Crossroads

Chapter 14

Nick made another turn toward the city and flexed her hands. They ached from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, but she couldn’t relax. Not now.

The hours since Wynne’s unexpected visit had passed in a bizarre haze of worrying and waiting. Alec hadn’t been wrong about the effect of Nick’s declaration on the Conclave. A phone call to Mahalia had revealed that, as expected, Enrica and the Alpha had boarded a plane less than an hour after the psychic’s departure. They’d already touched down in New Orleans, and Nick would have already been at Franklin’s clinic to meet them if custom hadn’t dictated that she make something of a grand entrance.

At least Alec had gone ahead with Luciano. If nothing else, Enrica might be more inclined to listen to reason if she saw for herself that her son was fine instead of having to rely on Wynne’s reports.

Nick exhaled. Derek still had no idea what he was getting himself into, but it couldn’t be helped. All she could do now was try to prepare him as best she could.

And that meant they needed to talk.

She reached a relatively straight stretch of back road and slowed the car. “Derek—”

“Don’t slow down.” His gaze was fixed on the side mirror. “I’m pretty sure we’re being followed.”

The rearview mirror revealed a dark sedan fifty yards back, though it was impossible to see more through the slanting glare of the late-afternoon sun. “How long?”

“I thought I saw them before we hit the highway, but they disappeared. Showed up again half a mile back.”

“It could be nothing.”

Derek shook his head, and nervous power flared between them. “It’s not. I can feel it. We should turn up here and see if they follow.”

“Okay.” She flipped on the signal and held her breath as she watched the car behind them. It did nothing, so she bit her lip, made the turn and sped up again. “Maybe it’s a different car than the one from—”

The sedan turned behind them.

Derek let out his breath and twisted in the seat to reach for the bag he’d brought with him from Alec’s house. “Now it seems kind of stupid that we never discussed if you’re good with guns.”

“I usually hit what I mean to hit.” She thought of the remaining two members of the Conclave tactical team and shuddered. “If it’s one of the guys Enrica sent, it won’t matter—”

The back windshield shattered. Nick ducked, fighting to control the car. Adrenaline surged through her, and she cursed.

She heard the bag tear as Derek ripped off the zipper in his haste to get it open. He pulled out a compact semiautomatic and straightened in his seat. “Let’s hope all the target practice paid off.”

Fear gripped her as another bullet ricocheted off the car with a metallic zing. “I don’t think I can lose him. Not on this road.” Not with the trees so close to the car and no side roads in sight.

Derek rolled down the window and leaned out far enough to get off one careful shot. She heard the bullet hit the other car, but they didn’t slow at all. Derek swore. “How much trouble do they get in if they hurt you?”

“A shit ton.” Nick spotted a road ahead and stomped on the accelerator, counting on the car to perform on par with her reflexes. “But he might not be so worried about that after what went down at Alec’s office.” If he’s still in his right mind at all.

He glanced over his shoulder for a split second. “Can you make that turn up there? That dirt road? I might get a clear shot at them while we’re turning, and I think we need to get out of the car.”

The shaky panic spiked again. “You build houses, Derek, and I’m an accountant who makes a living mixing kamikaze shots. We’re not trained. We’re not soldiers.”

“He’s a badass, but he’s outnumbered.” He fired another shot out the window, and this time she heard glass crack as it shattered the windshield of the car behind them, sending the man swerving across the road.

Even if she didn’t trust herself, she trusted Derek. “Hold on.” She waited until the last possible second to turn, and the car slid and shuddered. The road didn’t look like a driveway, but a “dead end” sign flew past as Nick stepped on the gas again.

Derek fired off three shots in rapid succession as the other car careened around the corner and hit the brakes. Metal sparked behind them, and she heard the sound of breaking glass and a screeching noise as a tire blew and the car’s bumper scraped the road.

“Shit.” Nick barely looked at the road in time to spot a fallen tree leaning across it. She managed to avoid it, but the man following them slammed into it.

“Have you got room to whip around?”

“No.” The road had widened, but not nearly enough. Still, they were on dirt, so she hit the brakes anyway and jerked the wheel.

They narrowly avoided two more trees, and the back end of the car skidded wildly before stabilizing. By the time they came to a stop, facing the opposite direction, Derek had his door open. He tumbled out, the gun still in his hand.

“Derek—” She scrambled out, dust burning her eyes and lungs, to shout a warning, but the man behind the wheel of the sedan was still. “Be careful.”

Derek reached the crumpled car and nearly wrenched off the passenger side door. He dragged the barely conscious man across the seats and dumped him onto the ground with a low snarl. “Is there a pressing reason why I can’t shoot him in the head?”

Nick grabbed his arm. “We need to talk to him. Unless you know a good medium, that’ll be hard to do if he’s dead.”

His fingers tightened around the gun. “I bet I could find one.”

“Derek, we don’t have time.”

“You’re right.” Derek swung the gun down to point at the man’s knee and nudged him in the side. When he stirred and opened his eyes, Derek smiled coldly. “The lady wants to ask you some questions. Start talking or I’m going to shoot pieces off of you.”

Nick took a deep breath. Enrica could have gone rogue and sent him after her, but it was unlikely. Not only would it jeopardize everything the woman had worked for, but she had nothing to gain by the action. Which meant the man on the ground was operating on someone else’s orders…or was just out for revenge. “Where’s your other buddy? The one who made it out with you?”

His eyes rolled back in his head, and ragged laughter spilled out of him. “No one made it out. No one’s making it out. Just tell your mutt to shoot me.”

Her blood chilled. “No one’s shooting anybody.”

“Not ruling it out,” Derek muttered. “He sounds cracked.”

“Cracked.” The man laughed again. “You should know. You and your psychic bitch.”

“Shut up.” Nick glanced at Derek. “Put him in the trunk. We’re taking him to the meeting with us.”

Derek was breathing heavily. A hint of the wolf stared out of his eyes as he lowered the pistol. “He’s talking about Kat.”

“Yes, he’s talking about Kat.” Her suspicion had been right. The man was out of his head, and the whole chase suddenly made sense. No one who’d been trained by the Conclave could have been bested by her driving.

“He’s going to go back to the Conclave and keep talking about Kat.”

Could he really think it would be the first they’d heard of her? “The Conclave already knows about Kat, Derek. Just like they know about Jackson and Mahalia and you and everyone else who has anything to do with me or Alec. They know.”

He trembled. “They can’t know what she’s capable of. I didn’t know what she was capable of. I didn’t know she could…”

Their captive bared his teeth in a challenging grin. “Scrape out a man’s brains and stick ’em back in backwards? I’ll tell them. I’ll tell everyone if you don’t shoot me.”

Nick closed her hand around the gun, her pulse racing. “He doesn’t want to go back to the Conclave and face my father. That’s why he’s saying this.”

“I know.” It was barely a whisper. He let go of the gun, but leaned down and pulled the man to his feet before throwing him against the side of the car. “So help me God, if you do anything to put my family or my friends in danger again, you’re going to wish her father had taken you apart piece by piece.”

Nick situated her finger on the gun’s trigger and stepped back. “I have some chain in the trunk.”

“Don’t do it. Shoot me. Shoot me or I’m going to—” The man’s voice cut off as Derek dragged him away from the car and slammed him back into it hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Nick could barely feel the weight of the steel still clenched in her hand. “Get him in the trunk.” She was anxious to begin negotiations. During that process, at least, Michelle and Aaron would be safe, their lives guarded by the honor and word of the Conclave.

She longed to see her father. Even if the burden of saving Michelle’s family had to rest on her, simply being near his solid strength would help. He couldn’t officially interfere, but he could advise her. He could be there.

She just had to hold it together until then.

Derek had been to Franklin’s small clinic a dozen times since he’d become a shapeshifter. The building was tucked away from heavily trafficked streets and seemed unremarkable from the outside. The clinic provided free care to walk-in patients and was reputedly run on the donations of several rich beneficiaries who preferred to remain nameless.

Like most supernaturals in New Orleans, Derek knew the truth. Whatever stream of revenue kept the clinic’s doors open was supernatural in nature, as were a large number of the patients who visited on any given day. Mixed in with the human staff were a number of psychics, witches and shapeshifters who treated their kind discreetly, regardless of affiliation.

It was neutral ground. Franklin permitted no feuds or political distinction inside the walls of his domain. And his domain it was, no matter how often he protested that he just kept things running. Within the four walls of the clinic, his word was the law, and the law was peace.

Franklin met them on the sidewalk outside with a smile and a short nod. “Your dad’s already here, Nick. I put him and Mrs. Maglieri in the conference room.”

“Thanks, Franklin.” She was pale even in the heat, and her hands trembled as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’d better not keep them waiting.”

The conference room was oblong and ran the length of the back of the building. Inside its pale blue walls was a long table. Only three chairs sat at it now.

Derek paused just inside the door out of instinct, standing with Franklin as Nick crossed the room on her own. Standing on the opposite side of the table were two wolves whose power screamed danger though they stood quietly.

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d envisioned Nick’s father, but it certainly wasn’t the man he saw. John Wesley Peyton rivaled Derek’s height, but he was as wide as Aaron through the shoulders and even more intimidating. The woman next to him—presumably Luciano’s mother—seemed slight in comparison. Nick looked outright tiny.

But what Luciano’s mother lacked in physical presence she made up for with a cool air of confidence. It was clear she considered herself the equal or better of every person in the room, up to and including the Alpha, and she barely spared Derek a glance.

Nick’s father, however, stared at him. He could feel the Alpha’s calculating assessment, and it was then he realized how strongly Nick carried his scent.

So much for subtle. He’d never have another chance to make a first impression—a good impression—and it took him a moment to remember it hardly mattered. Nick’s father had probably compiled a file on him the first time he’d stepped into Nick’s bar. There was no chance to make any impression at all. He’d been judged long ago and found unsuitable.

It had never seemed like such an insurmountable barrier before.

“Nicole.” Her father held out his hand.

“Hi, Daddy.” She took it, and he enfolded her in a quick hug. When she pulled away, she blinked hard. “Thank you for meeting me, Enrica.”

The woman nodded once.

Nick went on. “I brought a peace offering. One of surviving men from—”

Franklin cleared his throat quietly behind him, and Derek turned to see that Luciano had joined him at the back of the room. “Nick, your father and Enrica thought it would be best if Luke and Derek waited in my office while you three have your talk. That agreeable to you?”

Stricken, she stared at her father, who met her disbelieving look with an impassive expression. “I…” She turned her gaze to Derek, an apology in her dark eyes. “If that’s what they prefer.”

Derek tried to smile. “It’s okay. I’ll wait for you.”

The two older wolves seemed surprised he’d spoken, and Luciano cleared his throat. “Come on, Gabriel. They have things to figure out.”

He couldn’t turn away, not with Nick staring at him with guilt and pain in her eyes. Two steps back took him out of the room, and Franklin murmured an apology as he pulled the door shut behind them.

The walls were soundproof. Either that, or the three wolves on the other side were staring at each other in silence. Whatever the case, Franklin didn’t give Derek a chance to brood on it. He nodded toward a door on the other side of the hallway. “There’s a couch in there and a minifridge with some drinks. Make yourselves comfortable. This could take awhile.”

Luciano walked into the office, pausing only briefly before bending down to inspect the contents of the small refrigerator. “Want a beer?”

“God, yes.” The office door whispered shut with a soft click as Derek sank to the couch. “Was I not supposed to open my mouth in front of the Alpha?”

“Don’t take it personally.” Luciano tossed him a can and popped the top on one of his own. “I’m not allowed to speak, either.”

“Jesus.” For the first time, Derek forced himself consider the kind of life Luciano had obviously led. Derek might have lost his parents, but he’d been an adult with a couple decades of parental adoration and approval behind him. He’d never had to wonder if his family might turn on him for political gain.

A few days ago sympathy for Luciano would have seemed impossible, but there was no mistaking the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Luciano and saw the man’s tense expression ease into wry amusement. “Don’t feel bad for me over something stupid like that. You want to pity me? Do it because I have even less of a chance than you do of ever being with the woman I love.”

Derek had almost forgotten the entire reason Nick trusted Luciano. “Has Michelle’s life always been this…” He groped for the right word. “Complicated?”

Luciano stared down into his beer. “Michelle’s got it pretty good. They’ve kept Seers in cages before, or under heavy sedation. Killed a lot of them if they seemed particularly unstable.”

The words were bleak. Tired. Derek had known the reality of Michelle’s life intellectually from the moment she’d shown up at Nick’s bar, but there hadn’t been time to understand. The most primal part of him felt the strange, terrifying power every time she entered a room. She was different, unnatural on a level it shamed him to consider. But if even he felt it…

Luciano’s silent hopelessness was more telling than a thousand passionate words. With nothing filling the tense quiet of the office, Derek finally faced the one truth he’d been fighting all along. “They’re not going to let her and Aaron go, are they? Nothing Nick can say or do will make that happen.”

“Let them go where?” Luciano ran a rough hand through his hair, leaving it hanging over his forehead in disarray. “There’s nowhere for someone like Michelle to go.”

Instinct told him Luciano was telling the truth—or thought he was. Which left only one question. “Then what is Nick trying to do?”

“She’s trying to make sure Michelle doesn’t end up dead or in a cage. If they—” He sat next to Derek. “If the Conclave agrees, someone can be responsible for her. Sort of like a—a keeper.”

Derek had to set his beer can aside to keep from crushing it as the wolf howled in warning. There was danger here, but not the sort he’d expected. “So, a keeper. Someone like Nick?”

“Someone like Nick.”

It seemed too easy, which meant it wasn’t. It wouldn’t be as simple as packing Michelle up and moving her into Nick’s spare bedroom. If he’d learned anything over the past two years, it was to view the actions of the shapeshifter aristocracy through the lens of antiquated prejudice and misogyny.

It didn’t take a scholar of history to recognize the obvious answer, not with Luciano and everything he represented sitting right in front of him. “Someone like Nick and a well-trained husband who does every damn thing they say.” Anger infused his words, and he let it. Anger was better than fear.

Luciano stared down at his own hands. “You’re not slow. That’s good.”

“That’s some condescending bullshit, not an answer.”

“Come on, Gabriel. Nick’s always been a dreamer, but you strike me as the realistic type.”

Wanting to deny the truth just because Luciano had agreed with it was an immature, idiotic urge. Derek braced his elbows on his knees and dropped his face to his hands. “Have you been watching me this whole time, thinking I’m a fucking fool? An idiot who thought he could be a part of her life?”

“No.” The denial was quick and sincere. “Nick thinks she can talk them into letting her look out for Michelle down here. But that isn’t going to happen, no matter what she says to them.” He rose and paced the floor. “Nick wants to be with you, and she wants to take care of her sister. What she doesn’t understand yet is that she can’t do both.”

I have to let her go. Even as the thought formed, he couldn’t quite believe it had come from him. But Luciano hadn’t put it there—it had been festering inside him all along, the danger his wolf couldn’t understand because it would never understand that asking Nick to choose his love over her sister’s life would mean losing her anyway. If he backed her into that corner, he’d be as bad as the Conclave. He’d be worse, because he was supposed to care about her.

Derek stared at his hands and said it out loud, just to be sure. “I have to let her go.”

“Maybe not forever.” Luciano offered the words, but they were meaningless. “Maybe not even for long.”

A week ago, that reassurance might have given him hope. But hope was in short supply, and nothing could silence his furious instincts. They demanded that he fight, for Nick and for what they could be together. She was his.

And I have to let her go.

They drove back to Nick’s house in silence. Half a dozen times, Derek opened his mouth to say the words, to broach the subject they both avoided as if by mutual consent.

And half a dozen times he closed it again without a word, because knowing what he had to do didn’t make it easier. Not with Nick sitting next to him, radiating misery and hopelessness.

She didn’t speak when she parked and unlocked the front door, or while they walked through the dark foyer and up the stairs. When they reached her bedroom, she bypassed the lights and sank to the edge of the bed. “I have to go to New York tomorrow.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. A few days, at least. Maybe longer.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “As long as it takes for me to convince them.”

Derek knelt in front of her and laid his hands on her knees. “You don’t have to say it, Nicky. I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Her head fell forward, and hot tears splashed on his skin as her shoulders shook. “I don’t even understand why the stupid bastards won’t listen to me.”

His heart broke as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m sorry. I’m—” The words broke off in a sob.

“I know you care about me. If there was any way…” His voice shook, and he swallowed back tears and tightened his arms around her. “You need to save your sister. You need to fight for her, and you can’t do that with me around. But I’ll be here.” I love you.

“No.” She pulled back to look at him, her face set in a mask of pain. “I can’t ask you to do that. I might have to sell the bar and my house. I don’t know if I’ll make it back to New Orleans, Derek. You can’t wait for me.”

You can’t stop me. But telling her wouldn’t help, not now. Now he needed to give her what she needed. He had to give her goodbye.

He lifted his hands to frame her face and kissed her once, hard. “If this is the last time, I want everything.”

“Everything.” Nick closed her eyes, but tears slipped down her cheeks anyway. “I love you.”

Those three words weren’t supposed to destroy him. Derek kissed the tears from her cheeks and prayed she wouldn’t open her eyes and find him crying too. “I love you, Nicole Parker Peyton.”

She nuzzled his face as she tugged at his shirt. “Make love to me, like it’s any other night. Like it’ll never end.”

It would be something to remember when he was alone in his cold, miserable bed. He lifted her to the bed and held up his arms so she could remove his shirt. Hers tore a little when he got his hands on it, but soon she was shirtless and he was free to cover her shoulders and neck with desperate kisses.

She wove her fingers into his hair and held his mouth to her skin while she whispered soft, encouraging words. Her whispers turned into gasps and then moans, and she let go. “Lie down.”

He couldn’t deny her anything. Not now. He crawled on the bed, rolled onto his back and held out a hand. “Come here.”

Nick clasped his hand and knelt over him. Her hair brushed his skin as she bent to trace hot circles on his chest with her tongue. Every movement was careful, deliberate, as if she meant to memorize him.

Finally, she kissed his stomach and lowered her hands to his belt.

“Baby.” He held her head and tried not to arch up against her. “God, I want you so bad. I need you.”

She unbuckled his belt, loosened his jeans and freed his cock. “I dreamt about doing this for so long.”

Even with their lives falling apart, the instincts inside him stirred. The soft touch of her hand conjured fantasies, the urge to rise off the bed and spill them both to the floor. To turn her over and take her with sure, strong thrusts that branded her as his. Instead, he dropped his hands to the bed and grasped the comforter. “Do whatever you want. Anything.”

Her breath blew over him, hot and teasing, a moment before she took him in her mouth.

Derek groaned as heat shot through him. “Fuck!”

It was slow and torturous. She stroked every inch of his cock with her hands, lips and tongue, breathing appreciative sighs and moans when he arched into her touch.

It was perfect, and it wasn’t nearly enough. Derek reached for her, wrapped his hands around her arms and tugged lightly. “Get up here. I want to kiss you.”

She crawled over him, flushed and panting. “What else do you want?”

“Just you.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and dragged her lips to his. He poured everything into the kiss, everything he couldn’t say and everything he felt. The love that should have been enough but couldn’t be.

Nick melted into him, her desperation matching his own. She began to jerk at her jeans, and she whispered against his mouth. “Help me, baby.”

He almost tore the button free from the denim. His fingers fumbled with the zipper, and he froze. “Shit. Condoms. We’re supposed to remember condoms this time.”

She bit his jaw with a growl and leaned over to fumble with the nightstand drawer. “I have some…”

Derek rolled over and reached past her to yank the drawer free from the nightstand. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and he snatched up a condom and tossed it on the bed next to them with a low noise.

Nick lay beneath him, her ass pressing up against his cock. She laid her cheek on her arm and drew in a shaky breath. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

“I know.” He kissed her shoulder and then her back as he dragged her jeans the rest of the way down her legs. His pants joined hers on the floor, and for several heartbeats he simply stood at the edge of the bed and tried to fix the sight of her stretched out on the bed in his memory. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Nicky.”

She watched him, her eyes dark, and he knew she was doing the same thing—studying him until she could remember every detail and moment. “Say it again.”

The bed dipped under his weight as he knelt next to her and smoothed his hand up the line of her spine. “You’re gorgeous. You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” She shivered. “I’ve always thought so. Even when you were taking your shirt off just to torture me.”

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. New Year’s Eve, when he’d gotten too drunk on shots of vodka to care that he’d just challenged a telekinetic to a game of strip darts. Nick’s gaze on his body had been a triumph and a torment, proof that she wanted him even if he couldn’t bring himself to take her.

Too little, too late.

Derek banished the thought, rolled onto his back and reached for her. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

She came to him, her mouth and hands hot and eager. Foil crinkled as she pressed the condom into his hand and bit his neck.

His hands fumbled. He felt too clumsy, too frantic, but there was no way to slow down. She kissed him so hard he wanted to drown in it, and it wasn’t until he had the condom on and his fingers wrapped around her hips that he really believed it was the last time.

Nick hovered over him, her mouth on his. She started to speak but kissed him again and angled her hips down over his in a smooth rock that brought him deep inside her.

Thought shattered. The woman of his dreams was over him, riding him, and it was so fucking perfect all he could do was clutch her waist and whisper her name.

She rode him, her hands braced on his stomach and her head thrown back. Her movements were slow at first, silent until her breath began to escape in pants and moans. Every roll of her hips was more intense than the last, until she was digging her nails into his skin and gasping his name.

Derek ground his teeth together and slid his fingers between her legs. “That’s it, baby. Come on…”

She came as soon as he touched her. A desperate, shuddering cry tore free of her, and she jerked against his hand as she tightened around his cock. Pleasure turned sharp as the need to give in clawed at him, but he dug his teeth into his lower lip and took over the rhythm of their movements.

Her eyes snapped open as a second orgasm shook through her, and she leaned forward to bite his chin. “Please,” she whispered, her voice husky with pleasure. “Derek—”

He wanted to hold on. For minutes, for hours… Forever. His body betrayed him with her next whimpering cry, and the world swam in hazy pleasure as he came with her name on his lips.

Nick wrapped her arms around him and tucked her head against his shoulder. It took a while for her to speak, and she still sounded breathless. “Will you stay tonight?”

It would prolong the agony, but he didn’t know how to say no. So he stroked her hair back and prayed he’d be strong enough to walk away in the morning. “Of course.”