by Linda Palmer
"Another big loss at the tables. She had to funnel cash from Heritage Books to cover it."
"So you never really quit gambling."
"No, but it's all good these days. I always win more than I lose." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and for some reason a shiver ran down my spine.
Was he still lying to me? Was that why I felt so freaked?
"I'm so glad." I suddenly wanted to be far away from there and turned to walk back up the aisle.
Max blocked my path. "Any more questions?"
"Not really."
"You're not wondering if your dad knows what I did?"
"Oh, yeah. I guess I am."
"He suspects, I think, though we've never talked about it. And why would we? My dad's will stipulated that while I'll never lose my job at Heritage, I'll never be CEO, either, which is the perfect set up for my dear half brother. As long as I'm running the show and giving him all the credit, not to mention the big bucks, he can play in Washington."
Though I thought my uncle had a valid point, I didn't like his sarcasm. "I know Dad isn't perfect—"
Max laughed.
"—but I also know he does his share of the work." I could criticize my parents all day, but wouldn't let anyone else do it.
"That's a matter of—" Max suddenly tensed. He glanced over his shoulder toward the balcony entrance, so naturally I did, too, wondering what he'd heard.
Brody stepped through the doorway and began to walk down the aisle. My heart jumped in my chest. My heart rate kicked up a notch.
Max waved. "Brody. Hey. Glad you could make it."
"Yeah. Sorry I'm late. Cass apparently forgot to wake me up." Brody gave me a hard look.
Oops. I grabbed his arm. "Your timing stinks. We're actually finished here. Why don't I fill you in on our way out?"
"What's the rush?" Max asked, smiling. "I still haven't shown you the conference rooms. Well, they're not that yet, but they will be." He slapped his palm on his forehead. "What am I thinking! You two saw them last night, didn't you?" I gasped. I just couldn't help it. If Max knew about that, he must've agreed to let the Weres use the theater. That meant he was somehow connected to them, my worst-case scenario, and had an ulterior motive for asking me to come there.
"Yeah," Max said. "I know you were here. And I know that you rescued that Wells girl. "
"Because you read it in the newspaper?" I could hope, even if that wasn't exactly the story Tucker promised to tell the police.
Max tipped his head back and hooted. "Nice try."
"So it was you who set me up?" Brody's eyes bore into Max's.
"Well, I gave the order."
I gasped again. He was the silent partner?
Max gave naïve me a pitying look before focusing on Brody. "I'm not really into details, which is why I rely heavily on my right hand man. Unfortunately, I haven't had a decent once since Titus. Remember what I said about winning at the tables? Well, Titus found that out the hard way. Lost big time to me. Had to give me silent partnership of the Arm to cover his debt, which has been very lucrative for me."
I slapped my hands over my ears. "Why are you telling us this stuff? If you'd just kept your mouth shut, we'd never have figured it out."
"Give your boyfriend some credit, Cass. He's known there was someone behind the scenes for a while now, even though we've never talked directly. Haven't you, Anderson?" Brody nodded.
Max looked at me with what appeared to be sincere regret.
"I'm so sorry you're involved. I told Roman to find Brody's weakness, never dreaming it was you until you mentioned the kidnapping. I mean, what were the chances, right? And then Roman was stupid enough to bring the Wells girl here. Not that I can blame him for that. How could he possibly know I'd mentioned owning the theater when we had dinner last week?" Brody flicked a glance at me and shook his head, probably in disbelief that I hadn't shared that little detail.
"It's as if it was meant to be." Max gave us a thoughtful look. "I don't believe all that Karma shit the Weres keep spouting. The Fates, however, are something else, and I think they have it in for Cassidy Norris. In fact, I have to wonder if this has all happened for a reason. Since Roman is—how shall I put it?—no longer with us, the leader spot has been filled by Hanover, the assassin I hired to take care of him. And even though Hanover has no qualms about killing, I'd fire him in an instant if you'd take the job. So what do you say, Anderson? I'm asking you directly, this time. Want to rethink the decision you made in January when I first approached you through Roman?
It's not like the old days. I actually pay my men now, and it's way more than Wal-Mart does. Since Cass knows about your secret life, everything will be so much easier."
"Not no, but hell no."
"What a shame." Max smile chilled me. "I had Roman poll the Weres when Titus bit the dust. Brody was first choice for new leader, and who could blame them? He's got it all—good looks, brains, brawn. Then there's that special gift of his... The pack's in total awe of that."
Reminded of the pack, specifically the four teens who'd broken off from it, I glanced hopefully toward the door. Brody had promised his guys he'd call them next time there was trouble. If he'd kept that promise, four Weres should be watching us from the wings, ready to attack at the first sign of danger.
Max's gaze flicked back to Brody. "I could always make you take the reins. I know your weaknesses—this one and the one in Sedona." He shrugged. "Of course, that would be a step backwards to the Titus days, and I like to call myself progressive."
Brody grabbed a handful of Max's designer shirt. "Leave my mom and Cass out of this."
"Easy, easy." Max caught Brody's wrist, but couldn't pull his hand away. "Why resort to physical violence, when all you have to do is think it?"
Huh? I looked from Max to Brody in bewilderment.
"What's he talking about?"
It was Max who answered me. "Sorry. I assumed he'd told you. Brody can kill without contact. No knives or guns for him. He simply pictures you dead, and you will be, but not before your vital organs shut down one by one, and you're writhing in agony."
Oh my God. I turned on my boyfriend. "You said you never killed anyone."
"No, I didn't. Because I have killed, just not on purpose."
"What?"
My distress clearly got to Brody, who gave me his full attention. "As soon as I realized what I was doing, I stopped, okay? But it was too late. The guy was dead."
"Why didn't you say something when I asked?"
"Because I didn't want you to know. You can't begin to imagine how that murder haunts me." He pressed his fingers to his temples as if he were in pain. "I don't want it to haunt you, too."
Forgotten by us, Max abruptly lunged and grabbed me from behind.
Even as I shrieked, his pistol came from nowhere. The barrel felt cool to my flushed face.
Chapter Thirteen
Brody jumped a foot off the floor and started toward us.
"Don't even think about it." Max tightened his stranglehold on my neck. "And don't try your mind murder on me. I know it takes time, and you know she'll be long gone before the job is done."
Brody held up his hands to show he got the picture. "Why are we here, Max?"
"After my guys told me what happened last night, I realized Cass would tell you that I owned the theater. I knew you'd put two and two together, and I naturally assumed you'd come with her today to keep her safe from me. So Plan A was a Were attack... on the three of us. I figured you'd beat the shit out of them, as usual, and we'd all get away, thus proving I'm a helpless victim, too. Obviously that didn't work out." I gulped. "What's Plan B?"
Max slightly adjusted his stance so his gun arm did the holding. He raised his free hand high into the air. I saw he held up two fingers. Turning ever so slightly with one eye always on Brody, he made sure his orders were followed. I saw what he saw: Weres stepping out of every dark corner. I strained to see them all and counted eight, with others possibly still out of
sight. In desperation, I looked at Brody. Had he brought the teen pack with him?
No.
Max caught his eye. "Now you have to admit I've given you every chance, Anderson. I've offered you leadership, not once, but twice, and that in spite of the fact that you've lied to my man repeatedly. Clearly, the only way I can trust you is if you're dead. And the only way I can ensure Cass doesn't run to the police when I kill you, is to kill her, too." Tears filled my eyes at his heartless betrayal. "I thought you loved me."
"And I do. We've had ourselves some good times, haven't we? I'll miss your unconditional love and your loyalty. It truly is lonely at the top."
Sobbing, I tried to turn my head so I look into his blue eyes, which had to be crazed. He didn't let me.
"You don't have the guts to kill her," said Brody.
"Oh, I have the guts, all right, and I'm not afraid of Karma. It cripples the pack, that ridiculous fear, and causes me no end of trouble. Why, I'm totally amazed every time I recall how Titus died at the hands of his men. But, now that I think about it, they were wolves at the time, so maybe that's the loophole. Hm. I can't believe I haven't figured that out before." Now he signaled his Weres with the hand that held the gun, a circular motion in the air. At once, men erupted into enormous wolves all over the place. As the bits and pieces of clothing drifted to the floor, I counted four, no six of them, which meant two had followed standard procedure and kept their human shapes.
But wait. I saw four humans, and now there were eight wolves. Where had the extra ones come from? I suddenly recognized Jackson, standing inconspicuously to the side. Wide-eyed, I glanced at Brody and realized he saw what I saw. His body trembled with excitement. His thoughts were loud and clear.
They're here!
Would Max recognize the extras? Or was he like me, unable to tell them apart because I hadn't learned their differences?
And what advantage was that, anyway, with Jackson still in human form? There would be no element of surprise. Suddenly Brody winked at me.
Everything will be okay.
His trust in his pack set my worries free even though I didn't understand it.
As if sensing my mood swing, Max instantly whirled completely around to assess the situation below, a move that put Brody to his right. At that instant, all hell broke loose beneath us. Brody charged Max, grabbing his wrists while I ducked free.
Run, Cass!
As if.
While the two of them fought for the gun in the aisle, I looked all around, desperate for a weapon of my own. That's when I saw him—a guy rushing down the aisle with a knife in his hand. He pushed me aside and grabbed Brody from behind. He stabbed him repeatedly in the back and side while I screamed my terror.
As Max staggered to freedom, Brody exploded into a wolf. His attacker did the same. Shreds of clothing and splatters of blood settled around the furious animals, a surreal special effect to their vicious battle. Max didn't try to help his man. Instead, he ducked their fray and darted along the guardrail to get to the other aisle. Just as he started up it, Brody-wolf twisted free of his opponent, leapt over an entire row of seats, and attacked.
Max yelled and fired the gun just as they connected. A second later wolf and man went flying over the guardrail. Screaming, I charged down the aisle and bent over the rim. Both of them lay motionless on the floor below, a horrifying sight that brought the downstairs battle to an abrupt halt. I whirled around and charged up the aisle, covering about ten feet before I encountered the wolf I'd forgotten about. His fierce snarl stopped me in my tracks. I saw bared, bloody teeth and glinting eyes. I saw a gaping tear in his shoulder. Without a second thought, I kicked that wound hard, the last move he expected. He yelped in pain and went down just long enough for me lunge past and straight down the hall. I descended the stairs two at a time with a furious wolf on my heels.
When I burst into the auditorium, I found Brody surrounded by three familiar wolves and a teen, down on his knees.
"Is he dead?" I blurted, dropping to my knees, too. I buried my face in Brody-wolf's bloody fur and cried so hard I barely got the words out. When I felt the rise and fall of his chest, I almost fainted with relief.
"I'm calling 9-1-1." While Jackson dug into his jeans pocket. I tore myself away from Brody and crawled over to Max. The wolf who'd chased me downstairs was already there, all the fight gone out of him. I felt for a pulse in Max's neck and his wrist. Nothing. A wave of mixed emotions set me back on my butt. I put my face in my hands and sobbed for several seconds before Jackson's words sank in.
Coming to life, I snatched his phone away and shut it down.
"Are you crazy? What will we tell them?"
"But he's hurt really bad."
"I know. I know." I wouldn't let myself look at Brody's body while I tried to focus. Where could I take a wounded
wolf?
"Holy shit! I forgot about Andee."
"Who?"
"Andee Rivera. She's the healer we told you about."
"The one with the cure?"
Jackson eagerly nodded.
"But she's in Birmingham."
"No, she's in Santa Fe at some kind of Hispanic festival." Jackson's smile lit up his face. "Talked to her guy Jonah this morning."
I closed my eyes, silently thanking the Fates, who might not have it in for me, after all.
"Call her."
I sat in the back of my Infiniti with Brody-wolf's head in my lap and my hand on his heart to be sure he kept breathing. Three other enormous wolves in visible distress were crammed in there with me; their eyes glued my unconscious boyfriend. Jackson sat behind the wheel, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. I tried not to think about the picture we made to passing cars or what would happen if a cop caught us speeding. As for what would happen when all the wolves shifted into guys again, well, I'd just have to keep my eyes closed until they found clothes in the bag Brody had never unpacked. Since I hadn't checked the contents when I snatched it up earlier, I wasn't even sure what was in there.
Our destination was the halfway point between Wolf-Run and Santa Fe, right on the Arizona-New Mexico border. The witch and her boyfriend were meeting us there. To keep my mind off Brody-wolf, who was possibly bleeding to death in my arms, I kept Jackson talking.
"So you've been taking turns watching him?" I asked.
"Yeah. We knew he wasn't really going to let us help him do anything. Not while there's a chance, someone could get hurt. He's too responsible. So we decided to keep an eye out and follow him wherever he went."
As if that would work. Those guys definitely needed someone with smarts to lead them. "I wonder how he knew where I was."
"His mom, maybe?"
Ach. That sure hadn't occurred to me, which meant Jackson wasn't as dim as I thought. I remembered Sedona, when Sasha sent Brody to the bathroom because I needed him. So much for secrets. She'd undoubtedly called and told Brody I was in trouble. He came to the theater to save me. "What do you know about his gift?"
"The death thing?"
"Yeah."
"Not that much. He only did it once because several of us were about to be murdered. And he didn't do it on purpose then."
"Tell me everything."
Jackson hesitated. "I guess it'll be okay. Brody was training a few of us younger Weres in hand-to-hand in an empty warehouse in Birmingham while Titus supervised. A really old guy we didn't know showed up, totally wasted and way pissed off about something. Titus greeted him by name, so we pretty much blew him off until he pulled a grenade out of his pocket and started messing with the pin."
"A grenade? Honestly?"
"Yeah. We finally figured out that he was a member of the Corteggio." He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "That's our governing body."
"I know about it."
"Apparently he knew that Titus wasn't on the up and up and intended to kills us all. Titus tried to talk him down, but he kept going on and on. Then all of a sudden, the guy just bent over double, screaming in agony. He dropped the
grenade and fell out on the floor. We could all tell he was dying, but didn't know why until Titus started coaching Brody to finish it." I suddenly wished I'd minded my own business.
"Anyway, the guy died in a puddle of blood, and Titus made a really big deal about Brody being the killer. Titus said he'd heard of Weres with that kind of power. He called them zabijáky, which means death dealers in some foreign language. Preters have this thing about fancy words. Drives me nuts. I mean, why don't they just say what they mean?"
I tried to keep him on track. "How did Brody take what had happened?"
"He was sick about it. Totally crushed. Titus tried to force him to do it again, of course, but Brody never would, no matter what Titus did to him. And when Andee started curing everyone, Brody wouldn't let her do it to him."
Suddenly I couldn't talk about that anymore.
"How much further?"
"Forty-five minutes, tops."
I looked at my wolf, wondering if he'd last that long, I next thought of Max, lying dead on a floor in Wolf-Run. His men would have to clean up that mess, and I didn't care how as long as they kept the teen pack out of it. I suddenly thought of my dad. He deserved to know what had happened.
"Can I borrow your cell?" I asked Jackson even as the brown wolf to my left phased into Lee.
I caught the phone Jackson tossed back to me, quickly punched out Dad's number, and closed my eyes tight.
"Lucas Norris."
"Dad, it's Cass."
"I'm afraid you've caught me at a bad time."
"Imagine that. I'm actually having a bad time, too, which is why I'm going to make this quick. Max is dead. At least, I think he is. He fell from the balcony at the old Royal Theater. When I got to him, I couldn't find a pulse, but then I'm not a doctor."
"Come again?"
"I'm really sorry. I know you two weren't close, but he was your brother, and you should love him even if his gambling caused your dad all that heartache. You got Heritage Books out of the deal, after all."
"How'd you know about that?"
"I'm not sure what I'll tell the police if they come knocking, which they well may. Nothing about the werewolves, for sure. Maybe you should call your lawyer. I might need him."
