by Mason Sabre
Gemma found herself watching Cade a little more than she should do. His shirt was now untucked, the material falling loosely around a tight abdomen and tapered hips. A broad chest and bulging muscles in his arms strained against the confines of the fabric, making her swallow hard as desire spiked inside her. His masculinity was evident in the way he held himself, and it called to her tiger in ways it shouldn’t. She was hungry, but not for food. She wanted what her soul cried out for, and though he was right there in front of her, she couldn’t touch him.
She snapped her gaze away from him even while her tiger growled in displeasure, frustration under her skin like an itch. She sighed to herself, and her eyes met her mother’s concerned gaze. Heat flared in her cheeks and she looked away. Whatever Emily saw, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she stood and went to Malcolm’s desk and picked up an earlier used mug before leaving the room and leaving the three of them in silence. She did stop, though, on her way out, and squeezed Gemma’s hand for a moment. Emily always knew more than anyone gave her credit for.
“Not a social visit?” Malcolm asked after a few moments, although he didn’t stop what he was doing to address them. She could hear her mother in the kitchen just down the hallway. She heard her fill the kettle, open cabinets and a drawer to retrieve cups and teaspoons. Gemma was sure that her father’s delay to speak until her mother was out of the way was not a coincidence.
“Council business,” Gemma said to confirm, and then she shifted over to the recliner her mother had just been sitting in and sat down stiffly. “Is Evie asleep?”
Malcolm paused in his writings for a moment as if he was taking in exactly what they meant. Council business at such an ungodly hour could only mean one thing: bad news. She knew he was adding it up. Asking about Evie hinted at something to be concerned about, and the fact that it was Cade delivering the news indicated it was something big. Even more so was the fact that Gemma herself was with him.
She considered what it was to be in her father’s seat, and the assumptions she would be making. It reminded her of how Stephen would always tell her that the word ‘assume’ made an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me’. But she figured he would at least turn around and show some concern.
“Father,” she said, about to voice her thoughts, when he set his pen down and removed his glasses. He turned to face them both, his expression what could only be described as irritated. Gemma wondered if they were disturbing him with something he either already knew or had no interest in.
Cade handed Malcolm the file they had on Jessica so far. “We found Jessica Cooke this evening,” he began, and Gemma hushed him instinctively.
“Evie will hear.” She strained her ears for any sounds upstairs that would indicate movement. When there were none, she let out the breath that she hadn’t realised she had been holding.
Malcolm took the file and placed it on top of what he had been doing when they arrived. He opened it, but his back was still to them. When he finally turned and spoke, his voice was flat. “She’s dead?”
Cade nodded, and Gemma hugged herself as a sudden chill enveloped her.
A flicker of emotion passed over Malcolm’s face, and then it was gone again, but it was there long enough for Gemma to catch it. She vaguely thought that they might as well have been showing him a new book of legislations with the dispassionate way he was reacting. Sometimes she envied his ability to do that. Other times, it annoyed the hell out of her because she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Not natural causes?” he asked without looking up.
“No,” said Cade, and then he added, “She was pregnant, too.”
That made Malcolm raise his eyes, his gaze falling on Cade and then Gemma, but his expression didn’t change. If anything, Gemma thought it was even less readable than before. Perhaps he knew that fact already. He cast his attention back to the file, and Gemma and Cade remained silent while he read. They even whispered their thanks when Emily returned with fresh coffee.
Emily poured her husband’s and set it beside him; he reached out and rested a hand against the handle in an absent manner, without even acknowledging she was there. It didn’t take him long to read—not that there was a lot in the file. Most of it was self-explanatory; it was only the first stage. He closed the file and leant back in his chair. “Does Angela know?”
Emily set the tray down on the coffee table for them, and Gemma shook her head at her father’s question. “We came here first.” She glanced at her mother as she spoke. Her red-rimmed eyes told Gemma that she had heard.
“Anyone else?” enquired Malcolm, business as usual.
“Just DSA,” replied Cade.
Angela was Jessica’s mother and pack master to the foxes. Not only had she just lost her daughter, her one and only child, she had also lost her heir. No one said it, but they all knew that once word got out—that an heir was dead with no other children to make a claim—it would be open season on the foxes. Angela was free to be challenged as pack master by any Other with offspring, or at least the potential for it.
Malcolm had been fortunate with that, and they all knew that. When Stephen had been killed in a fight with Humans, Malcolm had had two other children to take his place. Gemma would have given up the seat in a heartbeat to have him back.
She could still remember the day she had heard Stephen had died. It was Cade who had delivered the news then, barely able to get the words out. It had shattered her, and it had been Cade’s strong embrace that had kept her from collapsing to the ground. He had held her tight as she had cried and screamed until there were no more tears left.
Malcolm flipped the file to the last page, signed his part and then returned it to Cade. They all watched as he drained his very hot coffee before standing up and reaching for his jacket, which hung on the coat rack an arm’s length from where he sat.
“You’re coming with us?” Gemma asked, confused. No one’s death ever really warranted the head of the Council to be present, except maybe Cade’s father, Trevor, but he was the Council’s deputy and, Gemma thought, self-promoted asshole.
“I don’t think that this news should be delivered to her as a routine part of your job, do you?”
Gemma didn’t answer. She knew that it wasn’t so much a question as a statement. Her father and Angela had been friends for a long time—longer than she had been alive—even before her mother and father had been forced to marry. She suspected that there may have even been something more between them. She had never questioned it, though, and neither did Emily. Intermixed marriages were forbidden, and as Cade and Gemma both knew too well, risking a relationship was to risk execution.
They really could die for love.
Chapter 4
Gemma
Standing in the driveway to her parents’ home, Gemma was about ready to cuss her lazy side out. If she’d just fixed her damn car ... She shook her head at herself and clenched her jaw. The part of her that always said, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” and then never got around to it … a mantra of future promises that had, right now, landed her in some shit.
She had two choices. She could ride with her father, who seemed in an odd mood—he was a laconic man in general, so it wasn’t unusual that he wasn’t talking, but it was unusual that he wasn’t talking when something had just happened that would undoubtedly impact both the Council and the Society. He breathed Council business every waking moment.
But his expression was sullen. A million thoughts raced behind those pale green eyes and he wasn’t sharing a single one of them, making the air around them thick enough to choke on.
She could ride with Cade … but that was a whole different problem. Being that close to Cade was never a good idea. Not for her head and especially not for her heart. She was liable to give in to him at any moment—and she feared he would sense it and push her just enough that she did.
“I will meet you both there,” Malcolm said abruptly, taking the choice from her. He walked past them both and went to his ca
r, shoulders back. If alarm bells hadn’t already gone off in the corner of Gemma’s mind, they did just then. Malcolm willingly letting Cade and her be alone … He knew about their relationship. He was aware of what had gone on … contrary to Other law. Making sure they dealt with each other only on a need-to basis had become one of his main goals.
She narrowed her eyes as she watched her father, but he was oblivious to it. So was Cade by the looks of things. He offered Malcolm a curt nod and then looked over at her in expectation.
Telling someone their child had just died was perhaps the worst part of Gemma’s job—and it happened much too often. But telling Angela that her first and only child had been gutted and left in an abandoned building, with her dead baby next to her, was even worse. It left a lingering foul taste at the back of her throat. If she could have spit it out and gone home just then, she would have … gladly. It was times like this when she seriously considered renouncing her claim to the head seat and going into hiding somewhere—a log cabin in the middle of nowhere would do her well. She could see out her days as a lonely old woman. She could …
“Are you coming?” Cade asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She let out a sigh. “Coming now.”
It wasn’t far to Angela’s house, perhaps five minutes by car. All the Council members lived within close vicinity of each other. It was easier that way. It was part of Malcolm’s argument when Gemma had announced she wanted to leave and get her own home. He didn’t see the point in it. When she took over as head of the pride, she would have to move back home.
Maybe, she thought. But it had been impossible to live in that house. Not after Connor, and not after Stephen—two vacant holes in her chest that would never truly heal. She couldn’t live in a house where her brother’s room lay just as he had left it. Where she could walk in and inhale his scent and remember everything she had lost that day. Selfishly, she wished he was here just now. It would be his job to work with Cade. Two years had passed, and she still couldn’t get it into her head that he was gone. Her mother told her that things only get easier because you realise you can survive each day. She wasn’t surviving, though, she was simply treading water, and some days, she was drowning.
“You don’t have to come to Angela’s if you don’t want to,” Cade said quietly when she got into the car, his worried blue eyes meeting hers. “I can go with your father.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Can you imagine my dad if you show up and I have gone home?”
He reached out and squeezed her thigh. She guessed it was meant to be a reassuring or calming gesture, but her skin came alive from just that slightest bit of contact. He stirred things inside her with even the weakest of effort, and she couldn’t fight it—she didn’t want to. She didn’t pull his hand away, though. “Avery can take over the rest after here. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“No. I think I want to work it.”
“Are you sure?”
As long as she signed off on everything and was their back-up, Cade was allowed to use Avery to help solve what had happened to Jessica. The Council would prefer Gemma, and if she asked her father, he would be wanting her on it, too. But that wasn’t the reason she said she would work it. No … it felt like she was being a coward if she walked away. She owed it to Jessica. Just to make sure whoever did this got their hearts cut out, too. It felt like protecting Evie–helping her in some way.
“I’ll work it. If it gets too much, I’ll say. Okay?”
Cade nodded and started the car.
When they pulled up outside Angela’s house, the gap where Jessica’s small car should have been stood out like a sore thumb. She strained to look over her shoulder, pressing her face to the glass to look down the small street in case the car was parked elsewhere. Jessica was the typical lazy teenager who drove to the local store at the end of the street because her three-hour old heels were biting into her feet, but damn they looked so great. She always had her car, though …
“Jessica’s car isn’t here,” she said to Cade. “She drives a mini, right?”
Cade glanced at the empty parking spot. “She does, I think.”
“It’s not here.”
He frowned. “Maybe it was at the estate?” he said, but his tone said he didn’t quite believe that.
There had been no car, though. Gemma was sure of it. She ran the image through her mind, closing her eyes for better focus so she could play the scene like a movie. There had been Cade’s car, Avery’s car, a couple of others …
“I don’t think so.” Although it was possible. She hadn't been looking for it ... maybe she missed it.
Cade grabbed his phone and tapped out a text. “I’ll ask Avery. He should still be there. Do you have the licence plate?”
“No. Can't you call the office to get it?”
“I’m here, Avery’s at the estate, and Danny, as always, has vanished, so nope. Unless someone can materialise into my office.”
Cade finished his text and hit send.
“We can ask Angela.”
Gemma stared at him. “Where’s Danny?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows these days. He seems to think that it is fun to turn up for work whenever he likes.”
Danny was the same age as Jessica and Evie, and the youngest of the MacDonald brothers. Cade’s eldest brother, Aaron, was the heir to the pack. One day, he would take over from their father, Trevor, and rule it all. Gemma wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Aaron was definitely a carbon copy of his father—and Trevor was one of the most ruthless men she knew.
“Still?”
“Yep.” He nodded, indicating ahead of them. “Your father is here.”
Despite setting off first, Malcolm arrived at Angela’s house after Cade and Gemma. He pulled his car into the small driveway and got out without a glance in their direction. He knocked on the door but didn’t wait for Angela to answer it. Instead, he pulled out a set of his own keys and unlocked the door. Gemma frowned, wondering why her father would have keys to Angela’s house. If Cade found it strange as well, he didn’t say anything.
They followed Malcolm in, stepping into the small entry hall behind him. The main light came on and Angela appeared at the top of the stairs seconds later. Her face broke into a smile when she saw Malcolm, but then her eyes fell on Cade and Gemma and her expression grew tight. Gemma tried not to take it personally. She couldn’t say that Angela was ever pleased to see her, and the feeling was mutual.
The older woman had been one of the very few to learn about Gemma’s pregnancy, and she had been all up for abortion of the … how had she put it?
Abomination germinating in her womb.
Maybe working Jessica’s case was a bad, bad idea.
“Has something happened?” she asked as she took a step down and pulled her robe more tightly around herself. Her eyes were on Malcolm as if Gemma and Cade had ceased to exist.
Malcolm offered his hand to her, like a king helping his queen down the stairs. “We need to talk.”
She stopped just a step or so away from him, refusing the hand he held out to her. She knew something bad was coming, didn’t she? Didn’t people say that mothers could sense when something happened to their children?
Angela’s gaze fell on each of them in turn as if she was trying to read their faces. Gemma could read the fear in hers. So much as she hated the woman, she wished they weren’t delivering this news. Sometimes in life, she thought, there were moments that could never be undone. What a miraculous invention it would be to be able to freeze time and the emotions of that moment—the last moment Angela Cooke believed her daughter was alive.
“Come into the lounge,” Malcolm said, his voice gentle. He looked comfortable in her home, maybe even more so than in his own.
Neither Cade nor Gemma moved as he led Angela into the main sitting room. Gemma had never really seen such an affectionate side to her father—not that he was truly cold, but he was always reserved. Like the affection was under
the surface, but he couldn’t let it out. Here, in Angela’s home, he seemed to have no trouble with that. It made her head swim a little, her mind trying to tell her something.
Malcolm had Angela sit on the sofa, and Gemma thought that wise. One thing she had learnt in this job was that it was impossible to judge how a person would react to news such as this. Some people screamed and cried. Others begged and pleaded for it all to be lies. Then there were the people who appeared as if she hadn't told them anything more important than their lightbulb had gone out.
She wasn’t sure which way Angela was going to react, but she braced herself for the news her father was about to deliver.
“Is it Jessica?” Angela asked stiffly as he sat down next to her. “Is she in trouble?” She looked past Malcolm to Cade. “Whatever it is, I am sure she didn’t mean any harm. I know she can be a little aggressive at times. You know how she is.”
Cade gave a nod, and then Malcolm leant in and took Angela’s hand in his.
In a way, Gemma was sure, Angela knew what was coming. Her head was shaking with disbelief before Malcolm even started talking. She backed away from him, slipping her hand out of his and pushing herself against the arm of the sofa.
Gemma hugged herself. She knew this pain. Losing a child was worse than dying.
“They found a girl,” he said. “At the Stannah Estate.”
She was still shaking her head in denial. “That’s not Jessica,” she shot out straightaway, not wanting or caring to hear the rest. “Jessica is out with friends. She is …” She paused, as if she had lost track of what she was trying to say exactly. Her eyes darted to Gemma and then Cade. “She was with Danny.” Her voice rose when she said Danny’s name, as if that piece of information proved that the girl they had found wasn’t Jessica.
“She has been identified, Angela,” Malcolm said with gentleness.
She shot to her feet, her arms hugging her slender frame. “Then they have been mistaken. It isn’t Jessica.”
