They went into his office where containers of Chinese takeout sat on the low table in front of the couch.
“Things must be busy at work if you’re working at home on the weekends,” he said. “Help yourself. I think I got too much.”
“Way too much,” she agreed. “But it smells great. I was just trying to get caught up, really. It’s a bit of a learning curve for me. I found something interesting and texted Brock about it, so he came by to take a look and confirm that I was reading things right. Looks like we found some useful funds.”
“Nothing quite so exciting as money—especially when it’s someone else’s money. I saw the news. How is Brock handling the attacks?”
“He’s taken a strong stance against them, of course. He’s stressing that The Human Order is hurting humans and that shifters are really just humans with a genetic condition. We did the math today,” she said, leaving Officer Jameson out of the conversation. “It affects roughly one person in seven hundred thousand. Of course, those affected are closely linked to each other. There’s a forty percent chance of a child being a shifter if they have one shifter parent and ninety percent if both parents are shifters. It’s somewhere in between if one is a shifter and one isn’t but has shifter blood in the family, and it’s lower than a one percent chance of two humans having a shifter child. The recessive gene is very recessive.”
“If it’s genetic, could they stop it altogether? Or use selective breeding to increase their numbers?”
She laughed. “Dad, they’re human. That’s like asking if the Irish will start a selective breeding program to increase the number of gingers in North America.”
“That’s true. What was I thinking? More rice?”
“No, but I’ll take more of that ginger pork. You know I’m going to have to jog back to City Hall just to burn these calories.”
“Nothing wrong with your weight. So what does this strong stance include?”
“Harsh words,” Gia said. “He’s a mayor, not a senator. If you want action, look to the president. Brock’s hands are tied because nothing else is happening in New Orleans.” Again, she left out their visit to the police station. It felt strange, lying by omission, but Brock was right. She wasn’t going to tell her father about kissing Brock, so why tell him about the police?
Chapter 12
“How was dinner with your mom?” Brock asked as they climbed into his car. They had an early meeting across town.
Gia sighed. “I love her, and I know she’s worried about me, but it’s been three weeks since the attack. She’s a good cook, but she forces me to eat way too much. She sends all the left overs home with me, and she wants me to stay and talk until late. I think she’s looking for an excuse to make me move back home.”
“Sounds to me like she cares.”
“She could care from a distance. I wouldn’t mind the break,” Gia said.
“You’d miss it,” he said.
“Sorry. I forget that you lost your parents.”
“It’s been long enough that the grief is a faded thing, but there are some things you never stop missing.”
He parked the car and they walked up to the building. He stopped suddenly, his body going stiff.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I just thought I saw someone I recognized.” I thought I saw Stephanie, but she moved to Baton Rouge after our breakup.
“Well come on, we can’t be late. We’re headed for the top floor.”
Once in the elevator, he said, “You’ve been reading up for this meeting. Tell me what you think.”
“I think you’re giving me more work than an administrative assistant is supposed to do.”
“I am, yes, but only because I want to see how you handle it. If you were headed up there for a business meeting what would you think?”
She took a deep breath and started pacing back and forth in the elevator. “It’s an exciting opportunity,” she said.
She had reached the far end and pivoted back toward where he stood leaned in the corner when the elevator lurched to a halt between floors. The sudden movement pitched her forward into his arms. The lights flickered out, and a moment later the emergency lights came on.
“What just happened?” she asked. She was so close he could feel her heart pounding.
“I don’t know. We’ll be moving again soon, I’m sure.”
“You could let go,” she said.
He could. He should. “I don’t want to,” he said.
She looked up, ready to say something snippy, and he kissed her.
She melted. She couldn’t help it. A little voice in her head was saying something about bad ideas, but she wasn’t listening. She wanted to untuck his shirt and reach a hand underneath, but they were on their way to a meeting and she couldn’t get him rumpled. All she could do was let him hold her tight against his muscled chest and kiss her passionately. One of his hands moved to cup her ass.
“I want you,” he said, his voice rough with need. “If I could lock those doors, I’d take you right here.”
“Brock, don’t say things like that,” she whispered, and then he was kissing her again.
The lights flickered on and he released her. She pulled away slowly and smoothed her clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You were right there. I couldn’t resist you.”
“I should slap you,” she said with no real force in her voice.
The door opened and a woman rushed over. “Oh my God, are you two okay?”
“Yes,” Brock said, smiling. “Just stuck in the elevator for a moment. Someone should probably let maintenance know …”
“You mean you don’t know what happened?”
Brock and Gia looked at each other for a moment and then Brock said, “No, I guess we don’t.”
“The power went out in the whole building, and then these people in masks stormed in and barricaded all the doors. We’re stuck in here.”
Brock pulled out his phone.
“The cops are down on the sidewalk,” said the secretary.
“I’m calling one officer in particular,” he said. And then, “Jameson, this is Brock Tandell. I’m with Miss Carosa. We’re on the top floor of the One Shell Square.”
“Shit.”
“That’s what I was thinking. It’s them, isn’t it?”
“We think so. If you’re there, then there’s a good chance it is.”
“One of the companies owned by my corporation has offices here. That may be the target as well. Us being here may be coincidence.”
“Maybe. Thanks for the information. Keep your heads down, and whatever you do, don’t shift.”
The line went dead.
Gia’s face was grim.
“We need to stay out of the way, all of us,” Brock said. “My contact at the police station has confirmed that this building has been taken by unknown men and that they are trying to negotiate.”
“He said all that in such a short conversation,” Gia murmured.
Brock shot her a stern look and then turned back to the people who were gathering near the elevator. “This is a bad place for us to be. Is there a centralized conference room or a few offices, away from the elevators and windows?”
“Yes,” someone said.
“Then go there. Don’t blurt out your location on social media but do let your loved ones know you are safe for the time being.”
Gia sat on a chair in a corner of a crowded conference room watching Brock moving around talking to people. Every now and then, he’d check his phone. They’d been locked on the top floor of the One Shell Square building for hours already and there had been no update. Someone was watching the news, and Gia could see the screen. Cops lined the street, and behind them a crowd waited.
She was hungry and thirsty and her back and butt hurt. And watching Brock was making her antsy. At least I don’t have to sit through a business meeting. He kisses me like that and then what? I’m supposed to just focus o
n this stupid meeting? He’s got guts. I really should have slapped him. But beneath this running narrative of irritation was a longing to be swept up in his arms again and to let him kiss her and caress her and rumple her up.
When anyone talked, it was in a low voice. The tension was thick in the air.
Down the hall, they heard heavy footsteps coming from the direction of the emergency stairwell. Everyone pulled back away from the door—everyone except Brock. Silence descended on the room, and all eyes were glued to the door.
The door swung inward and they were faced with four police officers in tactical gear. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” Brock said. “You’re the first people we’ve seen since the building was locked down.”
“Go with this officer here. He will escort you downstairs. We’re still sweeping this floor.”
“Is the attack over?” someone said.
“Go with this officer. Everything will be explained when you get down to the street.”
It was slow going. They had to descend fifty-plus stories, and some of the people were older or not in good physical condition. Most of the women were wearing heels. They were scared and stiff.
Gia was helping an older man down the stairs. Behind her, she could hear Brock talking to someone, encouraging them to keep moving.
When they got down to the lobby they were hurried out of the building. Officer Jameson beckoned Brock and Gia over, and they left their group to talk to him.
“You were right. It was coincidence that you were here. They hit your offices on the twelfth floor. They hit two other office buildings in New Orleans and three in New York—all of them had offices being used by companies you owned.”
“Did we catch them?”
“That’s the thing. We caught two dozen men total, but so far we haven’t turned up any sign that they took anything from the offices. They had no USB drives or memory cards or even phones or tablets on them. Whatever they did, they did it digitally.”
“Or they had inside help,” Brock said.
“I’m talking to you as Brock Tandell the business man. Your corporation got hit in a big way today. We need to pursue this.”
“You can have access to whatever you need. I will call head office before the end of the day and tell them that they are to cooperate fully. Did they say why they did this?”
“Besides the fact that you’re demon scum? They said you’re stealing money from humans and stock piling it for the shifters to help them take over the world.” Jameson shrugged. “They’re fanatics.”
“If they went after money, they’ll be well-funded fanatics soon. And well-funded means well-armed.”
“Yeah, we thought of that. We had a judge freeze all of your corporate assets to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I should be pissed—that’s going to wreak havoc on my business dealings—but thank you. I don’t want to be funding these people and their agenda.”
“Can I offer you some advice?”
“Sure.”
“Boost your security at all your offices and at City Hall and your house. The Human Order of New Orleans has targeted you, and they are not going to rest until they take you down. We intercepted more emails last week. Their language is escalating, and they’ve chosen you as a figurehead for the whole shifter population—a kingpin of sorts.”
“I wasn’t big into comics, but I know enough to know that Kingpin wasn’t a good guy.”
“No, he wasn’t, and they don’t think you are either.”
“What do you think, Officer Jameson?”
“I think you’ve been cooperating and that’s good enough for me. I’ll stay out of the politics of the shifter issue, if it’s all the same to you. Until someone tells me otherwise, I’ll treat you the same as any other person I have to deal with in this job.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 13
The attacks at the office buildings happened on Monday three-and-a-half weeks after the first attack at City Hall. In those three weeks, six attacks against shifters occurred and were claimed by The Human Order. In the week following the office attacks, four more shifters were attacked.
Brock was starting to jump at shadows. He’d hardly slept. Between keeping up on the news of the attacks, conference calls with the clan because Remy deemed it too dangerous to meet in person, business calls dealing with the attacks and the frozen assets, and his work as mayor, the stress had him too tightly wound to sleep.
He could see it taking a toll on Gia as well. She didn’t smile as much. She drank more coffee than he suspected was normal for her. She stood too close to him in elevators and had lost her cheerful, animated personality. He missed the real her, and it was hurting him to watch her retreat into a timid shell.
Worse, on two other occasions, he could have sworn he’d seen his ex-girlfriend hovering. Once, when he came out of a coffee shop with his hands full, he thought she was standing across the street in the doorway of a business, and once as he was leaving work he thought he saw her at the far end of the parking lot. He kept telling himself that she was in Baton Rouge.
It was a week after the office attacks, only a few days until the full moon, and Brock was already exhausted. He came into Gia’s office and said, “What does Friday look like?”
“Busy. Why?”
“Anything we can’t reschedule?”
“No, I can move it. Are you going to make it until Thursday?”
“I’m tired. Tired is good.”
She tilted her head to the side, and for a moment she was there, bright and curious, waiting for an explanation.
“Tired is safe. We’re less likely to shift when we’re tired.”
“Well you look exhausted,” she said. “And if you’re going to be up all night Thursday, you’re going to be passed out Friday. I’ll move the schedule around. You’ve earned a day off.”
“Just don’t tell the taxpayers, right?”
That got a little laugh from her, and then her shoulders drooped and she retreated again into her own stress and exhaustion. That visible pulling back hurt him. He wanted to keep her safe, keep her happy, and with everything going on he was failing miserably.
“You should take Friday off too. Go get your nails done, have dinner with your dad…”
“I’m having dinner with him Thursday, actually. But I might take you up on that. I’ll hang the ‘gone fishing’ sign on the door and we’ll both try to shake this whole thing off.”
“If only it were that simple.” He started to walk away and then he paused. “Gia, I’m sorry you had to get stuck in this job during this whole mess.”
“Well, I’m learning a lot. Mostly I’m learning that politics is not for me. Have you heard anything from Marsha?”
“Not in a few weeks. I’m going to look over that school board proposal.”
Alone in his office, he reached for the phone instead of the file on his desk and dialed Marsha’s cell number.
“Hello?”
Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2) Page 29
