Keeping Secret
Page 13

“Have Jackson do it,” she replied.
“I asked you to do it.”
She sneered but didn’t argue further. He let her get away with a lot, and it drove me nuts. Her bad attitude did nothing to make people respect his authority. But I guess it could be argued my antics had the same side effect.
I breathed in the musky smell of his chest and sighed. “She’s right,” I admitted begrudgingly. “I haven’t been as careful as I should have been after the car thing.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s mine,” Desmond said. “I’ve given her too much freedom. I should have guarded her better.”
From a chair beside the door, Dominick laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Des. You’d have more luck guarding a rattlesnake in a moon bounce. If she didn’t want you to guard her, you wouldn’t have much say in the matter.”
I smiled at him, in spite of being compared to a pissed-off reptile. Dominick certainly had a way of phrasing an insult to make it sound almost complimentary.
“He’s right,” Lucas added, ruffling my hair. “I think we can all admit Secret is a bit stubborn when it comes to her personal protection.”
Desmond looked relieved when he realized no one blamed him for not guarding my body as voraciously as he could have. I was stubborn. Probably too stubborn. But between pack restrictions and the laws of the Tribunal, I liked to hold on to the illusion of my freedom whenever I could.
Tonight, that illusion had almost cost some innocent people their lives.
Not to mention costing Lucas over a hundred grand in dress damages.
“Not anymore,” I said. “I know I’m a pain in the ass about these things, but I’m also not an idiot. Someone wants me dead, and they obviously mean business about it. Until we can find them, I’m not putting anyone else at risk because of me.”
“You won’t have to,” Lucas said.
“What do you mean?”
“I received a call a few hours ago. From Callum.”
Callum McQueen, Werewolf King of the South and my uncle. “What did he want?”
“To send his congratulations.” Lucas was leaving something out, I could tell from the hesitation in his voice.
“And?”
Desmond and Lucas exchanged uneasy glances, as if I wouldn’t notice when I was standing between them. “Sit down for a second,” Lucas suggested. In honor of the agreement I’d made to be less resistant, I sat, but I was still waiting for my men to give me a better explanation.
“It’s been a long time since there was a royal marriage,” Desmond began.
“Decades,” Lucas agreed, nodding with what Desmond was saying.
“Whoop-dee-do,” I said. “Is he hoping for an invite?”
The wolves looked nervous, and Lucas said, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Guys…not to be impatient or anything, but I am sitting here in a twelve-thousand-dollar dress that is itchier than being wrapped in sandpaper, someone just tried to kill me, and I don’t have a lot of steam left to follow the bouncing ball of this ridiculous buildup. Pull off the Band-Aid. Please.”
Lucas sat in front of me on the big leather ottoman and took my hand in his. “Callum is claiming you, as a princess of the Southern pack line, are his wolf. He is insisting if I, as King, want to marry you, I need to go to Louisiana and make an official request of your hand from him in person. I must make an appeal for you in front of him and the lead members of his pack.”
“You what? Like hell you do.”
“He’s using a very old pack law. It is usually overlooked, but he’s making a point of requiring it, and according to the laws of our people, I must respect his wishes and comply with the request.”
“This is bullshit.”
“It’s…inconvenient, sure. But we have no choice in the matter. Protocol dictates—”
“Lucas, open your eyes.”
He frowned and released my hands then stood abruptly. “We have no choice. Either we go to Louisiana, or I start a war. And I will not start a war.”
“It’s a trap. Don’t you get that?”
“Secret, you don’t understand.” He sounded tired and irritated. I had that effect on him.
“Then help me understand.”
“I have considered Callum is baiting me. I know it’s the most logical reason for him to use such an outdated excuse to lure us south. In spite of your opinion of my leadership skills, I’m not a fool.”
“I never—”
He cut me off with the wave of a hand. “He can’t openly attack me, and he certainly won’t do it in his kingdom. What he’s hoping is that we will slip up when we get there. He’s counting on us to be the ones to make the mistake.”
I sat back, the lace of the gown making my underarms itch. “You mean he’s counting on me to be the one to make a mistake.”
Again he and Desmond exchanged loaded glances before Lucas said, “Most likely, yes.”
“And you can’t go without me because he’s using our marriage as the bait.”
“Right.”
“So what you’re saying is, we’re going to Louisiana to meet the man who has made your life a living hell for months, the man who drove his own mother to flee the country for fear over my safety, and you want me to smile and nod and curtsy. Be the pretty little princess everyone expects me to be.”
He paused. “I don’t think anyone expects you to curtsy.”
I called Nolan from Desmond’s car. Due to the threat against me I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unattended, and Desmond was being especially vigilant in that. No one, me more than anyone, blamed him for my recent brushes with death, but it was apparent he blamed himself.
Morgan, as per instruction from Lucas, had purchased me new clothes, but she had enjoyed the task a bit too much. The jeans she’d selected were so long I had to cuff them twice, and the powder-pink hoodie I wore over a blue My Little Pony T-shirt had cute fuzzy bear ears attached to it.
At least my black Converse sneakers were my own. But the whole ensemble made me look about as menacing as a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
Nolan picked up on the second ring. “’Allo?”
“Pack a bag,” I told him.
“For what?”
“You’re moving temporarily.” I explained the circumstances. Since I wasn’t sure who was after me, those close to me might be in danger as well. I couldn’t take Brigit with me on a werewolf field trip without giving Lucas a coronary, and since she wasn’t yet under the council’s protection I didn’t want her left vulnerable. Nolan might just be human, but Brigit meant something to him. Having the two of them together would ease my mind because I knew they’d look out for one another, and I wanted to be certain they were safe.
When I hung up, Desmond shook his head. “Only you would worry about the safety of a vampire at a time like this.”
I smiled innocently, not quite sure what to say to that. “Let’s go get my stuff, okay?”
“I’m taking you right to the airport. No stops. We can’t take the risk.”
I gaped at him, indicating my middle-school-themed ensemble. “I’m supposed to meet a king dressed like this?”
“I’ll make sure your stuff gets there. Brigit will know what you need. I’ll get her to put together a bag for you.”
“What do you mean? You’re coming with us.”
“No.” He frowned. “I have to stay behind and be responsible for the pack while Lucas is gone. That’s my duty. When Lucas is gone, I have to be here, it trumps all my other responsibilities. Even my job to protect you.” He reached over and gave my hand an apologetic squeeze. “Morgan, Dominick and Jackson will be with you.”
“Awesome.”
Minutes later we pulled into a parking lot behind JFK where a small Cessna with the Rain Industries emblem painted on the side was waiting for us. A pilot stood a safe distance away, smoking a cigarette, and Lucas—with Morgan at his side—was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. It sent a pang through my heart to see how much more right Morgan looked beside him with her chic bob and expensive, tailored blazer over her expensive, tailored jeans.
“Can I do this?” I asked, fingering one of the fuzzy ears on my hood.
Desmond took my hand, the one without the engagement ring, and kissed my knuckles.
“You’ll knock ’em dead.”
Knowing my luck, he’d be right.
Chapter Fifteen
For some odd reason I thought Louisiana would be hot. I’d spent only the first months of my life there and had no memories of the place at all, but my brain led me to believe it would be hot. Like somehow it was a magical, tropical place where April temperature didn’t affect the state as it did the rest of the continental US.
We got off the plane just before dawn, the sky a deep, hazy purple. Even though it was much warmer than New York, New Orleans wasn’t anywhere near as sweltering as I’d imagined.
A car was waiting, and Lucas, Dominick and I climbed in. Morgan and Jackson waited for the next one. We left the airport, bound for city center, and the purple of the sky began to take on a distinctly pinkish hue.
I yawned.
“We’re almost there.” Lucas must have sensed my anxiousness about the oncoming sunrise, but neither of us said anything about it. We’d had to tread carefully the whole way here because of Morgan. Even Jackson knew about my connection to the vampires, but Morgan was still in the dark, and that was the only place I trusted her.
The car deposited us in front of a beautiful hotel in the heart of the French Quarter. The building was old, covered in wrought iron and festooned with charming details, giving it a look like it was airlifted right out of Paris and dumped here.
The entire block looked much the same, glowing with warmth and alive with activity even in the predawn hours.
When we got out, the other car was pulling up behind us, perfectly timed for the crew of bellhops who came out to collect our luggage and fawn over us. I guess it paid to travel this way.