“Thanks.”
Carol was far more casual. She squealed when she saw Gia and got up to hug her. “I saw the news. I can’t believe it. I am never getting involved in politics. Are you okay?”
“Tired and sore, but otherwise I’m good.” She glanced at the desk where a timid blonde in a bland gray skirt set peered at them from around the computer screen. “Ah, I’m here to see Mr. Carosa.”
The girl blinked at her a few times. “What’s your name?”
Carol burst out laughing.
“It’s Miss Carosa.”
The girl went red. “Oh, of course. Uh, he’s not busy right now. Go on in.”
“Thanks.” She swatted Carol’s arm. “Be nice, okay.”
“It’s fine. We get along, I swear. It’s good to see you again. Are you busy this weekend? We should do something.”
“I’ll text you. I should be free unless this whole thing at work really blows up.”
“Oh, don’t say that! I don’t need to see any more bombs on the news. Go on, your dad’s probably waiting for you.”
Her dad was watching the noon news report when she walked in. “How’s the market?” she said.
“Looking good, at least where it matters to me.” He hit the power button on the remote and came around to hug her. “You look tired.”
“I feel tired.” She’d worn a short-sleeved top under a light cardigan just for this lunch date, and now she slipped the cardigan off and hung it on the chair. Her shirt fully displayed the bandage on her arm.
He lightly touched the bandage. “No wonder your mother was in hysterics.”
“She was upset that you didn’t come for supper last night.”
“Important meeting came up.”
“Yes, she was saying you’ve had a lot more of those lately—after-hours meetings that even I didn’t know about. What’s going on Dad?”
He waved a hand dismissively, returning to his chair. “What do you want for lunch? If they won’t deliver, I’ll send someone to pick it up.”
“Salmon, from the grill up on Elmwood.”
“Done deal.” He picked up the phone and placed an order and then called down to the front desk to assign someone to pick up the meal. “Now, while we wait, tell me all about this shooting business.”
“There’s not much to tell that wasn’t on the news. They started shouting, and then they started shooting.”
“With no warning?”
Gia shook her head. Then she paused and after a moment said, “It’s not surprising, really. We just didn’t think they’d turn to violence so quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
“We had an email from an anonymous ‘concerned citizen’ condemning Brock for being too lenient on shifter issues. The email used a lot of the same language that the man at City Hall used—demonic curses and the like. They don’t understand that it’s a genetic condition, I guess.”
Her father shrugged. “People will believe much. How did Brock respond to this email?”
“Oh, he did all the proper things, reported it to police, held this conference. I think all further correspondence from these people will be forwarded straight to the police. They’re obviously not afraid of violence.”
“I’m sorry, Gia. If I had known this was going to happen, that you were going to get hurt, I never would have gotten you this position at City Hall.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have. A shifter for mayor? It only makes sense that his election is drawing the crazies from the woodwork.”
“Dad! Brock is doing a good job. It’s not his fault people hate things they don’t understand. He’s really trying to educate people. You saw how honest he was up there. A smarter man would have lied about some of the darker truths of shifters, but he didn’t.”
“There’s my second mistake,” he said, mournfully. “I’ve handed you over to my competition. You’ll never return now!”
She laughed. “Dad, you’re such a diva.”
“Don’t they get to wear nicer shoes.” He held up one leg, hiking up his pant leg to reveal a gray sock and a plain black dress shoe.
She was still laughing when lunch arrived.
As they settled into their meal, he said, “I’m serious though, Gia. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”
“Come on Dad, it’s not like you had a part in their plan. How could you possibly have known that madmen were going to show up at City Hall and try to shoot the mayor?”
“You’re right, of course. But I sit here thinking ‘I got her the job,’ and so that makes your injury my fault. If I had let you find your own job …”
I never would have met Brock Tandell.
“… you never would have gotten shot.”
“This is America, Dad. You can get shot anywhere. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Yes. Tell me all about these dreaded ‘shifter issues.’ I mean, we’ve known about shifters for seventy years. Why is this all coming out now?”
“Most people didn’t believe, I guess. It was rumor, like Hitler’s paranormal division. Rumor and tall tales and the like. Then there was that movie about ten years ago—that actor who turned out to really be a werewolf and shifted on screen. All hell broke loose after that.”
“There is no hiding anything anymore. It’s better to live clean than try to keep secrets. Remember that, Gia. Better to run a good, honest business than try to keep your secrets from the world. And if you do have secrets, expect them to come out some day.”
“Of course, Dad,” she said. Am I blushing? There’s no way he knows about the kiss. “Mostly people are worried because they think werewolves are like in the movies… big scary monsters.”
“Aren’t they? Brock admitted they aren’t teddy bears.”
“They’re not monsters! They’re people with another piece to them, a piece they can’t always control. I watched Brock fight to keep his bear under control. I think it’s like that for them all the time, to some degree. They fight it, Dad, they fight to find some balance.”
“You’ve worked with the man for less than a week. How can you be so sure?”
Because I looked into his eyes, the eyes of that great bear, and I saw the pain and the vulnerability and hope and fear. He wanted me to accept him, needed it. How many people have rejected him because of that bear? How many times has he asked for that curse of birth to be lifted from him? Does he wish for shifter children? Or human ones?
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately.”
“And what does Brock think of shifters and the law?”
“Well, a lot of the laws people want him to enact are actually out of his control. They’re under state or federal jurisdiction. He’s already started putting education programs in place for police and EMTs. I’m not sure there’s much else he could do. If he were a senator or a congressman or the president that would be different. He could make real changes then. As a mayor, well, I think people are asking too much from him. He’ll have his hands full with taxes and potholes and water mains.”
“And it looks like he’ll have his hands full with the Human Order as well.”
“I hope not. I really don’t want to be shot again.”
“I don’t want you to be shot either. Maybe you should leave the job.”
“If things look like they’re escalating, I’ll leave. Okay?”
“Okay! Can you blame a father for worrying?”
“No. Thanks for lunch, Dad. I should get back to work.”
“Of course. Don’t be a stranger. I’ll see you next week sometime.”
“If you’re not away on business, right?”
“That’s right. Have a good day.”
“All right. You too.”
When she got back to work there was a box of chocolates on her desk with a note. “Sorry I missed you. You were right. It was my fault. See you tomorrow, bright and early.” She took a look at the chocolates and nodded
, impressed. They were the good kind.
“Well, Mr. Tandell, this might just be worth getting shot in the arm.” She opened the box and popped one in her mouth. If the kiss wasn’t worth it, these definitely were.
Chapter 9
Brock was the last to arrive at the warehouse on the night of the full moon. “More reporters?” Remy said.
“Tomorrow, I’m painting the damn windows black,” he said. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.”
Phillipe, the large man with hair almost as golden as his eyes, shrugged. “Better late than trailing cameras.”
Remy nodded. “Let’s begin. The moon’s call will soon be too strong to ignore.”
The six members of the clan stripped. They had all seen each other naked before and would many times again. Because of the nature of the change, a certain familiarity had to exist between members of a clan, but that familiarity didn’t mean they casually undressed around each other on any other occasion. Because of the forced familiarity brought on by the change, they were extremely concerned with and respectful of each other’s privacy the rest of the time.
“We are gathered here tonight to answer the moon’s eternal call. We, her children, answer and offer our beasts to her glory.”
The words Remy spoke were old. Brock remembered being a boy, preparing for his first change at eleven, and his father explaining the words of tradition to him.
“Our change is almost impossible to resist under the light of the full moon. No one knows why this is, but our ancestors believed the moon was a goddess, the mother of the shifters.”
Young Brock had stared at his father with wide-eyed amazement as the older man spun tales of ancient days and the ancient religious rituals that went with them.
“Most shifters don’t believe the moon is a goddess anymore, but traditions are important, so the clan leader says the words every month when we meet under the full moon. Because it is important for us to remember where we came from. Especially now as our numbers dwindle.”
In the present, the clan said “for her glory eternal,” in one voice, and then they gave in to the change.
As always, Brock’s hands and feet changed first. He had to be careful to have his clothes off before the change started because once it started his thumbs disappeared. Jules went nose to tail. Each in turn changed in their own way, quick or slow, motley or smooth, different to each one but the same every time.
Soon six bears stood in the circle. Phillipe was the only bear with brown fur, and Jane was the smallest. Jules was black with a brown muzzle, and Remy was black with a white crescent on his chest. For a long moment, they eyed each other warily as the confusion of the change faded and man and beast joined together in the minds of the bears.
Then they were off in search of food. In preparation for the full moon, the barrels had been stuffed with food and stuck in hard to reach places. The bears climbed and bashed and pulled and pushed and rolled the barrels around until they finally worked the tops off with their great paws. They ate and argued and wrestled and played.
Somewhere near dawn they began to yawn, and slowly, one by one, they returned to their human forms.
“I hate when this is in the middle of the week,” Jane said. “I’m going to be exhausted at work tomorrow.”
“Couldn’t book the day off?” Phillipe asked. He worked nights as a bouncer for a fancy club and was going home to sleep for twelve hours.
“No. At least if I’m tired my bear won’t want to rip the faces off my obnoxious co-workers.”
They all chuckled at that.
“What about you?”
Brock looked at them. “Budget meeting. Again. Thank God Gia knows what’s going on. She’ll keep me awake and on point.”
“You’re not sleeping with her, are you?” Phillipe said.
All eyes turned to Brock. “No, I’m not. I’ve known her less than two weeks and I work with her. I can’t have the papers running stories about sex scandals in City Hall.”
“But you want to.”
Brock glared at Philippe. Brock didn’t work out enough to take the other man in a fair fight, but right now he wanted to punch him, clan rules be damned. “No, I don’t.”
It was a lie and he knew it even as he said it. But he put the force of his temper behind the words and hoped that was enough to hide the lie from his clan.
If they sensed it, they didn’t call him on it.
“At least she’s trustworthy,” Remy said. “Took good care of him after the shooting. We shouldn’t have to worry about her turning on us.”
No one said Stephanie’s name. No one mentioned Jules’ father either.
“It’s late,” Remy went on. “Or early, depending on how you look at it. I’m ordering you all to go home.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” Jane muttered, grabbing her purse from the chair.
The guys chuckled. Jane could be argumentative at the best of times. Feeling relaxed and in good spirits, they headed for their cars.
Brock got home with two hours to sleep, shower, change, and eat before he’d have to leave for work. No being late today—not with the budget meeting scheduled for first thing. He’d be in that conference room all morning juggling numbers and priorities. Not for the first time, he considered himself lucky to have an assistant with a background in business. Gia understood numbers and budgets and accounting, and she was organized.
Maybe when Marsha comes back I can entice Gia into working for my company for a while. And not as someone’s assistant either. I’d offer her a client account to manage.
He was in his room stripping down with the intent of catching an hour’s sleep. Maybe he could push it to an hour and a half if he rushed through the shower and had coffee for breakfast. Sleep was winning out over food. Sleep had been winning out over everything, and thoughts of schedules and budget meetings were boring enough to keep it that way. But thinking about Gia changed things.
He crawled into bed thinking about her. It started out innocent enough. He pictured her face, slender and smooth. Her skin was soft, her lips full and warm. He remembered kissing her. It had been one hell of a kiss, enough to wake his arousal. He’d managed to calm himself and stay calm while they got her through the hospital and then back to City Hall to pick up her car, but he’d been aching by the time he got home.
He was feeling pretty hot again now. Her face haunted him. Whenever he closed his eyes, she was there, smiling. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to see where the kiss would lead. She’d responded to him with hunger. There was nothing timid about the way she fisted her hand in his hair and pressed her lips against his. He didn’t like timid women.
The heat was concentrating in his groin, and he knew he was getting hard just thinking about her. He’d held her close, knew there was strength in her, but he longed for what he hadn’t been able to feel. He longed to know how smooth and soft the skin of her arms and stomach were. He wanted to trace every curve and dimple, explore the rise and fall of her body with his hands, and with his mouth. He wanted to taste more than her lips.
He wanted to feel her, skin to skin, pressed against his body. He wanted to sleep like that, wrapped around her, the heat of her melting into him.
Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2) Page 26
