Deadlock: Southern Arcana, Book 3

by Moira Rogers

  “And here I was about to say it seems too easy.” Alec’s gaze unfocused. “Strong enough to get on the council. Strong enough to hold against challenges. Willing to lead, but capable of following too.”

  “My brother.” He’d kill her for even thinking it, much less mentioning it to Alec, but it was true. “You need Julio.”

  He laughed suddenly. “Hell, if we’re going to break all the rules, why go small? Andrew. Andrew can damn near take me out. He can win a challenge.”

  Carmen’s heart began to pound. “It isn’t breaking the rules because the rules are already broken.”

  “Oh, it’s breaking all of the rules,” he whispered. “All the ones no one ever wrote down because they just are. The rules that need to be smashed into pieces.”

  Exactly what she’d meant, but it didn’t matter. She moved without thinking, sliding her hands up to his face. “Could you do it? If you weren’t alone?”

  “Depends.” He gripped her hips and pulled her close, seemingly unconcerned with the attention they were attracting. “Will I have you?”

  It was so much more than anything they’d discussed before, and it took her the span of a breath to know the answer. “You’ll have me, no matter what you do.”

  He smiled, a smile full of warmth and excitement and hope, and then, in front of half the people they knew and a dozen they didn’t, he dragged her to him and kissed her.

  He kissed her as if nothing had ever been more vital, as if he would never stop, and nothing penetrated the haze of pleasure and possession until she heard both of her brothers calling her name in unison.

  She broke away and turned to Miguel, who held the neatly lettered list she’d made for Kat. “Hate to break it up,” he murmured, his cheeks red, “but you told us you’d put this in order so we knew what to track down first.”

  “Right.” They had twelve hours to find most of the equipment, eighteen at the outside. “I have to do this, Alec. Can you go see if Franklin is awake? Even if he’s not…tell him Sera’s on her way, would you?”

  “Will do.” Alec smoothed back her hair and smiled. “We can do this.”

  “Yes.” The council, the makeshift clinic, all of it. “We can.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Someone had brought a banged-up old card table upstairs. Someone else had provided flimsy folding chairs. Kat had given him one of her stupidly small computers, one with a keyboard so tiny he could barely type on it. A handful of cell phones lay scattered across his makeshift desk, tangled with phone lists and the files he’d had Jackson retrieve from the office.

  A humble beginning for a revolution, but Alec supposed people had started with less.

  They’d certainly started with less manpower. The room he’d claimed was a good twenty feet long and half that across, but with Julio, Andrew and Derek standing around the table, the place bristled with tense, uneasy power. It was almost a relief that Nick and Mackenzie had gone to raid Nick’s bar for food and supplies—six dominant shifters in so small a space would have been damn near unlivable.

  Not that it was comfortable now. Only Derek seemed at ease as he sprawled in one of the chairs. “So. This is how coups start?”

  Julio snorted. “I’m sure the new, civilized Conclave would call it a hostile takeover.”

  After the last couple years, Alec suspected John Peyton might call it cleaning house, if he were allowed to express such sentiments out loud. “I put out a few calls. Tried to see if anyone could remember anything like this happening in the past.”

  Andrew leaned one shoulder against the wall. “And?”

  “Not at the council level. And not by people with good intentions.” Gangs, mostly, taking over local cities by challenging their way through the power structure and eliminating resistance in their path. Petty criminals who used the force of numbers because they didn’t have the power to stand against the council wolves, and whose own unsuitability worked against them. The one united front the councils and Conclave could muster was their response to criminals working their way up the food chain.

  Maybe they don’t like the competition.

  Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “So when I beat Coleman and refused to take his Conclave seat, I pretty much fucked up the whole system, didn’t I?”

  “They wouldn’t have let you have it,” Julio told him. “You won his council seat. Leadership on the Conclave isn’t transferable, not like that. You would have still had to win out over the other members of the Southeast council.”

  Alec nodded his agreement. “The hole on the council didn’t help matters, though. None of ’em dared jump until they knew who’d be at their backs. There’s no system set up for something like that—Coleman’s challenger should have taken his seat. If he’d died in an accident, his son might take his spot, but they’re weren’t going to let his daughter have that seat, even if she wanted it.”

  “My cousin, Veronica.” Julio shook his head. “It’s the last thing she ever planned for. Don’t think Uncle Cesar never considered the Maglieri precedent, though.”

  Andrew’s brows drew together. “What does that mean?”

  “When her husband died, Enrica Maglieri took over his council seat—and then his spot on the Conclave. Cesar would like to do the same thing with Coleman’s wife—my Aunt Teresa. The Mendozas would have two council members.”

  Understanding dawned in Andrew’s eyes. “And she could back all of his plays.”

  “Yeah,” Alec said. “Except Enrica Maglieri is a stone-cold alpha bitch who had the strength to trample over all the men in her council.” Teresa Coleman—Teresa Mendoza, again, he supposed, with Noah finally gone—was a woman beaten down by time and her own brutal husband. She’d never have the strength to take a council seat, or the ruthlessness needed to keep one.

  Derek seemed to make the same connection and took it to the next logical step—the same one Carmen had seen so clearly from her vantage point outside of the system. “So you need someone to back your plays.” His gaze found Julio, then Andrew. “Two someones.”

  Julio groaned and covered his face. Andrew, on the other hand, seemed oblivious as he nodded. “Derek’s a logical choice. That empty seat is already his by tradition.”

  Any hint of easygoing relaxation vanished from Derek’s face. “I’m married. And my wife’s sister is the one person these wolves pretty much universally fear and loathe. I’ll be damned before I do anything that’ll draw that much attention to Michelle and her kid.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “You, Andrew.” Derek leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Alec wants you to take over the world with him.”

  He must have understood after all, at least on some level, because his answer was immediate—and absolute. “Like hell.”

  Alec choked back a sigh. “Julio, Derek? Would you two give us a minute?”

  Julio held Alec’s gaze as he backed toward the door. “I’ll stand and I’ll fight, Jacobson, but I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  The first test of leadership—and one he was long accustomed to. He knew how to be confident for the people counting on him. “Wouldn’t start a fight I couldn’t end. Count on that.”

  Derek was slower to leave. He met Andrew’s gaze, ignoring Alec completely. “Say the word and I’ll stay.”

  But the blond man shook his head. “I’m good. Go.”

  The door clicked shut behind Derek, and Alec turned to face Andrew squarely. “This isn’t some tiny thing I’m asking of you. Julio’s got legacy. I’ve got legacy. You’d be rocking their pretty little world to its core.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Andrew dropped to a chair with a snort. “Will it help? Is this stunt something that could put you—all of us—in place to really change some shit?”

  That was the question. “I could hold my own against the Conclave, if I needed to. Give the Alpha someone at his back who wants the same changes he does. He’s been fighting on his own for a long damn time. But I can’t focus on that i
f I’ve got to worry about the Southeast council sticking a knife in my back.”

  “And that’s where Julio and I come in, right? Make sure the rest of them aren’t planning to dogpile you.”

  “That, and keep this region running.” Alec turned to the desk and dug through the stack of files until he found the one pertaining to the various councils. He’d kept up with the information because knowing was important if you wanted to stay safe outside the system, and now he could use it to get in.

  A worn and creased map was tucked between two lists of council members, and Alec pulled it out and unfolded it on the table. “Southeast region,” he said, jabbing his finger at Louisiana. “Us. Arkansas. Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, both of the Carolinas, both of the Virginias, and Kentucky. Right now there are council members in DC, Memphis, Miami, Charleston and Atlanta.”

  “Jesus.” Andrew studied the map, his jaw set in a tense line. “What does a council member do?”

  “When they’re doing their job? Mediate disputes between cities, sometimes within cities. Use tithes collected from the packs under their protection to provide resources. Fund clinics, like Franklin’s. Deal with problems that might expose us, pass judgment on minor infractions. Just…keep people safer.”

  He sat back and flashed Alec a disbelieving look. “You already do half that stuff here.”

  “Yeah. I do.” He gave Andrew the truth. “And I was thinking you’d step up to help me, sooner rather than later. Julio would be a lot of help, but you’re the one I need at my back. You’re the one I trust with my city.”

  Andrew made the logical leap easily. “If you take the Conclave seat, you’ll be spending most of your time in New York. Like Nick’s dad.”

  Something else Alec could only hope Carmen had realized. Uneasiness stirred, and he fought it back. “I’d have to be there a lot. But that doesn’t mean we can’t run things differently. Hell, if I give Kat enough money, she’ll build some magical computer shit that’ll make it seem like I’m on hand 24/7.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?” Andrew rose and paced across the room. “I’ll do it. We’ll all do it, because there isn’t anything else to do. We have to take care of things.”

  “It’s who you are now. Who you’ll always be.”

  He turned his gaze on Alec. “No time like the present, I guess. I’m in.”

  Alec should have left it there. He should have counted his victory. But Andrew was more than just a mentee. More than a trusted lieutenant. Andrew was a friend, and he hurt, whether he could admit or not. “Is it going to be too much? Having to work with Julio when his little brother’s…” Climbing all over Kat.

  “He’s not responsible for what his brother does.”

  Andrew’s voice held an implacable edge that made it clear the topic of Kat was off-limits. “Fine. Stick your head out the door and drag those other two back in here, would you?”

  Only Julio came back in. “Derek had to go find Nick. I think it’s just us, anyway.”

  Better to keep Derek out of it. Alec shuffled through the files again, remembering what he’d said to Carmen the other day. “Drummond Hughes is the worst of the lot. He’s the one who claimed Coleman’s empty seat. He did it by killing every challenger who came against him, even though challenges at the council level are almost never to the death.”

  “He’s a vicious bastard,” Julio agreed.

  “Then he’s mine.” Andrew growled the words.

  No more protecting him. Alec nodded and handed over the file. “You should go to Zola and Walker. Walker’s got experience in fights to the death. I’m sure he knows things neither of us would consider.” And if they were about to bring down the wrath of the wolves, it was only fair to warn the only lion pride in the United States. Zola might even be an ally—if she thought the risk was worth it.

  Two more files lay on his desk. Alec glanced up at Julio. “I know you and Alan Reed have had your problems, but he’s a capable leader. And he’s fair, when you’re not boning his daughter.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The younger man had the grace to blush a little. “He’s not a bad guy, and he’ll go with the flow. All he needs to do the right thing is a push in that general direction.”

  “Same can’t be said of Sam Hopkins. He’s not as dangerous as Hughes, but he’s a sadistic bastard who’s more interested in entertaining himself than taking care of anyone else.”

  “Levesque is all right,” Julio offered. “That leaves Hopkins and my uncle.”

  “Hopkins and your uncle,” Alec agreed. It would be so easy to let Julio do the dirty work. Wash his hands of Cesar Mendoza and face Carmen with a clear conscience, safe in the knowledge that someone else would be fighting the bastard.

  Easy. Cowardly. “Cesar’s mine to challenge, Julio.”

  Julio’s hands clenched into fists on the table. “I knew you were going to do that.”

  For so many reasons. “Your uncle is still in his prime. He’s been preparing himself for a Conclave bid. You can be sure that means he’s been training. And he’s backed into a corner and he knows it.”

  “He’s my uncle. It’s my fight.”

  Alec wanted to hold back, blunt the truth. The words were horrible to think and even worse to say, but he had to. “He’s your uncle. That might not stop him from killing you.”

  He saw the understanding reflected in Julio’s eyes. “It wouldn’t stop him, not in the slightest.”

  “You don’t have the experience to fight him.” Alec planted his fists on the table and leaned in. “Or if you think you do, why don’t you give me a try, right now. See which of us is more prepared for this fight.”

  “Can you handle him?” Julio shot back. “Because you may not be thinking about it, but I’m more than a little worried about what’ll happen to Carmen if our uncle tears out your throat.”

  Alec had been fighting one thing or another since he was old enough to stand. First at his parents’ behest, as they gave him all the lessons they thought he’d need to take power. At eighteen, he’d run off and joined the army. Then years of mercenary work, more years of fighting other shifters. Challenges. Self-defense. Training—his own and training others.

  It seemed like most of his life had been preparing him for this, for the one thing he’d always sworn he’d never do, but he could answer Julio honestly. “I’m not going to let your uncle tear my throat out. I can beat him.”

  Julio capitulated with a short nod. “Okay. Your fight. Win it so we can get down to business. I’ll take care of Hopkins.”

  Instinct prompted caution. “I think we should keep you two a secret. Not give them any chance to steal our idea and start making alliances.” Alec straightened and nodded to Julio. “People won’t be surprised if I challenge your uncle, not after this. And the whole council will have to show up to witness the fight.”

  Andrew leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Then we’d better get the word out. About that much, at least.”

  The windowless room gave no hint about time, but it had to be approaching dawn now. Friday. The Conclave would spend the weekend calling in favors to cover up Cesar’s mess and deciding on an appropriate punishment. Cesar himself would be tied up in defending himself.

  “Monday,” Alec said firmly. “We need a few days to get into place, make sure all of our people are protected. I’ll issue the challenge Monday and, as the challenger, I’ll get to set the time. A week from today, here in New Orleans.”

  His co-conspirators nodded in agreement, and Julio spoke up. “A week will give anyone who’s interested a chance to get here. And everyone will be interested.”

  They sure as fuck would be. “Then let’s give them something to spend the next twenty years talking about.”

  “Carmen!”

  Someone had a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. Anger that felt like Kat pierced through sleep, and Carmen bolted straight up in her chair. “What is it? What happened?”

  Kat�
�s blue eyes were ice. Her fingers curled into fists as she straightened, and she spoke through clenched teeth. “Sera’s here.”

  The rage licking at the edge of Carmen’s consciousness doubled. “Is she all right?”

  “No.” Kat pivoted and stalked to the door. “You’ll see what I mean.”

  Fuck. Carmen hurried to follow. After the things Franklin and Alec had said, not to mention the way Sera had acted on the phone, the possibilities were few—and very, very specific.

  Kat led Carmen to one of the exam rooms, where a tired-looking young woman leaned against the wall. She had Franklin’s hazel eyes and freckles and the same red hair, though hers hung in a long braid spilling over one shoulder.

  She also had a black eye, the bruise spreading down across one pale cheek.

  The fatigue hit Carmen first, followed by the fear and hopelessness. She shoved both aside and yanked the plastic off a stool before pulling it close to Sera. “Sit down for a second, sweetie.”

  “I’m fine.” Such an obvious lie that Kat made an outraged noise, like a kettle about to boil over.

  “Kat.” Carmen steeled her voice as she situated herself between the other two women. “Can you give us a minute alone? Please?”

  After a moment, Kat sighed and retreated, stopping just short of actually slamming the door behind her.

  When she was gone, Sera tried for a smile. “It looks worse than it is. It’s healing. It’ll be gone in a day or two, I think.”

  As if that made it okay. Carmen probed Sera’s cheekbone gently. “Did he hit you anywhere else?”

  “No.” The fear strengthened, undercut by an odd thread of satisfaction. “He hit first, but I hit harder. Actually, I beaned him with my KitchenAid.”

  “One of the little ones, or a big pro model?”

  Sera choked on a hysterical little laugh. “The six-quart one. It was really nice. Guess he shouldn’t have bought it for me, though, if he wanted to start beating me up in the kitchen.”

  “I don’t think anything’s broken.” She stepped back. “I’m Carmen, by the way.”