by Nancy Gideon
He obeyed without interest in what he was chewing, his expression pensive and faraway. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“You must have gotten in late,” she ventured at last.
He looked at her directly. “If you want to know where I am, call. If you want to know where I’ve been, ask.”
She blushed. “I was just wondering why you didn’t join me.”
In the pause that followed, she could see plenty he wasn’t telling her in his shadowed eyes. “It was late. I was tired and dirty and didn’t think you’d appreciate the company.”
She engaged him more boldly. “You might be surprised what I appreciate.”
A slight smile surfaced as his phone rang. He reached for it, asking, “Could you grab me something dark and respectfully funereal out of the closet while I take this?”
As she left the room, she heard him answer the call.
“Hey, Momma.” A pause, then she could hear the warmth in his words. “Good. Are you going to push for another hundred thousand miles, or are you going to let me buy you a new one?”
Kendra went to the huge closet to find among his extensive wardrobe a sleek black Dolce & Gabbana suit, going monochromatic with a black shirt and tie. She wasn’t intentionally listening in. She just liked the sound of his raspy morning voice.
“I’m good. Really. We’ve got a family thing this morning. She’s fine. Momma, she’s fine.” His tone sharpened slightly. “She can tell you herself if you don’t believe me.” Another hesitation, then a deep sighing breath. “No, I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind. I need to ask you to do something for me. Things might get a little difficult here. No. No. Momma, I can’t. I may need to send Kendra to you.”
Kendra froze, listening.
“If that happens, I want you to use those account numbers I gave you. The one’s yours. Give her everything else. Anywhere she wants to go, and fast. Do you understand? Don’t let her tell you where. I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re taking care of that for me. Thank you. Yeah. Me, too.”
Cale came into the bedroom. His expression grew carefully guarded when she asked quietly, “Are we in danger?”
“Here?” A wry laugh. “Always. I’ll see that you’re safe.”
“Maybe we both should go. Come with me, Cale.”
She watched him consider that for a moment longer than she ever thought he might, but his answer didn’t surprise her. “I belong here. This is where I need to be. I won’t make you stay if things get ugly. But I can’t let you go yet. You understand that, don’t you?”
Not until they were bonded. Yes. She understood. He’d let her leave, but he’d never let her go. Not while he lived.
Derrick Terriot, not even nineteen years old, was laid out and awaiting his release to their ancestors when Cale and Kendra arrived on the terrace. She began to fall back, as was their tradition, when Cale caught her elbow to keep her close. He paid his respects to his brother by feeding the pyre. Then he crossed the circle, not to Bram’s side but to where a red-eyed and weeping young widow stood alone.
Kendra was aware of the ripples of shock Cale caused when he clasped one of the girl’s small hands between his as he bowed his head, then told her with sincere regret, “I hurt for your loss, Princess. You’re my family. Call on me for anything.”
The girl stood mute, tears trembling on her lashes, expressions of disbelief, anger, fear, and blame plain upon her youthful face. Finally, there was only relief as she whispered, “Thank you.”
Cale took a stoic position at her side. Kendra stood on the other, slipping a supportive arm about Sadie’s trembling shoulders as Bram spoke the words and lit the flame to send another Terriot prince to the heavens.
As the brothers each took a turn releasing his spirit onto the wind, Cale leaned close to Kendra, his voice low and intense. “The females are having some sort of gathering at their lodge for her.” He glanced down at Sadie’s bowed head. “Stay with her. Protect her until I come for you.”
Before she could ask any questions, he was gone, following his siblings in their father’s wake.
Kendra had never seen herself in a protector’s role. She’d always been the one in need of a guardian. Wondering why Cale would entrust her with the task was as puzzling as what motivated his compassion. Perhaps it was his uncertainty over who would stand by her if that had been him reduced to ash.
Kendra tightened her arm about the slumped shoulders, squeezing gently as she vowed, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be strong. I’ll help you get through this.”
“Cale!”
He tracked the sound of the fierce whisper to see Sylvia standing off the edge of the path. Reason told him to ignore her and continue after his brothers, but unanswered questions had him lagging back and turning off to meet her.
Her bright cat eyes grew heavy with invitation as she reached for him. She gasped as he gripped her wrists and pushed her back against a tree trunk. Her lips parted in anticipation of some rough sex play, but he got right into her face to discourage those hopes with a furious growl. “What did you give me?”
Sylvia blinked, not understanding. “The same as always. It didn’t help?”
Her confusion only enraged him more. “Don’t lie to me! Dammit, what did you do to me?”
“Nothing. I swear! Why? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” She tried to touch him, but he held her away until she could feel the violent tremors shaking through him. She shrank back as his pupils swelled, swallowing the color of his eyes.
“It’s still in my system. It’s tearing me apart. Was it poison? What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing! Poison? I would never harm you, Cale. You know how I feel about you.”
“Feel? You don’t have feelings. You just have greedy, selfish wants. I’m done with them, and I’m done with you.”
Now she was holding tight to his hands. “Cale—”
He jerked free and took a decisive step back. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to speak to you. I don’t want to see you.”
Desperation became a hard cunning. “I have what you can’t get anywhere else. You need me, Cale.”
“Keep away from me. You don’t have anything I need.”
As he strode away, wiping his palms on his suit pants, she shouted after him, “You’re wrong about that!”
He forgot about Sylvia and her threats as he entered the great hall to join his brothers. Bram and James were missing from the group, who regarded him with cautious curiosity. Kip came to meet him, bubbling with excitement. “Way to kick ass in Reno! That’s all anyone’s been talking about. It’s all over the Terriot boards.”
Cale smiled grimly. Great. He was an online sensation in their clan’s private chat rooms. How long before that leaked out? A wonder his father hadn’t torched him along with Derrick.
“Just taking care of business, little brother.” In the family tradition. The whole thing was beginning to sour, in hindsight. “Speaking of ass, thanks for saving mine.”
Kip flushed and stammered, “I didn’t do so much.”
“Yeah, you did. I won’t forget it.”
They’d come up to Turow, who, as usual, was standing at the fringe. Without speaking, Cale reached up to grip the back of his head, drawing it down to bump brows. Disconcertion registered briefly in the silvery eyes.
“Thank you. I owe you my life. Whatever you want.”
Turow straightened to put that reserved distance back between them. “I didn’t do it to have you in my debt.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
The solemn words set Cale back. Perplexed, then with understanding, he replied, “I plan to be a better one.”
Then there was Rico, who regarded him with a mocking smile. “You know, now that you’re the top gunslinger in our clan, every idiot trying to make a name will want a piece of you.”
“Are you going to be one of them?”
A wider grin. “Maybe.”
/>
“Want to stand with me?”
“Maybe.”
They bumped elbows, and Cale moved to where Wes was standing outside Bram’s closed office door. Wes nodded to their siblings. “Fan club?”
Cale shrugged, mystified by the sense of inclusion never extended to him before. “Tomorrow they’ll be back to trying to advance by stepping over my corpse.”
Wesley laughed but didn’t look convinced.
Cale studied the closed door. Usually, he was on the other side of it. “What’s going on in there?”
“Don’t know. Something big. Jamie brought some news to the old man that he didn’t like.”
A distraction from his own transgressions wasn’t a bad thing, but Cale couldn’t shake his uneasiness as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. He found Colin at his side.
“Heard you were down on the desert yesterday, cozying up to the Lessers. Drumming up support for a coup?”
“You know me,” Cale drawled. “I’m just a nice guy.”
A snort of a laugh. “There’s nice, and then there’s you with the daughter of the People’s Saint, handing out favors like you intend to make good on them. What’s up with that, bro?”
“Maybe I grew a conscience and started thinking they deserve better than we’ve always given them.”
Colin chuckled. “Did you suddenly get religion, or are you just trying to get laid?” The quick cut of Cale’s glare had him putting up his hands. “Oooh. Sorry. Your female better give it up soon before you nicey-nice our loyal subjects into thinking they’re as good as we are. Then who would we have to kiss our divinely royal asses and do our dirty work for us?”
Cale continued to stare holes in him until Colin laughed again and put a hand on his shoulder. His tone sobered. “If you need me, call on me, Cale.”
“I will.” Then softly, “Thank you.”
Colin grinned. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear. Cale Terriot thanking anyone for anything. Suits you almost as well as that Dolce . . . my king.”
Before Cale could reply, the office door opened, and all attention focused there. Bram glanced about and called, “Wesley,” then almost as an afterthought, “Cale. Join me.”
Bram’s private office was all dark wood and hobnailed black leather. There was no art on the walls, just a patriarch’s vanity paraded in framed portrait photos of his sons. The shots were taken right after each had sworn his allegiance, when those flashy diamonds glittered like stars in ears and eyes.
Cale’s picture hung crookedly, the glass shattered by Bram’s fist the same day it had been hung. Cale didn’t need to look at it to feel the reminder. He was a disappointment forever, as disgraced as the boy who’d curled in a fetal position, dry-heaving on the rug at his feet, beaten so severely he’d had to crawl past the stoic row of his brothers waiting outside. No one had dared help him then.
Cale never entered this room without the taste of bile filling his mouth or clammy sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Today was no exception; he remained standing by the door while Wes settled in the second chair in front of Bram’s massive desk next to James.
James smiled in greeting and reached out to Cale. Puzzled, Cale stepped forward and glanced down at the sunglasses James pressed into his hand. They were the pair he’d worn during the Gauntlet. The frame was grooved by the edge of James’s arrow. Wordlessly, Cale tucked them into his jacket and returned to his place by the door. Good-natured reminder or subtle threat? He wasn’t sure, but he’d take the warning to be watchful.
“There’s trouble in New Orleans,” Bram announced without preamble. “The MacCreedy bitch has taken refuge with Savoie. Apparently, her brother is now heading up part of his organization there. Foster was unable to breach their security to bring her back to face judgment for killing one of our men. Two nights ago, James was able to trace a call made from her phone to a more accessible area.”
Bram glanced at Cale, who never blinked at the news. Brigit had called Kendra. When had that happened? She’d never said a word to him. “I was handling that,” he stated. “Why wasn’t I told?”
“You were unavailable, brother,” James replied smoothly. “So I handled it for you.”
It just kept getting worse.
“James sent more men to rendezvous with Foster. None of them has checked back in. We have to assume they’re dead.”
“What are we going to do?” Wes asked, anger roughening his voice. “That can’t go unanswered.”
“We don’t know what’s happened yet,” Cale countered. “There could be other reasons for their silence. We should wait until we know for sure. Once we move, there’ll be no going back.”
Wes gaped at him. “Are you saying we do nothing? That they kill our people and we let it go?”
“No. I’m saying all we know is that one man is dead, presumably killed by a female who had no reason to fight and run away. We have men searching for her in another clan’s territory without their knowledge. If we send in more men before we have the facts, it’s an act of unprovoked aggression.”
“So what?” Wes growled. “We’re not afraid of them. They’re outcasts, strays. They have no true leader, just this Max Savoie, who shows up out of nowhere and gets them to rally around him. They’re disorganized now. They won’t expect an attack. We’d have no trouble taking them.”
“And then what? Once we cross into their territory, you think the Guedrys won’t notice? You think Rueben won’t grab the opportunity to swarm in and cut us down in the crossfire?”
“Cale’s right.” James spoke up suddenly. “A war on two fronts wouldn’t be survivable.”
“And what makes you both so sure the Guedrys would care what we do?” Wes argued.
“Because if they made a move on New Orleans, we’d be all over them,” Cale told him. “Neither of our families can afford to ignore the strategic importance, especially with Savoie’s group controlling the mouth of the river. They’d have to step in. It’s simple survival.”
“So we do nothing,” Bram interjected quietly, “and let our right to enforce justice be stripped away?”
“Never.” That single word rumbled with earthquake intensity as Cale’s mood flared dangerously. “No one takes anything that belongs to us, not our rights, not our possessions, not our honor. Not ever. And if they think otherwise, I’ll lead our people across their borders, and they’ll feel the bite of our House. If the Guedrys interfere, we’ll take them on right down to our last man, and we won’t go quietly. They’ll find that Terriots die hard.”
Bram’s smile spread, slow and satisfied. “Just as I’d expect you to. And if this means going up against your mate’s family?”
No hesitation. “That would be between me and my mate, and it wouldn’t involve my loyalty to my clan.”
They locked stares, then Bram nodded. “What next?”
“We have connections in New Orleans,” Cale began, “in the bayou, in their police department, in their city council.”
“I’ll reach out to them,” James offered. “Discreetly. If our men were killed, I’m sure they didn’t go quietly, either.”
“See to it, James.” Bram turned to his other son. “Wesley, make sure our people are ready for battle.”
“We’re always ready, my king. It’s what we do best.”
Wesley and James stood, waiting for their father to pull himself up out of his chair. His movements were labored, but neither showed the disrespect of trying to assist him.
“Good. I want to know something by tomorrow at the latest. Cale, stay for a minute.”
Cale stepped away from the door to let his brothers pass. Neither would meet his eyes, as certain as Cale was that a swift, merciless punishment was coming. After the door closed behind them, he stood unmoving as Bram approached.
“I’ve been hearing things, Cale,” he began quietly.
“What things, my king?”
“What things?” His big hand closed about the knot in Cale’s tie, using it to sla
m him back against the door and hold him pinned there with knuckles pressed into his son’s throat. “You will stop what you’re doing. Your purpose is not to coddle your female or ingratiate yourself to the Lessers or indulge your bloodlust for their amusement. You will not encourage division among your brothers. And you will not have my crown until I am ready to surrender it. Your purpose is to serve me in any manner I command. Or have you forgotten that?”
“No, sir. I am yours.” The words were automatic. Cale’s expression registered nothing but impassive stillness.
“Have you forgotten that punishment for disobedience falls not only upon you but upon those closest to you?”
That bitter taste rose in the back of Cale’s mouth, almost choking him. “I haven’t forgotten, my king.”
“You’ve yet to mark your mate. I suggest you do so before she’s used as a political prisoner, and not kindly.”
Cale’s breathing strangled to a stop, but he continued to stare stoically into his father’s blazing eyes, giving nothing beyond blank obedience.
“I trust I don’t need to remind you how to take a willful female to task so she’ll cause you no further embarrassment.”
“No, you do not.”
“Then take care of my business for me, not your own. If I have to correct you again, one of your lovely ladies will have to pay the price. I’ll let you choose which one. Understand?”
“Yes, my king.”
Cale went rigid as his father leaned close. His breath sucked in as a cold kiss pressed to his cheek. “I am proud of you, my son. You’ll make a fine king.”
There were times in his life when Cale would have died happily upon hearing those words. This wasn’t one of them.
“Thank you, Father. I won’t disappoint you again.”
“Go do what you need to do.”
Cale strode from that room that smelled of fear and pain and death, crossing the hall with brisk aggressive purpose, acknowledging no one. On his father’s business.
fifteen
As she’d promised, Kendra stuck close to the freshly widowed Sadie Terriot. Her heart broke for the devastated young woman, who had no defense against thoughtless gossip. A mate’s wake wasn’t the time to speculate on cause of death or suggest the most advantageous hookups.
