The Strip (25 page)

And the Hunter knew it. In the hand that gripped the gun, Gabriel Phelan held all of the cards.

“I’ll take the chopper, gentleman,” he said, calmly. “Turn around and get down on the ground.” Blood welled in the wound on his shoulder, and Cole could smell it. It matched the wound that Cole bore in his own shoulder. But Phelan paid it no heed and his expression did not reveal that he was in any kind of pain. He simply looked angry, calculative, and determined.

Cole and the stranger hesitated in following Phelan’s orders. Gabriel cocked his gun. Charlie closed her eyes, holding her breath.

As one, Malcolm and the stranger turned around, lowering themselves to their knees in the grass. Immediately, Cole could hear Phelan run by them, heading in the direction of the helicopter that had touched down on the green beyond the nearest row of houses.

He hadn’t taken Charlie. He must have thought she would put up too much of a fight to chance keeping her in the chopper. Maybe he had other reasons. Whatever they were, Cole had never felt so relieved in his life.

And then Charlie was releasing the breath she held and sinking to the ground along with them.

* * * *

Jessie crawled to Charlie and attempted to pull her into his arms. But she yanked away and stared up at him, her eyes wide, her jaw slack.

He knew that his eyes were glowing. He knew his fangs had been visible since he’d appeared. With a concentrated effort, he made them recede and tampered the fire behind his eyes. This was the moment of truth. There was nothing else to hide behind.

“Jessie, my
God
,” she whispered, her words trailing off under the weight of the shock she was undoubtedly feeling. “Jessie… are…
are you
….”

Jessie stared at her and shook his head. He felt such deep regret in that moment, it chewed at his insides like a rabid dog mauling a bone. “Oh, baby girl,” he spoke softly, raising his right hand to gently brush his fingers along her cheek bone.

To her great credit and his tremendous relief, she didn’t pull away. She stayed where she was, gazing up at him in wonder. As an alpha werewolf, his touch would bring Charlie pain, but as a Sentinel, it would not bring her nearly as much as the touch of another alpha. She undoubtedly registered these shocking facts along with all of the others. But despite the plethora of surprises slamming her, there was also something blessedly familiar behind the blue of her eyes. It was trust. It was still there.

That he couldn’t turn back time and explain everything to her sooner was yet another regret he could chalk up to this horrendous week and its pitiable luck. She deserved better. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

“You sound like me,” she said, softly.

He blinked, taken aback by her sudden lick of humor. She smiled a gentle, tired smile, and it echoed the weariness in her shadowed, blue eyes.

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms then and, this time she let him. As he did, he looked over her shoulder to find Malcolm Cole watching him steadily. He’d witnessed the entire exchange and by the expression on Cole’s face, it was clear that the alpha was torn between wanting Charlie to have whatever comfort she could glean at that moment even if it came from Jessie – and wanting to rip Jessie’s throat out.

Jessie nodded once at the man and then slowly pulled away. A helicopter buzzed loudly overhead and then drifted away, the sound of its blades overshadowed by the wailing of the sirens attached to the emergency vehicles that were now coming around the corner several blocks down the street. “I think it’s time we go somewhere more private. And safe.”

Jessie nodded and Cole led the way into the alley between two nearby houses. They came out on the green on the other side and then sprinted across the golf course, toward the taxi-laden streets beyond.

Chapter Fourteen,
The King

“How is she?”

Lily softly closed the door behind her and looked up at Malcolm. She took a deep breath and looked away, clearly contemplating her answer before replying. Malcolm’s jaw tensed. His gaze hardened as he waited.

“She’s actually doing quite well,” she finally said. “She isn’t a werewolf… y
et.
” A sharp glance at Cole. “So, she can’t hear us if we talk softly. Besides, she’s taking a shower right now.” She gestured for the others to follow her into the adjoining room and then took a seat at one of the plush leather sofas.

Malcolm entered behind her, and James Valentine, Lucas Caige, and Jakob Samson joined them. They all took seats, Caige looking somewhat uncomfortable with the relaxed setting.

“St.James is a very tough girl. As I’m sure you’ve already figured out,” Lily began again. “She’s been to Hell and back and seems to have come out relatively unscathed. At least, physically. Mentally, she’s tired. She’s exhausted actually, and perhaps a bit numb. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ve even experienced it myself.” She slowly shrugged. “If my feelings about her are right, it’s something she’ll get over.” Lily paused and frowned. “I explained as much as I could, with the exception of a few special things that I think you should explain to her yourself, Cole.”

At this, she landed Cole with a piercing, meaningful gaze and he knew she was speaking of the mating ritual and everything that would happen directly afterward.

“She was also very happy to learn that her band mates were alive. You can’t imagine the relief she showed when I told her that no one at all had died in the hotel. She was especially relieved for the children.”

Malcolm thought about that. He wasn’t at all surprised. He could imagine that when the hotel had exploded, Charlie had been terrified on too many levels to count. And anyone with a heart would have been concerned about any kids caught in the blast.

He nodded, and then he changed the subject. “What did she say about this guy – Jessie?” It was something he’d wanted to ask ever since the man had shown up out of the blue on the golf course next to Phelan’s house and taken Charlie into his arms. He had smelled human, but was so obviously not. So, what was he? And more importantly, what did he mean to Charlie?

“His name is Jessie Graves. He’s the band’s attorney and Charlie’s best friend; has been for a while. She told me that hugging him had hurt, but not nearly as much as touching Phelan or his men. She ignored the small amount of pain because she needed to hold him anyway,” Lily told them.

Cole considered that. It meant the man was a werewolf. But…. “He smelled human.”

“Yes, I know.” Lily nodded. “But he also had glowing eyes and fangs, apparently.” She raised her eyebrows, and Cole sighed. “And she told me that he managed to basically vanish when Caige showed up with the ride after you three escaped the police outside of the Silverstone golf course. She said he told her that he had to go and that he would explain everything later. Next, he was apparently disappearing back down an alley.” She shifted on the couch and glanced at each of them in turn. “Am I right?”

“Yep,” Caige said with a nod. “I saw him help Claire into the car and then run down the nearest gap between two rows of houses. He smelled human to me too. But I gotta admit,” he half-smiled and reclined into the deep cushions, “he was moving pretty fast.”

“Claire St.James is a female-born. She’s also a Dormant. And her parents were killed by Hunters. She’s probably dead-center in the Council’s sites. I can imagine that they would have vested interest in protecting her,” James explained.

“Hell of a job they’ve done so far,” Caige muttered, lacing his fingers in front of him and resting them across his hard stomach. “Like you said, Kane. She’s been to Hell and back. Was that part of their plan?”

Lily shot him a weary look. “Of course not, but she’s alive. And you have to admit that the Council was more successful at reaching her in The August than you were. One of their witches was responsible for taking down the territory spell.”

To that, Caige had nothing to say. He appeared vaguely uncomfortable for a moment and then looked away. Malcolm knew the man wasn’t fond of magic users. A warlock had killed Lucas’s brother many years ago in Australia.

Caige hadn’t been at The August in time to meet Dannai the witch, but all the same, it probably irritated him to no end that the werewolf community had had to resort to such means to defeat Gabriel Phelan.

Malcolm also had nothing to say. Mostly, because it also irritated the hell out of
him
. He didn’t care about the witch one way or another, but Charlie wore his mark. She was his to protect. And he’d failed her.

“Don’t let it bother you too much Cole,” Lily continued, as if able to read his mind. “I think they pulled out the big guns because she means more to the Council than what she’s worth as a walking puppy mill.”

James rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as if to say,
“Here we go again.”
Lily ignored him and continued. “I think she’s got family or friends in high places.”

“Why would you think that?” Jake asked.

She looked at the blond werewolf and cocked her head to one side. “Because the Overseer is on his way here right now.”

Malcolm blinked, as did everyone else in the room. At first, he wondered how she knew this, but then he remembered. “You had a vision.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “While Claire and I were talking, I saw Mr. Kavanagh standing right here in this room. Speaking with your intended mate.”

They all took a moment to digest that information, and the atmosphere in the room became more tense by several degrees.

“Charlie’s quite a catch, I’ll admit, but there might be another reason for the Council intervening like this,” Caige suggested. He chewed on his cheek as the others turned to look at him. Malcolm’s green eyes glittered. Caige shrugged. “Well, the
warlock
was one nasty guy. I mean, think about it. We could smell the bastard even after he’d gone. That’s some powerful mojo there.” His smile turned spiteful. “And very,
very
tainted.”

“You think the Council wants to question Claire about the warlock working for Phelan?” James asked.

Again, Caige shrugged. “Maybe. Plus, Phelan got away. That can’t be sitting well with them.”

“It isn’t sitting well with anyone,” Cole said softly. He wasn’t thinking of himself. He was thinking of Charlie. Her parents’ murderer was still out there somewhere and had yet to atone for the heinous acts he’d committed. “But, whatever the reason, we’re about to find out,” he added as he cocked his head to one side and listened. Beyond the door to the suite and down the hall, he heard the elevator doors ping open. “Kavanagh is here.”

* * * *

Charlie turned off the hot water and gently squeezed the excess moisture out of her hair. Fat droplets showered to the floor and ran down the drain. She then threw her long, dripping locks over her shoulder and opened the stall door, grasping the towel that hung on the hook beside it.

She ran through these motions on auto-pilot, not really present in the moment or fully aware of what it was she was doing. Instead, she thought of Malcolm Cole.

For weeks before meeting the werewolf, she’d seen him in her dreams. In those night time reveries, his impossible green eyes scorched her insides and melted her on the spot. She always awoke from those dreams with a sense of longing, frustration, and un-spent sexual energy.

And now she knew why.

According to Lily Kane, Malcolm Cole was meant to be her mate. He was an alpha werewolf with a boat load of power, a British accent that brought nerve endings to delicious life, and a face and body to die for. And he wanted
her
. Out of every woman on the planet, Malcolm Cole wanted Claire St.James.

Charlie.

He had made a ton of money on his books, which meant that he was a talented artist. And that probably meant that he would understand and empathize with that same kind of creative streak within her. It was something she had always longed for in a man… should she ever decide to actually hook up for good with anyone.

Apparently, Malcolm Cole would go anywhere and do absolutely anything in order to obtain her. His pursuit would be relentless. It was all part of the chemistry, Lily said. It was a kind of fate. It was just the way things worked.

Surprisingly, Charlie was okay with that. There was a part of her that had always been able to appreciate the more animalistic aspects of human nature. Though she’d always been forced to play it safe around guys, there was a side to her that longed to flirt. To tempt a man into giving chase. She read romance novels ripe with powerful, intelligent men who knew how to get what they wanted and went to great lengths to make it so.

She liked it rough. She knew that such a thing labeled her as a freak in many people’s eyes, but there it was. She couldn’t help it. And, as long as he didn’t really hurt her, she liked a man who knew how to be a man. Dominant. Strong. Persuasive.

Well, she was lucky. Because apparently dominant, strong, and persuasive was an alpha werewolf to a T. It was why Cole had marked her against her will two days ago in the tattoo parlor on the Strip. In an act that at the time had seemed chaotic and surreal and crazy, Malcolm Cole had placed a protective brand upon her that would prevent any other werewolf from mating with her and claiming her as their own.

Charlie wrapped her hair in the towel and glanced down at the shimmering green mark on her arm. It was quite stunning. No tattoo artist in the world would have been able to pull off something so intricate or beautiful. It almost looked fake. Too good to be true. Like the man who had put it there.