Midnight Temptation

by L Ann

  He really was breathtaking, Gemma thought, the smile transforming his face from good-looking to almost otherworldly and the light in his eyes when he looked down at her sister made it clear where his feelings lay.

  “Not my fault you’re irresistible to me and my wolf,” he murmured, flashed a smile at Gemma and retreated back into the bedroom and closed the door.

  “Is he okay?” Gemma asked.

  Cassie hooked her arm through Gemma’s. “Mostly. He tries to hide the bad days from me, but even if I couldn’t see it, I can feel it. But he’s getting there. We’re getting there.”

  They fell silent as they descended the stairs and made their way to the kitchen. While Cassie bustled around making coffee, Gemma pulled out a chair and settled at the table.

  “We’ve barely talked since –” Cassie hesitated, and Gemma knew she had been about to mention Damien.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You can say it.”

  “I wanted to talk to you, but it felt like you didn’t want that.” Cassie placed the coffee mug in front of her and moved around the table to sit down.

  “I didn’t. It’s hard to explain, but Deacon says the wolf-side of me forced some kind of separation. The last week is a little hazy in places – like I was living through someone else’s eyes. Does that make sense?” She waited for Cassie’s nod. “There are moments where the memories are brighter, but mostly they’re dull.”

  “And now?” Cassie took a sip of coffee.

  “Now I look back and wonder how everyone thought I was acting normal. Well, not everyone,” she amended softly. “Deacon knew something wasn’t quite right.”

  “Are you and Deacon–” Cassie broke off when Gemma’s cell rang.

  Pulling it out of her pocket, Gemma frowned at the caller display. “That’s mom’s number.” She looked at Cassie, her brows pulled together in a frown, as she connected the call. “Mom?”

  “Hello again, pretty kitty.”

  The colour drained from Gemma’s face. “How did you get my mom’s phone?” she whispered.

  “That’s not the question you should be asking,” Damien chided gently. “Would you like to give it another try?”

  “I don’t … what do you mean?” Gemma’s eyes caught Cassie’s. Find Deacon! She mouthed. Cassie’s eyes were wide and she jumped to her feet, but didn’t leave the room.

  “Come on, kitty cat. Where would I find mommy’s phone?” He sighed down the line. “Would you like a clue?”

  Gemma heard a muffled conversation and then … “Gemma? Oh my God, Gemma! You’re alive!”

  “Mom?!” Gemma jerked away from the phone, her heartbeat speeding up. “Mom, where are you? Are you hurt?”

  “Gemma, you need to–”

  “That’s enough mother-daughter bonding.” Damien’s voice returned.

  “What have you done with my mom?” Gemma demanded shrilly. “Why is she with you?”

  “Oh, silly kitty. Mommy-dearest has been with me for a few months now. We’ve been having a wonderful time getting to know each other.”

  “What?” Mouth dry, she asked the question that rose in her mind, already knowing the answer. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you wonder why you couldn’t get hold of her at all? Why she never called you? Why she never returned your calls when you left messages about your sister’s accident?”

  “She told me she was going to be out of contact. Have you had her all this time?” Gemma whispered sickly.

  “There’s my clever kitty,” Damien praised. “If you want your mommy back, you’ll bring Shaun to me. I’ll text you an address and a time.”

  “But–”

  “I’m not interested in all the reasons why you can’t do it. Shaun for your mother … or she’ll be meeting your father very soon.” The call ended abruptly.

  Gemma stared down at the phone in her hands, her mind racing.

  Had her mother even gone on the cruise? Had Damien found her before or after she boarded the ship? Why did he have her?

  “Gemma?” Cassie’s soft voice broke through her thoughts and she lifted her head to look at her sister’s stricken face. “Is it true? Does he have mom?”

  Her nod was jerky. “I need to talk to Deacon. He’ll know what to do.”

  Deacon strolled through the back door, whistling softly. The sound faltered as his eyes swept over the room, taking in Gemma and Cassie’s ashen faces. Cassie glanced at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, and he frowned.

  Why was she so upset? Had something happened to Shaun? He automatically checked for Shaun in the Pack bond. No, he could feel Shaun just fine.

  His attention shifted to Gemma, who had risen to her feet at his entrance.

  Whatever it was affected both of them strongly. Had they argued?

  He focused on Gemma, whose hands gripped the edge of the table in front of her. Her scent suggested she was just as upset as her sister, but there was also a hard edge of anger present too.

  What had angered her? He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to piss her off so far, but the day was young.

  “What’s going on?” he asked into the silence.

  “He wants Shaun!” Cassie blurted out.

  “He? He who?” Deacon hoped the answer wasn’t the one he expected it to be.

  “Damien.”

  “We’ve always known that,” he began softly, wondering if Cassie hadn’t quite understood Damien’s motives before. Had that been what they were talking about?

  “You don’t understand!” Cassie moved toward the door. “I need to warn him.”

  “Wait!” With a burst of speed, Deacon put himself between the door and Cassie. “Tell me what’s going on.” He directed the question at Gemma, who slowly raised her eyes to focus on him.

  “Damien has our mother,” she told him after a moment’s beat of silence. “He called my cell from her number.”

  “What?” Deacon rocked back in surprise. “I thought your mother was on a cruise?”

  “So did we,” Gemma replied bitterly. “But it seems Damien has had her the entire time. And now he wants to use her as leverage. Her for Shaun.”

  Deacon rapidly did the math. “But he would have had to have taken her before Shaun even arrived here. There’s no way he knew Shaun and Cassie would become mates, or even hook up. It makes no sense.”

  “He definitely has her, Deacon. I spoke to her.”

  “And you’re sure it was her? Not someone pretending to be her?”

  “No! I know the sound of my own mother’s voice!” Gemma snapped.

  Deacon held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I know you do. But you have to admit it seems a little coincidental.

  “How do you explain it then?”

  “Starshine, if you say it was your mother, then I believe you. But why would he have her? It doesn’t make any sense. He can’t have taken her because he knew Cassie would become Shaun’s mate. Neither of you knew us then.” He crossed the room, prised her hands away from the table and turned her to face him, running his thumbs across her knuckles. “Could she have been on her way home? Maybe he took her recently?”

  Gemma shook her head. “He said he’s had her for months. Months! She’s not due back home for another eight weeks.” Her fingers tightened on his, her expression turning sickly. “He only had me for a few days and look what he did. What’s he done to her?”

  “Don’t let yourself think that.” He sank onto a chair and pulled Gemma down onto the one beside him. She perched there, tense and on edge. “Starshine? Babe, tell me what he said to you.”

  He gripped the sides of her seat and turned it to face him, then dragged it closer until her legs were between his. “Talk to me. From the top, take me through what happened.”

  Deacon listened while Gemma told him about the phone call, waited patiently when she faltered when she reached her brief conversation with her mother, keeping her hands clasped in his.

  “How did she sound?” he asked.

  “Sou
nd? What do you mean?”

  “Scared, happy, worried. Could you get a feel for her emotions?”

  His eyes stayed on her face while Gemma considered his question and sat forward expectantly when she drew in a sharp breath.

  “She sounded shocked to speak to me, that I was alive. Oh my God!” she breathed. “Did Damien convince her we were dead? Why would he do that? None of this makes any sense!”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. This entire thing has the feel of something that’s been a long time in planning. But how can that be the case?” He pulled his cell from his pocket. “We need to call a meeting. Bring in Mac and Shaun.” He glanced at where Cassie still hovered near the doorway. “Go and find Shaun, bring him to Mac’s study.” As he instructed Cassie, he found Mac’s number, hit dial and lifted the phone to his hear. The call went directly to his voice-mail.

  “Mac, wrap up whatever you’re doing and come indoors. We need a meeting as soon as you get this.” He cut the call, thought for a second, then also fired off a text to his brother for good measure.

  “Have you received his promised text with the time and location yet?” he asked Gemma, who shook her head. “If I know anything about Damien, he won’t wait too long, or give us much time to prepare.”

  “What are we going to do?” Gemma whispered. “We can’t give Shaun back to him, but if we don’t he’s going to kill her. I know he will.”

  “We can buy some time. If he kills her, he has nothing left to bargain with. That will be the last thing he’ll want.” He raised her hand to his lips. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Deacon and Cormac had been arguing back and forth for half an hour over whether Damien had taken Gemma’s mother or if he was simply trying a bluff tactic hoping it would draw Shaun out. Deacon defended Gemma’s statement that she would recognise her own mother’s voice, while Cormac was erring on the side of caution and pointed out how easy it would be to mistake one female voice for another in the middle of panicking. Shaun, also in the room, said nothing.

  When Gemma’s phone chimed to indicate an incoming message, he lifted unreadable green eyes and watched as she unlocked her phone and opened the message app.

  “Is that from him?” he asked her quietly, and his two brothers fell silent.

  Gemma swallowed and nodded. “He’s attached a photograph of mom,” she said to Cassie, struggling to contain the sudden threat of tears.

  “Give it to me. I’ll read it,” Deacon told her, holding out his hand.

  Gemma shook her head, giving him a tremulous smile. “No, I can do this.” She looked closer at the picture of her mother.

  The older woman was seated on a small wooden chair holding a newspaper with that day’s date on it. Her clothes looked scuffed and dirty, but otherwise her mother looked unharmed.

  The accompanying text said –

  Proof of life because I’m sure my cousins have tried to convince you I don’t have her. Reply when you are ready to commit.

  Gemma read the message out to the room, and she heard Deacon swear furiously beneath his breath.

  Tell him you’re ready,” Shaun told her. “We need that location.”

  Gemma frowned. His tone of voice was off, and she didn’t like it.

  Accurately reading her look, he gave her a gentle smile. “It’ll be okay. Send the text.”

  When Cormac and Deacon both nodded in agreement, she bent her head to her phone and replied.

  What do you want me to do?

  Barely a minute passed before her phone chimed again.

  Get Shaun to the place where his little blonde playmate first saw his wolf. You have one hour.

  She relayed the message to everyone.

  “What the fuck!” Deacon exploded. “How does he think you can get Shaun to go there without rousing suspicion?”

  “Because that’s his intent. He knows Gemma will tell us and he’ll expect the Pack to close in on the area,” Cormac responded. “He won’t be there.”

  “Unless he thinks Gemma is desperate to rescue her mother. She might talk Shaun into sneaking out without telling anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Deacon!” Gemma jumped into the conversation.

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he snapped in return. “That doesn’t mean Damien thinks the same thing. He thinks he’s left you broken, that you’ll do whatever he demands of you.”

  “We can’t make that assumption,” Cormac said. “If he’s had Gemma and Cassie’s mother for as long as he claims, then he’s been planning something for a long time. There’s no way he knew Cassie and Shaun would end up together, so why did he take her? What was he planning? And did those plans change when we …” He trailed off, eyes flaring. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “I need to check something.” Cormac spun and strode around to the other side of his desk and rummaged through a drawer.

  After a few minutes, he looked up. “I hate to ask, but when did your father die?” He directed the question at Gemma.

  “February nineteenth,” Gemma replied.

  “I received an email from our Realtor on March third, with details of the house and surrounding land.” He threw a folder down onto the desk and flipped it open. “I was told the sale was being rushed as the owner wanted the property off her hands because of a death in the family, and she wanted a fresh start elsewhere.”

  “The timing is right. Mom said she couldn’t stand being in the house without dad. After the sale, she bought a small condo on the side of town where Sam lives, and then announced she had paid for a six month Caribbean cruise,” Cassie explained.

  “Mom was never one for travelling. She liked her home comforts,” Gemma added. “I thought it was strange, but put it down to grief.”

  “You both said Damien was in town and friends with your father before he died?” Cormac asked.

  Gemma nodded. “He left town two days before dad died.”

  “Did he?” Cormac’s question hung in the air.

  “Fuck,” Deacon swore. “You think he–”

  “I think we underestimated Damien and whatever is driving him. Shaun,” Cormac turned to face the seat Shaun had been using and found it empty. “Where is he?”

  Deacon shot to his feet. “Fucking hell! He must have slipped out while we were arguing.” He strode to the door and threw it open. “Has anyone seen Shaun?” he bellowed.

  “He shifted and headed out about five minutes ago.” One of the younger Pack members poked his head out of the games room.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Deacon growled. He pulled back into the study. “I would put money on him going to meet Damien.”

  Deacon strode toward the front door, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he went.

  “Deacon?” Gemma’s voice stopped him, and he half-turned and waited as she moved rapidly toward him. “Are you going after him?”

  “Of course I am.” He threw the t-shirt to one side and unbuttoned his combats, while he toed off his boots.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Deacon glared at her. “No fucking way.”

  “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I’m coming.”

  “You think you’re ready to face the man who spent three days raping you?” He asked. He knew he was being harsh, knew he shouldn’t be throwing in her face, but there was no time for persuasion and there was no way he was going to agree to her going with him.

  She flinched, her face draining of colour, but he had to give her credit. She jerked her head up, narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  Part of him loved her defiance, the rest of him didn’t. His wolf both crowed in delight and demanded her submission. Neither part wanted her anywhere near Damien.

  “I know where Cassie saw Shaun’s wolf. I know this town and its surrounding land better than you do. I’ve lived here all my life. If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll go without you.”

  Deacon’s own eyes narrowed, and his lip curled. “Fine! Prove you’re ready. Strip. Right here
, right now. Shift in front of everyone. You do that and you can come with me.”

  “I can–” she began, glancing around at the shifters who had come out of the games room, curious, at the sound of Deacon’s raised voice.

  “No. You think you’re fucking ready, then you prove it. Fucking strip and shift.” He shoved his combats down his legs and kicked out of them. Naked, he folded his arms across his chest and faced her. “And fucking make it fast. I want to catch Shaun before he gets too much of a head-start. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

  Deacon was purposely harsh, he wanted desperately for her to back down, retreat, bow to his dominance in this.He could see her visibly struggling, her need to help battling with her wolf’s natural instinct to follow her Alpha’s command. He knew which part of her he wanted to win that battle, but his heart sank when she stiffened her spine and her eyes flashed.

  “Fine!” she spat at him, and her fingers went to the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled it over her head and threw it at him, leaving her in a pale cream bra and yoga pants.

  When she bent to peel the pants down her legs, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the TV room. “Fucking get your asses out of here,” he snarled at the Pack members sprawled around watching television. “Get out and if any of you fucking look at her, it’ll be the last thing you see.” He whirled and stalked behind them toward the door as they all scurried out. Slamming the door, he spun back and groaned softly.

  Gemma was standing in her bra and panties, her scent an agonising mix of anxiety and irritation. She was temptation incarnate. Forcing himself to keep his eyes on her face, he waved a hand.

  “I don’t have all fucking night,” he growled. “Get the rest off and shift.” He swallowed and ground his teeth when she reached back, unhooked the bra and let it slip down her arms. “Fuck’s sake,” he whispered. Was she deliberately tormenting him? He wanted to grab her, taste her, sample the tantalising nipples hardening under his gaze.

  “I thought you said you didn’t notice a woman naked unless they were in your bed?” Gemma muttered, as she shoved her panties down and stood glaring at him self-consciously.