The Strip (28 page)

Across the table, Jake’s amber eyes bored holes into him. Malcolm couldn’t deny the thrill he got by leaving his second-in-command to such an uncertain fate. The poor devil. He was definitely outmatched.

Malcolm left the table, brushing past the two men with Mary Jane. Each of them locked gazes with him as he went by, and he could read the dark promises there. Charlie’s friends were loyal, and they didn’t want anyone messing with her.

He nodded at them, sent out a few tendrils of his power, and hoped that the reassurance he’d attached to them would find its way into their minds.

When the men blinked and seemed to relax, he knew it had worked.

As he walked back across the cantina, he could feel Jake’s gaze burning into his back, but he knew it was better this way. The werewolf needed to deal with his own girl issues without any unsolicited help.

And Malcolm needed to see Charlie.

* * * *

Charlie hung up the phone, turned it off, and flung it on the couch. Then she turned an apologetic expression to the man sitting across from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that when I saw it was her, I knew she needed to hear my voice, and I was right. She’d been worried sick about me.”

Alexander Kavanagh smiled an understanding smile and shook his head. “Think nothing of it, Charlie. I don’t blame you one bit. I had to call my wife from the elevator. She has to hear from me every hour or she vows that she’ll send the Council’s enforcers out after me.” Alexander shook his head, his blue eyes laughing. “I swear, the power has gone to her head.”

“You have a wife?” Charlie asked. Her grandmother – her father’s mother – had been dead since before Charlie was born. At least, that was what she’d been told. Then again, she’d been told that her grandfather was dead, too.

“Yes,” he said softly. “She’s my second wife, Charlie. We’ve been together for almost thirty years. We married seventeen years after your grandmother died.” He paused as she took this in. And then, gently, he added, “You would have liked your grandmother, Charlie. She was just like you; full of spirit and tough as nails. You’re the spitting image of her, in fact. I’m sorry that you never got to meet.”

Charlie stared at the floor for a moment. She tried to conjure up the image of a woman who had been alive fifty years ago, but it was hard. She was tired, and her mind kept sliding back to Malcolm and his light green eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?” she suddenly asked, surprising even herself. She hadn’t known the question was there, on the tip of her tongue, until her mind spit it out and her mouth had to obey.

The silence in the room stretched and Charlie looked up. Her grandfather was watching her carefully, his blue eyes filled with secrets and wisdom and probably things that nobody would believe, even if they knew about them. But his smile was gentle and more than a touch remorseful.

“I thought about it,” he said, softly. His deep gravelly voice felt like the entire desert and all of its harsh heat and deadly beauty and hidden treasures, wrapped up and shoved into the small space occupied by a single tall, well-built man. “But your father had wanted you raised as a human. It was why I’d never introduced myself to you before. I knew that you would be able to sense my….” He trailed off, as if searching for the right word. He was too humble.

She helped him out. “Power?” she offered.

He chuckled and had the decency to blush. “I suppose so,” he said, nodding. “He’d told me that you were a Dormant. It was unheard of until you came along. You’re the first, Charlie. The first female-born to also be able to make the Change.” He sighed and stretched out his legs in front of him. His expensive, tailored suit slid along his well-muscled body like silk over a statue. “Well, your father was outright scared of what the combination might do to you. He didn’t want any alpha anywhere near you.” Again, he chuckled, and it was such a deep, resonating and contagious sound that Charlie almost joined him.

“I can’t blame him, really. If I’d had a daughter instead of a son, I would have felt the same way.” Here, he paused, and his expression took on a meaningful cast. His blue eyes darkened, just a touch. “So, he wanted to hide you away. And he was successful, for the most part.” He looked down at the floor now, and seemed to be seeing something in another place and time. “At least, until he and your mother were killed.”

Charlie swallowed. A lump had formed in her throat, and it hurt a little. “By Phelan.”

Kavanagh’s gaze snapped back up, and the light blue of his eyes was now glowing as if someone had lit a fire inside of an iceberg. “Yes,” he said.

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat. His gaze was so utterly stark in the handsome setting of his face that it fairly stunned her. She could see why he was the Overseer. The power rolling off of him now was stifling. She felt hot and cold, at once. She felt dizzy and short of breath.

Like she was having a panic attack.

As if suddenly aware of the effect that his anger was having on her, Kavanagh stood and reigned in his influence. She could feel it sliding off of her, uncoiling from her body and everything around her. How he did it, she would never know, but she was grateful.

Now she could breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to lose control.” Kavanagh sighed and moved once more to the floor-to-ceiling windows across the room. The Las Vegas skyline seduced from below, inviting revelers with a siren song of lights and movement, music and magic.

“I loved my son very much,” he told her, softly.

“And I loved my father.”

At this, Alexander turned and pinned her with a somewhat startled expression. He gazed at her in wonder, as if seeing her – truly seeing her – for the first time. And then he smiled again and nodded. Once. “You’re a strong young woman, Charlie. I’ll give you that.”

Charlie stood too, and ran a hand through her hair. Then she hugged herself and asked the question she’d really been dying to ask since she’d learned he was the Overseer and the only one who would for certain know the answer. “Who is Jessie Graves?”

Alexander blinked, and then his shoulders sank a touch. He sighed heavily and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “He’s a Sentinel. Your Sentinel, right now. And he’s been watching over you for many years.”

“How many?”

He waited a good long while before replying. He obviously didn’t want to answer this question. But in the end, he capitulated. “Since you were twelve,” he admitted, softly. “The day your parents died.”

Charlie’s heart stopped beating – and then started up again,
hard
. She felt dizzy, light-headed. She sat down on the couch, not even realizing she was doing so. Her fingers dug into the leather and she closed her eyes. “You mean to tell me that he’s known me since I was… since I was a
child
?”

“Yes.” Again, he sighed and moved away from the windows. “Charlie, there is much about the werewolf community that you have yet to learn. Sentinels are complicated beings, even by our terms. Graves is the oldest and most powerful among the watchers. That was why I chose him for your job.”

“Hold on.” She held up her hands and kept her eyes closed. “I need a minute here.” And she did; that much was true. She had trusted Jessie. With
everything
. And he’d been lying to her, in so many ways, all along. It was too much.

“If it helps at all, Charlie, he didn’t have a choice. I wouldn’t have allowed him to back down where you were concerned. I needed my best man for this, and he was it. If there is anyone who needs your forgiveness, it is I. Not Graves.”

At that, Charlie looked up, and she knew that the pain she felt in her heart was reflected in her eyes. She knew, because her grandfather looked as if he’d been hit with a physical blow. His expression was pained with regret.

“You don’t know,” she said, softly, so that her voice wouldn’t crack, “you have no idea what we… how I….”

“I have an idea, little one,” Kavanagh whispered. And then he was coming across the room and she could feel his presence drawing nearer. His physical form was preceded by a wave of comfort, warm and reassuring, just as it had felt when she’d first laid eyes upon him.

Charlie gave in to it, welcomed it, and did not move away when he sat beside her and slowly, tenderly, drew her into his arms.

It didn’t hurt. Not that she’d expected his touch to hurt. It was just that she was wearing Cole’s mark and she knew her grandfather was a werewolf – a powerful one. Undoubtedly an alpha.

But she guessed that family didn’t count when it came to a mate’s mark. And as she rested her head against his chest, she was eternally grateful for that. It would have really pissed her off if, on top of everything else, she hadn’t been able to hug the only family she had left in the world. She would have had to kill Cole.

And she didn’t want to kill him.

She wanted to other things to him. With him. She wanted to – well, she wanted to….

“Cole is a good man,” her grandfather suddenly said. His voice rumbled in the chest beneath her cheek, the vibration reminding her of a Harley’s engine. She pulled away and looked up at him.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, wondering once more if a werewolf could read her mind.

“Actually Charlie,” he looked sheepish for a moment. “I can.”

Charlie blinked.
He can what?

“I can read your thoughts,” he repeated, stating the fact as if he were admitting that he’d once been a boy scout or had graduated Magna Cum Laude from Harvard Law.

He didn’t give her time to dwell on it, though. Instead, he expanded upon what he’d said earlier. “Malcolm Cole has been through a lot, as I’m sure Mrs. Kane has told you.”

Numbly, Charlie nodded. But her eyes were golf-balls in her lovely face.

“He’s earned the high regard and respect of every member of Council, including myself. And that’s not easy, Charlie. I’ll admit that his ways are unorthodox at times, and that he often lacks subtlety. But I also know that when a wolf is powerful within a man, he is bound to be ruled by it once in a while. And Cole’s wolf is powerful, indeed.”

“You can read my thoughts?”

Alexander laughed softly once more. He nodded. “Yes, little one. Each werewolf is born with different powers. Some are more useful than others.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “The ability to read a person’s mind is one of mine. Please don’t let it bother you, child. I’ve grown quite used to filtering out things I don’t need.”

“You can read minds…. Holy hallelujah.” She suddenly felt as if she needed to hide everything from him. She tried to think of sunflowers. Bees. Summer. The color yellow…. But then she was thinking of her mother. And the funeral.

There was a knock on the door then. Kavanagh straightened, obviously not surprised. He took a deep breath and managed a small smile for his granddaughter. “Come in, Cole.” He gave the order and Malcolm Cole slid a key card into the door on the other side. He opened it and stepped into the foyer.

Charlie’s heart rate immediately sped up. Their eyes met and she was trapped; a doe in emerald headlights. For the thousandth time, she was struck with how handsome he was. It took her breath away. No man had ever looked like him. His face was something out of her very own wet dreams. And those eyes of his…
Christ
, did she ever love his eyes. And he smelled good. Every time she was near him, she was overwhelmed with the sense of him. He smelled like fog and the beach and sailing ships and leather and some wonderful, expensive hint of cologne, and after shave and –

Beside her, her grandfather shifted and stood up.

Instantly, Charlie ripped her gaze from Malcolm’s and looked up at the Overseer. A horrid heat crept across her cheeks and neck. She was furiously blushing, his presence suddenly reminding her that he could read her thoughts. He’d most likely read every one of the less-than-demure thoughts she’d just entertained.

Charlie stifled a moan and looked down to stare steadfastly at the floor as Kavanagh crossed the room to speak with Cole. She overheard them say something softly to one another, and then her grandfather was leaving. Cole shut the door behind him.

They were alone.

Charlie’s head snapped up when she heard Malcolm bolt the door and set the latch. She knew he could hear her breathing from across the room. She couldn’t control her pulse or the air moving swiftly in and out of her lungs. She couldn’t stop the thin sheen of sweat that suddenly broke out along her brow and made her t-shirt feel too hot. She wanted to take it off. And her bra.

Across the room, Cole turned to face her fully, his light green eyes expertly taking in every single move she made. No woman in the world would be able to keep from melting beneath that gaze. For Charlie, who wore his mark, it was worlds worse.

He started toward her, his stride slow and easy. One hand was in his pocket. With the other, he set the card key on a table against one wall and then dimmed the lights.

Charlie’s lips parted and moisture gathered between her legs when she realized that there was only one reason in the world that Malcolm Cole would have both dimmed the lights and locked the door.

There was no escape for her now.

“Tell me to leave, Charlie,” he told her, his low tone a gentle warning and a hard seduction wrapped into one. “Tell me now, because you won’t have the chance again.”

Oh Jesus… oh holy shit….

Charlie couldn’t think straight. Her thoughts were a jumbled, frantic mess. But, even as her mind was spinning wildly out of control, her body knew what to do. Her body, at least, knew what it wanted. So, she drew a shaky breath and forced the words out of her mouth.

“I don’t want you to leave, Malcolm. I… I want,” she swallowed, not sure whether she could even finish saying what it was she really wanted to say. “I want you to make me forget everything else. Everyone else.” She tried again to look at the floor, but this time he held her fast and would not allow her to look away.