Black Rook (12 page)

Rook. In bed with her.

Even as a small part of her cheered the fact, the rest of her floundered for meaning. She tensed, and that simple motion woke the sleeping man behind her. He sat up with a grunt, lost his balance and flailed. Brynn grabbed his arm to steady him before he fell out of the bed and woke everyone in the house.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He blinked hard several times, then ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “No, my fault. I forgot where I fell asleep.”

“Well, I don’t think sleeping together was part of the plan when we sat down.” She just remembered her calves burning from their awkward standing position and gently urging Rook to sit for a few minutes while he collected himself. She did not, however, recall lying down or falling asleep.

“Yeah, well—damn. What time is?” He snatched the alarm clock up off the floor, then swore again. “Bishop and the others are probably back. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“Mrs. Troost put towels and things in the bathroom for you, if you want to take a shower, and there are clothes—”

“I know, Rook, you told me last night.”

“Oh. Right.” He was so discombobulated that she hesitated to let him walk and talk at the same time. Shadows darkened the skin beneath both eyes, and despite a few hours of sleep, he still looked exhausted. “Thank you.”

She didn’t insult him by asking why he was thanking her. “You’re welcome. I’m so sorry for your losses.”

“Yeah. Just head for the kitchen when you’re ready for breakfast.”

“Okay.”

He hesitated, as though he had something else to say then thought better of it. He climbed off the bed—sneakers still on his feet—and slipped out of her room, careful to avoid the creakiest floorboards.

Brynn stared at the closed bedroom door, more confused this morning than she’d been in her life. Yesterday she’d woken with a plan. Today she had no idea what she’d be doing in an hour, or if she’d be allowed to leave. Rook’s accusations about Magi involvement in Connecticut worried her. If Alpha McQueen suspected she was involved, he might not be as subtle in his questioning of her. And if a Magi truly had been involved, he might order her killed in retaliation—more than anything, that outcome terrified her.

No. She’d sat idly by her entire life, allowing things to happen to her. Not this time. She’d broken a few minor loup laws, but she knew nothing about Connecticut or the deaths of three hundred loup. Magus or not, Brynn was not their enemy. Somehow she had to become their friend. An ally with value—more value than as a message to the Congress.

She liked Cornerstone (at least what she’d seen of it) and she liked Rook (much more than she should) but this was not her home. The only home she’d ever known was far away and no longer welcoming. She felt as displaced among the Magi as she felt with the loup garou—which confused her because Cornerstone had never been her home. Home was nowhere.

At least here, prisoner or not, she could do something. She was smart, educated, and a decent planner. She’d do what she could to help Alpha McQueen find out who murdered their kin. Research, provide answers, anything that wasn’t a betrayal to her father. She’d prove she was worth more than a scandal and an abrupt dismissal.

If to no one else, she would prove it to herself.

***

Rook took sixty seconds in the bathroom to do his business and splash some water on his face, before pounding downstairs to the first floor. He couldn’t linger and enjoy the faint scent of Brynn clinging to his clothes. He’d woken up before her, aware of her body against his, so hard he was surprised she hadn’t noticed—or if she had, she didn’t comment on it. He had stayed quiet and still, listening to the gentle sound of her breathing, inhaling her scent, existing in the perfection of the moment. He’d never felt so content as when lying by her side, and that baffled him. He should have been appalled at himself for lowering his guard so easily around her.

When she finally roused from sleep, he was so relaxed that her sudden tension had startled him. For an instant, he thought someone else had intruded on their peace. Despite everything he’d learned last night about Stonehill and his own accusations against her, Brynn had given him peace, and he’d be forever grateful for that.

The hum of voices led him straight to the library, where Bishop, Father, and a woman he didn’t know were gathered around a laptop. The trio looked up when he walked in.

Seeing Bishop in person and unharmed did little to calm the way his heart began racing. Until that moment, it hadn’t really hit Rook—what might have happened if the hostiles had still been around when Bishop and his squad arrived. The anonymous call had been placed to lure other loup to Stonehill, and the hostiles could have easily been lying in wait for fresh victims.

Bishop seemed to understand why Rook was staring at him, because he nodded as if Rook had asked a question. It helped.

“This is Jillian Reynolds,” Father said. “Joe’s her father. Jillian, my youngest son, Rook.”

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” Jillian said. She was about Bishop’s age, with straight brown hair, flat bangs, and sharp features a little too angular to be pretty. But she exuded strength and intelligence, and Rook would bet a month’s salary that she was a Black Wolf.

“Likewise,” Rook said.

“She and her enforcer squad are our guests until we figure out exactly what happened in Stonehill,” Father said. He tapped some keys on the laptop. “We’re setting up a conference call with the other run Alphas in a few minutes to discuss everything.”

“And the woman who survived the attack?”

“She’s with Dr. Mike and Knight.”

“Knight?”

“She was understandably hysterical when she woke up,” Jillian said. “Your White Wolf was the only person who could calm her down enough for the doctor to sedate her.”

Rook wanted to tell her that White Wolf was his brother and he had a name, but he refrained. Every temper in the room was running at top speed, and he didn’t need to start a pissing match with another on-edge Black. He’d look petty, and Father would be furious at his lack of control.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rook asked instead.

“At the moment, no,” Father replied. Rook nodded, expecting to be dismissed, and he was surprised when his father added, “But you’re welcome to sit in on the conference call.”

“Thank you.” He glanced at Bishop, whose raised eyebrow said it all. Every extra scrap of responsibility that Father threw at Rook seemed to, even indirectly, circle back to the question of which brother would step up as Alpha. Bishop wanted it. Rook could take it. Their father was trying to give them both every opportunity to prove themselves the better candidate. But this situation had nothing to do with one day leading the Cornerstone run—it had to do with justice for the murdered people of Stonehill, and every extra head puzzling through the evidence brought them that much closer to finding out who the hostiles were.

Rook took a seat on the sofa opposite the others. “I asked Brynn if she knew anything about the attack, or the Magus involved.”

If the Alpha was surprised by the statement, he didn’t show it. “What did she say?”

“She was pretty offended that I implied she knew anything. She insists that her arrival and the attack are coincidences.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I do. She’s not that good of a liar.”

Rook waited for more questions, or even for his father to announce he’d question Brynn himself. He didn’t. He turned back to the laptop, putting his trust in Rook’s assessment.

Jillian leaned forward and squinted at the laptop. “Someone hasn’t checked in yet,” she said.

“Mitch Geary isn’t answering our calls,” Father said.

“Geary’s the West Virginia Alpha?”

“Correct.”

Rook realized he was digging his fingers into the legs of his jeans, and he forced his hands to relax. Geary and his run was a sore topic in the McQueen household, and just thinking about the man seriously threatened Rook’s calm.

The West Virginia run had, for the last several generations, skirted the edge of loup garou laws. Instead of a sanctuary town, they lived in what could barely be considered a camp—cabins, tents, shacks, with no actual electricity or running water—on a tributary south of the Potomac River, near the tiny town of Allensville. Geary ran the camp with the care of a drunk sheriff who’d given control over to the outlaws. Half-breeds and humans lived side-by-side with what remained of the full-blood loup. They kept mostly to themselves, staying out of the majority of formal run business.

Unless they needed something. Then they became violent. Like the night someone decided the Potomac run had been without a White Wolf for too long, and since Cornerstone had two—Andrea McQueen and her three-year-old son Knight—they were going to take one. Three Potomac loup got into town, and then into the house. Rook was still an infant at the time, but ten-year-old Bishop was seriously injured trying to protect his brothers and he still carried a scar on his chest. Knight was successfully kidnapped. Thomas and Andrea McQueen set out with six enforcers to retrieve their stolen child, and in the ensuing fight, Andrea was killed.

Geary denounced the three kidnappers, but few of the other Alphas believed him—even when he had the lone survivor executed. In the two decades since, the Potomac loup had kept to themselves. Their silence now, considering the slaughter in Connecticut, was either purposely heartless or suspiciously incriminating.

Rook looked up and met Bishop’s eyes across the coffee table. Stormy anger reflected back at him. No one had blamed Bishop for Knight’s kidnapping—he was only ten and no match for three adult loup—but Bishop still carried a burden of responsibility for it that no one had been able to hoist off his shoulders.

“Geary only has one phone that we know of in the entire camp,” Father said. “Joe and I have both left messages, but Geary wouldn’t be able to join us at this late notice, anyway. He’d have to go into town just to get internet access.”

“Convenient for him,” Bishop said in a harsh whisper meant to be overheard. The comment earned a raised eyebrow from Jillian.

Father leaned forward to see past her. “Why is that, son?”

“No reason. I’m sorry.”

“Stonehill no longer had a White Wolf, did they?” Rook asked.

“No,” Jillian replied. “Their White disappeared about twenty-five years ago. She was the wife of the Alpha, Andrew Butler, and one day she was just gone. No sign she was removed by force, no trouble in the marriage. She was supposedly crazy about their daughter, who was two at the time, so no one believed she left willingly.”

“The disappearance occurred three years before Potomac tried to kidnap Knight,” Bishop said.

“You’re right, but if they had her, then why go after Knight? Even back then, no connection was found between Chelsea Butler’s disappearance and your brother’s attempted kidnapping.”

“It wasn’t attempted.”

Jillian scowled at Bishop. “You know what I mean. For all of the evidence presented, Chelsea Butler walked out of town on her own steam, whereas your brother was taken by force. Two different scenarios. And even as out of touch as Potomac is today, they know Stonehill no longer has a White Wolf, so there’s no logical reason for them to have been the aggressors.”

Bishop didn’t reply.

“You’re well informed,” Father said.

“I’m a Black Wolf and my father’s only child,” she said. “Delaware’s future Alpha female needs to be well informed, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do, and you’re correct. However, the Potomac run lives outside the lines of decent loup garou, and I will never again give them the benefit of the doubt. They live openly with half-breeds, and they’ve been known to associate with vampires. We need to speak with them, and the sooner the better.”

“As suspects?”

“As our loup garou kin, who may also be in danger from these new hostiles.” Father looked away from Jillian and allowed his gaze to stop on both of his sons, including them when he said, “If we can’t raise them on the phone, then we’ll have to go down there and speak to Mitch Geary in person. We’re their closest neighbors.”

Finally something Rook could volunteer for—and if his memory was correct, Bishop had no chance of being included. His quarterly should be tonight, which would make a long trip to West Virginia impossible. Bishop’s epic frown told Rook his guess was correct.

“With your permission, Father,” Rook said, “if a trip to Potomac is necessary, I’d like to go.”

“Not alone,” Bishop said.

Rook resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course not alone.”

Father tilted his head to the side, then nodded. “If we have to make a personal trip, then Rook will go with Devlin. Devlin has a good nose. He saw and smelled Stonehill firsthand. He’ll know if anyone involved is in the Potomac run. Not that you’ll inform Geary of that fact.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Devlin would be his secret weapon.

“It’s time for the call,” Jillian said.

“We’ll discuss this further afterward,” Father said.

Rook nodded, and then settled back to listen.

Chapter Eight

Brynn paused in front of the closed library door for only a moment, curious about the muffled discussion occurring inside, and then continued past to the kitchen. It felt strange to wander alone in the large house—a house owned and lived in by an unknown number of loup garou. She’d hurried past the living room on her way down the hall, alarmed by the number of male voices coming from inside and their possible reactions to a Magus in their midst. She no longer completely trusted the medallion around her neck to shield her from prying noses. She would take nothing for granted from now on.

Her strange night with Rook unsettled her. First the alarming accusations about Magi participation in a mass murder. The idea itself offended her, but she couldn’t argue with what the investigating loup said they smelled. Then offering Rook comfort in the wee hours of morning. It had felt natural, felt right. Anyone would have done the same. Falling asleep with him in her bed, when she had never before slept a night with a man, had confused her. He was loup garou and dangerous by nature, and yet she’d slept like a stone with him next to her. For an instant, when she first woke, she’d felt safe. Some instinctive part of her that lived deep down had stirred with awareness. Had been content.