Hell's Belle (23 page)

Finger-combing my mussed hair out of my eyes, I glared at Serena’s back before turning to D, who watched me absently, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. Her expression said trouble was brewing. I knew better than to ask questions I didn’t want answered. The ominous feeling in my gut combined with the look on D’s face said that was the case with my next question, but I trudged on. “D, if Mynx went with the sheriff, where’s Detective Slone, the auburn-haired woman that came with Fera?”

D took his drink from Serena. “Miss Hot Stuff is downstairs with the wolves. I figure she and the boy have a lot to talk about. If you hurry on down, you might can stop their come-to-Jesus-meetin’.”

At her words, I jumped up and rushed across the room. But instead of heading to the door, I barreled into D. She stumbled backward under my momentum, nearly spilling her brandy.

“D,” I pulled her face to mine, laying a smacking-loud, slobbering kiss on her cheek, “have I told you lately how good a friend you are to me?” The ice inside was still melting. I suddenly felt giddy. Spring was coming.

The voice that spoke out of D’s face was Darryl’s deep bass. “I know, sweetie, but you’d better go on and save those two from themselves.”

And I knew exactly which two he meant. Luke and Jacq. No matter the persona, Lady D or Darryl, s/he had always called Luke boy—even on our wedding day, which should’ve told me something. I laid another loud kiss on D’s other cheek before doing a one-eighty and bolting for the door. I had to see a man about a horse. Or, at least, the back half of one.

“Hey,” Serena shouted, “where’s
my
hug?”

Over my shoulder, I gave her the finger. “Consider that an IOU.” Serena’s laugh chased me out the door.

I flew down the stairs, my sense of urgency increasing. By the time I reached the bottom, I was running. “Mother of—” The access panel’s red light refused to change no matter how many times I swiped my card. I took a deep breath and tried again.
Green light. Go! No, no go.
I barely stopped myself from yanking open the door. That ominous, foreboding feeling had returned. Once I stepped past this door, everything in my life would change forever.

Never one to back away from the future, I forced myself to slow down, only cracking the door, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. A few feet away, directly across from me, was the room where Carlisle had been restrained. I wasn’t breathing hard from the run, but the words coming from behind that partially open black door were enough to give me palpitations.

“I don’t believe it,” Jacq said, her husky voice seething with anger. “Your mark isn’t upon her. I would have sensed it, just like any magical creature that approaches her would. If. It. Were. There.”

A quick survey of the hall revealed two Weres standing guard nearby. One to my left, farther away, was watching the hall’s main entrance. The other, to my right, guarded the door I needed to enter. Although I hadn’t heard Luke speak yet, he had to be the other half of Jacq’s conversation.

The Were guards might be standing outside a human’s range, but moon-howlers had excellent hearing. They were only pretending not to listen. Unfortunately, the closest guard—and the only one facing me—was an ashen Becca. In a traditional little black dress, pearls and heels, she looked dressed for a romantic night out. The slightly rumpled dress and smeared lipstick didn’t match her clenched fists, set jaw and glistening eyes.

“I’m telling you,” Luke shouted, “that Catherine Eleanor Delacy is my goddamn wife, and you’d better keep your paws off her.”

He didn’t.
No, he did. I momentarily bowed my head in disbelief. When I looked up, a tear was slowly trailing down Becca’s cheek. I stood motionless. Weres didn’t cry, not over gunshot wounds or broken bones. When we’d first met at the Blue Moon Club, Becca’s familiarity had triggered a memory. Becca’s tears did the same, resurrecting a memory from deep in the back of my mind. Heartache was the only thing that could make a Were cry.

Becca was in love with Luke. The same Luke who was claiming
we
were still married. Whether he knew it or not, he’d just drop-kicked her heart.

The other Were, back turned to us, couldn’t see her grief. No one would bear witness but me, and I was the one who needed to see. My eyes were riveted to that shimmering droplet of salty water. Forget me. Forget Jacq. Forget Luke, even. All that mattered was that lone tear and what it represented. The worst part was the reality that, more than my big-mouthed ex, I was responsible. I’d pushed her into Luke’s arms, literally. I’d shown her the light at the end of the tunnel. And like a bad cartoon, that light had turned into a locomotive and run her over. I’d helped her love life become a big steaming pile of train wreckage.

I hadn’t made a sound, but Becca’s head turned in my direction, acknowledging my presence, her eyes accusing me of a crime I couldn’t deny. I quietly stepped out of the stairwell. Becca roughly brushed the tear aside. The other Were shifted, looking at us, but Becca shook her head once, and he turned away. I stared at Becca, trying to form a plan that wouldn’t come.

Seeing her pain was almost enough to melt the remaining ice within me. Fury, burning both hot and cold, filled me. I was angry at myself. I was angry at Luke. Most importantly, I was resolved. I would fix this. And I’d have to hurry, because Jacq’s next words elicited an angry growl that said blood was about to be spilled.

“I’ve never touched someone that was another’s.” Jacq paused, letting Luke think he’d gotten his way before she pulled the rug. “But Cate doesn’t look at me with the eyes of a married woman. This thing between us is bigger than you, Wolf, and you’re not going to stop me from giving the lady any pleasure she requires.”

A frightening thrill ran through me. I shivered, pushing it aside, too worried to consider Jacq’s intentions. She had no idea how low she’d hit Luke. There were no sounds of furniture breaking or fists flying, but they couldn’t be far off.

Luke’s snarling reply was lost as I whispered to Becca, “Don’t enter until I call for you.” The words were little more than a breath forced through clenched teeth, but Becca’s jaw tightened. She’d heard. Still, I asked, “Do you understand?” Her slight nod was barely perceptible in the hall’s dim light.

The other Were stood motionless. I didn’t bother with him. Becca treated me like I wasn’t a threat. Until he saw something to conflict with that judgment, he’d do the same. Besides, Becca was Second. If she told the other Were not to enter, he had to obey.

That explained why he didn’t stop me but not why Becca had agreed to my request. I had no authority over the Weres. Maybe she had more faith in me than I had in myself. More likely, she was too upset to care. I was confident that both wolves would stay on this side of the door as long as they didn’t believe their Alpha was in danger. Or until Luke called. As I pulled the door open, my smile was grim. Lucas Deveroux wouldn’t get that chance.

Few people knew that Lady D’s was built on a ley-line nexus. Where else would a Voodoo Queen build her mini empire? I drew on the lines to reinforce my own magic. If I was willing to use my fire, this wouldn’t have been necessary, but I’d been burning hotter and hotter the last few days. Partially from the phers. Partially from the heat I’d gotten from Jacq and the Blue Moon. And partially from something inside myself that was growing stronger. It was that last part that kept me using only ley-line and earth-magic for this tête-à-tête. I might want to fry Luke’s ass but not literally so. There would be other days for that.

I eased into the room and shut the door. For the safety of the House’s customers, these doors didn’t lock. Would I trust the Weres to stay out? No. If there were any witnesses to what was about to happen, their Alpha would have to challenge me to save face. Or have the pack view Luke as weak. Then he would have to kill me quickly to prove he was still strong enough to hold the wolves together or have them turn on him. Both of those options would really, really suck. Needless to say, Luke and I would have to be alone for this meeting.

My fury was great and growing more so by every minute and every asinine, possessive word still pouring from Luke’s mouth. But if I were to be honest, I’d have to admit that I didn’t want to stop the angry tide. It felt damn good. Even so, I was fully aware of what I was doing. And more than anyone else, I knew what the consequences would be. Still, I stepped into the room and didn’t look back.

The door closed behind me with a barely audible click, and I began my wards. They simmered blue in the air before attaching to the door. Beside my barrier glyphs was my own glowing version of Jacq’s sound ward. No one would be coming into this room without a serious magical kick, and nothing said would be getting out, at least not through the walls or door. I intentionally missed warding the ceiling’s microphones.

I never heard what Jacq said in response to Luke’s snarls, but I could tell she hadn’t been shocked by the word “wife.” Maybe she was preparing to make me a widow. If she was a tenth as angry as I was, it was a definite possibility.

Then again, angry might’ve been an understatement. My blood was boiling, and my heart was still just icy enough to not worry about the feelings of the man I now marched toward. I barely noticed that the traitorous Council agent, Carlisle, and the bloody sheets had been removed. My focus was on the dumb shit with his back to the door.
Tsk. Tsk.
Rule one of survival was to keep all possible entrances in your line of vision. Rule two was never turn your back on your enemy. Rule three was don’t piss off your ex-wife. We were more or less zero for three. I might not be Lucas Deveroux’s enemy, but at the moment I certainly wasn’t feeling very friendly toward him.

This wasn’t how I’d planned to end the evening. Secretly I’d hoped to find Mynx right about the relationship between Jacq and Fera, then take a spin on the dance floor with the dimpled detective. With that possibility in mind I’d worn dancing shoes, which were much quieter than my boots. But if Luke had been paying attention to anything besides his own hurt pride, his keen senses would’ve caught the soft scuffle against concrete. Or my heavy, angry breaths. Or the
clack clack
as my teeth ground together. If this had been anywhere and anyone else, I would’ve been more careful in stalking my prey, but I was angry, unconcerned with being subtle, and unconsciously wanting Luke to turn around and see the wrath he had wrought. I grimaced at his lack of attention. It would get him killed one day. He should’ve at least noticed the small echoes as every sound bounced off the new wards.

Thankfully, Jacq hadn’t gotten so caught up in the argument. Her skin nearly blazing silver with magic, her eyes almost white with wild fire, she stopped, her mouth still open, ready to reply to the insult Luke was snarling about “balls” and “penises.” Like lightning, her storm-filled, nearly desperate gaze flashed to me.

I knew what she saw. Taking advantage of the temporary battle-reprieve, I’d worn my hair down. As my temper escalated, my magical control unraveled, resulting in glowing light blue eyes haloed by little locks of wavy hair that rose, moving of their own accord in the still air. This powerful display was well beyond what Jacq had seen during the hellhound battle. There was surprise and desire in her eyes. I almost laughed. She thought my magic was hot.

She had no idea.

Luke’s back was turned, but I knew his reaction would be more extreme. I’d always been so careful, never letting my magic fully out of its cage in his presence. Why? I’d asked myself that time and again. Maybe I just didn’t want to see the rejection in his eyes. That, too, was a mistake. A male Were’s nature was to dominate and protect. Luke would’ve respected me for being stronger than him, but he wouldn’t have wanted me for a mate. I’d tried to be something I wasn’t, and he’d wanted to be with a woman that didn’t really exist. It was a mistake I’d sworn not to repeat.

Flames of lust flickered in Jacq’s eyes, replacing the desperation. That half-smile curved, and that dimple peeked out. Those beautiful reflections of how she felt would be gone soon, possibly for forever, and I wanted to enjoy the last, brief sight. Time had run out for us. I tried to return her smile but the muscles in my irate face wouldn’t stretch right. My eyes rolled skyward in a silent plea before I mouthed, “Go.”

It pained me to ask, especially when faced with the sudden hurt filling her eyes. I pointed upward. Hopefully, she understood. Though she was no Were, Luke would still consider Jacq a witness. If she stayed, he would have to kill us both or risk his own death. And Jacq? She might not forgive me for making her leave.

Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t. But at least, this way, Detective Jacqueline Slone would live to see another day. As far as plans went, it was a pretty shitty one, but it was the best I had.

Jacq stepped past Luke, making her way to the door where I’d set the wards so she could pass through. He attempted to grab her shoulder, but Jacq brushed him away. Seething, Luke turned to follow, saying, “We’re not done here.” And that’s when I acted.

Fire dripped from my fingers like little droplets of lava until I reined it in. Even so, my hands were still scorching hot when I reached up and grabbed Luke’s ear. The Beast-Clan were extremely strong and pain resistant, but like all men, they had pressure points. And most notably, I’d learned that move from my ex’s spitfire of a mama, Mamie Deveroux. She’d raised five Werewolf sons and was a fount of information on dealing with any sort of beastie boy.

“What the f—” Luke spun around, jerking his head down to relieve the pressure created by my tight burning pinch. I pivoted around his body, moving at three times my normal speed thanks to magic and phers. I wasn’t faster than a Were, but as anticipated, Luke was slow to react. He was used to his mama pulling that trick and had trained himself not to fight back. No good Southern boy ever raises a hand to his mother…at least, not more than once.

We were face-to-face before he even said the third word. Or rather, I was face to chest. Still holding his left ear, I grasped his right shoulder with my other burning hand.