Personal Demon (37 page)

“Papá—” I said.

“Stay out of this, Lucas.” He didn’t turn from Carlos. “I gave you every opportunity. An Ivy League education…and you wouldn’t show up for class. A five-million-dollar trust fund…that was gone before you turned thirty. A VP’s salary, with zero responsibilities…and you whine because I expect you here by ten every morning. I always knew you were a vain, vacuous, vicious brat, Carlos, but I blamed your mother’s influence. I told myself you just needed guidance. I was wrong. Your
brothers,
Carlos…”

“Dad, I—”

“Your brothers!” he thundered.

His hands flew up in a spell. Carlos seemed frozen, making no move to cast back, as if he’d forgotten he could, as if this was a nightmare he couldn’t escape even by simply diving out of the spell’s path.

So I leapt into it.

The energy bolt hit my side and I convulsed, blacking out for a split second before hitting the floor and jerking back to consciousness. Consternation crossed my father’s face, then vanished as his expression went blank.

“Lucas, get out of the way.”

“Yes, Lucas,” Carlos said. “We wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

I pushed to my feet and got between Carlos and my father…earning a shove between the shoulder blades for my trouble.

“You heard Dad. Get out of the way. You don’t want to spoil his fun. He’s been dying to do this for twenty years. Dying to beat the snot out of me. Tell me how he really feels.”

“Lucas, get out of—”

“No.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Carlos said. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Lucas?”

“Papá, listen—”

“Go save someone who needs saving,” Carlos cut in. “He’s not going to kill me. He might hate me. He might wish I was dead. He might wish he could do the job himself. But he can’t. I’m all he has left.”

“No,” my father said slowly. “You aren’t.”

His gaze shunted to me. Carlos snarled in rage and I spun to stop him from attacking our father. His eyes met mine and I realized it wasn’t our father he was after. Before I could dive out of the way, he kicked my feet out from under me. As I fell, his arm went around my neck, crushing my windpipe as he yanked me back onto my feet.

I opened my mouth to cast, but couldn’t speak. When I jabbed my elbow into his chest, his arm tightened, cutting off my air.

“You’re right, Dad,” he said. “I’m not all you have left. But I can fix that.”

With his free hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, letting our father watch as I wheezed and gasped.

“Do you know how easy it is to kill someone like this? How fast I can do it? Faster than you can cast a spell. But don’t take my word for it, Dad. Give it a shot.”

“Carlos, let him go. He only wanted to help. Let him go and we’ll talk.”

Carlos laughed. “Whoo-hoo. Listen to that. Who wants to play ‘voice of reason’ now? What’s wrong, Dad?” His arm tightened so fast I gasped, eyes bulging. “Am I making you nervous? You should see your face, Papá. Sure, you’ll grieve for Hector and William, but this—” He heaved me backward. “This one would
hurt
.”

“If you—”

“Oh, that’s the way. Threaten me. Come on, Dad. Tell me what horrible things you’ll do to me if I hurt your baby boy. You say I don’t pull my weight around here? At least I show up. This one spends
his
working hours trying to destroy us. He moves clear across the country to get away from you. Marries a witch. Adopts a Nast. You build him an office, and he uses his trust fund to buy it from you. Sets up shop fighting Cabals with your money.

Anything to screw you over. But you keep chasing him, like a pathetic SOB who wants the one piece of tail that can’t run away fast enough.”

I kicked Carlos in the shin, hard enough to make him teeter. I grabbed his arm, but it tightened so fast I blacked out. When I came to, he’d gone absolutely still. I wedged my fingers between his arm and my throat, and still he didn’t move. I looked up to see Paige across the room, her face pale with concentration.

“I—I’m having trouble holding the spell,” she said. “Can you get away?”

My father stepped forward.

“Stay where you are, Benicio. Lucas?”

I pried Carlos’s arm from my throat and managed a raspy, “I’m fine.”

My father tried to move forward again.

“Not a move, Benicio,” Paige said, “or I’ll do the same to you. You know I will. Lucas, get away from him.

I can’t hold—”

The spell snapped as I lunged to the side. Paige hit Carlos with a knockback spell and he flew into the wall.

My father lifted his hands. Paige turned the spell on him and he stumbled back.

The guards rushed into the room. Paige hurried to me. As she drew near, I could see she was shaking.

“I almost couldn’t cast,” she said. “The first one—”

“I’m all right.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father advancing on Carlos, now restrained by Griffin.

“Papá. No.”

“Didn’t you learn your lesson, baby bro? Stay out.”

“He would have killed you,” my father said. “He killed Hector and William, Lucas. Murdered them in cold blood.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Don’t—?” He shook his head. “He shot Troy. Troy saw him. Are you saying he was mistaken? Lying?”

“No.”

“I know what happened at Hector’s. Carlos was there—the last person to see Hector alive. The butler and Bella both confirmed it for you. Are they mistaken? Lying?”

“We have no proof that Carlos shot Hector.”

“You sent two officers back here after William’s murder to look for evidence that Carlos had been here too.”

“And they found none. His key code hasn’t been used since he left.”

“Do you think he’s stupid enough to walk past the front desk? To use his own access code? For God’s sake, stop being a lawyer, Lucas! This isn’t a courtroom.”

“Isn’t it? You’ve judged him, found him guilty and now you’re ready to carry out his punishment.”

“He would have killed you.”

“Perhaps, but you put me in charge of this investigation. You can’t decide now that you don’t want me acting like an investigator. I plan to see this through, and follow the letter of the law.”

“Whose law?”

“Cabal law.” I turned to Griffin. “Take him into custody. Not to the cells, but to the house arrest room. It’s to be double guarded at all times. He’s to have no visitors except those approved by me. None, including my father.

He’s to have no food except that ordered by me, delivered to me and taken to him by Paige or myself.”

Griffin glanced at my father. He hesitated, back stiff, then he deflated and nodded.

“Lucas is in charge. Do as he says.”

HOPE: RACKING UP CREDITS

T
he hotel room door opened with a click. Karl peeked around the corner.

“You’re up.”

I yawned. “Just stirring. Being lazy and enjoying it.”

I was curled up in the king-size bed, propped on two pillows, with the rest strewn around me. On my morning bathroom trip I’d grabbed a robe—not for decency, but because it was thick and soft, too tempting to ignore.

“You look lost in that bed and that robe. Very cute.” He smiled at me.

“Cute?” I sputtered. I undid the robe and spread it, then stretched out on top of the covers. “Better?”

His gaze slid down me. “I take it you don’t mind a cold breakfast?”

I noticed the tray in his hands, steam billowing from the plate cover, and I pulled the robe shut.

“Damn,” he said.

He set the tray down, handed me
USA Today,
then tossed the
Wall Street Journal
onto the other side of the bed.

“You really are spoiling me.”

“No, I’m racking up credits. I suspect I’ll need them.”

He kissed my cheek as he leaned over to hand me a coffee.

“Speaking of credits,” I said. “I called my mother while you were out. She said dinner Saturday would be wonderful. She’ll make reservations.”

“Too late. Done.”

“You got reservations for Odessa’s on a Saturday?”

His brows arched. “You think I don’t know how to get a table at a popular restaurant? You forget who you’re talking to, my dear.” He set the tray between us as he climbed in. “Dropping your mother’s name helped.”

“I’m sure it did. She likes you, you know. For me, I mean.”

“Good. Though I was on my best behavior that night, which may have skewed the results.”

“I don’t think so.”

Our eyes met. He nodded. “Good.”

I spread preserves on my toast. “She wants me to invite you to the spring regatta.”

“Rowing? Are you competing?”

“I…” A shrug. “I’m out of practice, so it’ll be strictly a social function for me.”

“There’s still time. Consider it a challenge. Get yourself whipped into shape by spring.”

“Are you going to show your support at 5:30 a.m. practices?”

“Absolutely. From the comfort of my bed, I will be cheering you on wholeheartedly.”

I laughed and took a bite of toast.

“I’ll come out when I can,” he said. “In return for breakfast afterward.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And you can tell your mother I would love to come to the regatta. I’m sure it will be a”—a sly grin my way—“glittering affair.”

“Uh-uh. As my guest, you are forbidden to steal from my mother or any of her friends. I’ll show you who you can steal from, provided a portion of the proceeds go to a charity of my choosing.”

“A finder’s fee?”

“You got it.”

“Fair enough.”

We ate for a few minutes. My paper rested on my tray; his on his lap, both still folded as we perused the lead articles, as if reluctant to open it and make that commitment.

“I made a few more calls this morning,” Karl said.

“Did you phone Lucas? Did he say—?”

His glower cut me short, reminding me that we were leaving that aside until after breakfast.

“A couple of months ago, I talked to Jeremy about relocating.”

It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. The bubble that was keeping last night’s reality at bay also blocked any reminder that we were anything other than two ordinary people.

“Changing my territory,” he prompted.

“Right, yes.” As a Pack werewolf, Karl was allowed to hold territory. The others shared New York State.

By choice, he got Massachusetts—a reflection on both his independence and his reluctance to fully join into Pack life.

“The calls I made today were inquiries into a couple of condos in Philadelphia.”

He stopped there, and I had to replay his words before his meaning sunk in.

“You want to move to Philly? Relocate your territory to Pennsylvania?”

“Is that all right?”

“I suppose—I mean, yes. That’s all right. Just…unexpected.”

He reached to take a slice of bacon off my plate, using the excuse to study my expression. Moving territory wasn’t something to be done lightly. Which meant he was serious. About me. About us. And I knew that, I guess. It was just…unexpected.

“It’s really more of a home base than a home,” he said. “I just thought Philadelphia would be more convenient, under the circumstances.”

I nodded.

“I’m particularly interested in a new building about a block from your office.”

I managed a smile. “Ah, the Renaissance Towers. Very classy. Did you know they tore down one of the city’s oldest apartments to build it? Destroyed a heritage building?”

“I believe they preserved part of the facade.”

“And evicted people who’d been living there their entire lives.”

“It has a lovely view.”

“I’m sure it does.”

He sighed. “If I choose it, I’ll donate five percent of the purchase price to a homeless shelter.”

“That’s not really the point.”

“It has a lovely view.”

I shook my head and finished my orange juice.

“Anyway, it would be convenient for
you,
” he said. “A place for you to eat lunch, instead of brown bagging it at your desk. And a place to sleep if you work late or the weather’s bad.”

“That’d be nice.”

He reached for my uneaten croissant. “You may find it more convenient, at some point, to stay there during the week, and we can spend weekends at your townhouse in Gideon.”

I gave him a look.

“I said, ‘at some point.’”

“I’ve never lived with anyone, Karl.”

“Neither have I.”

“I drool in my sleep.”

“I know. It’s cute.”

As I opened my mouth, the phone blipped on my nightstand. A text message, which meant I didn’t need to answer it immediately, but it made a good excuse.

“Who is it?” he asked, though his tone told me he had a pretty good idea.

“Paige.”

As I skimmed through the message, my fingers tightened around the phone. “She says there was a shooting last night, while they were finding Carlos. They think it’s a member of the gang. She’s warning me that she’s sending the photo separately, so I don’t get a shock opening it, I guess.” I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to check for the second message. “Troy’s stable. And they did find Carlos. She says they’re ‘holding him.’” I glanced at Karl. “In custody? Do they think he’s involved?”

His expression said he didn’t care enough to speculate.

“She’d like me to call her. She probably has some questions about last night.”

“Fine. Tell her you’ll call from the plane.”

“Karl…”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

“Who?”

“Lucas. He’s as sneaky as his father. I told him to call
me
.”

“It’s my help they need with the photo.”

“He doesn’t even call you himself, but has his wife do it, sending a text message so it sounds as if they’re being considerate, not wanting to disturb you. Just watch. When you call, Paige will invite us out to breakfast, where Lucas will pounce, catch you off guard and talk you into staying to help him.”

“And why shouldn’t he? His brothers are dead, Karl. He’ll do what it takes to find whoever is responsible. I know I would.”

“Because you’re close to
your
brothers. If Lucas was the dead one, Hector and William sure as hell wouldn’t go looking for his killer. Unless it was to thank him.”

“If Lucas thinks the gang is involved, then he needs my help and I’m going to give it. While he’d appreciate your nose, I can convince him you’re otherwise engaged. So catch that plane to Philly, check the condos, take the keys for my place if you want to crash there…”