling him to a standstill. Before the furious man could rage at him, Max put up his hand and gestured for Giles to back down. Which he did with great reluctance. He stood taut with vengeful fury as they watched man and boy.
“C’mon.” Cale beckoned his fallen challenger to come at him. “You want to fight, fight. I’m not gonna play with you. You want to fight me, you’re gonna get hurt. A lot. Fighting is serious business. A man’s business. Are you ready to take it like a man, or are you gonna sit there sniveling like a baby?”
Oscar swiped at his eyes, then Max could finally see him thinking. When Cale reached down to him, he flinched back, expecting another blow, but instead, Cale palmed his cheek, touch as suddenly gentle as his voice.
“I will never lay another harsh hand on you. Understand?”
Oscar hesitated then nodded, accepting him at his word.
And Cale asked again, “What do you want to learn?”
Ozzy offered a fai
nt smile. “How not to get my ass kicked?”
Cale grinned back. “See. Smarter already.” He offered his hand again and the boy took it.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
For the next half hour, Cale taught his shadow the rudiments of self-defense followed by a crash course on how to read what an opponent was telegraphing through body language. And Oscar took it very seriously, letting his bluster fall away to listen carefully.
As Max watched the two of them together, he struggled with a disquieting sense of territory invaded. These were things he should have been teaching his half-brother. An opportunity missed. Another in a long list of intentions that fell away on the follow through. That wasn’t the flashy Terriot’s fault. It was his own. For being an absent influence in the past. Would that change in the future if he followed his present course? Or was he pushing away a chance to reconnect with this fragment of his family?
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Cale was mopping his face with his jacket when he took the water he’d sent the boy to the house to get for him. He mumbled his thanks then blinked in surprise to see Max, not Oscar.
“You were good with him.”
Cale shrugged and, after taking a long drink, said, “I trained my younger brothers. He reminds me of them.” Again, the regretful echo in his voice.
“You too winded to give it another go?”
“I’m full of wind, so my mate always tells me.” Cale grinned up at him in acceptance of the challenge and gave the water bottle a toss. “Let’s dance.”
They circled one another, gauging for possible weaknesses, finding none. Cale struck out, lightning fast, to find only air. And then the stunning impact of Savoie’s knee into his ribs. Rubbing his side, he skipped back to reassess with a smile.
“You’re quick.”
“You’re tough.”
“I’ve had to be. Don’t toy with me, Savoie. C’mon. Show me something.”