by Sydney Addae
“Not in the sense that you are thinking –”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” she snapped, aggravated by his about face. Now she’d have to explain to her mate how talking with a crazy person got her so twisted up she shut down their link. He would think she forgot to take her medication, again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I assure you, nothing is wrong, all is right in my world. To hear the voice of the one… I apologize for being testy before. I would close with these words of caution, be careful and stay close to home.”
Brow raised, she glanced at Rose, who remained seated, face down at her desk. She was torn between helping Rose and by extension, her son Tyrone, or listening to information that may or may not shed light on the level of hostility aimed at her or Silas. With her mom and sister arriving soon, she wanted to be sure everyone was safe.
Pushing from the desk, Jasmine pulled up a nearby chair and sat. Crossing her legs, she smoothed down her peach-colored dress, and rested her left hand on her leg. “Something tells me that you have more to say. Get it off your chest, big guy. I’m listening,” she said, meeting Rose’s startled eyes.
“I have been asking for a sign and hearing your voice today, of all days, tells me I am on the right path. You are beauty and grace personified, a worthy choice to lead.”
“What?” She sprung forward wondering where he was going with all of this.
“Then once again the glow returns; again the phantom city burns. And down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go.”
Since Robert Louis Stevenson was one of her favorite poets, she finished the poem. “The phantom armies marching go! Blinking embers, tell me true. Where are those armies marching to? And what the burning city is that crumbles in your furnaces!” She paused, rehearsing the words over in her mind. That poem dealt with death, just what was Merriweather up to? She opened her link to Silas, he needed to hear this.
“Ah, smart and beautiful, a jewel in the crown to be sure. I thank you for taking time to speak with one such as I. Farewell my lady.”
“What? Wait,” she called out, but he had already disconnected. Jasmine gazed at Rose, who returned her stare. “Merriweather is crazy. Just so you know, he is never to come inside the gate. Never.” She slammed the receiver back into the cradle.
Rose jerked as though hit.
“Sorry.” Feeling bad that she had caused the younger woman discomfort, but still ticked over Merriweather, Jasmine walked around the desk and placed the back of her hand on Rose’s forehead. Sensing Silas’ anger, she sent him a message to remain calm before she spoke to her daughter-in-law. “At least you don’t have a fever. You need to lie down. Is there someone else who can cover for you?”
“Not right now. I can leave in an hour or so.” Rose pushed away from the desk and stood slowly. Color leached from her skin. The milky whiteness of her cheeks surrounded by her wavy jet black hair, and smudged red lipstick created a vampire look . Stifling a grin over the thought of vampires and Rose in the same sentence, she offered her arm for assistance.
“No, I can do this. What happened with Merriweather?” she asked, moving toward the sofa.
Jasmine scoffed. “He flipped. One minute he was threatening Silas, the next he started paying me compliments, quoting poetry and talking like this was the 1800s or something. I’m telling you the man ain’t right in the head. Seriously, put him on the 'hell no he can’t enter the gate' list.”
Rose chuckled and then held her forehead.
Jasmine slowly walked behind her, prepared to assist.
“What the hell happened?" Silas asked through their link.
“I’ll tell you later, I’m trying to get Rose settled." After mating with Silas, his gruffness no longer offended her. It had taken some time and lots of conversations, and she knew that while he might get angry, he would never hurt her.
“What’s wrong with her?" His tone softened.
“Tyrone took the shot and it’s impacting her." She knew he was aware of her son’s decision because Silas had to give his approval before the shot was administered.
“Damn. I need to check on him, he should be coming out of it by now. How bad is she?"
“Weak, nauseous, head and body pain. She looks shaky to me, but she won’t leave the office until her replacement gets here."
“Tell her to take the rest of the day off. I’ll have Hank cover the phones until the replacement comes in. Shut down the office and lock the door behind you. Can she walk, do I need to send someone to help her to their wing?"
Jasmine stooped until she could see Rose’s eyes and watch the steady movement of her chest. She informed Rose of Silas’ orders. “Can you walk or do I need to get some help?”
“I think I can make it.” Rose remained still on the sofa with her eyes closed. “The pain isn’t as bad right now.”
“She wants to do it on her own," Jasmine told Silas.
“Figures. I’ve sent Jarcee to wait in the hallway when the two of you leave. If you need him, he’s available to assist. Focus on getting Rose back to her wing, Jarcee will shut down the office."
“Okay." She moved back as Rose slowly pushed up from the sofa to a seated position and then stood.
“Jasmine?"
“Yeah?" She walked ahead to open the door for Rose to shuffle through. Her daughter-in-law weaved sluggishly as if she were drunk. It would have been funny if there wasn’t a grimace of pain on the younger woman’s face.
“I haven’t forgotten you shut me down while talking to Merriweather. Do I need to kill him?"
“What?” Shock from his calmly thought words promoted her to speak aloud.
“What did he say to make you shut me out and then reopen our link moments later?"
Rose walked unsteadily out of the office and turned toward the east wing of the mansion where she lived with her mate and brother. Jasmine walked alongside her.
“Jasmine?" Silas snapped, his irritation flowing through their link.
“Wait a minute, I’m walking Rose to her wing. We’ll finish the conversation when I’m done. But I will tell you, Merriweather is unstable and you should do a deep investigation regarding him, somehow he’s involved with what happened three weeks ago."
Without seeing him, she knew her mate went absolutely still. “Why do you say that?"
“Just a feeling that he’s involved. He quoted a poem from Robert Louis Stevenson. It was all about armies and death."
“You were familiar with the poem?"
She exhaled at the skepticism in his voice, refusing to take offense. Yes. I knew the poem actually. I like Stevenson and know his work. Can we talk about this later? I’m about to get Rose settled."
“Once she is settled I want to know exactly what Merriweather said. I told Jennings to close the case on Merriweather’s relative, but we might need to re-evaluate that if your hunch is right, and it probably is."
Blond haired and green eyed, Jarcee stood almost seven feet. He bent and knocked at the entry door of Rose and Tyrone’s living space. Afterward, he stepped back so he could be seen if anyone was inside. A moment later Tyrese opened the door and looked up at Jarcee, who pointed at Jasmine and Rose. Immediately, Tyrese strode down the hall, picked Rose up and carried her inside.
“Ow, not so fast, Rese,” Rose complained as he set her on her feet inside the living room.
Jasmine nodded her thanks to Jarcee before closing the door. He would wait and escort her to the nursery after she made sure her older children were okay.
“Rone is in bed,” Tyrese said, glancing at Jasmine before placing his hand beneath Rose’s elbow for support.
“How’s he doing?” Jasmine asked, following the two into the back room.
“He’ll be fine,” Tyrese mumbled without looking at her.
“No doubt. But that’s not what I asked, Rese,” Jasmine said in a stern voice.
“He’s in pain…a lot of pain, but it’s waning…a little. Maybe with his mate nearby
it will get better faster,” Tyrese said, stopping at the foot of the bed where Tyrone lay on his stomach. The smell of sweaty, unwashed body and vomit stained the air in the dark room. Jasmine was tempted to open the window to let the fresh breeze clear out the odor, but watching Rose slowly climb into bed, fully dressed, and lie next to Tyrone made her ask first.
“Does light bother you?”
“Yes,” Tyrone croaked as he touched Rose’s fingers and then intertwined them.
Now was not the time to repeat her reservations over what they had done although she yearned to go off on her son. She never agreed that this was a good idea no matter how many times both sets of twins had tried to explain. Lilly, Rose’s twin, and Rose had understood immediately ‘why’ Tyrone and Tyrese needed to take the shot. The fact that Rose was uneasy about her mate taking the shot was a different matter in the young woman’s mind.
“We grow up in one another’s minds, it’s like we’re one but different,” Lilly had explained. After going back and forth with the four of them, Jasmine had finally dropped the subject, realizing she would never get it.
Backing up, the ripe odor made her nose itch. She hit the wall and moved to the right of it. “Get some rest, Rone, and I’ll check on you both later.”
“Thanks, Ma,” he whispered.
“Thanks, Mom,” Rose said, her voice a little stronger than her mate’s.
Chapter 5
Detective Pete Jennings sat at his desk staring blindly at the blank form on the monitor. La Patron had spoken to the Captain, who had cleared the way for him to return to active duty after his sudden absence. Three and a half weeks ago he had been laid up on an operating table dying because he had no idea his wolf was dying, or how to fix with the problem. All his life he had been taught if he just ignored that side of his personality, it would go away.
When he was a teen, his mom had signed him up for a program where he was given bi-annual shots. At the time he didn’t think much of it. There were no side effects that he was aware of and he felt fine. By the time he left for college, he no longer thought of the animal co-existing inside him. He should have known better, it’s a miracle he made it as far as he had.
Every once in a while his head would hurt or he’d become nauseous, but those episodes became less over the years. He shook his head at his ignorance. According to the doctor, he would have been dead by the end of the year. His wolf had been that ill. And once his wolf died, he would have simply dropped dead.
Over the past few weeks Froggy had drilled every bit of history of the wolf nation into him. He’d been surprised that Silas Knight had been appointed to the position of La Patron by the Goddess, the Supreme Being all wolves believed in. According to Froggy, Silas was the equivalent of the President of any country. An alpha of his training and choosing led every state in the United States. Under Silas’ reign the wolf nation had grown stronger and prospered. He wore the title of the Alpha’s alpha and ran the world’s largest pack.
Initially, Jennings had balked. The things he had heard about the Patron over the years didn’t add up. But as Froggy trained his wolf, Jennings’ mentality underwent a transformation. His wolf traits superseded his human side. He embraced the simplicity of pack rules, and craved the comfort and camaraderie of the local pack. During training he met other half-breeds like himself from various walks of life, male and female. And for the first time in years, he knew where he belonged.
“Merriweather has been calling and wanting to talk to you,” Captain Samson said, placing a file on his desk. “While you were out, I assigned the case to Mirrs, but he never did anything on it. Now that you’re back, see about wrapping this up.”
Jennings glanced at the file with a sense of foreboding. Neither he nor his wolf cared for Merriweather. Robert had been a hired gun who lost his life on the case. Instead of being glad no one had pressed charges against the criminal, the family tried to force Silas’ hand in his own yard. Knowing what he now knew, it sickened him how Merriweather used the law with no regard for justice or honesty.
“Yes, Sir.”
“He wants to meet with you to show you some information he has discovered. His phone number and address are in the file.” The police captain paused. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good, thank you, Sir.” He glanced briefly at the Captain, who frowned at him.
“Good, good, glad to have you back,” the Captain mumbled as he strode off.
Jennings wiped his nose. His newly acquired acute sense of smell and the Captain’s cologne made his eyes water. Mentally, he dialed back his senses like Froggy had taught him so he wouldn’t become distracted by all the body odors in the office.
For a moment, he gazed at the folder. His instructions from La Patron had been clear. “Close the case.” It no longer mattered if La Patron was involved in the disappearance of Merriweather or not. If his Alpha meted out judgment, then Jennings would uphold that decree. His job now was to protect his Alpha and his pack. A surge of affirmation from his wolf ran through him. He and his beast were one on this issue. The question now before him was how to follow his instructions without raising a flag.
Opening the file, he re-read his notes from the beginning and smiled. Now that he knew Rose Bennett was bitch to one of La Patron’s top security men, he marveled at how well she'd handled him. She could have ripped out his throat and covered it up easily. There might have been a few questions, but his death would have been swept under the rug. He had been rude and disrespectful when he'd interviewed her. Once he discovered who she was, he'd apologized to her mate. Apology had been accepted and he lived to work another day. But the words he had spoken to La Patron’s bitch were not so easily glossed over. He had received a well deserved tongue-lashing from Froggy, and La Patron had knocked him down. Lesson learned. It was a good trade-off as far as he was concerned.
The folder was jam-packed with circumstantial data, but nothing concrete connected La Patron to the death of Merriweather. There never had been any substantial clues, other than the ramblings of a rich man yelling for justice for his corrupt relative. And the twisted desire of a dying detective bent on making a name for himself.
Jennings pulled his thoughts together and began filling in the computerized form. Just as he reached the end, the phone on his desk rang. As he re-read the comments he had typed, he answered. “Jennings.”
“Detective Jennings, delighted to hear a competent voice on the other end of the phone. I trust your father is better,” Alfred Merriweather said. Four weeks ago, Jennings would have wholeheartedly agreed with the man, puffed up his over-inflated ego even more, and pretended they were both on the same team. Now that he knew most of the cops on the force were wolves, he took offense at the dig and didn’t respond to the belittling remark.
It took Jennings a moment to remember the cover story Froggy had given him to explain his extended absence. “Thanks, he is doing somewhat better, but he’s not quite out of the woods yet. My brother is there with him now.” All of that was true except he hadn’t been in Montana with his stepfather when the man fell and broke his hip.
“Good, good, glad to have you back. Listen, I know you haven’t had an opportunity to do much on the case but I found a folder in Bobby’s things. I’d like you to come over and take a look at. I would bring it to the station but in all honesty, I believe your fellow officers are tired of me and my family. If you don’t mind coming out here, I’d appreciate it.”
An uneasy feeling skittered down his spine. One thing Froggy had preached the last three weeks, trust your instincts because that’s your wolf communicating with you. “I'm sorry but I have to clear my desk. I have a backlog here from being gone so long. If you can, just drop the folder off with the front officer, and I’ll grab it from him and take a look at it.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll see what I can do. Just trying to get justice for my brother. You understand, right, Detective?”
Jennings heard the curious note in the other man’s voice. “Most definit
ely Mr. Merriweather. We all want justice and will do everything within our power to bring that about.”
“Good to hear it, I knew you were a man of value when I first met you. You’ll find the people responsible for murdering Robbie. I have faith in your sense of honor.” He paused as if Jennings should say something.
He didn’t.
“Well, thank you for your time, Detective. I’ll get that file to you.”
“I appreciate that Mr. Merriweather. Have a good day.” He clicked off, gazed at his report for a minute, and then finished his comments. “There is inconclusive evidence that the death of Robert Merriweather was anything other than accidental,” Jennings read softly before closing the file and sending it to the captain.
Three hours later, he came back from lunch. The captain had left a message for him to report to his office when he returned. After taking a long sip from his cup, he tossed it and went to see the captain. He tapped on the closed door.
“Captain?”
“Come in, Jennings.”
He ran his fingers through his short reddish-brown hair, and tucked his shirt into his black pants before opening the door. Unsure what awaited him on the other side, Jennings moved cautiously, listening to his wolf.
Captain Samson sat behind his desk, a large folder sat on the side. He waved Jennings to a chair. “Sit, sit.”
Jennings took a seat, trusting his wolf to inform him of any foul play. “Thank you, Sir.” He found a comfortable spot and waited for the captain to explain the purpose of this visit.
“Merriweather had one of his people drop this box with folders and other things off while you were at lunch. He called fifteen minutes ago saying a small box with a piece of critical evidence, some clothes or something, was accidentally left out of the package they delivered and wondered if you or one of the other officers could swing by to pick them up. I told him that we could wait until someone on his staff had an opportunity to bring in the additional information, but he insisted this new evidence be looked at today. He went on and on about how patient he’s been, and the many times he has come to the station.” The captain released a long sigh. Sitting forward, he clasped his hands on his desk and gazed at Jennings. “I’m not going to lie. When you first came here a couple of months back, challenging the status quo, and allowing this man to have a voice, I wondered how long you’d last. When you disappeared, I thought I’d have to write you off. It shocked me when La…Mr. Knight called to tell me you were returning and to make sure you received your back pay.”
