“It’s not all bad news.” Tom gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, enough contact to show support, but not enough to push me over the edge. “Joe came to see me at the station. He told me to let you know that we can stay with him and Mary until we get a new place and that he and Mary are taking us out to Guiseppe’s for dinner so he can apologize for being such an ass.”
I saw the drop of my jaw reflected in the car window. Closing my mouth, I turned to look Tom in the eye. I had to be sure he wasn’t joking. After what Mary just told me, I couldn’t believe that it was that simple.
“Yeah,” Tom grinned. “I know. Kinda threw me for a loop too. But it’s the truth. He was off work because of the suspension—” Tom opened the car door for me, I peered inside and confirmed with the driver that this really was our cab before climbing in and sliding across the smooth vinyl seat.
“Suspension?” Crap. Mary hadn’t mentioned that, but it made sense if the brass didn’t trust his judgment anymore. Tom winced. “The press got to him.” He pulled the door closed. “They started asking about you, and what he thought about you having killed vampires now that we know how helpful they can be to mankind.”
Uh oh. They’d played him like a concerto, pushed all the right buttons: his family and his work. The parasites may be working on good press right now, but the fact is, you get infested, you’ve got a remaining life expectancy of five to ten years—if that. And Joe, like me, is more than a little suspicious about this newfound helpfulness in the bloodsuckers.
“You can guess how it played out.”
The cabbie pulled out into traffic. For a long moment the only sound was the crackle of voices on his radio as the dispatcher routed the various drivers to their destinations.
I could imagine how Joe would react. Badly. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without it becoming a string of swear words.
“They showed the tape of it on the news—every station. I made a copy for you. He defends you, and blasts them. My favorite part was when he said ”McDonald’s doesn’t save cows, and the vamps aren’t helping us. We’re food and shelter. Period.”
Oh God, I could just hear him saying it. And wouldn’t that just give the hospital administrators fits. After all, they were working hand in hand with the vampires to bring coma victims and Eden zombies back to consciousness. Tom shook his head. Just that simple movement told me that he felt sorry for Joe, thought he was a fool, and at the same time admired him. I wasn’t surprised. Joe engenders mixed emotions in just about everybody, me included. He sighed. “They wanted him to issue a public apology. When he refused, they put him on suspension.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
Ouch! I’d met the hospital administrator. A bigger ass you’ve never seen. He’d expect my brother to back down at the threat of losing his job. He’d be wrong. Joe doesn’t react any better to threats than I do. Look in the dictionary under hard-headed, you’ll find a picture of our family crest.
“But there’s a second spot of good news. Figured I’d save it till last. Our wedding present from Mike arrived.”
Something in the way he said it, so soft and serious, made me worry a little. Father Michael O’Rourke had been my first real love, right up until he chose the priesthood over me. We’ve remained the closest of friends since. Until I found Tom, Mike had always been the one I went to: when I fought with Joe, when Bryan became an Eden zombie, when my former fiancé became part of the Thrall and tried to trap me into doing the same. Last year the same lunatic who’d captured Joe had tortured Mike for information. I’d been in hiding. She wanted to know where I was. She’d been sure he’d know—and intended to use the information to kill me. With everything she’d done to him, he hadn’t broken. She’d wound up getting the information off of his answering machine.
Mike lived, but he was horribly scarred, and paralyzed from the waist down. The amazing thing is, he doesn’t blame me for any of it. Apparently, unlike Joe.
But not unlike me. I miss Mike. I feel guilty and sad every time his name comes up. I feel even more guilty that I’m relieved he’s gone to Rome to work at the Vatican. Because, guilt aside, there was a tension building between him and Tom that I didn’t like.
I knew we needed to talk about it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it with the cabbie right there. As if in answer to an unspoken prayer I heard the driver’s cell phone ring. As I watched he hit the button to his hands-free headset and was chattering away.
“He sent us tickets to Italy for next month. He’s arranged hotels, sightseeing, everything. He’s giving us a honeymoon.”
Wow. Okay then. That was unexpected. And not cheap. I knew that the church did right by Mike, particularly now that he was on their International Youth Council, but that, that was impressive to the point of being scary. I wasn’t sure what to say. Hell, I wasn’t sure what to think.
Tom’s smile grew wistful. “I feel kind of guilty, really.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Why would you feel guilty, for heaven’s sake?” I mean … me, sure. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ve always been more than a little jealous of Mike. And I’m pretty sure he was jealous of me too. But then he goes and does something like this, and—”
I reached up to cup his cheek in my good hand. “You do not have any reason to be jealous of Mike.”
Tom sighed. When he met my gaze his eyes were oh so serious. “You loved him, Kate. He was your first true love. If he hadn’t joined the priesthood the two of you would be celebrating your anniversaries and raising kids together right now. Hell, a few months ago he was ready to die rather than give you up to the monsters.”
The car was slowing to pull into the hotel driveway and the cabbie had ended his personal call. This was a big subject, and there wasn’t enough time or privacy right now to do it justice, but I had to try. I caught Tom’s gaze, and kept it, putting every ounce of intensity I could in my expression and in the words I was about to say. “Mike was my first love, and he is a terrific guy. When I was younger I couldn’t imagine finding anyone better for me, loving anyone more. But he chose the church. His calling is more important to him than I was; than anything, really. If he had to choose again, he’d make the same decision.” I steeled myself, this next was the hard part. Saying it out loud, admitting my true feelings, would make me completely vulnerable in ways I hadn’t dared since Michael. Not with Dylan certainly, and not with anyone else. “But the truth is, if I had to choose again I wouldn’t choose Mike. I’d choose you. I love you. Completely. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. You mean everything to me. I just wish there was some way I could prove that to you.”
“You mean that.” He whispered the words, his voice tight with emotion.
“Hell, yes I mean it!”
“Well, I can’t even imagine my life without you—and I don’t want to. Just the thought of losing you…” He shook his head to clear it of the unwelcome thought. “I won’t give you up, Katie. Whatever happens, I’m in it for the long haul.”
I leaned in, laying a gentle kiss on his lips before whispering. “I love you, Tom Bishop.”
“I love you, Mary Kathleen Reilly. And if you weren’t injured I’d drag you up to the suite and demonstrate how much in all sorts of new and creative ways.”
“It’s only my arm.” I smiled when I said it. Yes, the arm hurt, but the pain pills had taken the edge off, and I wanted to do whatever I could to ease the hurt I’d seen in Tom’s eyes. “If we’re careful—”
Tom paid the cabbie and grabbed his bags. We moved with almost indecent haste through the lobby, past the colorful rows of slot machines and the equally colorful characters playing them. The ringing bells and clink of change were loud enough to give me a headache. I saw Tom wince, and realized how painful all the noise must be to his sensitive wolf ears. It was a relief when the elevator doors whooshed shut behind us, and the only sound was muted Muzak. I was digging in my pocket for the key before the elevator got off the first floor. If anything, Tom was even more impatient than I was. What could possibly go wrong?
Just having the thought was tempting fate. I should’ve known better. But no. Leave it to my luck. Wrong, in this case, took the form of a very large middle-aged werewolf standing outside the door to the hotel room. In human form she was only an inch shorter than I was, but she was probably a solid fifty pounds heavier and all of it was muscle. She wore a navy tank top with matching shorts that had white piping and little slits up the side that only emphasized just how buff her legs were. The black curls she’d pulled back into a ponytail were liberally streaked with silver. The gray hairs looked good on her, going well with faint wrinkles that were just starting to line her features. I recognized her from the description Annie gave. Her name was Elaine Johnston … the Acca for Las Vegas, the elected head of the Conclave—and oh, and let’s not forget, Janine and Betty’s adoptive mother.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Reilly, Tom.” Her voice was a pleasant alto. The words were delivered seriously, but without menace.
“Acca.” Tom addressed her by her title, giving a respectful nod of his head.
“We need to talk.”
I felt a surge of irrational anger. Not at her necessarily, although frustration was making me annoyed. More than that, though, I was really beginning to hate that phrase. Every time I heard it lately I was getting seriously bad news. I didn’t want more bad news. I had enough on my plate at the moment. I sure as hell didn’t want to “talk” with the head of the freaking Conclave. But, there you go.
I shifted the plastic bag the hospital had given me onto my left arm, but the moment the strings wrapped around the cast, I realized it was a stupid thing to do. A wave of pain hit my brain that the painkillers couldn’t handle. Tom looked panicked for a moment and then touched my bare skin. I felt a soothing wave of warmth flow through my arm
… felt the pain dissolve in the magic of his wolf. He can do that, and has for me before. I luxuriated for a brief second in feeling no pain, but then I shook my head. I let him know with a glance that this was no time to show any weakness because I was only human.
He frowned the tiniest bit but did as I asked. He pulled away his power and then the pain was back, sharp and immediate. I took a deep breath to swallow it back in and then slid the card key into the slot on the door and pulled it out slowly. The light turned green, the lock switching open with an audible click. It was Tom who turned the knob and opened the door, holding it so that Elaine and I could precede him. She stopped a step or two inside the room, taking a long look around. I saw her back stiffen. Watching the expressions chasing across her face, I decided that Elaine wouldn’t be much of a poker player. She was too obvious. And while there wasn’t any physical resemblance between her and her foster daughters the body language similarities were striking.
“A honeymoon suite.” She took a seat without invitation, lowering herself onto one of the chairs next to the table where the food had been the first night.
“We were coming here to get married,” Tom observed. “You knew that.”
“Yes.” Just one word, but there was a thread of anger that set off my psychic alarm bells. “You called ahead and got permission from my seneschal, just like you’re supposed to.”
I hadn’t known about that. Then again, I don’t know much about the wolves and their culture. I’d always thought that was a part of Tom’s life that really didn’t involve me so I hadn’t taken time to do any research or learn the customs. My mistake.
“But you didn’t call me, now did you?”
A tense silence stretched between the two of them. She stared at him, daring him to defy her. He didn’t, but he didn’t back down either. I might not know werewolf culture, but I know dominance games when I see them. I moved, deliberately drawing her attention, breaking the standoff. “You said we needed to talk. What about?”
She glared at me, her eyes gleaming eerily golden, with almost no whites showing at all. “Are you planning on pressing assault charges against my daughters?”
I thought about it. What Janine had done was violent, wrong, and stupid. I didn’t doubt that there were going to be all kinds of criminal charges filed that I had no control over whatsoever. Did it really matter if I, personally, pushed for the district attorney to pursue assault? Probably not. I couldn’t imagine it making that much difference. I was taking too long to answer. Her expression darkened, and I could feel the power of her magic begin filling the room.
“She attacked a surrogate.” This time it was Tom’s turn to provide the distraction. When he spoke he didn’t even bother to hide his disgust.
Elaine turned her head to him very slowly. There was something oddly inhuman about the motion, but she managed to keep her beast in check.
“What Janine did is inexcusable.” Elaine’s voice had dropped almost an octave and had taken on a growling undertone. “And she will be punished. But assault charges, and a trial, particularly with you involved, would bring the kind of publicity we least need right now. Our attorney thinks he can manage the rest of it discreetly if you and the surrogate don’t push the assault issue.” She stared at me with those odd, unsettling eyes for a long moment before continuing. “The girl will follow your lead. So I ask again. Are you planning to press the assault charges against my daughters? You don’t want me as your enemy, Ms. Reilly.”
I smiled tightly. “No. I don’t. I’m just not sure how wise it is for me to turn my back and leave an enemy loose behind me.”
“You consider Janine your enemy?” she snarled.
I held up the black cast and stared into those oh-so-golden eyes. “She made it clear she considers me hers.”
She nodded once, slowly, acknowledging the distinction. Her gaze shifted, following Tom’s movement as he made his way to the full size, padded bar and grabbed an overpriced bottled water. “Would you like something to drink, Acca?” he offered.
“Please.”
She watched him as he busied himself pouring her drink into one of the glasses that had been provided with the room. I didn’t sense any sexual tension, or threat. It seemed almost as if she were measuring him against some inner standard. Only after she took the glass from his hand did she turn her attention back to where I’d taken a seat in a burgundy and forest green upholstered wing chair that would have looked at home in Napoleon’s palace.