This time, he made a chuckling sound and bounded across the grass in what seemed like an instant. When he dove through the unkempt grasses of the meadow, Mackenzie followed, forgetting about everything except how good it felt to run.
Chapter 15
Jackson tapped his foot on the carpeted floor of John Peyton’s jet and sighed. They’d already switched planes, and had been assured the chairman and the Seer would be joining them shortly.
Nick sat next to him, the thin wires of a pair of earphones trailing to the MP3 player in her lap. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed oblivious to his fidgeting until her hand shot out with preternatural speed and clamped on his knee. “Jackson, if you don’t tone down the nervous energy, I will be forced to kill you. And I like you.” She cracked open an eye and peered at him. “So don’t make me do it.”
He met her warning with a disgusted groan. “What the hell is taking so long?”
She tugged the wires free and wrapped them around her music player. “Michelle isn’t allowed to leave the house until the last possible moment.”
“The last p…” Jackson gritted his teeth. “Your father and sister should have been waiting on this damned plane so we could leave as soon as we landed.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Preaching to the converted, Jackson. Save it for the Conclave’s complaint box, huh?”
Before he could respond, the small door at the front of the jet opened. The man who came through first was imposing, probably several inches taller than Jackson’s own respectable height and a good deal wider through the shoulders. His eyes flickered over the cabin, taking in everyone and everything inside it, and he stepped to one side of the wide center aisle. He exuded a menacing presence that rivaled Alec on a bad day.
When she came through the door next, Nick’s sister looked almost childlike in comparison. Physically, she and Nick were almost identical, but Michelle was dressed in a pristine white blouse and modest black skirt, with her hair gathered in a perfect knot at the back of her head. Jackson couldn’t imagine Nick being caught dead in anything like it.
Michelle stepped down the aisle, and Jackson got a taste of the carefully controlled power radiating from her as an almost tangible heat. He’d met some powerful people in his day, some of them downright scary, but none had felt this strong. Being within ten feet of Michelle felt like standing too close to a live wire.
It made his skin crawl.
Nick shot out of her seat. “Micky!” She pushed past the tall man, whom Jackson assumed was Michelle’s bodyguard, and threw her arms around her sister.
Michelle’s brilliant smile lit her face. Alec fidgeted uncomfortably as the sisters embraced, but, when Jackson followed Alec’s gaze, he found himself looking past Michelle to the man who had boarded the plane after her.
John Wesley Peyton was taller than Jackson had imagined, and even more intimidating than the bodyguard. His glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in everything in the jet’s cabin, and he smoothed his silvered hair with one hand, a gesture that jarred Jackson, since he’d seen Nick do it hundreds of times.
It was a shocking reminder that, though she lived like a bohemian in the French Quarter, Nick had grown up in this world of private jets and business executives built like professional wrestlers. He watched as she stepped past Michelle to hug her father. She barely reached his shoulder and was dwarfed by his bulk. Peyton may have been trying to move the wolves away from using physical challenges to settle disagreements, but it obviously wasn’t because he couldn’t win them. The man was huge.
John released Nick and smiled at Alec. “Alexander. Nice to see you again.”
“John.” Alec’s voice had lost its usual lazy, aggressive edge. Though Jackson wouldn’t have called his partner’s demeanor submissive, it was close to wary. Alec faced the world with a domineering confidence that set most people’s teeth on edge, and seeing him defer to someone felt surreal.
The Alpha’s gaze fell on Jackson, and the politician’s smile returned. “You must be Holt.” He offered his hand. “I heard your father might come out of retirement to run for one of the Senate seats down in Georgia next year. Is that true?”
Jackson rose and shook his hand firmly. “Not sure if Mama will let him, sir. But he’s thinking about it.”
“Excellent. Have you met Michelle?”
Michelle smiled shyly as she offered her hand. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad there’s someone keeping my sister out of trouble in New Orleans.”
He was barely able to reach out his own hand in return. The power wafting off Michelle was intense, almost overwhelming, and his stomach churned as he fought not to recoil from her. Instead, he grasped her hand and managed a smile. “Nicky usually just finds enough trouble for both of us.”
He felt a brief surge of power before Michelle’s eyes widened, and she pulled her hand away, a guilty flush staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I forgot—” The aura of magic around her disappeared in an instant, which unnerved Jackson more than its presence had. “I’m sorry.” Resigned loneliness clouded her eyes.
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
Nick touched Jackson’s arm as John disappeared into the cockpit. “Daddy’s going to speak to his pilot and get us underway. Come on, Micky. We’ll sit toward the back. I need to talk to you.”
Michelle followed Nick, with the bodyguard hard on their heels like a gigantic shadow. When they’d walked past, Alec rose and moved into the seat next to Jackson’s. “You okay?”
Jackson tried to speak, but sank to his seat instead. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily as he tried to conquer the waves of nausea roiling through him.
“He’ll be okay.” It was Mahalia’s voice, soft and sure.
Thick paper pressed into his hand. He looked into Mahalia’s sympathetic eyes and down at the airsickness bag she’d given him. “I’m not going to puke, May. I just need a minute.”
“Shit.” Alec shot them both a concerned look. “Is that gonna happen every time they accidentally bump into each other?”
“No.” Mahalia clucked her tongue. “Poor thing forgot to turn it off before she touched him. But you didn’t want to be rude, did you, Jack?”
He gave her a wan smile. “My mama raised me better than that.”
Alec glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the plane. “It’s pretty jarring. She’s tiny…and packs a hell of a punch.”
“I can’t believe you let a five-foot-nothing girl kick your ass. At least Michelle hit me with magic.”
“She caught me off guard,” his partner protested. “She’s fucking fast, that girl is.”
“Both of you, hush, now.” Mahalia made a face. “I’m not listening to this all the way to New Hampshire.”
Jackson flashed her a crooked grin. “How about halfway?”
John came back through the door from the cockpit. “Everybody strap in. We’ll be in the air soon.”
Jackson saw firsthand what exorbitant amounts of money could accomplish. When the jet touched down in New Hampshire, two cars waited for them on the private airstrip, both black SUVs with tinted windows and stone-faced drivers.
“John’s secured a rental property for us about two hours from where Charles’s wards begin,” Steven told Jackson as they carried their sparse belongings from the jet to the second SUV. Michelle’s bodyguard was already packing the Peytons’ small carry-on bags into the back of the first vehicle, and Michelle and Nick sat inside. “We don’t want to get any closer than that until we’ve got our protections in place.”
“How long is that going to take?” The words were terse, but Jackson couldn’t help it. God knew what Talbot and his crew were putting Mackenzie through. “The sooner the better, and all, Steven.”
Steven held open the door for Mahalia. “A couple days at most. I realize it’s hard to hear, Jackson, but Mackenzie is going to be fine. If Charles thinks there’s any way he can talk her into doing this willingly, he’ll take the time to try.”