by Tara Lain
“Not precisely. But let’s just say there’s more between heaven and earth—”
“Oh save your Shakespeare, for God’s sake.”
Evenride said something, but Jazz didn’t hear. He stepped closer and…
Fuck! His heart stopped, his nerves screamed, and a white cloud filled his brain as the tough-looking bodyguard appeared at the end of the hall where Jazz stood and stared right at him.
Every cell in Jazz’s body tingled somewhere between light and electricity, and his head swam. What will the guy do? He wouldn’t shoot me here. Hell, even if he did, I’d survive. But Carla will know, he’ll know, I….
Jazz stopped. The bodyguard was staring at him but… nothing. His gaze didn’t wiggle. No blink. No recognition. What?
Jazz looked around for whatever was hiding him from the big man. Nothing. Is it possible he doesn’t recognize me? Man, he felt so lightheaded, he could pass out.
The bodyguard walked off and vanished around the end of the hall.
Boom. Exploding brain. Jazz felt almost hot.
He didn’t see me. How is that possible? He was looking right at me. Fuck, maybe he didn’t see me because… no! No!
His hearing seemed to click back in as he heard Carla say to Evenride, “I’m going to work.”
“I’ll email you.”
“Do what you want.”
Jazz heard footsteps, took a breath, and ran superfast back through the kitchen. He managed to beat Carla to the table, where BeBop and Khadija stared at him like he’d clearly lost his mind. He had. For sure, he had.
“What was that all about?” BeBop asked as Carla arrived.
Jazz decided to take the offense. “Yes, what was it all about?”
Carla shook her head. “Totally nuts. This dude wanted to get me alone to make a case for his son.” She looked at Jazz, then down at her plate of salad. “He thinks I should date Donald and told me the whole Vanessen family is untrustworthy.”
Jazz snorted. “What’s his basis for that opinion?”
“Nothing that I can determine.” She smiled, though it was tight and phony and didn’t offer any other information.
Jazz smiled back. It made sense she wouldn’t talk about the rest of the conversation in front of BeBop and Khadija. The real test would be what she said that night.
“JAZZ, YOU’RE very quiet.” Pop-Pop glanced from the papers he and Lindsey were inspecting to Jazz, who stared out the window of the limo.
“I need to tell you both something important.” He sighed.
“It doesn’t sound like happy news.”
They’d just dropped Carla off at her house, and she’d smiled and bounded up the steps, never sharing one more detail of her conversation with Evenride.
“It’s not.”
“Does it involve Carla?” Pop-Pop might be human, but he sure as hell was psychic.
Jazz glanced up. “Yeah. What made you think that?”
“It felt like there was a lot of tension between you on the helicopter and in the car. I thought maybe you’d argued.”
“Not exactly. It’s just that Karl Evenride showed up at the office today and asked to speak to Carla. I listened in.”
Pop-Pop got a crease between his eyebrows. “She knew you were listening?”
“No. I sneaked out and used, you know, superwolf ears. But I honestly thought she’d want me to listen—uh, if she knew I could—since I wasn’t sure what kind of threat this dude represented.”
“And you heard more than you bargained for.”
“Yeah. Lots more. Evenride is trying to persuade the Mendes family that the Vanessens are a threat to the community, the state, and the nation!”
That got Lindsey’s attention. “What the hell?”
Jazz nodded. “He maintains he has evidence, and all he wants is for Carla to consider it with an open mind. I’m paraphrasing.”
Lindsey scowled, a funny expression on his pretty face. “Why did that asshole go after the girl?”
“She asked him the same thing. He said she has more direct contact with us and so she can test his facts, as he called them. He’s emailing this so-called evidence to her.”
Lindsey fell back against the seat. “What the hell has Evenride gotten into his beady little brain?”
Pop-Pop nodded. “Yes, that’s a question, but I think Jazz is more concerned with why Carla didn’t tell him.”
Jazz nodded. Actually, his biggest worry was what Evenride knew about Jazz’s part in Carla falling and all the weird stuff that happened in that clearing. Whatever Evenride knows… is more than I know.
Now, all he could think about was that damned bodyguard in the hall who’d looked straight at him and didn’t see him. No, no. Didn’t recognize me. That’s all. That must be all.
Two hours later, the whole family sat in the dining room, eating dinner and trying to digest what Jazz had told them about Evenride’s claims to Carla.
Seth frowned. “What do you think this person knows about us?”
Jazz almost smiled, since Seth was 100 percent human, but he was as committed to the pack as any werewolf. That was true for all of them.
Jazz shook his head. “No idea. I hope Carla will tell me what evidence this guy has on us.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know that either. She was just acting weird after Evenride spoke to her. Of course, I couldn’t tell her I’d heard what he said.”
Lindsey put a hand on Jazz’s arm. “If it wasn’t so critical to all of us, I’d say you got what you deserved. Eavesdropping on someone you care about is never a good idea.”
Jazz stared at the tablecloth. “I know, but honestly, I didn’t consider that I was eavesdropping on her. Just him.” Softly, he released his breath.
Winter and Damon both looked at him from across the table.
“You okay?” Winter asked.
“Yeah. Just concerned.”
“It’s hard to think your best friend doesn’t trust you,” Pop-Pop added.
Jazz’s mom nodded. “What if Carla was just luring Evenride in? Maybe she decided not to tell you since she doesn’t want you thinking anything bad about your family.”
Jazz shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, Mom. There’s something else.”
Everyone stopped and the room got scary quiet.
“It’s another of those ‘may be nothing’ things, but when Carla and I were in New York last night with BeBop and Khadija—”
“Who?” Damon asked.
Pop-Pop smiled. “Their fellow interns.”
Jazz bit the inside of his cheek. “Anyway, BeBop was pretty sure we were being followed when we were walking to the train station. They all figured I had to be the target, since I’m a Vanessen. So once we got to the station, I went in the men’s room. If he followed me in, I thought I could confront him and keep them out of danger. But the guy vanished.” He shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but Carla thinks something happened. So with us being followed last night, right after hearing Evenride’s story, she can’t help but think those things are related in some way, but she’s not telling me. That doesn’t make sense unless she has her doubts about me… us. Otherwise why wouldn’t she warn us?”
“I don’t know.” His mom clutched his arm. “But I want you to be careful, Jazz. This is all frightening.”
Winter smiled softly at her. She was his adopted mother too. “Don’t worry, Mom. Jazz is an alpha werewolf. A whole pack of humans couldn’t take him out.”
Jazz met Winter’s pale blue eyes. “Sorry to tell you, bro, but the dude we suspected of following us was a werewolf.”
Matt, who sat beside Winter, said, “You’re sure, Jazz?”
Jazz nodded, and his mother said, “I like this less and less. There’s turmoil in the packs over lack of succession, this bizarre claim by a human, and now some threat to Jazz. How does it all fit together? Or does it?”
Lindsey sipped wine, leaning a little against the broad shoulder of his husband.
“Carla has had some up-close contact with the Vanessens over the years. Do you think she suspects us?”
Seth shook his head. “I don’t think any of the humans around us suspect the existence of werewolves—aside from the ones in this room, myself included.”
Jazz nodded. “Yeah, Mom. It’s not like Bella Swan suddenly saying ‘I know what you are.’ People don’t go there. They don’t want to believe we’re real, so they don’t.”
She leaned over and clasped his hand. “Except for those of us who do want to believe so we can be a part of your lives.” She gazed from him to Damon, the werewolf who had changed her human life in one fateful night.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what Carla does with her information,” Lindsey said. “I know that’s hard for you, dear.” He smiled at Jazz. “But there’s no clear explanation for how you know this information except to tell her you eavesdropped. And considering where they were sitting, it’s unlikely you could have remained hidden and still heard what they said… if you were human.”
“There’s another factor in this maze.” Pop-Pop ran his fingers over the stem of his glass. “Lysandra Mason’s nephew arrives at the Mendes’s home on Thursday night to begin work on Friday.”
“Are you worried about that, sir?” Lindsey asked.
“I wasn’t worried. Interested, yes. I’m not sure why this woman has gone to such trouble to embed her representative, shall we say, in our midst. But with all the other intrigue going on, this young man becomes another source of mystery. Especially since both Jazz and Carla have described this person as somewhat unusual.”
Right. Unusual. That was the understatement of the year.
Chapter Eleven
JAZZ TOOK a bite of his steak. He might feel like crap, but nothing stopped a teenage werewolf from eating unless his throat was cut, and he might even recover from that.
Across the table, Winter wiped his mouth. While all the humans had finished eating, the wolves were still chowing down. “Also in the middle of all this shit—excuse me, Mom—don’t forget we’ve got the pack community event this weekend. Packarama.”
“Why do you think that’s pertinent?” Damon asked.
“I don’t, except it’s a whole lotta wolves gathered in one spot, which is always a little worrisome from a discovery point of view. Plus, there’s all the succession turmoil, as Mom says.”
Damon nodded. “Point taken. Are you and Cole both racing?”
Winter grinned. “Yep.”
“Show-offs.”
“Hey, we just have to keep reminding the packs who has the most alphas.” He laughed. “In fact, I’m thinking Jazz ought to enter too.”
“What?” Jazz emerged from his reverie. “Come on. I’m too skinny. You don’t want the other packs showing up the Vanessens.”
Winter leaned forward. “I don’t think that’s true, little brother. We spend so much time passing you off as human, you never get a chance to test your skills. I think it would be great for you to at least enter the running race. And maybe some of the other contests.”
Jazz shook his head, and his mother leaned over and put a hand on his arm. “Lighten up, guys. Jazz has a new job and a lot of stress. Upholding the honor of the pack among a bunch of wolves isn’t top priority.”
Jazz released a very soft breath. Having his brothers push him to compete might never persuade him, but one suggestion by his mom that he couldn’t handle the stress ratcheted up his alpha competitive streak so high, he’d have taken off running right then. “Thanks Mom, but I can do it. I’ll enter as soon as we get there on Saturday.”
She gazed at him with such a neutral expression, he wondered if she’d said that on purpose to get him to say yes. “That means you won’t be able to show Dash Mercury around on his first weekend.”
“I think that’ll be okay. I’ll just tell them I’m involved in a family event on Saturday, and I’ll come back from the Packarama on Saturday night. Hell, Carla’s already treating me weird. How much madder can she get?”
His mother pressed her hand to his arm again. “You’ll miss the feast.”
“That’s no problem. I never seem to gain a pound anyway.”
He must have sounded bitter because Pop-Pop looked up at him and gave him a little smile that could mean anything. But it came off as being supportive.
Jazz smiled back tightly and sipped his tea. All the things he hadn’t told them pressed against his lips with a bad taste. The vision he’d had at the pack meeting, the stuff at the picnic, and now having a human look at him and not see him—it was an entire compost heap of unexplained phenomena. He’d felt like this before he met Lindsey and Seth, and he’d hated it then.
Hell, the day he found out he was a werewolf, one who was part of a pack, was the first best day of his life. He’d been having odd symptoms—kind of like he was experiencing now. He’d pass out for no reason. He heard things and saw better than the other kids. Then he’d met Lindsey and Seth at a polo match where they’d invited the orphans. Horse-crazy Jasper had been in heaven watching Lindsey play. And better yet, they’d taken him under their wings, spending time with him, even giving him his nickname. After a life of loneliness, he finally felt like he had friends. But Lindsey kept trying to tell him something, something even Seth didn’t know.
Finally, there was that wildass day when cop Seth had gotten into trouble going after some kidnappers and he’d had Jazz in the car. The bad guy was threatening both of them, and suddenly this wolf showed up and took the dude out. Together later, staring into a river, Jazz and Seth got their minds around the fact that the wolf was Lindsey! And then Jazz knew what Lindsey had been trying to tell him.
Not only did knowing he was a werewolf make Jazz get that he wasn’t alone, it was also the first time he didn’t feel like a total weirdo. That idea ought to make him laugh, since being a werewolf clearly didn’t qualify as regular, but for him, who’d always felt different and odd among humans, having an explanation for why he was different had been better than bacon.
But now he felt that way again. Different, peculiar. Like Harry Potter under the stairs with no explanation for why he could make the glass disappear so the snake could get out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his family to know, but, well, he didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them thinking he was strange or different from them. He just wanted to be the kid brother, like he had been since the wonderful day Elizabeth Vanessen made him a part of her family. Oh gods, why is this happening?
He looked up into Pop-Pop’s loving eyes. It almost made everything all right.
A short time later, he excused himself and said he had some research to do for work. That was true, but mostly he didn’t feel like socializing.
He walked to his big room with tons of windows that let in all the sunshine during the day. At night, the housekeeper pulled the heavy drapes, giving the room a cozy, warm feeling. Jazz didn’t feel cozy. He hurled himself on the bed and kicked his sneakers into next week. Who knew where they landed?
Damn, Carla had been his best friend since he’d been adopted by the Vanessens. The fact that they’d both been involved in the kidnappings drew them together. And because Jazz was gay, she knew he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, which allowed them, with their independent, snarky personalities, to become BFFs. His little furry secret hadn’t been a big issue… until now.
Shit, his stomach wanted to dump dinner on the floor. The world felt off.
He sat up.
No, dammit. He grabbed his phone and texted, Hey. Got a minute to talk?
Received.
He waited, his eyes glued to the screen, and nothing happened.
He hopped off the bed and started to pace. When did I first notice that I was different from the other wolves?
He walked the length of his bedroom on the cushy rugs he always loved having smoosh under his feet. It had taken him a while to even understand what it meant to be a werewolf, so if he was different from the other males at that time, h
e chalked it up to inexperience and the fact that everyone told him he was some super alpha.
But when?
A couple of times that first year as a wolf, he’d gotten bullied by the other males, and his family had said he had to hold back since he was this superwolf. So he wouldn’t fight, which got him razzed more. But shit would happen. Whoever bullied him would somehow find himself on his face in the mud or have his swim trunks come off in front of a bunch of humans. Coincidence? He’d always thought so. Now, maybe not.
Then Jazz gave ten dollars and a lottery ticket to a woman standing on the street corner, begging, with her two kids and cat. She won. A million bucks. Just lucky.
Little weird shit. He put some Polysporin on a dog’s abscessed foot, and the next day, you couldn’t tell the pooch had ever had an injury.
His family didn’t seem to notice these things, so he always told himself they were what they looked like. Chance. But then there was the picnic. And the bodyguard. And the vision.
He shook his head. Do I want to be special so badly I hallucinate? Make stuff up?
His phone pinged. The text said, Sorry. Busy with fam stuff. Will be driving to work tomorrow with Dad. Thank your fam.
He kept looking at the screen, but nothing else appeared. No snarky goodbye or plans to meet for lunch.
It was the first time in four years she hadn’t had time to talk to him.
WALKING AND holding your breath at the same time? Possible.
Jazz hurried toward his office, not because he was dying to get there, but because he was late. Damn! He’d overslept because he’d stared at the ceiling most of the night and only fell asleep at 4:00 a.m. when he had to get up at five forty-five. He hadn’t, so he’d missed his ride with Pop-Pop and Lindsey. Strike two. He jumped in his car, clutching a breakfast sandwich made by Bette just for him and munched it as he started on his two-hour drive into the city. He’d arrived at ten after nine, had to park in the last space on the most remote floor of the parking structure, and ran like Usain Bolt—make that Usain Wolf—to his floor.
