by Lynn Graeme
“They want a lot of things, Naley,” he said calmly. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to give.”
Naley’s brow furrowed. She looked far from reassured.
He leaned forward and tugged on one of her dark curls. “In fact, I’m going to go meet them and tell them so.”
Her eyes rounded. Isobel’s, however, sharpened.
“Really?” Naley breathed.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Isobel demanded.
He sat back in his seat. “I’ve avoided them for far too long. It’s time I faced them and explained how things are. Like I should’ve done long ago.”
Naley’s hopeful look swiftly turned anxious. “What if they knock you out and drag you back with them anyway?”
Isobel frowned. “Where do you get these ideas?”
“It’s the sorta thing you’d do, Aunt Iz.”
Isobel sputtered. Liam grinned, and that was far more effective in stopping her in her tracks.
“They can try,” he told Naley, “but they won’t succeed.”
“There’s two of ’em and one of you. Aunt Iz—”
“Aunt Iz shouldn’t have to fight my battles for me.” He cast Isobel a meaningful look. She lifted her hands, palms out in surrender.
“But Aunt Iz—”
“Liam’s fought his way through a war, cub. His weakling cousins haven’t. He can take them easily enough.”
Liam turned a sardonic expression on her. Isobel merely smiled.
“I’m not going anywhere, Naley. I’m staying.”
“You promise?”
“Cub,” said Isobel, “why don’t you check on that third batch of pizza in the oven? Liam still looks a bit hungry over there.”
He narrowed his eyes, but Naley leapt eagerly from the couch and grabbed his empty plate from his hands. “That’s what I keep telling you,” she called over her shoulder as she scurried off. “He has nothing to eat at his place!”
“Are you ever going to let that go?” Liam asked, but the girl had already disappeared into the kitchen.
He returned his attention to Isobel. She effected a casual smile and slid her own empty plate onto the coffee table.
“Smooth redirection there,” he murmured. “Did you think to save me from making promises I can’t keep?”
Isobel grimaced. Busted.
“You don’t believe me.” His tone turned flat. “You don’t think I have the strength to stay.”
“No.” Isobel scowled. “That’s not true. Stop talking that way. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, and I don’t want to hear otherwise from you.”
His expression softened, then he shook his head. “I’m not going to cave in to my pack’s demands, Isobel. It’s one thing for them to push me on when I plan to ‘get better’ and become a … a functioning member of the pack. I’m a grown man. I’ve known them all my life. I’m used to how they operate: bulldozing their way through all wants and needs but those they deem beneficial to the pack.” His countenance darkened. “It’s a whole other matter for them to scare Naley and try to manipulate you. They can fight me all they want, but you two are off-limits.”
“Don’t get overprotective on me, Liam. I can handle them just fine.”
“I’m not being overprotective, dammit. I’m simply being protective.” He cut her off before she could speak: “You shouldn’t have to ‘handle’ them. They’re not your responsibility. They’re mine.”
“You can’t tell me not to get involved, Liam. You can’t tell me not to—” Not to care. She shut her mouth with a snap.
Finally she continued, “As I said, you’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for. Than your pack gives you credit for. No, I don’t believe you’ll have any problem bringing them around.”
“But you think I’ll eventually leave anyway. Why?” He paused. “I get it. I have a bad track record. I led a nomadic life for two years. It doesn’t reflect well on me.”
“That’s not it, Liam—”
“But it’s different now. It’s different here.” He fisted his hand, mouth creasing downward as his expression turned insistent. Frustrated. “I’ve lived here for more than a year. That’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere since leaving the clan. The moment I arrived here… .” He swallowed. “The moment I met you, I knew leaving just wasn’t in the cards. Ever. I’m here for the long haul, Isobel.”
She stared at him, stricken.
It was going to hurt so, so damn much when this all fell apart. When neither of them could take the strain anymore.
“Isobel?”
Distantly, she wondered if her expression was the same as his had been when she’d left him—naked, heart pounding, chest still heaving—underneath the stars last night.
His brows drew together. “I don’t think I like what’s going on in that maddening head of yours.”
She put on the unassuming mask again, so familiar and well-worn. It was a second skin to her. An impenetrable armor.
His face immediately darkened. Before he could speak, however, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She was off the couch in an instant, sweeping her phone in hand. “Excuse me, I’m expecting this call.”
She pretended not to hear his uttered curse on her way out of the living room.
She answered her phone in the alcove. “You certainly took your time.”
The impatient sound on the other end of the line was a cross between a growl and a harrumph. “Don’t you start. I’ve already got one female telling me what to do.”
“Stop referring to me as a female,” Sara’s voice shot from the background.
Isobel smirked. Grayson Moran was a good friend, a wolf-shifter, head of Moran Industries, and apparently unable to handle an ordinary human as a mate. She could almost hear him count to ten.
“You mentioned in your message that you needed a favor,” he growled.
“I do. I figure you’re the best person to talk to regarding referrals. Specifically, for prosthetics.” She raked a hand through her hair. “It’s for an agent. A … a friend. He lost his hand.”
A pause.
“Tell me everything,” Grayson said, all his attention sharply focused.
As the CEO of Moran Industries, Grayson headed the nation’s top manufacturer of shifter-related health and pharmaceutical products. Isobel couldn’t recall if the company were involved in prosthetics as well, but even if it wasn’t, Grayson had enough contacts in the industry that he could point her in the right direction.
Like her, Grayson despised the factions. In fact, his dedication to contributing financial and other resources to fighting the factions was how the two of them had met in first place. Their friendship had since grown over the years.
That friendship had been shaken not too long ago, however, when a faction had threatened Grayson’s mate. The Council, in an attempt to safeguard its own interests, had sent Isobel after Sara, and Grayson hadn’t appreciated it in the least. Never mind that Isobel had only been following orders.
Jamal’s face registered in Isobel’s consciousness as she recalled his shouts earlier in the day: God-fucking-dammit, Saba, stop following the damn rules.
What the hell else was she supposed to have done?
Grayson hadn’t wanted to speak to her after everything had gone down, so she’d left him and Sara alone while she went after each and every one of those faction members. They’d scurried into their dark, dank corners like the roaches they were, waiting until the time was right so that they could emerge from their hiding places. She’d patiently and methodically hunted them down one by one. She liked being organized that way.
Whether or not Grayson had officially forgiven her yet, she knew she could count on him to help now. He wouldn’t turn her away, that much she knew. At the very least, he was sure to lend aid to a Council agent who’d been injured while trying to apprehend a faction leader.
He listened as Isobel told him about Jamal’s condition. He asked specific questions, not all of which
she was able to answer. She gave what information she could.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he said. “I’ll send Terris over on Monday to see your friend. Once she’s read his file and assessed him properly, she can recommend which line of bio-prosthetics is most suitable. The sooner he gets fitted, the better it’ll take.”
“It needs to have complete range of motion,” Isobel warned. Anything less meant Jamal might as well be stuck behind desk duty, and she knew he’d hate that. Money was no object; the Council would cover it, given that Jamal had been injured in the line of duty. Given the dangers they faced, all agents had one hell of a health-care plan.
“Naturally,” he rejoined. “He’ll still have to go through an adjustment period, though. The emotional and psychological ramifications are sometimes worse than the actual physical harm. He’ll have to train hard to get fully functional and back in the field.”
She allowed herself a whoosh of breath. “Thanks, Grayson. I owe you one.”
“Damn right you do,” he grumbled good-naturedly, and Isobel knew then that their friendship would survive.
“I’ll visit Jamal tomorrow, just to give him a head’s up about Monday. He’s still … going through some turbulent emotions.”
“I’m not surprised. Don’t worry, Terris is perfectly capable of taking him on. By the way, Sara wants to know when you plan to come over for dinner. You canceled the last time.” The day Naley had arrived at Liam’s doorstep, to be precise.
Isobel hesitated. “I’ll let you know. Things have been … busy over here.”
The pause that followed was far too perceptive. “What is it? Are you all right?”
“Just fine, Grayson. You know me.”
“Exactly. That’s how I know something’s not right. Is it Naley?”
Trust Grayson to remember her weak spot, even though she hardly ever mentioned Naley to other people.
She couldn’t forget the fear that had seared her earlier, when she’d realized that Naley would forever be at risk whenever Isobel was put on mandatory leave and couldn’t hide her scent. All it took was one rogue coming after her with a grudge. What if Naley pulled another runaway stunt and came here without Isobel’s knowledge, and ran into a rogue who scented her relation to Isobel?
She couldn’t let herself think about it. She’d never escape that spiral of fear and worry. But neither could she let herself seek shelter in denial. She wasn’t the type to hide from facts. She had to face the possibility, and do something about it.
Liam had promised he’d be there to help keep Naley safe, but he wouldn’t always be there, would he? Whatever provisions Isobel made, she had to keep that in mind.
“Something’s up,” Grayson deduced in the silence. “What is it, Isobel?”
She shook her head, even though she knew Grayson couldn’t see it. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Point. “Just … considering my options. Something I have to solve on my own. Naley’s staying with me now, but I can’t risk letting that be a permanent situation.” It was just too dangerous. “I have to figure out what to do with her.”
A gasp made Isobel whirl around. Naley stood there in the hallway, her mouth open, her eyes filled with tears of betrayal.
Ah, hell.
“You want to get rid of me?” Naley choked out.
“Cub, no… .” Isobel hung up without saying goodbye. She went to take Naley in her arms, but the girl stumbled back, hands held up to ward her off.
“You lied,” Naley accused. “You said you wanted me around!”
“I do. Cub, it’s not what you think.”
A shadow crossed the floor. Isobel looked up to see Liam’s frame cutting a sharp line through the doorway of the living room. He frowned in concern as he looked between Isobel and Naley.
“You lied!” Naley yelled. “You didn’t mean a word of it!”
She dodged out of reach and ran for the stairs. Liam was too quick for her, though, and grabbed her before she could hit the first step. He lifted her by the waist, not even grunting when Naley pummeled his shins with her feet.
“All that soccer’s definitely paid off,” he muttered as he set her down on the floor. He kept his hold on her, preventing her from running again.
Isobel hurried over to them. “Cub, listen to me. You misunderstood.”
“You don’t want me here!” The tears streaming down Naley’s young face broke Isobel’s heart. “You and Mom are just the same! You just want me gone!”
“Stop.” Isobel shook her gently by the shoulders. “Naley, I love you. I’ll always love you. And I do want you to stay.”
“Liar!”
“Hush,” Liam rumbled. “Your aunt always says what she means. You know that.”
Naley only sobbed.
“Let her go,” Isobel told him, and he did. She used her thumbs to tenderly wipe the wet streaks away from Naley’s cheeks. “Nalene Simona Saba, listen to me. More than anything, I want you to stay with me. I mean that. The only reason you heard me say what I said just now is I was afraid.”
“You’re not afraid of anything,” Naley sobbed.
“I’m terrified,” Isobel said unsteadily, “of losing you.”
Chapter Nine
Liam left Isobel and Naley to speak in private. He was still able to pick up part of their conversation due to his keen sense of hearing, but then he heard a door shut, and then silence, and he knew that they’d gone up to one of the bedrooms to speak.
He put the leftover pizza and toppings in the fridge, then carefully slid the used plates into the dishwasher. He didn’t switch it on; he hadn’t used one in years and the sheer number of buttons and lights unnerved him.
He looked up a few seconds before Isobel appeared in the doorway. She looked drained. Adrift.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Upset.” She ran a weary hand through her hair. “She’s settled down now, but I’m not sure if she truly believes me. I explained that I was only worried about her safety. About the risks involved, and the compound, and … and damn. I never wanted this part of my life to touch her.”
“You can’t shelter her forever.”
“I can certainly do so for as long as I can,” she shot back. “She’s had enough to deal with thanks to her mother. I’m not going to add my own issues to hers.” She glared as Liam approached her. “What, you expect me to break down and cry?”
“No. I expect you to let me hold you.”
The look in her eyes could cut glass, but then he reached for her, and she softened against him as he wrapped his arms around her. Her hands slowly rose to his waist, hovered for a moment, then rested there as she released a shaky breath.
He held her, knowing Isobel wasn’t the type to let her guard down easily. She rarely let anyone see her at her most vulnerable. He knew that every second of this, of her letting him hold and touch and see her like this, was a precious gift in and of itself.
“She’s growing up too fast,” Isobel murmured, words muffled against his chest.
He passed long strokes up and down her spine, feeling her relax with each motion. “Every child does.”
“She’s fourteen. She hasn’t really been a child in … too long.” Isobel shook her head. “Her mother’s wayward lifestyle doesn’t give her stability. Neither does my career.”
“Maybe all she wants is to provide her own input every now and then.” Liam felt her bristle in his arms. “I know you want what’s best for Naley. I know I haven’t known Naley for as long as you have. I just … recognize what it’s like. To not have control over your life.”
Isobel muttered something unintelligible, but she didn’t stiffen up. Liam took that as a good sign. He ran his palms over her bare arms. Their faint whisper of scars showed up more silver under the light.
“Is it just Naley’s safety you’re worried about?”
A responding huff below his chin made him smile. “I don’t worry, Liam. I just have a few things on my mind, that’s all.”
“Queen of understatements, aren’t you?”
“Watch it, wolf.”
He nuzzled her temple, steeping himself in winter smoke and sensual woman. “Why doesn’t the Council let its agents retain a supply of that scent-masking compound? You’d think they’d want to protect their agents, even off-duty. You’re not the first or only agent with loved ones to consider.”
Isobel sighed. “Most agents don’t have loved ones to consider. We knew going in that this is a very solitary field. The stress, the hours… . It’s hard to maintain any sort of bond outside of the job. Besides, the Council doesn’t want to risk unauthorized access to its resources. Files, databases, weapons—because the compound is considered a weapon, in a sense. All it takes is one person accumulating a large stash, enough to enable him to commit a crime and go into hiding for weeks.”
Liam frowned. “Have agents abused Council resources in the past?”
“Not Bloodhaven’s, but it did happen with a few other Councils during the early days, when Councils were only just starting to be established. Agents weren’t monitored as closely back then, to great cost. Rigid strictures have been in place ever since.”
“So the Council just leaves its agents in the lurch when they go home at the end of the day?”
“Of course not. The compound residue still lasts for several hours, assuming you’re back at work the next morning. And agents who don’t live in Council housing get their own homes decked out with a full seven-level security system, all expenses covered.”
“So this fortress you live in has seven levels of security.”
“Nine. I paid for the additional levels.”
“Let me get this straight. You have nine levels of security, a 24-hour monitored perimeter outside the property itself, a grumpy wolf who patrols the grounds, and you’re still worried about safety?”
Isobel glanced up. “Why, Liam Whelan, are you actually making a joke?”
“Of course not. I would never.”
She grinned, and Liam’s heart turned over at the way her face lit up. She was always so controlled, her sense of humor dry, that she rarely displayed such open feeling.
Then the smile faded, and she was quiet for a long moment.
