If I hadn’t made plans I’d have stayed in bed and slept it off. But I was due to meet Tom’s grandparents at 9:00 at the nearby family-style restaurant for breakfast.
Maybe it wasn’t the hangover that was giving me dry mouth and making my stomach queasy. Calm, Reilly. Calm. Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. I climbed out of the tub and grabbed one of the oversized, fluffy towels. It was actually soft. One of the biggest differences I’ve encountered between mid-range hotels and the really high-end ones is the linens. I’ve owned couches smaller than the bath sheet I was using, and the high thread count bed sheets had been seriously amazing. I might, just might, have to break down and get myself some when I was replacing everything. It seemed ridiculously decadent to spend that much money on linens, but it was sorely tempting.
I padded naked to the bedroom area and stared down at the clothes I’d chosen for the day. I’d picked plain blue jeans and a peach-colored polo style shirt. Nothing fancy. From what I’d been able to drag out of Tom his grandparents were “simple folks.” His mother’s parents, they were fully human. They hadn’t really approved of her choice to be a surrogate, but they’d loved her, and their grandchildren, desperately. It had nearly destroyed them to lose everyone but Tom to the fire.
While pulling on my clothes I remembered the conversation Tom and I had when he’d asked if I’d be willing to have the Vegas wedding. He’d been so sad, so earnest.
“Why didn’t they come with you to Denver? I mean, you’re all the family they have left. Why stay?”
His eyes had grown shadowed. His body language changed ever so slightly. I’d had a flash of insight that had nothing to do with psychic talent, and everything to do with knowing the man I loved. They’d said no. He’d wanted them, asked them. They’d refused.
“Vegas is their home. But more than that, my mom’s grave is there. They won’t leave. Ever.”
I’m not a big one for visiting graves. To me, the body is just the shell. The soul, the essence that made the body a person, has moved on to something better. But there are people to whom it matters a lot. Apparently Tom’s grandparents were among them.
“But we could fly them out for the wedding at least.”
“Gramps won’t fly, and neither of them passed their last driver’s test.”
I could tell it meant the world to him. I could also tell he was nervous about it. He swore up and down that it wasn’t fear of my meeting his family, but he wouldn’t say what the problem was. Which made me nervous. I pulled on tube socks and a pair of running shoes and went to check my reflection in the full-length mirror. The clothes fit well, looked good in fact. My face, however, needed some work. I was pale, and not in a good way, my eyes seriously bloodshot. Thank God for eye drops. If I was lucky they’d actually live up to their commercials. Because I wanted to make a good impression.
My stomach lurched. I wished Tom was here. It wasn’t fair for me to have to do this without him. But it was snowing again in Denver. The news said it would be at least one more day, maybe two or three, before they’d be reopening the airport. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas had made it very clear (in the most amazingly polite way) that they would be hurt and insulted if I canceled our breakfast just because Tom couldn’t join us. I’d caved.
A quick glance at the clock told me I’d better get moving. I didn’t want to be late. Late would be bad. Oh hell, why couldn’t Tom be here? This just sucked. I hurried into the bathroom and grabbed makeup from the case. Blush I could manage; a little eyeshadow. I didn’t trust myself with eyeliner. My hands were shaking too much to draw a straight line. I’d probably just end up poking myself in the eye—which would totally negate the positive effects of the eye drops. I put my hair in a simple braid that hung in a thick rope down the middle of my back. Wearing it loose is more flattering, but is a pain to deal with. It blows around, getting in the way. Almost the only times I wear it down is when Tom specifically asks me to.
I took deep breaths, counting slowly to calm my nerves. I was being ridiculous. This was Tom’s family. It made no sense for me to be afraid of them.
But what if they don’t like me? What if they believe everything the press has been saying? What if—
I gave myself an actual, physical shake. That kind of thinking would just make things worse. I love Tom. Tom loves me. They love Tom. He loves them. I could get through this. Really.
I kept telling myself that all the way through the short cab ride to the restaurant, up the sidewalk, and through the double wooden doors. I was still reciting it like a mantra as my eyes adjusted to the dim lights and loud bustle of the restaurant.
“Miss Reilly.”
I turned at the sound of my name spoken in a gentle wheeze. A man stood bent, his weight supported by an aluminum walker hung with a bright blue nylon bag that held a green metal oxygen tank whose clear plastic tubes snaked up to his nose.
His skin had that thin, blotchy crepe texture of the very old, stretched taught over sinews and knotted blue veins. What little hair was left on his head was in four small patches: one above each ear, the rest in a pair of remarkably bushy eyebrows. Still, the eyes behind the coke-bottle glasses were clear, the look assessing. He’d dressed in a charcoal gray suit with subtle pinstriping. It was almost the exact double of the suit Tom wears to most formal functions, right down to the crisply starched white shirt and striped tie.
“Mr. Thomas?”
He nodded. “We’ve taken that large table in the corner.” He gestured in the general direction with his head as he shuffled the walker into position. “I hope you don’t mind. Edie brought pictures.”
I looked past the bustling waitress to the table he was indicating and had to grin. It was one of the big corner booths meant to seat a small army. Its lone occupant was a tiny, wiry woman whose bright brown eyes sparkled behind glasses not one whit less thick than those her husband wore. Her eyes, and a mop of frizzy gray curls, were all that was visible over a towering stack of photo albums.
Ed Thomas caught the grin and returned it, with interest. “She was so nervous—afraid we wouldn’t have anything to talk to you about. I told her not to worry. But this was her solution. I just hope we don’t spill anything on them at breakfast. It’d break her heart.”
“I’ve been nervous too,” I admitted.
“The two of you mean so much to Tom…” I let the sentence drag off
unfinished.
“Do you love him?” Ed stopped so abruptly I nearly ran into him. He stood in the middle of the aisle, turning to face me. His eyes flashed behind the thick magnifying lenses.
“Oh God, yes.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Small laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, and his mouth twitched slightly.
“Edie, however, may take a little more convincing.” He shook his head. “She worries.”
“I understand.” I meant it. Nobody can worry you like family. I might not have a child, or grandchild, but I had my brothers. I know they’re adults, fully capable of living their lives without supervision. But with Mom and Dad gone, they’re all I have left—at least the only ones I’m willing to acknowledge.
He gave me a long, assessing look. “Maybe you do at that.” He admitted it grudgingly, muttering the words under his breath as he turned to make his way forward. When we reached the booth he gave his wife a bright smile and gestured toward me with his left hand. “Look who I ran into on the way back from the restroom.”
“Hello, Mrs. Thomas.”
“Mary Kathleen?”
I nodded my assent as I waited for Ed to lower himself carefully onto the bench seat. It was a slow, tedious process. I would’ve offered to help, but I wasn’t sure how. Besides, I was pretty sure he’d be insulted. He struck me as being the proud, stubborn type who wanted to do things for himself. Not, of course, that I’ve had any experience with people like that.
“You can call me Kate, Mrs. Thomas. I’m only Mary Kathleen when people are mad at me.”
She smiled. “Then you must call me Edie. I can’t tell you how much Ed and I have been looking forward to meeting you!” She patted the bench next to her. “Sit down, sit down. Tell us how you met our Tommy and how he’s doing in Denver. He always says he’s fine … but then, he would now, wouldn’t he.”
She knew him well. “We met when he was looking for a place to live. I own an apartment building in lower downtown Denver, and he came to see it. We started out as neighbors and moved on from there.”
“Ah yes,” Mr. Thomas chimed in. “I remember him telling me that you renovated the place yourself. Sent us pictures so that we’d know it was a nice place.” Edie was nodding her agreement, patting one of the photo albums with her hand for emphasis.
“That had to have been a lot of work,” he continued.
“It was,” I admitted. “But I enjoy that sort of thing.”
“It must’ve just broken your heart to see it collapse like that. It’s a miracle no one was hurt.” Edie shook her head.
“They said on the news they’re investigating—that it may have been sabotage. Such a terrible thing.”
I was saved from having to respond by the arrival of the waitress. Just as well. My throat had tightened up painfully enough that it would’ve been hard to speak without crying. I didn’t want to cry, not in public, not in front of Tom’s family. Oh, they’d probably understand. But I still didn’t want to. And oh, Lord, the authorities were investigating. The mere thought made me shudder. I’ve been investigated a time or three in the past couple of years. It’s never pleasant. Innocent until proven guilty might rule in a court of law, but it absolutely didn’t in the court of public opinion, or in the minds of the police.
We placed our orders. My choice was coffee, black, and one of the special breakfast offers that was heavy on protein. Ed and Edie ordered from the senior menu. Siobahn, our waitress, was cheerful, brisk, and efficiently managed to clear enough space for our coffee and future plates without toppling the albums before disappearing in the direction of the kitchens. Once she was out of hearing range, Edie leaned toward me across the table.
“Do you think it was the vampires or the pack?”
I choked on my coffee. I managed not to do a spit take, but only barely. My eyes watered. My nose burned in that way that only happens when fluid backs up.
When I could finally speak I managed a hoarse, “I can’t imagine the wolves would do such a thing.”
“Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her disbelief. “Then your pack in Denver must be very different from the one here in Vegas. There isn’t much the alpha here hasn’t done at one time or another.”
Edie’s voice was cold, hard, and brittle enough to make me shiver. It didn’t take a psychic to see that she meant every word.
Ed spoke softly. “When our daughter and her husband died we were appointed guardians under the will. The pack took us to court. When that didn’t work, the pack leader tried exerting…pressure to force us to give Tommy up.” His eyes met mine, and for just an instant I saw the man he’d been before age stole his vitality—a man of courage and toughness who would do whatever it took to protect his family. You wouldn’t discourage such a man; wouldn’t succeed by threats either. The only way past would be to put him in an early grave. That he was here to tell the tale meant that either the pack hadn’t been willing to go that far; or he’d beaten them. Something in his expression, and hers, told me it was the latter.
“Mary Connolly is the pack leader in Denver. She’s tough, but she’s honest, and fair.”
“So Tommy said.” Ed gave a sad smile. “I was almost afraid to believe him.”
“It’s not like that here in Vegas.” Edie shook her head. “Hasn’t been since Elaine Johnston took over the pack all those years ago.” Her lips compressed into a thin line of disapproval.
“And now she’s heading up the Conclave.” Ed spoke over the rim of his coffee cup. “Makes her a very powerful enemy to have.”
“Why do you think she’s my enemy?”
“You’re human,” Edie said simply.
I blinked rapidly, at a complete loss for words.
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Ed chided.
“Not much.” Elaine’s jaw thrust forward aggressively. Two bright spots of color had marked each of her pale cheeks.
“She’s all right with humans she can control,” Ed pointed out gently. “She just won’t tolerate anyone, human or wolf, who gets in her way.” He turned to me, giving me the full weight of his gaze. “And if she can’t control you, you’re in her way.”
I’ve met humans with that kind of single-minded, ruthless determination. They can be damned dangerous. A wolf would effectively double that. Shit.
“Tommy says you can take care of yourself. God knows the press makes you out to be some kind of a superwoman
… but you’ll need to be careful of Elaine.”
“I will.”
The food arrived. I managed to eat without making a mess of myself, or the stacked books on the table. By the time the plates were cleared away and we were on our after-brunch coffee the tense mood of earlier was gone and Edie’d settled in, ready to show me her pictures.
I loved it. When Mom and Da were alive they’d taken lots of family photos. Mom’s favorites were taken with the old Polaroid her mother had given her. It was the kind where the soon-to-be picture shot out of the front of the machine and you’d shake it in the air while it developed before sticking it on the backing. Somewhere, unless my aunt pitched them, there were dozens of little square images of three red-headed children. I know Mom would have adored digital photography.
Edie was much the same way. There were shots of her as a young woman with Ed, followed by literally hundreds of photos of their little girl, Tom’s mom, from birth through childhood, her senior prom, and her wedding to Tom’s father.
Their daughter Audra had been a pretty child, and a beautiful woman, with long honey-colored hair and the same long-lashed, chocolate brown eyes I so loved on Tom. There was a strong physical resemblance between the two of them, no doubt about that. Still, the pictures with his father left no doubt whose son he was. We moved to the next book. These were the shots I’d looked forward to the most. Tom as a child, alone and with his sister.