by Nancy Gideon
When he’d seen the three he’d grown up with, whom he’d loved like family, come down those stairs with their shattered hearts and tattered dignity, he’d risked punishment by nudging the object at his feet over so that the girl he adored wouldn’t look upon the face of her father. He’d been shamed and awed as the arrogant Silas MacCreedy knelt in his parents’ blood to swear fealty for the sake of his sister and cousin. And he knew what it was to be damned when Kendra’s pleading gaze touched on his and he couldn’t respond.
He was going to lose her again, just as he had in that tragic moment when he’d failed to convince her that what he held in his heart wasn’t what he’d done in the name of his family.
The gym was empty. Cale stripped out of his vest and dress shirt to the white T-shirt underneath. No posturing, no one to impress, just the one man who’d been able to best him at everything. They hadn’t faced each other one-on-one since they were teens, but nothing had changed. No matter how hard Cale had trained, how brutally he’d pushed and punished himself, Silas MacCreedy was the better man. Because he deserved to be.
Cale was aware of Kendra standing behind the glass wall with an apologetic Kip at her side. He should have known his youngest brother couldn’t keep her away. The fear in her large eyes was denied by her firm stance. Which of them did she worry over? Both. With her big heart, she was capable of loving them both. Only one could have her. He wasn’t sure at the moment that the right one did.
It took all of Kendra’s strength to remain motionless as the two males circled with wary, inevitable intent. Silas was all sleek, deadly calm weighed against Cale’s fiery aggression, so different yet oddly well matched. Each ferocious in his own way and capable of killing the other. She clung to Kip’s steadying arm, terrified of that outcome.
Cale struck first, as expected, his speed and power knocking his opponent back to shake it off and reassess. Again, harder, faster, with fist and elbow, drawing first blood. She didn’t want to watch, yet couldn’t look away as the viciousness unfolded like a slow-motion traffic accident.
Silas wasn’t a great fighter, nowhere near Cale’s caliber, but he was an intelligent one. It took only a few exchanges for him to realize that everything he threw at Cale’s left side slipped in to make contact. Once he began to concentrate there with a vengeance, the conflict was as good as over.
Cale had no defense. He didn’t see it coming until impact exploded through his face, his ribs. When he tried to wheel away to protect his vulnerable side, Silas pursued mercilessly, beating him right down to the floor.
The second Cale staggered to one knee, Kendra tore away from Kip’s hold to race out onto the court. Wrapping both arms about the one Silas had cocked for another punishing blow, she hung on, refusing to let go even when lifted off her feet.
“Enough! Silas, stop it! Can’t you see he’s done?”
Silas turned, seething, eyes ablaze with the impotent rage that had simmered for years. “Not until he admits he is.”
“Cale, tell him. Tell him it’s over!”
Weaving, trying to hold himself up with a palm to the floor while the other pressed to a shattered rib cage, Cale lifted his head to stare up at them. His face dripped gore and sweat. The eye he could open burned with fury as he roared, “No!” and struggled to stand. Kip caught him by the T-shirt, holding him back as his feet scrambled ineffectively against the blood-splotched floorboards until he collapsed to elbows and knees. Beaten. Done.
Kendra gripped her cousin’s taut face between her palms, speaking low and fiercely. “You say nothing about this. Nothing. Do you understand? You’ve beaten him. That’s enough. Walk away.”
“It’s not enough,” he cried, pulling free. “It will never be enough!” He gave Cale one last venomous look and spat on the floor beside him before striding off the court.
Kendra let him go, her focus turning to Cale. She waved Kip back and knelt beside him, her hand resting on the back of his head. He made a sound of denial and tried to brush her off but couldn’t complete the gesture.
“Why did you stop him?” Cale panted. “I would have thought you’d enjoy it.”
She stroked his damp hair gently. “Why? Why would I enjoy watching the two of you hurt each other?”
“Because I deserved it. I’ve deserved it for a long, long time. You should have let him kill me.”
She put her arms around him, drawing him against her. He had no choice but to lean, his strength gone. She bent close and whispered, “Silas saw a weakness and exploited it. In another minute, your brother would have seen it, too. I had to step in.”
Accepting her logic, he still argued. “It doesn’t change anything. He beat me.”
She stroked his wet brow. “I think you needed him to.” After that sank in, she urged, “Let me take you home.”
Kendra rose slowly, letting him clutch her about the waist while he worked to get his feet under him. He swayed against her, his head resting on her shoulder as he fought to collect his waning strength.
Very quietly, she told him, “I won’t let you fall.”
They’d started across the court with Kip trailing behind when a grim-faced Tony appeared. “Cale, your father’s collapsed. He wants to see you.”
Cale pulled away from her, finding his balance to slip on his shirt, leaving it untucked, easing his vest over it. Kip brought her a wet towel so she could clean off his face to reveal the extent of actual damage. It was horrible. The entire left side from jaw to brow was purpled, cut, and swollen. It was his blood-filled eye that alarmed her.
Cale caught her wrist and gently pulled her hand away, murmuring, “It’s all right, baby. Kip will take you home and stay with you until I’m finished. I won’t be long. Wait for me?”
“Yes.”
A faint one-sided smile. “Thank you.” Then he was gone.
twenty-two
Martine stood watch at Bram’s bedside. Cale could tell nothing from her expression as she nodded to him, murmuring, “My prince,” in passing. Cale waited to approach until she closed the door behind her. Bram opened his eyes, the expected displeasure hardening at the sight of Cale’s features.
“Explain yourself.”
“Tending to some personal business, my king. You sent for me?”
Bram didn’t believe in delaying a killing blow. “You won’t be taking my place.”
Cale stood motionless, displaying no reaction as everything inside him compressed and crumpled, forcing the air from his lungs. He didn’t ask for a reason. It didn’t matter.
“I’m telling you as a courtesy before I announce my intentions to the others.”
Cale’s thoughts scrambled, circling the way he would an armed enemy. If Bram had told no one, it would be a simple thing to silence him before he could speak. That was what his father would have done without blinking an eye. But he wasn’t his father.
“Wesley will make a fine king,” he stated carefully.
“It will be James.”
“Also a fine choice.” Unexpected. He would have thought Wes, with his volatile nature, rather than James’s intellectual cunning, would have been more to his father’s liking. Did it matter? It wasn’t going to be him.
And Kendra wouldn’t be his queen. Now he was cautious instead of just stunned.
Bram was studying him carefully. “I expect you to serve your brother as you serve me.”
“I will serve my king,” Cale answered automatically, feeling the sweat on his neck, tasting the bile in his throat.
“As will the princess. It’s my wish that if she doesn’t return with MacCreedy, she bond with James. The next time I see you, you will be wearing both diamonds, or I will not see you again. Is that understood?”
“I understand, my king.”
Bram wheezed for breath, frowning as he searched for a hint of what Cale was thinking, plainly irritated by his stoicism. “Is there something you wish to say, boy?”
“I’ve said too much already, my king. I’ll leave you to your rest.
” With a quick bob of his head, Cale turned and strode from the room, walking past Martine without a glance. He’d reached the bottom of the stairs where Tony waited before his knees gave, dropping him down onto the steps in shock.
“My prince, are you all right? Is it your father?”
“I won’t have a crown or a queen,” he whispered numbly. “I’ve thrown my entire life away.”
Tony was taken aback. “He chose Wesley over you?”
“Not Wes. James.” He was broken. He hurt everywhere: his ribs, his eye, his head, his heart.
“James? How could he be that naive?”
Something in Tony’s tone alerted Cale enough for him to glance up awkwardly. He had no vision at all in his left eye, disorienting him. “What do you mean? James is levelheaded, smart.” It would be like having Silas rule. Maybe not such a bad thing, if someone else had to be on the throne.
“There are things about your brother that you don’t know.”
Alarmed, Cale demanded, “What things?”
“He’s apparently expanding the family business without your father’s knowledge, distributing some new Shifter designer drug. Nasty business, from what I’ve heard about this stuff. Kick.”
“Jamie?” Cale wasn’t processing things well. Sharp pain stabbed through his eye like splinters of glass. He could barely breathe past his crushed ribs. “What else have you heard?”
“It’s making the rounds pretty heavily in Reno. An enhancer that makes you think you’re invincible until you try to stop taking it. Addictive as all hell. Some ugly side effects, too.”
“Like what?” He braced, but not hard enough.
“Heart failure, brain damage, infertility.”
Cale gave a short bark of laughter that had him clutching his side and Tony looking at him strangely. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any fucking worse. How long had he been taking it without knowing what it was, what it could do? Years? Years! The consequences were too catastrophic for him to grasp.
“I want my mother moved to that suite in Las Vegas. Don’t let her take anything with her. Just get her out of reach. Now.”
“Immediately, my prince.”
“And I want to talk to Sylvia. Have her meet me down in the Pub. No excuses. Bound and in a bag if you have to.”
“Yes, my prince. And your lady? Do you want me to bring her to you? You don’t look well.”
Was there a name for the sickness swelling inside him?
“I’m fine, Tony. I need to get some business taken care of. Keep her safe and let her know . . . that I send my apologies.”
They called it the Pub, but it was actually a section of the lodge’s lower level converted to an all-purpose recreational spot. When the princes were young, it was filled with arcade games and a flashy Wurlitzer jukebox for restless snowed-in days. Though the jukebox remained, the games had grown up into pool and poker. A fully stocked bar had replaced the vending machines. There was little camaraderie among the adult princes, so the room was seldom used. Cale had it to himself.
He pulled an imported dark beer out of the cooler and sat at the bar. He touched the cold glass to his face to find relief until the jukebox started playing. He smiled ruefully as Sylvia took the barstool beside him.
“Remember this song? It was your eighteenth birthday. Do you remember what I wanted to give you?”
He glanced at her without turning his head. “I remember how angry you were when I said no.”
“You were the only one of your brothers who did.”
He made an unsurprised noise and took another long drink.
“What do you want, Cale? I was under the impression that we weren’t exactly friendly these days.”
“Did you know what it would do when you gave it to me?”
Sylvia started up off the stool, but he quickly gripped her arm, swiveling toward her. She gasped at the sight of his face. “What happened to you?”
“Did you know?” he pressed.
She confronted him without apology. “I wanted to be your queen. That wasn’t going to happen unless you were the best of the best. With my help, you were. How did you thank me? By tossing me over for Miss Fancy Panties, who wouldn’t know a good hand job from a hole in the wall.”
“A king without heirs is no king,” he bit out icily.
Her eyes narrowed. “Here’s a news flash, Cale. Looks like I will be queen after all, and I won’t be sitting beside you.”
He smiled as much as he was able to. “We’re both getting bad news today. If you were planning to sit beside Jamie, you’re going to find someone else in your seat if all goes according to my father’s plans.”
She went pale, then flushed with fury. “I was promised.”
“So was I. Looks like we’re both screwed. So why don’t you tell me about the Kick, since neither one of us is getting what we want out of this deal. Where did you get it? From James? Did he think if he gelded me, I wouldn’t be a threat? Did he poison Derrick trying to get to me, too?”
“I don’t know anything about Derrick. I swear!”
“But you knew about the Kick.”
The haughty tip of her head was her answer.
“How could you hate me that much?”
Her gaze softened. “I wish I did. But then you know how hard it is to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”
This time he had no answer.
She slid off the seat, and he didn’t stop her. She hesitated and placed a hand on his arm. “It was only a couple of times, Cale. Only after I was certain you wouldn’t come back to me. Maybe it wasn’t enough to do any harm.”
Or maybe it was too late to make a difference.
He sat in the lonely silence, finishing his beer. How had he fallen so far, so fast? From having everything to having nothing? His only solace was that things couldn’t get worse.
“Drinking alone?”
Cale’s hands tightened about his bottle. “I will be as soon as you get the hell away from me.”
Silas helped himself to a beer and took the seat at Cale’s elbow. “How’s the eye?”
“Developing twenty/twenty hindsight. What do you want, Silas?”
“I thought we’d talk before I meet with your father. See if we can work some things out first. About Kendra.”
“Don’t waste your time. Can’t do anything for you. She’s to be bonded to the next Terriot king. That’s not going to be me.”
Silas reared back in genuine disbelief. “Since when?”
“Talk to James. The two of you speak the same language.”
“Kendra says it’s you your clan listens to.”
“Yeah? I’ve been making a lot of promises I can’t keep.”
Silas persisted. “Who wanted my sister dead? If it wasn’t you, who sent those men after her?”
“Ask Davis. Beat the shit outta him. You’re good at that.”
“I did. He won’t talk to me. I bet he’d talk to you.”
“Why would I care? Why would you think I give a damn what happens to you and your people?”
“Kendra says you do.”
“She’s always seen things in me that weren’t there. But you’ve always known what I was, haven’t you? Must make you feel good to be right all the time.”
“You sonofabitch.” Silas gripped his arm and yanked him about on the barstool so they were facing each other. His recoil at the sight of Cale’s features was obvious, but it didn’t soften his approach. “You know why I didn’t like you? Because you could have been more than just a dumb Terriot thug. Kendra saw it in you. So did my parents.”
A harsh laugh. “Look where it got them. I sure came through for them, didn’t I? I just stood there and watched them die. I didn’t do a damned thing.”
“Neither did I. There wasn’t a damned thing we could do.”
Cale considered that terse response for a long minute, then said, “You want answers? So do I.” He pulled out his phone. “Call your sister. I need to talk to her.”
&nb
sp; Brigit answered on the second ring, her voice terse and frightened. “What have you done with my brother?”
“Nothing,” Cale told her impatiently. “He’s drinking a beer beside me. Why would you think I wanted you killed, Brigit?”
“That’s what Foster and Pyle were told.” Her tone grew cold. “I heard the order given. It was very explicit.”
“By whom?”
“Your brother. James.”
Even though he’d suspected it, the news was eviscerating.
Bridgit went on, “Don’t hurt her, Cale. If you ever cared about her at all, let her be with her family. Don’t keep her prisoner where she doesn’t belong. Please. Can I talk to her? Let me talk to her.”
Instead of trying to defend himself, Cale promised, “I’ll have her call you later,” and passed the phone to Silas, only half listening as he soothed his sister’s worries.
Silas returned the phone and regarded him somberly. “It wasn’t you.”
“My father wanted her gone, and I was only too happy to oblige him. As in bye-bye, not rest in peace.”
“So,” Silas murmured thoughtfully, “what makes my sister so important that your brother would risk war to silence her?”
“Let’s find out.”
They drove into Reno with Silas behind the wheel of Cale’s Jeep. The worse-for-wear Shifter Davis, shackled to the bed in a low-rent airport motel room, glared up defiantly from above his gag. His expression changed to surprise when Cale appeared behind Silas, then grew apprehensive when the Terriot prince strode across the room to pull the wadding from his mouth and demand, “Who sent you to New Orleans?”
