by Nancy Gideon
As if she intuited his uneasiness, Charlotte said, “You have no idea how thankful we are to have you here.”
He smiled. “What? Me? What have I done?”
“You’ve kept things running so we don’t have to worry about them.” She said “we” out of habit, meaning her and her mate, though he doubted Max was aware of anything that had been going on around him for the past few months.
“No big deal. Not so difficult to tell a few lies, grease a few palms, and pretend like it’s all business as usual.” Like the lie he was telling now, when business was anything but. Charlotte believed him because she needed to, and he was happy to give her that illusion.
“Will you be able to manage while Silas is on his honeymoon?” Charlotte asked.
MacCreedy had made himself invaluable to Max’s interests in both human and Shifter realms. He was smart and coolheaded, and so far, he’d been able to contain rumors that Max was no longer at the helm of either his massive leaning-toward-legal empire, Legere Enterprises International, or his panicked preternatural clan. No small accomplishment with fear and violence simmering so near the surface.
“Like I said, no worries. LaRoche will take care of everything four-legged, and I’ll deal with those on two. It’s two weeks. What could happen?”
A whole helluva lot. That’s what he was afraid of. To keep her from asking anything else that would require a stretch of that truth, he changed the subject.
“I see you and Babineau are partnered up again.” He nodded over to the good-looking detective who lingered on the fringe of the celebration with all the enthusiasm of a man waiting for an internal affairs interview. “How’s that working out?”
“Some eggshells now and again, but old habits die hard.” She glanced into the parlor where Tina, her partner’s estranged wife, and her son, Oscar, appeared determinedly cheerful. “Does he ever come out here? Or call?”
Giles scowled, his answer an unfriendly rumble. “No, the bastard. And I’d like to take him aside for a good long discussion about that and the way he’s hurting the boy.”
Charlotte sighed her frustration. “As much as I agree, you’ve got to admit, it would rattle you to find out the woman you married was swimming in a different genetic pool.”
“There are worse things she could be than a sweet lady and a fine mama. I guess I’m not as generous with my excuses as he seems to be.”
He had to admit to a soft spot for the boy who’d come to live at the big house almost a year ago, then a small, reserved shadow who’d sprouted confidence along with a good four inches while in his stepbrother Max’s care. Giles envied Babineau his place in the boy’s life and cursed him as a damned fool for his unwillingness to claim it. In the absence of a father figure, Giles had done everything possible to see that the near-twelve-year-old lacked for nothing in love and attention. Not a difficult duty.
“Mr. St. Clair?”
The sound of her voice giving his respiratory system a convulsive crush, Giles smiled down at the lovely Brigit MacCreedy. Up close, her beauty stunned. “I said time to tidy up—I should have said transform.” Admiration and awe rasped through his tone.
She granted him a small smile. “A girl has to look her best on such an occasion.”
He could think of no reply, his brain having gone completely to mush as blood flow was directed elsewhere. Charlotte poked him in the ribs and muttered, “Drooling.”
He shook off his daze to make a quick introduction. “Detective, this is Silas’s sister, Bridget.”
“Bri-zheet,” came the curt correction.
Touchy. His smile widened as he crooned, “Bri-zheet. Miz MacCreedy, Charlotte Caissie, Max’s—”
“Very significant other,” Charlotte supplied, extending a direct hand.
Brigit took it in a firm clasp, strong female to strong female. “Is Max here? I’d like to thank him for not eating Silas’s heart over that little misunderstanding about his father, and to advise him not to get my only brother killed.”
“No,” Charlotte replied, a slight pinch to her voice. “He couldn’t make it.”
“Speaking of Silas,” Giles interrupted, “he’s been looking for you. I’ll take you to him.”
Brigit placed her hand on the arm he offered, nodding to the detective. “We’ll have to make some time for a little girl talk later.”
Cee Cee showed her teeth noncommittally. “It was nice to meet you.”
Giles steered her away before the potent waves of estrogen got the better of his balance.
“So,” Brigit murmured, entwining her arm with his, “is this dress more suitable?”
He laughed. “You know it is. You didn’t have to ask me. Goddesses are usually well aware of the effect they have on mere mortals.”
“You flatter me.”
“No, I don’t.” He knew her type. Brigit MacCreedy appreciated clean, refined things within a climate-controlled setting, and people who were polite, pretty, and as easily manipulated for her comfort. “Just telling the plain fact you wanted to hear.”
A brief silence, then her husky chuckle made things more uncomfortable in the area of his groin. “You are a very forthright man, Mr. St. Clair.”
“Telling the truth keeps me from having to remember the lie later.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
He casually placed his free hand over the one she had resting on his sleeve. Soft and smooth, as he’d known it would be. The way all her pale skin would feel beneath his touch. Since he had the advantage of height, his gaze caressed from her nearly bared shoulder to the luscious swell of her breasts.
He wondered if that delicate skin freckled in the sun, finding that probability unbearably hot.
Once inside the spacious parlor, Brigit spotted Silas. Her gaze lifted, all dark, mysterious, and filled with intrigues he’d be wise not to explore.
“Thank you for the escort, Mr. St. Clair, but I can find my own way from here.” There was a subtle shift from pleasant to almost predatory in her tone as she purred, “I appreciate your assistance, as I will your discretion.”
“Happy to oblige in both things.”
He watched her cross the rest of the room with a hypnotic swing to those generous hips. So, the beguiling Miz MacCreedy didn’t want her brother to know that she’d arrived covered in someone else’s blood.
Interesting. And thankfully, not a problem he had to add to his many others.
Taking swift advantage of the fact that her new sister-in-law was on the far side of the room engaged in conversation with her burly bar-owner boss, Brigit swept up to Silas and placed a kiss upon his cheek. She settled back to find him eying her suspiciously.
“Congratulations.” She smiled as his wariness increased, and gave a soft laugh. “I apologize for my lack of earlier enthusiasm. You know how disagreeable I get when I travel.” She patted the lapel of his tux jacket. “Do you think I could have a little of your time, since I came all this way to see you?”
He must have heard the edges of her gaiety fray because he began to frown. She forced a brighter smile. “I won’t take you away from your celebration for long. Just a few minutes. Surely your new friends wouldn’t begrudge your sister a chance to toast your nuptials and impart some wisdom to you on your wedding day.”
He caught back whatever cynical comment he was about to make. “There’s champagne out in the foyer. Let’s get a glass. We can talk in the study. No one will bother us there.”
She was grateful for the arm he curled about her waist. Her knees were annoyingly shaky. Probably from exhaustion.
The quiet of the massive foyer was a relief after all the noisy chatter in the parlor. She hadn’t realized her usually lone-wolf sibling was so popular. Silas smiled at the pretty young Jasmine who tended the punch bowl, and when they both had chilled flutes in hand, he guided Brigit into the somber room from which Jimmy Legere had orchestrated his darkest deeds, closing the door behind them.
Brigit settled on a leather sofa. Its
deep burgundy reminded her of the vileness of recent acts she’d scrubbed off in the bathroom upstairs, making her stomach grip.
Instead of sitting beside her, Silas remained standing and far from relaxed. “Why are you here, Brigit? I’ve been picking up after you for too long not to know you’re in trouble. What have you done, and what do you expect me to do about it?”
Her expression froze. Behind the emotionless mask, her mind spun frantically to find a way around him.
“Don’t you dare try to play me, Bree. Not today. What do you want? Just tell me. I don’t have time for any games.”
A chill seeped into her unblinking stare. Her tone crackled with strain. “I’ve been through hell to get here. The least you can do is not look at your watch like I’m keeping you from some damned appointment.”
“I’ve got a plane to catch in less than two hours, so I’m sorry if we need to cut right to the chase.”
Her face fell. “Where are you going?”
“On my honeymoon. I did just get married.”
“How long will you be gone?” She bit down hard on the desperation that tried to shiver through her words.
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” she echoed in dismay. “This can’t wait that long.”
“If it’s not something I can take care of in the next ten minutes, it’s going to have to.”
“Some things are more important—”
“No.” He cut her off cold. “No, they aren’t. Not this time. This is about me and Nica and the only chance we might ever have for ourselves. Nothing’s more important to me than that.”
“You’ve got the rest of your life to—”
“No, Bree, I don’t. Nica’s pregnant.”
Before she could process that news, he slammed her with the next hard truth. “There could be complications.”
With that soft-spoken phrase, everything changed.
She saw right through to the tension and fear he’d been concealing from the others, probably even his new bride. Her hand reached out for his, holding tight, tugging until he sat down beside her so she could lean against his shoulder.
“Is she all right? Is the baby all right?”
He held her close, his voice shredded by worry. “So far. It’s a compatibility thing, her DNA and mine. LaRoche’s mate, Susanna, is a doctor. She’s been doing genetic research. She’s going to keep a close eye on things.”
“Is she good at what she does?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust her?”
“Yes.”
Brigit stretched up a plant a kiss on his smooth cheek. “I’m going to be an aunt?”
He grinned, forcing his anxieties away. “Yes, you are. Whether you like it or not.”
Brigit sat back, pouting. “Why wouldn’t I like it? Buying things, spoiling the little . . . girl or boy? Do you know yet?”
“A son. I’m going to have a son.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she vowed, “I am so happy for you, Silas. You’ll be such a wonderful father. There’s no way I’d allow something as silly as incompatible DNA get in the way of that.”
“I’ll put it in your hands, then. Fate wouldn’t dare fuck with you.” His smile filled with tenderness. “I love you, Bree. And you will always be part of my family. Always.”
She let herself sag in his embrace, let the moment of comfort and security strengthen her.
Silas blew out a weighty breath and leaned back, his expression softened by concern as he rubbed his thumb across her cheek where dampness clung like dew. “What do you need, baby sister? You know there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”
She did know. She’d been counting on it.
But it was one thing to push her way between him and his lover. It was quite another to disrupt the future he deserved to have with his family. She loved him too much for that.
She laughed. “I don’t need the world. Just a place to stay.”
He was quick to put the pieces together. “What happened in Tahoe?”
Brigit swallowed her pride and settled upon a vague version of the truth. “You know the Terriots and I have no use for each other. They decided that having me there was getting in the way of Kendra choosing someone suitable from their overeager potential mates. They figured she’d make her pick among them much sooner if I weren’t interfering. You know I can’t help myself when it comes to wanting what’s best for our cousin. They kicked me out, Silas, one bag and baggage. Good thing I thought to pack this dress.”
He studied her shrewdly, trying to see beyond her flippant words to the circumstances behind them. “What aren’t you telling me, Bree? Are they treating Kendra properly?”
Brigit sniffed. “She’s their next queen. They’re fawning all over her to win her favor.”
His tone quieted with menace. “And how did they treat you?”
“Like an unwanted annoyance. The same way you usually treat me.” She expelled a dramatic sigh to make light of the situation. Her brother was too good at reading between the lines for her pretense to hold much longer. “How embarrassing to have to beg for room and board, but I find myself without either. Could you put me up in your old apartment for a while? Just until I figure out what I’m going to do?”
“I’m afraid I gave up the lease now that we’re living at Nica’s.”
“God forbid I’d ask to sleep on your couch, so don’t get all nervous.”
“I’m not. You are. Brigit, what’s got you scared?”
She tried to dismiss his all too accurate assumption with a brash “You know I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Granted, not nearly enough frightens you. But something has. You know I’d do anything to protect you.”
Because she knew he would, knew that if she told him everything he would do exactly what she’d counted on, she lowered her guard to convince him that the small grain of truth she was telling was behind her apprehension. “I’m worried that the Guedrys will blame me for what happened to Daniel. They wouldn’t have dared try anything as long as I was in the Terriot compound, but here, I’m feeling a little too vulnerable.”
He accepted that quickly enough, knowing their distant relatives as he did. “You’ll be safe here until I get back. Then we’ll decide what to do about the Guedrys.”
“Here? In this house?”
“There’s plenty of room, and it’s guarded like a fortress.”
“I don’t know, Silas. I don’t know anyone here.”
That wasn’t quite true. Her thoughts jumped irrationally to the aggravatingly pleasant driver who already knew one too many of her secrets. Recalling the way he’d watched her come down the stairs with such heat and raw desire in his eyes made her briefly toy with breaking her cardinal rule against flirtation outside her own kind. Only briefly. She’d found his presence more tolerable than most Uprights. And he had such large, strong hands, so rough yet gentle.
She expelled those peculiar musings with a firm denial. “You know I don’t mix well with humans. They can’t be trusted.”
Before Silas could argue the point, there was a light knock on the door, and a young woman peered in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Silas, but they’re ready to cut the cake.”
Silas stood and put his hand down to his sister. “We’d better not leave my bride alone with a sharp instrument in her hand.” After a moment’s thought, he called to the conservatively dressed woman, “Tina, come in for a minute.”
It took all her control for Brigit not to betray any reaction as the dainty female approached curiously. Silas’s arm had gone about her shoulders to anchor her at his side, squeezing briefly in a warning for her to behave.
“Tina, I’d like you to meet my sister, Brigit. Bree, this is Tina Babineau, our half sister.”
Tina’s big doe eyes impossibly widened, then grew bright with emotion. Without a sound, she flung her arms about her newly found sister and dissolved into tears. Brigit cast a helpless glance up at her brother, not sure what
to do with the creature turning her last decent dress into a soggy mess.
“Tina, Brigit’s considering staying here while I’m gone. I hope she will. It’d give the two of you a chance to get to know each other. Our mother would have liked that.”
Tina stepped back, swiping at her eyes, her smile trembling and radiant. “That would be wonderful. A brother and now a sister.”
Brigit’s gaze went from the hand Silas placed on the other woman’s shoulder up to the undisguised affection on his face. A shock of possessive jealousy flashed through her like a jolt from battery terminals.
Consumed with her own troubles, she’d forgotten about this female whom Therese MacCreedy had made with Bram Terriot, a child who had been in their lives only briefly before their world had been torn apart.
The child who had destroyed her family by her mere existence.
“Please say you’ll stay. I’d love to have the company,” Tina encouraged, as if Brigit would need her invitation.
Brigit bared her teeth and forced the expected smile, drawling, “I’d be happy to.”
three
Giles St. Clair liked things arranged in neat, straightforward columns. Days of the week, morning/afternoon, day/night, black/white, right/wrong, good/bad. When something didn’t fit or fell into a gray area, that was when his life got complicated. Better to keep things simple so he wouldn’t have to dwell on them too deeply. He’d learned that from Jimmy Legere.
Keep things in their proper perspective, Giles. Too much thinking tends to confuse the issues. Go with your gut. Things are usually exactly what they seem that first second you size them up. The harder you look, the less you know.
Living under the mobster’s roof had taught him a lot about the world. Generally, that it was a cruel, merciless place, but there was beauty to be found even in the meanest of circumstances if one looked for it hard enough. Jimmy called beauty the silver lining that quickly tarnished.
Jimmy had been no philosopher, but he’d managed to see right to the truth of things, the same way he’d read the naive college boy Giles once was. Things were usually exactly what they seemed, and no amount of wanting and dreaming would ever change that.
