The rage that rose inside Derek made no sense. A couple weeks ago he’d agreed with Andrew, understood that Kat was better off safely out of reach until his friend understood the changes tearing through him.
A couple weeks ago he’d believed little mistakes didn’t kill a happy ending.
He growled, and Alec made an exasperated noise. “Okay, boys—” Derek didn’t give the older man a chance to tell them both to sit down and shut up like good little puppies. The wolf inside him would accept violence as a suitable distraction from grief, and it wasn’t until his fist had crashed into Andrew’s jaw that he had the fleeting thought Andrew might be suffering the same problem.
Not that it would stop him from kicking his friend’s ass.
Andrew shook off the blow, grabbed Derek’s shoulders and slammed him against the side of the house. He was shaking with rage, growling as he drew back his fist for a punch of his own.
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It came slowly enough that Derek had no problem wrenching his body to the side. Andrew’s fist slammed into the wood siding an instant later, and Alec swore and started toward them.
Derek lunged forward directly into Andrew, knocking him back a couple steps. The porch was only a few feet off the ground, and the railing wrapped around it at waist height except for an opening for a set of stairs leading to the yard.
Another good shove and Andrew slammed through the rail, crashing to the grass with a roar. Before Derek could react, a hard hand shoved into his shoulder and sent him barreling after Andrew.
He twisted just enough that he didn’t actually land on
top
of Andrew, but he still hit the ground with a bone-rattling thump. Alec stared down at both of them, his face impassive. “By all means, beat on each other. Keep the damage to a minimum, though, because I’m making you jackasses fix it all.” Insanely, Andrew began to laugh.
Derek sagged to the grass, ignoring the aches and pains and the piece of the railing digging into the small of his back. The adrenaline from the fight faded, leaving the gaping hole in his chest that a month’s worth of violence wouldn’t hide.
“You can help keep an eye on Kat,” he said quietly, cutting through Andrew’s laughter. “You both have to. Because not fighting for Nick is going to kill me.”
Andrew sobered and brushed himself off as he sat up. “I thought there was nothing you could do.”
“Maybe there isn’t.” In his mind he conjured Nick, the way she’d watched him their last night together. The way her lips had looked when she whispered she loved him. “Alec?” The man’s voice drifted down from above. “I’ll make a few calls. Maybe I can figure out exactly what’s going on up there and we can come up with an idea. Fuck, if it’ll keep Nick from marrying one of those assholes, I’ll even call my damn father.”
Andrew made an apologetic noise. “I’m sorry, man. I’m an ass.” He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t. “You
will
be if you hang around Kat, and she’s really the last fucking thing you want. The girl’s in love with you. She killed two men to protect you.
Watch out for her if she’s in trouble but, if you’re going to break her heart, you owe it to her to make it clean.”
“I know that.” Andrew rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “Nothing is
mine
anymore, Derek. Not a goddamn bit of my life from before this happened, and that includes Kat. I can—I can make sure she knows that. I
think
.”
“Leave Kat to me and Jackson,” Alec interjected. Derek sat up and found Alec leaning on the remains of his railing. “Andrew needs to steer clear until he gets his instincts under control. I’m going inside to make my calls. The two of you can fight over who’s going to fix my damn porch.” Andrew huffed. “I’ll do it. Not surprisingly, I’ve been in the mood to hammer and saw things an awful lot lately.”
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“And punch people?” Derek’s back protested as he rose, but the bruise he’d earned from landing on part of the wood railing would be gone by morning. He rubbed at it anyway and eyed Andrew. “Sorry about your face, by the way.”
“Forget about it.” His friend shrugged. “My insides are still where they’re supposed to be. These days, I guess that means I’ll live.”
The memory of watching Franklin with his hands inside Andrew’s abdomen wasn’t fading anytime soon. “If Alec digs something up and I have to go to New York, will you be okay handling work with Penny and Mari to help you out?”
“Too soon for morbid humor, huh?”
“That always was your shtick, buddy.”
“A guy’s gotta have one.”
“Sucks for us that Jackson’s cornered the market on Southern charm and Alec’s hoarding all the brooding man-pain.”
“Nah.” Andrew picked a splinter out of his hand and laughed. “I think there’s plenty of everything to go around.”
Andrew had regained his humor—or at least the macabre part of it—but something edgy still hovered around him. A power that might not settle anytime soon. Maybe not at all.
The wolves of New Orleans rarely bothered with formal ranks and challenges, especially since most of them had come to the city to avoid the supernatural politics that plagued their society. But the first few months after Derek’s change had been hell as he’d struggled with the instinctive need to find his place, to test his strength against those around him.
Alec had slapped him down. A few times. His pride had stung at first, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that Alec
was
the strongest male wolf in New Orleans.
Or he had been.
Derek cleared his throat and watched Andrew gather the splintered wood into a pile by the steps. “So do you get the urge to punch Alec a lot?”
“Dude, you have
no idea
.”
“Oh, I have some idea.” He tossed the piece of wood that had bruised his back onto the pile. “Might as well get it over with. Trust me, I speak from personal experience. It won’t go away until you do.”
“Think I’ll wait until I’m not so wobbly.” Andrew leaned over and squinted through the back door.
“The man has a cage in his basement and an arsenal in his garage.”
“Yeah.” Derek took a deep breath. “You never answered me. I need to know you’ll be okay if I disappear for a while. Because I can’t just let her marry some bastard. I
can’t
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“I can handle it. Like you said, I’ve got Penny and Mari. If Mari decides to speak to me again.” The humor faded from Andrew’s expression. “How bad is it going to fuck things up for Nick if you head off to New York in a manly, possessive rage?”
“I’m in love, not stupid. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” But he had to try something. Everything.
Anything
. “Hey. We’ve got money, magic and Alec’s willingness to kidnap random bystanders. What could possibly go wrong?”
Andrew groaned. “I’ll spare you the Gloomy Gus routine if you promise no one else is getting kidnapped.”
“No promises, man.” After all, he’d spent the previous night staring at his ceiling and wondering if he could talk Nick into packing up Aaron and Michelle and hiding on a tropical island. It still seemed like a half-decent idea, leaving aside the part where he’d have to abandon all of his friends and responsibilities.
He needed her. Simple. Inarguable. He needed Nick, and if there was the slightest chance she needed him too… Jackson and Mackenzie were proof that love could triumph over fucked-up shapeshifter politics.
If he concentrated on that, he wouldn’t have to think about Alec, who was walking proof that sometimes love wasn’t enough.
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Chapter Nineteen
Enrica checked her slim watch with an irritated noise. “I’m telling you, he’s not coming. Not after what happened last night.”
“Tradition states we need the full Conclave to pass sentence,” Hoffman reminded her. “Jorge, call him again.”
“Pointless.” Ochoa was the only member of the Conclave watching Nick this morning, his gaze uncomfortable and inscrutable. “He’s hardly going to accept a call from me.” Veronica had called Nick from the airport late the night before, on her way back to Atlanta. Ochoa had put her on the plane himself. “Ronnie said her father was angry. Ridiculously angry. He wants no part of this.”
This.
The moment she got to see Aaron’s face when they told him he’d have his life. His freedom. Her only regret was that Michelle wouldn’t be allowed to attend the meeting.
“What does tradition matter?” Ochoa finally looked away from her, only to glance at her father. “John can’t participate in the sentencing anyway. Let the three of us have done with it, Conrad. We have other things to do.”
Nick shivered in her long sleeves. “Aaron knew the hearing was last night. He’s bound to be a nervous wreck by now. Can’t we just tell him?”
Enrica pushed off the wall and strode toward the door. “He isn’t coming. Let’s go.”
“Fine, fine.” Hoffman smiled at Nick and offered her his arm. “How is your sister? Hopefully the midwife has been of some help?”
“Michelle is fine.” She was so exhausted and relieved she’d done nothing but sleep since the night before. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Of course, Nicole. I’m sure you know I hope we’ll be family soon.” Behind them, Ochoa snorted inelegantly. Nick ignored it. “I’m sure my father will make the best possible choice. He’s a very wise man.”
“I’m becoming a very impatient man,” her father murmured from behind them. “I’m not going to think about Nicole’s marriage until this situation is resolved.” The guard unlocked Aaron’s door and held it open while they filed inside. Aaron rose immediately, looking tired and worn, but a little of the resignation on his features relaxed when he saw Nick. She gave him an encouraging smile and blinked back tears.
Crossroads
Enrica and Ochoa stepped to the left. Nick’s father took her arm and urged her to the right, leaving Hoffman in front of Aaron. “Aaron Spencer. After further consideration of the charges laid against you, and out of respect for our long-standing working relationship with John Peyton, the accusation of treason has been dropped, and the order of execution revoked.”
Aaron’s tense shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
Nick couldn’t hide her wince at Hoffman’s next words. “Nicole has agreed to shoulder the responsibility of supervising you. You’ll be held here until she marries, then remanded to her husband’s custody.”
That made Aaron’s jaw tighten. He glanced at her, clearly uncertain, and she eased her arm from her father’s grip and walked toward Aaron. “Michelle already came home. It’s only a matter of time before you do too.”
“Nick.” Her name sounded hoarse, rusty. “Thank—”
The door crashed open behind her, cutting off his words. Aaron’s eyes widened as he swung his arm, hitting her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Behind them, Hoffman shouted a warning. Her father’s voice echoed it in an outraged roar, more furious sound than coherent speech.
Two shots rang out in quick succession. Aaron stumbled into Nick, and she pulled him to the floor with a shriek. Shielding him with her body was useless—he was
God
knew how many times bigger, and trained to deal with these things. She shielded him anyway, curling around his back and shoulders with a sob.
Enrica screamed. “Noah,
no
!”
Coleman.
Nick shuddered as a third shot echoed above the cacophony of shouts and scuffles. The bullet flew past, so close she flinched away from the whine, and hit the wall. Bits of concrete exploded out, zinging through the air like shrapnel. A piece struck her face, and Nick clawed at her stinging cheek.
Blood covered her hand, far too much for such a tiny wound, and far too cool and sticky to have just seeped from her flesh. “No.”
Aaron lay still beneath her, and her vision blurred as she turned him over.
No, no no—
His green eyes stared ahead, glassy and unseeing. A jagged hole marred his temple, and blood matted his hair. “Aaron,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”
“Nicole!” Her father grabbed her shoulders. “Are you bleeding, are you
—
?” Horror filled his voice.
“Jesus Christ.”
“He’s dead.” The words hardly seemed real, even when given shaky form.
“John, the guards have Noah—” Enrica spoke behind them but stopped short with a gasp and a soft curse.
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Nick turned. Two men knelt by Hoffman, pressing bundles of torn cloth to his shoulder beneath his bloodstained jacket. And Coleman stood between three more guards, still struggling to break free. “Aaron’s dead.”
“I know.” Her father urged her up. “Come on. Help me, Enrica.” Nick let them pull her to her feet. As they backed away, she thought she saw Aaron move. “Wait, maybe he’s
not
gone. There might still be time to do something.” Enrica caught her before she reached him. “Nicole, don’t.”
“I have to—”
“No.”
“Let go of me.” The words came out as a whisper, and she repeated them, this time on a scream. “Let
go
of me!”
“Stop it!” Enrica hissed and shook her by both arms. “I know how it is. Your mind doesn’t want to accept the truth, but half his brain is on the wall. He is
gone
, Nicole.” More guards swarmed the room, and Ochoa appeared beside Nick. “Into the hallway, Enrica. John, you too.”
Nick moved because they made her, practically carrying her out between them. “I can’t just
leave
him here.”
Ochoa showed an unusual sympathy as he touched her shoulder. “I’ll check on him, sweetheart. Go to your father.”
Enrica dragged Nick from the room, her grip on her arm so tight she’d have bruises. When she finally released her, Nick stumbled and leaned into the wall.
Aaron.
She’d tried so hard, given up
everything
, and Michelle was still losing him. The world dissolved in a haze of tears, and Nick screamed. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her. Her father pulled her close, his hand on the back of her head, and whispered her name.