Tribal Law

by Shannon Curtis

  “Why?”

  He leaned forward. “You’re my friend, Vass. You don’t know what you’re up against. This guy obliterated my sister’s store. You’re going to need a witch on your side.”

  “Make that two,” Melissa stated. Her expression was resolute.

  “Oh, no,” Vassi said, shaking her head. “Not you. You can stay here.” She’d spend most of her time watching her back if the green-eyed witch joined them.

  Melissa gave her a dangerous smile. “I’m coming with. I have a score to settle with this bastard. He tried to kill me.” Her smile broadened. “If there’s one thing we witches do well, it’s revenge.”

  “You can’t kill him,” Vassi warned. “We need him to prove Ryder’s innocence.”

  Melissa inclined her head. “Fine. I won’t kill him—until after Ryder’s free.”

  Vassi narrowed her eyes and looked at Dave, who grimaced. “I wouldn’t try to stop her. She’ll just do a locator spell.” He turned to his sister and held up a finger in warning. “Play nice.”

  “Or what?” she challenged, folding her arms and lifting her lips in a smug smile.

  Dave smiled right back, showing his teeth. “Or I’ll tell Mother.”

  Melissa stopped smiling.

  * * *

  Ryder gripped the lock on the gate. He wanted to blast his way into his brother’s compound, cause as much damage as possible, but he still had enough control to realise that subtlety had its good points—namely, not alerting his brother’s guards. No, now was not the time to give into the rage coursing through his body. He banked the angry fires within, using a cool detachment his father had instilled in him to manage his emotions—something he’d hated at the time, but now acknowledged a use for.

  He pressed the eight-digit code into the security keypad, surprised when it worked. He co-owned the mansion, had lived here with his brother up until six months ago. He’d thought Hunter would have changed the code by now. His mistake.

  He pushed the gate open and glanced across the manicured garden. Guards patrolled the grounds, and he watched as two turned a corner, weapons held at the ready. Ryder veiled his body’s outline, gathering and dispersing light particles around him, reflecting his surroundings until he became invisible, then strode up the garden path, around the tinkling fountain, its water sparkling in the moonlight, until he reached the door. The home was protected against intrusion from others—except light warriors. He tapped in his code, smiled with satisfaction when the light changed to green, then slid unobtrusively into the home he’d once shared with his brother.

  Walking quietly down the wide hallway, Ryder held his breath, trying to gauge where his brother was inside the mansion. There was a clink of glass, the sound of liquid being poured. Ryder’s lips twisted. Hunter was in the library.

  Muscles in his jaw ticked. His brother was enjoying a drink in the library, while he ran for his life from a whole tribe of lycans.

  He stalked down the entry hall on silent feet, down the three steps into the reception parlour, then across the room until he stood at the library door. He grasped the handle, then paused, taking a deep breath. Anger at what his brother had done swirled through him, almost blinding him. He’d killed Jared Gray. He knew his brother’s talents. He had the skills to manipulate an alpha prime and his pack, he knew the toxins, knew how to get hold of them—and would be prepared to take whatever action necessary to cover his tracks, including the attempted murder of the lawyer charged with defending Ryder’s innocence, his bonded life mate.

  Screw detachment.

  He summoned a surge of lightforce, just a little, and the door burst inward, splinters flying like an upset case of toothpicks, the rest of the wooden shards bursting into flame, quick and intense, before turning to ash.

  The man standing by the fireplace looked up from his drink and arched an eyebrow.

  “Hello, brother.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vassi peered between the wrought iron rails of the gate. The moonlit gardens were a contrast between silver and darkness, and it took her a moment to spot the two guards standing by a bush, each taking a drag of a cigarette.

  She pulled back and turned to the two witches behind her. Dave was using a small bottle of henna ink to draw a design on the back of Melissa’s neck, muttering something incomprehensible as he did so. The ink glowed, the design shimmering for a moment before lapsing into a dull brown. The intricate design was beautiful.

  “Okay, there are two guards, I can’t see any more. I’ll go in over the wall and take them, you wait here until I give the all clear,” Vassi whispered. She was faster than either of the witches.

  Dave shook his head, then fanned the temporary tattoo he’d drawn on his sister. “No. You know my rules. No innocents are harmed, and we do this my way.” His voice was low, his tone implacable.

  “You think those guards are innocents?” she hissed at him.

  “We can see they’re not miscreants,” he retorted. “They’re armed. If you can drain someone’s blood or attack them with your teeth, you don’t need a gun. These guys are just doing their job, Vassi. Nobody should die for just doing their job.”

  “Well, how do you propose we get in there?”

  “That’s easy,” he whispered. He reached beyond her and nudged the gate. It moved on well-oiled hinges, and she gaped.

  “Oh. I hadn’t noticed that.” And here she’d been mentally planning her assault to the tune of Mission Impossible.

  “Looks like lover boy is here already,” Dave murmured.

  She wanted in, desperately. Ever since they’d set out this evening, she’d been focused on Ryder. He consumed her thoughts. Her need to see him, to touch him, drove her to distraction. He’d pushed her away, yet again. She understood, but she damn well didn’t agree with it. Sooner or later he was going to have to trust her to have his back, and to be able to protect her own. They’d faced everything together, devised their plan of action together. Being excluded from his thoughts, from his plans, stung. It triggered memories of the way her family treated her—cautiously, warily, waiting for her to fall below their low expectations, to cause them extra trouble, extra effort, perhaps even extra heartache.

  She tightened her lips. She knew he wasn’t doing it for those reasons, but the effect was the same. He didn’t trust her. The problem was, he’d need her help, damn it. She wasn’t just a court officer any longer. After the Woodland Pack attack, she was a witness. She could now offer some defence for him—as long as he didn’t kill his brother.

  If he did, then it didn’t matter what trick she pulled out of her hat, he’d be going to prison.

  She turned to Dave. “What if I just nipped them? Drain them until unconsciousness, then we can go on our merry way, no innocents harmed.”

  Dave frowned. “You’re not going to bite anyone, Vass.” He glanced at his sister. “Besides, we have a painless weapon.”

  Melissa nodded, then untied the band around her braid, fluffing her hair out until it fell below her shoulders in a soft cloud of red curls. “Watch and learn, vamp. This is how you get a guy into you.”

  She undid the top three buttons on her shirt, adjusted her breasts, then pushed the gate open and strode in.

  “Hi boys, can you help me? I’m on my way to a party and I’m tragically lost.”

  Vassi blinked as Melissa strode down the path, her hips swaying in her tight jeans, shoulders back. Even her voice, low and sultry, was different to the shrew Vassi knew and loved to hate.

  The guards hurried over. One bore an eager expression, the other looked vaguely suspicious. Melissa tripped, her hands flashing out to grab hold of each guard’s arm to steady herself.

  “Phew! These heels are a killer,” she laughed, sounding relaxed and possibly just a little inebriated. She tilted her head back, a smile of pleasure on her face.

  “She seems so nice,” Vassi whispered in amazement.

  Melissa started to chant, her eyes closing as she kept her grip on the gua
rds, and suddenly both were writhing, clutching at their heads and trying to loosen Melissa’s grip. One fell, and then the other, unconscious on the stone paving. She brushed her hands together as though dusting herself off.

  “And then she’s not,” Dave said, breathing a chuckle as he entered the garden. Vassi followed him, eyeing the guards warily.

  “What did you do to them?” she asked the redhead.

  Melissa smiled. “They’re just napping, having some pleasant dreams.”

  Dave arched an eyebrow, and his sister shot him an innocent look. “I promise, no nightmares, just some sweet dreams.”

  “How long will they be out for?” Vassi asked, prodding first one with her toe, then the other. They were definitely out cold.

  “Long enough,” Melissa responded tartly. “Their boss will be dead by the time they wake up.”

  “Why does she get to kill someone and I don’t?” Vassi muttered as she followed Dave up to the front door.

  “Because the guy she wants dead tried to kill her. That’s fair. Everyone else just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not so fair.” He halted at the door, then frowned. “This is unlocked, too.”

  “This has got to be the easiest intrusion I’ve ever done,” Vassi observed, then met Dave’s curious gaze. “Not that I’ve tried this sort of thing before,” she said hurriedly.

  “Well, I have, and you’re right. It is easy. Maybe too damn easy.”

  “I don’t care,” Melissa hissed behind them. “The night’s a-wasting. Let’s move.”

  She pushed the door open, then huffed when Dave dragged her back behind him and entered the hall.

  Vassi tried to follow and met that immovable, unseen wall. She bit her teeth as Dave and Melissa entered the home.

  “Wait, I haven’t been invited in,” she whispered.

  Dave frowned. “You’ll have to wait there, then. We’ll take care of this.”

  Melissa gave her a cheery little wave and turned to follow her brother. Vassi eyed the entry for a way in, frustration biting at her, as the two witches strolled further into the house.

  The large front door swung open into a brief hallway that led to a step-down lounge room of sorts, from what Vassi could see. She ran back down the front steps and scurried along the path to the next window to peer in. There was a fire going in the large, recessed hearth, and wall sconces and a chandelier cast a golden glow over the room. Wooden balustrading gleamed along the upstairs hallway that looked down on the room, and big stuffed settees sat opposite each other. Dark wood and exposed beams gave the cathedral ceilings a gothic vibe, and Persian carpets in red tones covered the dark timber floor with an opulent masculine air.

  She watched as Dave and Melissa paused in the room and looked around. Where were Ryder and his brother, Hunter?

  A flash of light, followed by a loud bang, came from a room off the parlour, splintered wood lying around the entry. Dave and Melissa ducked, then cautiously hurried over to the doorway. Vassi swore quietly. She couldn’t see into the room. She stepped back and hurried along the path until it turned the corner of the house. Keeping an eye out for any more patrols, she ran hunched over alongside the house until she reached another window. The room inside was dark.

  Damn. She bent low, using the box hedge as cover to get to the next window, then peered inside. She gasped. The window was open, and she could clearly see and hear the goings on.

  Ryder was on his back on the floor, a dark-haired man wrestling on top of him. Vassi clenched her fists. She couldn’t get inside, damn it. She pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, then groaned. No charge. Damn it. She couldn’t call for help, couldn’t get inside. Not until the owner of the house invited her in. Ugh. It was so damn frustrating. She wanted to go in there and help her man—no, she needed to go in there and help her man. She’d never felt this strange compulsion to be so close to another, to put herself at risk for another, as she did for Ryder.

  Ryder roared, and the man he was fighting flew across the room, hitting the bookcase with enough force to break two shelves, books cascading down like a waterfall. He fell to the floor, but quickly got to his feet, as did Ryder.

  “You’re trying to get me killed, Hunter,” Ryder roared at his brother.

  “I think you’re accomplishing that on your own, brother dear,” Hunter yelled back. Head down, he charged at Ryder, tackling him up and over the reading desk. One of them, Vassi wasn’t sure which, kicked the desk lamp, and both Melissa and Dave ducked to avoid the missile. Dave met her gaze across the room, one hand facing out to her, the other pressing a finger to his lips.

  Vassi’s lips tightened. Hold and stay quiet. God, she didn’t think she could just stand by and watch Ryder face his dangerous brother.

  “You destroyed the apothecary,” Ryder said in a harsh voice as his brother tried to strangle him. Vassi reluctantly nodded. Maybe Ryder could get a confession out of his brother. With Dave and Melissa as witnesses, letting these brothers have at it could clear Ryder’s name. She didn’t like it, though.

  “I had to, to cover up your mistakes, you idiot,” Hunter rasped, then howled when Ryder used both hands to punch him in the chest. Vassi’s eyes widened as she saw the light flare, and then Hunter was tossed back against the shelves again. This time it took him a little longer to gain his feet, the front of his shirt smoking.

  “You can’t stand that I walked away,” Ryder gasped as he sat up on the desk. “You couldn’t just leave it alone.”

  “Oh, please,” Hunter scoffed. “You shamed the family, Ryder. You broke Dad’s heart. If I ‘left it alone’,” he said, using his fingers to parenthesise the air, “we’d probably all be in jail.”

  “Dad’s heart was broken long before I left, Hunter.”

  Both brothers glared at each other for a moment, breathless, sweaty and bleeding from small cuts.

  Ryder rose to his feet. “Is this about Debbie?”

  Hunter halted, his features screwed up as he met his brother’s glare with perplexity. “What? Debbie? No. This is all about you, you douche.”

  “You hate me so much?”

  Hunter put his hands on his hips. “Actually, now that you mention it, hate doesn’t quite cover it.” He cupped his hands, and an orb appeared above it, which he promptly hurled across the room.

  Vassi clapped her hand over her mouth as the power blast sent Ryder flying back over the desk and into the chair behind. The chair collapsed under the force of the hit, and Ryder groaned as he rolled off the debris. Hunter nodded. “That’s for Debbie.”

  Ryder coughed as he staggered to his feet. “How many times do I have to apologise for that?”

  “I loved her, damn it. You should have let her go.”

  Ryder swore. “I loved her, too,” he yelled back.

  Vassi gaped as the brothers glared at each other. Who the hell was Debbie?

  * * *

  Ryder closed his eyes. Damn it. It was one of those things that festered between him and his brother, like an infected blister ready to spew forth rancid emotion at the slightest pressure.

  “We both loved her, but we both couldn’t have her.” There was so much pain, so much antagonism between the two of them now. All because they’d loved the same woman.

  Hunter turned away from him. “Well, the favoured son strikes again. First Dad, then Debbie. You got everything, then you threw it away.”

  Ryder shook his head. “I didn’t throw anything away.”

  Hunter whirled on him, his expression raw with pain. “You threw her away. You let her die.” He flung another blast that caught Ryder and threw him against the side of the fireplace.

  Ryder grunted, then pulled himself up by clutching the mantelpiece. Hunter stalked toward him, his hand in front of him.

  “She had to decide, and she chose you. I get it.” Hunter’s shoulders sagged. “Damn it, you were supposed to take care of her.” The words were softly spoken, but carried so much pain.

  “I couldn’t protect h
er from you.”

  Hunter’s chin jerked back, as though struck. “What?” His voice had gone lethally quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder whispered. “You don’t know the full story, Hunter.”

  Hunter held out his arms. “Well, by all means, brother, enlighten me.”

  “She was already chosen for me, Hunter. Dad saw to that.”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what he does, Hunter, don’t tell me you don’t.” Their dearly beloved father enjoyed manipulating people, including his sons, pitting one against the other to see who was the stronger, over and over. He’d done it for as long as Ryder could remember. He had a special talent in that area.

  “What does Debbie have to do with what Dad does?”

  “Yes, Ryder, what does Debbie have to do with me?”

  Ryder glanced over his brother’s shoulder. His father stood in the ruined doorway, his eyebrows raised. He was dressed in a tux, a handsome, middle-aged man-about-town. He bent down and righted a chair, then draped his overcoat over the back of it. He turned to his sons with an expectant look on his face.

  “Does somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vassi ducked below the windowsill, her eyes wide. Good grief. Arthur Armstrong, in the flesh. Was this a good or a bad thing? She remembered all the stories and rumours she’d heard about Arthur Armstrong, and his son Hunter. She shuddered. Okay, maybe not so good. Where were Dave and Melissa? Had they hidden, or had Arthur found them? She hadn’t heard any scuffle from outside the room. Knowing Melissa, she wouldn’t have gone quietly. Neither would Dave, not without a fight. So, maybe they hid? God, she hoped they hid. There were three light warriors in the room. The odds weren’t good for any of them, and the two witches had no idea what they could be up against.

  She clenched her fists. She was still reeling from discovering Ryder had been in love before. It shouldn’t be such a surprise, really, but the raw pain in his voice when he spoke of this Debbie, the agony lining his face … it struck at her heart, and she didn’t know if she felt anger, or jealousy … or envy. She just knew she wanted to clasp him to her and kiss him until he forgot about this woman, until he focused on her, focused on the present, and perhaps a future. She sighed. Perhaps she wasn’t as evolved as she thought she was. Plain and simple, she wanted Ryder’s devotion directed at her, not a ghost.