“Hey, Marsha, it’s Brock. Just thought I’d check in.”
“Oh, hey, uh, you’re not going to ask me to come back right away are you?”
“Gia is holding down the fort just fine.”
“Gia?”
“The temp. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, sure, we’re holding up okay. Scary shit on the news, right? How’s the business coping?”
“The board of directors is furious, but the company will survive. The cops froze our assets. Under any other circumstances I’d be pissed about that, but I think it saved us a lot of money. We’ll lose a few clients we were after, but it can’t be helped. But I didn’t call to complain. How’s your sister?”
“My sister?”
“Yeah, the one you’re visiting.”
“Oh, yeah, well we’re still waiting to see how things turn out, and maybe we’ll stay a while longer, you know, just to be here for her, in case.”
“Marsha, what’s wrong?”
Marsha broke down sobbing. “I’m sorry Brock,” she wailed. “I had to leave. I have to stay here. They threatened my sister if I didn’t take a leave of absence. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He didn’t need to ask who. “I’m not mad. You stay in New York until this is sorted out.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m telling the police. They need to know. They’re…”
“No! Please! They’ll hurt her. They’ll hurt my husband… my family. Please, don’t tell—not yet.”
He sighed. “Okay, but at some point I have to tell them. It could mean the difference between catching these bastards or letting them hurt someone else.”
“I know. Thank you, thank you.”
Gia banged on the door and stuck her head in. “Call on four—Remy. He said it’s urgent.”
“Marsha, I have to go.”
“Thank you, Brock.”
“I will call you again soon.” He hung up and hit the button to switch lines. “This is Brock.”
“There was another attack,” Remy said.
“Where?”
“Here. New Orleans.”
“Shit. Who?”
“Patrick. And Philippe.”
Gia heard the phone hit the cradle and went to the door. Brock was pacing, doing laps around the office and covering each length in three strides. “You don’t look tired anymore.”
“They attacked my clan,” he said. His voice was low, calm; it didn’t match his body language.
“Do you want to go see him?”
Brock shook his head, still pacing. “They’ll be waiting to see who visits him. They may use him as bait. Remy says none of us can go. They hit his friend too—a wolf. Remy says the pack is pulling together to grieve.”
“I know this is close to home…”
“And days before the full moon. They want a massacre at the fucking hospital! They think they can force the two to shift in the hospital.”
“Will they?”
Brock shook his head. “Remy relayed information through the police. They’ll be sedated and moved to a reinforced location in the psychiatric ward. There’s almost no chance they’ll shift, and even if they do they should stay sedated in animal form. At least the wolf will—he’s smaller. The bear gets so large, sometimes the sedatives don’t work. Sometimes some shifters don’t react well to the drugs. We have to take that chance. We can’t have them ripping the hospital apart.”
“You could take the week off. I’m sure, all things considered, people would understand.”
“I will not run with my tail between my legs,” he bellowed.
She flinched.
Before she could move he was in front of her, her hands tight in his. “I’m sorry. It’s the stress. It’s getting so heavy. I can’t believe this is happening. Philippe, he’s my friend. We grew up in the same clan. He’s a little younger than me, and I was there the first time he shifted with the clan. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve this.”
She stared up into his face with wide eyes, and a soft, gentle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I believe you. I’m sorry your friend got hurt. They’ll get this under control soon. They have to.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Gia left City Hall Thursday afternoon and went straight to the Greek diner where she was meeting her father for dinner. He was waiting for her and stood as she came over. “You look tired,” he said. “What news from City Hall?”
“It’s getting worse. This Human Order business has everyone on edge.”
“And you keep getting in the middle of it. You should quit.”
“Dad, it’s a good job. It’s stressful right now, but the work itself is good. The whole point was for me to get experience, and I’m getting it. I don’t want to leave the job now.”
“Gia, I don’t want to see you get hurt. You need to distance yourself from Brock Tandell before he gets you killed.”
“He’s not doing this, Dad! It’s not his fault some people are violent assholes.”
He sat back, studying her while she focused on her napkin. Finally, he said, “You’re right, of course. This was not Brock’s fault. No, he’s not the one to blame. Still, I would feel better if you’d come back to Carosa Holdings. I’ll give you that promotion, give you a few clients of your own. I know your mom would feel better about that too.”
Leave City Hall? Leave Brock? But if I leave my position, then Brock and I could see each other without risking scandal.
She sighed. “Look, can I think about it? I don’t want to give up—that’s not good work ethic, but it is stressful. I just need to consider things.”
“Of course. Full moon tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Brock borrowed my car so the reporters wouldn’t follow him to the safe house. He’ll be exhausted tomorrow. Hell, he’s been exhausted all week. I don’t know how he’s holding it all together.”
Brock arrived at the warehouse early Thursday evening. Remy was the only one there. They nodded to each other from across the room and Brock went to hang up his coat and put his shoes away.
“I wanted to show you this,” Remy said. “I’m glad you were early.”
The folder had a simple typed label that said ‘Julius Beauregard’. He flipped it open and read the first page then looked up at Remy. “Is this saying what I think it’s saying?”
“The police think that The Human Order supplied Julius with those pills. They set him up, turned him into a ticking time bomb. I’ve already warned the clans and the packs I have contact with. Word will spread through the network. We can’t trust anything that comes from outside anymore.”
“Is it safe to leave Philippe in the hospital? What if they try to kill him? Or force his change?”
“I only got this an hour ago. There is no more time to fetch him. Jules and Jane will be here soon. We are all stressed. We cannot safely delay the change tonight.”
Brock nodded. “I hope nothing more happens to him.”
“As do I, Brock.”
The bears were restless that night and they fought more than usual, their great paws swinging, their voices bellowing in the night. Four barrels were shattered, and the stack of chairs against the wall was toppled. It was dawn before they shifted back to human—hours later than usual.
They dressed in silence without the usual banter and Remy called the hospital. His smile was thin as he turned to the gathered clan. “Philippe and Patrick are safe. Thank God for small blessings. Go home and sleep, all of you. You are not going to work today.”
They nodded and filed out.
Brock woke to a pounding on his bedroom door which was odd. He always left the laundry out in the hall and he cleaned his own room, even did his own vacuuming because he didn’t like the housekeeper coming in his room. He rolled over and looked at the clock. He’d been home two hours, been asleep most of that. It wasn’t enough.
The pounding continued.
“Who is it?” The words slurred tog
ether.
“Mr. Tandell, you’re home, thank God. On the news. City Hall was just attacked by those dreadful people.”
Brock was out of bed and in a bathrobe in one fluid motion that revealed nothing of how tired he was. He stepped out, nearly colliding with his housekeeper, an older woman named Connie who had been keeping the house clean since before Brock’s father died.
“Sorry to wake you. I had to know you were safe.”
He patted her shoulder and said, “Is James around?” James helped Connie with the heavier housework.
“He is, why?”
Brock rushed to the kitchen with Connie following behind him. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed while Connie hovered nervously in the doorway.
A sleepy voice answered with a slurred “Hello?”
“You’re home. Good. Pack. You can’t stay where you are.”
“What? Brock, is that you?”
“Yes. They hit City Hall. I want you where I know you’ll be safe.”
“Brock, you’re the shifter they’re after. How would I be safe at your house?”
“I’m sending James down in your car to pick you up. Leave my car at the condo. That should fool anyone trying to follow me around for a little while. I’m going to call Officer Jameson and have them post a car outside the house here until further notice. You and I are on lockdown here until the mess at City Hall is cleaned up. Understood?”
“You’re a pushy asshole.”
“Are you packing?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m up and moving. Send the damn car.”
She hung up on him.
Brock scribbled down an address. “Send James here. He’s picking up my assistant.”
“Yes, sir.”
He called Officer Jameson who agreed that police security at the Tandell estate was a good idea, and by the time Gia and James pulled through the gate there was a marked police car sitting on the street with two cops inside.
Chapter 14
Gia had never seen a house quite like Brock’s before, not up close like this. Her father was a self-made man. He’d started flipping houses at twenty-one, started a renovation company, got into leasing properties—apartments, condos, small houses, trailers—soon after that. From there he’d begun buying land and building condos and office spaces. In the last twenty-five years, Carosa Holdings had made Giancarlo Carosa rich, respectable, and successful. He lived in a big house, a modern sprawl on the lake with a steel and glass balcony, a swimming pool, and all the modern amenities. He’d had it custom designed and custom built.
This house was old, probably as old as New Orleans herself. It too had all the modern amenities, and she wondered what was more expensive in the long run, building new, or upgrading a building like this to include indoor washrooms and electricity. Expense be damned. Anyone who wants to tear this building down to rebuild is a fool. You can feel the history in the very walls.
The kitchen looked like it had last been updated at the turn of the millennium—there wasn’t even a hint of past decades in the room. The strong lines and dark colors offset by silver suited the character of the house. Every room she wandered through was like that—rich dark wood, large windows, and furniture that was either modern or timeless antiques. She was certain the coffee table was mahogany, and the fireplace dominated the room.
Above the fireplace was a beautiful painting that looked like something straight out of Interview with the Vampire—those scenes in old New Orleans, when Brad Pitt had wanted to die. She shivered. If werewolves and werebears exist, do vampires? I wonder if Brock knows.
The handrail going up stairs was smooth from years of hands passing over it, up and down. The varnish was probably reapplied every few years, but no one had replaced it—of that she was sure. The wood looked too soft, as though it had been molded like child’s playdough, no longer perfectly straight. It was warm to the touch and made the house feel more like a home and less like a museum.
Upstairs had a more conservative look, like they had tried to keep more of the original feel of the house. Like the history of New Orleans, full of voodoo and slaves and French refugees and hurricane after hurricane, the upstairs hallway was dark and richly colored. The bottom half of the walls was done in a dark wood paneling. The upper half was done in a maroon wallpaper and was dotted with paintings and wall-mounted lights that looked like old gaslights. The carpet was maroon and wine red with hints of brown and looked expensive, not like the thin crap in the lobby of her condo building or the cheap ivory acrylic carpet in her living room.
A woman stepped out of a room and Gia hesitated. A part of her wondered if this woman was a ghost of some former servant. This was a house that she could easily imagine being full of ghosts and memories. But then she had short hair with a purple streak in it and wore capris and a sleeveless floral print shirt that flattered her fuller figure. Gia was pretty certain that ghosts didn’t dye their hair.
The woman saw her and smiled. “You made it. He was afraid you had gone in to work today.”
Gia shook her head. “I didn’t even know about the attacks until after he called.”
“Well, I was just getting your room ready. Come in and take a look. James can bring your bags up later.”
Gia could hear the lawnmower out the window and shook her head. “No need to bother him again. Getting picked up was enough. I didn’t bring much. I can bring it up myself.” She offered the woman a smile. “I’m not used to having people wait on me.”
“We’re not used to waiting on people. We take care of the house. Aside from laundry, Brock takes care of himself. I’m Connie by the way. I’ve been working here since I was about your age and Brock was just a child. He has always been independent, that one. And a good man, like his father. Didn’t know his grandfather, but from what I’ve heard he was a good man too. The Tandells is good folk.”
“I’m not going to blame this mess on Brock,” Gia said. He’s still a pushy asshole though.
“I’ve seen his past girlfriends,” Connie said. “Now, the house staff is not supposed to talk, but you need to know.”
“Brock and I aren’t …”
“I know. But I saw his face this morning. You need to know; most women see him as a secure future. They’ll deal with the shifting, an inconvenience, an embarrassment to be hidden, because they want the financial security of marrying a billionaire. And Brock, he’s as devoted as they come. He never once ran around on a girl he was dating. To him, loyalty is as important as love.”
“Why are you telling me this? Why do you think I need to know this?”
“I do his laundry and he came home smelling of perfume a few weeks back. I’m betting that whatever is not going on between you, it isn’t because you aren’t attracted to each other.”
Gia blushed.
“Exactly. But are you attracted to the man? Or to the money?”
Did she look like a gold-digger? Gia didn’t think so, not wearing her weekend casual clothes and her finger nails needing to be repainted. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to be too upset at the housekeeper. She’d dated her fair share of jerks in the last five or six years. “My father is a successful business man, not old money like the Tandells, but I’ll inherit my own financial security. I plan to take over as CEO of Carosa Holdings someday. I mean to work for my fortune, just as my father did. Brock is… I don’t know, but he’s not a meal ticket.”
Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2) Page 30
