He braced his hands on the arms of the chair. “It’s common knowledge that my mother doesn’t support my business, and none of them know the first thing about horse breeding. It won’t be hard to convince them I need that money, and badly.”
“As long as you make them believe this is a union in name only, for selfish reasons. It’s the one thing I need you to promise me, Luciano. That you won’t ever give them reason to suspect your loyalties can’t be trusted. Your life depends on it, and so will my son’s.”
Nick rose, feeling a little dizzy. “I’m going to make some tea. You two…have a lot to talk about.”
Michelle was focused entirely on Luciano. “Thank you, Nicky.”
“You’re welcome.”
Neither of them really noticed when she left the room, and Nick walked just far enough across the foyer to make it out of earshot. Then she leaned her forehead against the wall and braced her hands on a table. Breathe. Just breathe.
The front door opened behind her, and her father’s voice drifted over her, low and gentle. “Luciano’s here?”
“In the sitting room with Michelle.” She forced herself to straighten and turn to face her father. “How’s Hoffman?”
“Fine. Once they stabilized him, he started healing.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “If your sister’s all right for the moment, I need to talk to you.”
“I was going to make some tea.”
The kitchen was deserted. The housekeeper had been absent all morning, and Mahalia had been keeping to herself. Nick had appreciated both, because she’d needed the time to help Michelle. “Did you give Mrs. Kelly the day off?”
“The morning. She wouldn’t accept the whole day.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “She’s always been very fond of you both, and Aaron won her over eventually.”
If she stopped thinking of what came next, of all the practical things, she wouldn’t make it. Nick took a bracing breath as she filled the kettle. “What do we do about Coleman? You can’t challenge him. You’re the Alpha. It isn’t allowed.”
Her father’s low, angry growl filled the kitchen. “Don’t think I haven’t considered breaking that rule.”
“You can’t.” Michelle’s words came back to her. You can use their absurd customs against them. “We can’t afford to break tradition right now, not when they must feel like they owe me reparations for Coleman’s actions.”
“They won’t want to swallow it. If we give them any excuse to back down, they will.” His gaze shifted to the doorway, as if he could see Michelle. “Is Luciano here for the reason I think he is?”
“Michelle already asked if he’d—”
“Don’t like to interrupt.” Mahalia walked into the kitchen, her shoulders set in a tight, tense line. “I just got off the phone with Alec. His father called him.”
Her father’s eyes flashed annoyance, but he didn’t seem willing to order Mahalia from the room, though he would have had no such compunction had it been anyone else. “That’s to be expected. Alexander likes to tell himself his son wants to be involved.”
The older woman frowned at him. “If that was the news, it would have kept.” She turned to Nick. “He just put Derek Gabriel on a plane.”
Shock warred with relief, and Nick sagged against the counter. “Damn it. God damn it.”
“I notice he called after it was too late to stop him.”
Nick slammed the kettle on the stove. “Of course he did.” Because Alec, of all people, would know she’d have told Derek to stay home. Fear ripped through her, with panic hard on its heels. “I can’t be worried about this, Dad. On top of everything else, I can’t be worried that Derek is going to come here, not knowing what the hell is going on, and try to take on Coleman. I can’t.”
Her father laid a hand on her shoulder and glanced at Mahalia. “Did Alec say anything about Coleman?”
Mahalia leaned on the counter. “He said Derek could do it. He said he could beat him.”
“Interfering bastard.” Facing the man who’d killed Aaron herself wouldn’t have been this terrifying. “Derek’s only been a wolf for two years. Even if he knew how these things worked, it’d be dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous no matter what,” her father said quietly. “You know that I don’t hold with the sexism prevalent in our society, but some things can’t be equalized. I don’t care how fast you are, Nicole. You’re half Coleman’s size, and you don’t have the sort of training it would take to overcome that. You can’t fight him.”
“So I should throw Derek at him?” she asked dully. “I’d rather let Ochoa or Hoffman take him. I’d rather let him rot in a Conclave cell for the rest of his life.”
“Be prepared for what that means, then. It would undermine us. Make us look weak.”
“I don’t care.” Even as she spoke, she knew it was a lie. She cared, because Coleman had stolen part of her family. Her pack.
Her father had always been able to read people. “Tell me honestly, what do your instincts demand?”
Retribution. Blood. “I have to—to talk to him. I have to make sure he knows what it would mean.”
Her father looked more tired than she’d ever seen him. “I’ll find a way, Nicole, if I have to. My children have suffered enough.”
There was no other way, and her father knew that. “I just need to see Derek.”
If he hadn’t seen Mahalia on the sidewalk, Derek might have convinced himself the cab had brought him to the wrong place.
He passed several crisp bills through the divider window to the cabbie and climbed out. He hefted his small carry-on as his gaze traveled up. And up. And up.
It didn’t take a knowledge of architecture to see that anyone who occupied the penthouse in a building this lavish had the money to buy and sell him a hundred times over. For one breathless second, he forgot about supernatural politics and death and fate and fought a rush of inadequacy that came from remembering the love of his life was an honest-to-God heiress.
“Stand like that for too long, you’ll get a crick in your neck.”
Derek jerked his attention back to Mahalia with a self-conscious smile. “You suck at quitting smoking.”
“With the week I’ve had, no shit.” She crushed out the cigarette and reached for his hand. “We need to have quite a talk, but we can do it in the elevator on the way up. Does that blow your mind, or what?”
“Mahalia, my mind’s been blown for a couple weeks.” Her hand was small, almost delicate, but something about her grip was comforting all on its own. Maybe because he’d trusted Mahalia since the first time a nineteen-year-old Kat had dragged him into the bar Nick would eventually own and proved the supernatural community wasn’t all bad.
He’d been human then. Still young, still stupid. A whole lot’s changed since then. “Tell me what’s going on, because Alec’s version sounded like a battle plan.”
She snorted and lowered her voice. “One of the Conclave members murdered Aaron, and now the Peytons have to get their pound of flesh. I was hoping you’d understand, because I sure as hell don’t.”
Alec’s terse instructions had been to the point and starkly terrifying. “I think it’s an honor thing. Pistols at dawn and the whole damn outdated shebang. They can’t let the insult lie, but tradition states the Alpha is above challenges unless they’re formal ones for his place on the Conclave. Alec said that if they break tradition, they’ll lose all the leverage they have to keep Michelle and her kid alive.”
The doorman pulled open the door, and Mahalia shook her head as she walked into the lobby. “It’s archaic, honey. You sure you want to be a part of it?”
He didn’t, but it didn’t matter, not while Nick was a part of it. “What are you still doing here?”
She cast him a sharp look and called the elevator. “I don’t run out on people who need me. But I’m not going to be neck-deep in their politics, either.”