Crossroads sa-2

by Moira Rogers

  “Fine, fine.” Hoffman smiled at Nick and offered her his arm. “How is your sister? Hopefully the midwife has been of some help?”

  “Michelle is fine.” She was so exhausted and relieved she’d done nothing but sleep since the night before. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Of course, Nicole. I’m sure you know I hope we’ll be family soon.”

  Behind them, Ochoa snorted inelegantly. Nick ignored it. “I’m sure my father will make the best possible choice. He’s a very wise man.”

  “I’m becoming a very impatient man,” her father murmured from behind them. “I’m not going to think about Nicole’s marriage until this situation is resolved.”

  The guard unlocked Aaron’s door and held it open while they filed inside. Aaron rose immediately, looking tired and worn, but a little of the resignation on his features relaxed when he saw Nick. She gave him an encouraging smile and blinked back tears.

  Enrica and Ochoa stepped to the left. Nick’s father took her arm and urged her to the right, leaving Hoffman in front of Aaron. “Aaron Spencer. After further consideration of the charges laid against you, and out of respect for our long-standing working relationship with John Peyton, the accusation of treason has been dropped, and the order of execution revoked.”

  Aaron’s tense shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  Nick couldn’t hide her wince at Hoffman’s next words. “Nicole has agreed to shoulder the responsibility of supervising you. You’ll be held here until she marries, then remanded to her husband’s custody.”

  That made Aaron’s jaw tighten. He glanced at her, clearly uncertain, and she eased her arm from her father’s grip and walked toward Aaron. “Michelle already came home. It’s only a matter of time before you do too.”

  “Nick.” Her name sounded hoarse, rusty. “Thank—”

  The door crashed open behind her, cutting off his words. Aaron’s eyes widened as he swung his arm, hitting her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Behind them, Hoffman shouted a warning. Her father’s voice echoed it in an outraged roar, more furious sound than coherent speech.

  Two shots rang out in quick succession. Aaron stumbled into Nick, and she pulled him to the floor with a shriek. Shielding him with her body was useless—he was God knew how many times bigger, and trained to deal with these things. She shielded him anyway, curling around his back and shoulders with a sob.

  Enrica screamed. “Noah, no!”

  Coleman. Nick shuddered as a third shot echoed above the cacophony of shouts and scuffles. The bullet flew past, so close she flinched away from the whine, and hit the wall. Bits of concrete exploded out, zinging through the air like shrapnel. A piece struck her face, and Nick clawed at her stinging cheek.

  Blood covered her hand, far too much for such a tiny wound, and far too cool and sticky to have just seeped from her flesh. “No.”

  Aaron lay still beneath her, and her vision blurred as she turned him over. No, no no—

  His green eyes stared ahead, glassy and unseeing. A jagged hole marred his temple, and blood matted his hair. “Aaron,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

  “Nicole!” Her father grabbed her shoulders. “Are you bleeding, are you—?” Horror filled his voice. “Jesus Christ.”

  “He’s dead.” The words hardly seemed real, even when given shaky form.

  “John, the guards have Noah—” Enrica spoke behind them but stopped short with a gasp and a soft curse.

  Nick turned. Two men knelt by Hoffman, pressing bundles of torn cloth to his shoulder beneath his bloodstained jacket. And Coleman stood between three more guards, still struggling to break free. “Aaron’s dead.”

  “I know.” Her father urged her up. “Come on. Help me, Enrica.”

  Nick let them pull her to her feet. As they backed away, she thought she saw Aaron move. “Wait, maybe he’s not gone. There might still be time to do something.”

  Enrica caught her before she reached him. “Nicole, don’t.”

  “I have to—”

  “No.”

  “Let go of me.” The words came out as a whisper, and she repeated them, this time on a scream. “Let go of me!”

  “Stop it!” Enrica hissed and shook her by both arms. “I know how it is. Your mind doesn’t want to accept the truth, but half his brain is on the wall. He is gone, Nicole.”

  More guards swarmed the room, and Ochoa appeared beside Nick. “Into the hallway, Enrica. John, you too.”

  Nick moved because they made her, practically carrying her out between them. “I can’t just leave him here.”

  Ochoa showed an unusual sympathy as he touched her shoulder. “I’ll check on him, sweetheart. Go to your father.”

  Enrica dragged Nick from the room, her grip on her arm so tight she’d have bruises. When she finally released her, Nick stumbled and leaned into the wall.

  Aaron. She’d tried so hard, given up everything, and Michelle was still losing him. The world dissolved in a haze of tears, and Nick screamed. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her. Her father pulled her close, his hand on the back of her head, and whispered her name.

  “It’s not fair.” Her throat flamed, raw with anger and misery. “It’s not fair.” Nothing in Michelle’s life had been, but this would be torture, for her to glimpse a future with Aaron only to have it snatched away.

  “It’s not.” For once, her father’s normally even voice held true pain, as if he could keep it at bay no longer. “Nothing in our world is fair, and it should be. It’s my job to make it that way.”

  It was his job to make it bearable. Fair was beyond any of them. “Oh God, what do we tell Michelle?”

  “Shh. I’ll tell her. You just need to be there for her.”

  The door behind them clicked shut, and Ochoa’s voice echoed in the quiet hallway as he whispered to Enrica. “They’re taking Conrad downstairs to meet the medical team. I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital.” He hesitated. “There’s nothing else to be done.”

  Nothing for Aaron, he meant. Nothing for her sister. Nick bit her lip until it bled. “I want to go home, Dad. I want to be with Michelle.”

  At least one good thing had happened.

  Penny continued to outline the status of their current projects, and Derek let her voice wash over him. The phone call was nearing the thirty-minute mark, but Penny’s enthusiasm showed no signs of flagging. Twelve hours as a full partner, and she’d already cleaned up a week’s worth of messes. Her determination was comforting.

  Exhausting, maybe. But comforting.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  Derek grinned, glad she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, boss. Though I don’t have a clue how you’re still talking coherently. Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “I’ve got two preteen sons and I work full time. Do you think I ever sleep?”

  “Point taken.” A knock sounded on the door, and Derek rose. “You don’t have to check this shit out with me, you know. We trust you. It’s not like you haven’t been running the place for the last two years anyway.”

  “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you sitting alone in your house and brooding,” Penny retorted. “It’s not healthy, Derek. You’re going to turn into Alec.”

  “Ouch. If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure he just showed up on my doorstep.”

  “Yeah, that’s great, because what you need is encouragement.”

  Derek was still laughing when he pulled open the door. Alec stood on the porch, facing away, but the tense set of his shoulders and the uncomfortable prickle of magic boded nothing good. Derek’s stomach twisted as Alec turned.

  Cold eyes. Dead eyes. Derek had seen Alec filled with rage, determination, annoyance and disdain, but he’d never seen the man look so utterly fucking bleak. Lead settled in Derek’s stomach, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from that frozen stare. “Penny, I’m going to have to call you back.”

  “Derek, what’s—?”

  “I’m going
to have to call you back,” he repeated dully, then disconnected the phone.

  For one endless moment neither of them spoke. When Alec finally did, the words filled Derek with dread and the tiniest thread of hope. “Pack a bag, Gabriel. You’re going to New York.”

  Chapter 20

  Nick pulled open the door and leaned against it. “Come in, Luciano. I’m sorry I called so early—”

  “I’d have come anyway, even if you hadn’t called.” He looked perfectly put together in his dark slacks and sweater, as if their world hadn’t exploded before eight a.m. “How’s Michelle?”

  “Honestly, I can’t tell.” She’d cried, and her sporadic flares in magical power had left Nick with a blazing headache. Then, after only an hour, Michelle had fallen quiet. “She was a mess for a while, and now she’s…I don’t know.”

  He nodded, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “How can I help?”

  “I asked her to call you.” Michelle stepped into the foyer, and the temperature seemed to drop. She’d washed her face and pulled her hair into a severe knot, every strand smoothed into place. Nick had seen her fake composure before, but usually some hint of emotion bled through. Now she was cold. Hard.

  Luciano looked away. “You don’t know how terrible I feel about what’s happened, Michelle.”

  The chill in the air intensified and then disappeared altogether with another surge of power. “Thank you. But I don’t have the luxury of grief. I have a child that most of our society would rather see dead than alive.”

  Another spike of magic ripped through the room. Nick had to steel herself against it, and she still almost staggered.

  Even Luciano frowned uncomfortably. “I’ll do anything I can to help. You both know that.”

  Michelle fixed her gaze on him for several seconds, then turned sharply. “I’ll take advantage of your kindness. If you’re not prepared for that, you should leave. Otherwise I’ll be waiting in the sitting room.”

  Luciano looked at Nick, but she could only shrug. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

  He bent his head close to hers. “Have you talked to your father yet? About what you’re going to do now?”

  “Not yet. There hasn’t been time.” The last two hours had been a blank jumble. “He dropped me off and went back to handle things, but who knows what’s going to happen.”

  His gaze was fixed on the doorway to the sitting room. “If Hoffman and Ochoa are scared Michelle will retaliate—”

  “I know.” It had become the worst-case scenario, the eventuality Nick could barely let herself consider. “But they have to take responsibility for losing control of one of their own. I’m not letting them gloss over what happened to Aaron.”

  When they stepped into the sitting room, they found Michelle seated on the edge of the loveseat, her hands folded in her lap and her posture rigid. She watched as they each took a chair. “Nick, you’re not going to like any of this but, considering the life I’ve led up to this point, I hope you’ll understand how badly I need to have some control over what happens to me next.”

  She bit back her protests and nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m not going to be allowed to live on my own,” Michelle said, her voice flat. “They want someone they can trust watching my every move. Someone with familial loyalties.” She nodded to Luciano. “They would have gotten that if you’d married Nick. You would have been responsible for making sure I didn’t cause trouble, even if they pretended I was in Nick’s custody.”

  “More than likely.” He leaned forward. “If you’re worried about whether I can still do that, don’t be.”

  “And if I asked you to marry me instead of Nick?”

  He flinched almost imperceptibly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” Nick rose and walked over to kneel beside Michelle. “How would you ever convince the Conclave to go along with this? They’re expecting a marriage that will yield money, prestige and children.” The words hung in her throat, raw and painful, but she forced them out anyway. “You know they are.”

  Michelle’s cold eyes found Nick’s. “There are three of them left. Hoffman and Ochoa want to blame Enrica.” The tiniest crack appeared in her sister’s icy demeanor, along with another one of those stomach-roiling swells of power. Michelle forced her expression into utter blankness again before turning her attention to Luciano. “Do you share your mother’s ambitions for your future?”

  He was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. “No, I don’t.”

  “Marriage to me would satisfy the Conclave’s need to punish your mother by destroying your chance to take her seat on the Conclave or become Alpha someday, and it would put me under their thumb.” Michelle touched Nick’s cheek. “You’d be free, because they’ll never consider this a wrong done to me. They made a bargain with you and broke a bargain with you. You can use their absurd customs against them.”

  It was the first glimmer of hope she’d had in weeks, and Nick’s first instinct was to grab it and not let go. She hated herself for it. “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “You’ll make it work,” Michelle whispered, the confidence in her voice unwavering. “You don’t want to be a part of this life, but you’re strong enough to face them. Help me make a life I get to choose. If Luciano is willing.”

  He sat, pensive and still, and watched them. “I’ll do it.”

  Michelle dropped her fingers to Nick’s hand, clinging to it with a desperation that belied her calm exterior. “Don’t agree until you’ve heard me out, Luciano. What I’m asking is unreasonable and selfish.”

  “I understand.” He smiled wanly. “I know how things are, Michelle. I’ll do it.”

  Something quiet seemed to pass between them, an unspoken moment of understanding. Michelle returned her hand to her lap and laced her fingers together. “They can’t think you’re doing this to help me, or they’ll never agree to it. I’ll speak to my father. My inheritance is rather spectacular. No one on the Conclave will wonder what would prompt you to accept such an unacceptable wife when doing so provides you with the means to expand your ranch and reason to stay there indefinitely.”

  He braced his hands on the arms of the chair. “It’s common knowledge that my mother doesn’t support my business, and none of them know the first thing about horse breeding. It won’t be hard to convince them I need that money, and badly.”

  “As long as you make them believe this is a union in name only, for selfish reasons. It’s the one thing I need you to promise me, Luciano. That you won’t ever give them reason to suspect your loyalties can’t be trusted. Your life depends on it, and so will my son’s.”

  Nick rose, feeling a little dizzy. “I’m going to make some tea. You two…have a lot to talk about.”

  Michelle was focused entirely on Luciano. “Thank you, Nicky.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Neither of them really noticed when she left the room, and Nick walked just far enough across the foyer to make it out of earshot. Then she leaned her forehead against the wall and braced her hands on a table. Breathe. Just breathe.

  The front door opened behind her, and her father’s voice drifted over her, low and gentle. “Luciano’s here?”

  “In the sitting room with Michelle.” She forced herself to straighten and turn to face her father. “How’s Hoffman?”

  “Fine. Once they stabilized him, he started healing.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “If your sister’s all right for the moment, I need to talk to you.”

  “I was going to make some tea.”

  The kitchen was deserted. The housekeeper had been absent all morning, and Mahalia had been keeping to herself. Nick had appreciated both, because she’d needed the time to help Michelle. “Did you give Mrs. Kelly the day off?”

  “The morning. She wouldn’t accept the whole day.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “She’s always been very fond of you both, and Aaron won her over eventually.”
>
  If she stopped thinking of what came next, of all the practical things, she wouldn’t make it. Nick took a bracing breath as she filled the kettle. “What do we do about Coleman? You can’t challenge him. You’re the Alpha. It isn’t allowed.”

  Her father’s low, angry growl filled the kitchen. “Don’t think I haven’t considered breaking that rule.”

  “You can’t.” Michelle’s words came back to her. You can use their absurd customs against them. “We can’t afford to break tradition right now, not when they must feel like they owe me reparations for Coleman’s actions.”

  “They won’t want to swallow it. If we give them any excuse to back down, they will.” His gaze shifted to the doorway, as if he could see Michelle. “Is Luciano here for the reason I think he is?”

  “Michelle already asked if he’d—”

  “Don’t like to interrupt.” Mahalia walked into the kitchen, her shoulders set in a tight, tense line. “I just got off the phone with Alec. His father called him.”

  Her father’s eyes flashed annoyance, but he didn’t seem willing to order Mahalia from the room, though he would have had no such compunction had it been anyone else. “That’s to be expected. Alexander likes to tell himself his son wants to be involved.”

  The older woman frowned at him. “If that was the news, it would have kept.” She turned to Nick. “He just put Derek Gabriel on a plane.”

  Shock warred with relief, and Nick sagged against the counter. “Damn it. God damn it.”

  “I notice he called after it was too late to stop him.”

  Nick slammed the kettle on the stove. “Of course he did.” Because Alec, of all people, would know she’d have told Derek to stay home. Fear ripped through her, with panic hard on its heels. “I can’t be worried about this, Dad. On top of everything else, I can’t be worried that Derek is going to come here, not knowing what the hell is going on, and try to take on Coleman. I can’t.”

  Her father laid a hand on her shoulder and glanced at Mahalia. “Did Alec say anything about Coleman?”

  Mahalia leaned on the counter. “He said Derek could do it. He said he could beat him.”