I choked the numbers out between clenched teeth. I peered at my arm trying to see the jagged tear but couldn’t.
It was, in all likelihood, a good thing. Between trying to control the Change and being in shock I was pretty well mentally screwed right now.
Jess answered on the first ring. “Reb. What’s happening?”
“Jessica. It’s Brandon.” His tone was clipped and professional. “Sorry to bother you but Rebecca and I wondered if you could bring Liam over? We’ve decided to take care of him ourselves and take him off your hands.” He looked down at me. “You know Rebecca’s always been a soft touch for babies.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Sure. Everything okay with Rebecca? Can I talk to her?”
“No,” I heard Bernadette whisper. “No talking.”
I wasn’t going to argue with her. I was in no condition to verbally joust with anyone.
“She’s having a bit of an allergic reaction right now to Jazz. You know, the usual. Too wheezy to chat. Took her meds, but I’m afraid she’s going to cough up a hairball.”
“Tell her to stay calm. I’m on my way.” The phone line went dead.
“Where is she?” Bernadette asked.
“I don’t know,” Bran admitted. “She’s in the city with friends. I don’t know how long it’ll take for her to get here.” He glanced down at me. “She’ll get here soon enough.”
I wasn’t sure if it was going to be a good thing or not. If I knew Jess she wasn’t going to hand Liam over to a pistol-packing insane woman without the mother of all catfights.
“Better hope she doesn’t take too long,” Bernadette snarled. She waved the pistol at us. “How badly is she hurt?”
Bran smiled in spite of the situation and brushed his lips over the top of my ear. “She’s good for now.”
I held my breath, fighting back the urge to toss him off and break free. My claws dug into the floor and scratched the varnish. My arm hurt and I wanted to return the favor with interest.
“Breathe, Reb,” Bran said, low and soft. “Take control. I know you can do it.”
I glared at him through Felis eyes. I could smell him, all of him, from the addictive musk he always gave off to the sweet, tangy sweat under his shirt that never failed to arouse me.
I wanted to rip it off him and have him right there, roar my domination over my mate and to hell with a simple injury.
Right after I shredded his parents into bloody meat ribbons.
“Reb.” The warning tone reminded me of Ruth, chastising me after a temper tantrum. “Take it down. Take back control.”
I inhaled and tried to calm down despite the spikes of pain in my arm. I couldn’t help him like this, I couldn’t help Jess and I sure as hell couldn’t help Liam. After what seemed like a lifetime I felt the edges start to disappear, my enhanced senses slowing down and diminishing as the cold, drab world I was used to returned. My claws receded and slipped back under my skin with a stab of pain, taking my mind for the second off the angry gash in my upper arm.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or heartbroken. After losing my ability to Change at fifteen I’d never expected to get it back. Now it’d shown up at the worst time possible and I had to banish it, put it back in the box and slam the lid.
I didn’t know if I’d be able to unlock it ever again.
“Where did you get that?” Michael snapped. “It’s not one of mine.”
“You don’t remember, darling?” Bernadette purred. “You bought it for me a few years ago at some silly charity auction to support the police. A dainty lady’s weapon—I believe that’s how it was described.”
Michael made a noise, something between a grumble and a gargle.
“Isn’t it darling?” she asked.
Bran gave me a nod. “Good. Good.”
I could feel the Change drifting away, the pain of losing it almost as bad as the gunshot.
The rage dribbled away and I felt the pain surge in my arm, the natural painkillers dying with my anger.
I looked at my hands. The claws were gone with only thin bloody slits showing I’d ever been normal, ever been Felis.
I felt like crying.
Bran kissed my forehead again. “Good to have you back,” he whispered. “Can you stand?”
“Watch me.” I pushed him off and levered myself with my good arm to get to my feet.
Bernadette glared at me as I staggered upright. “You’re a tough one. Not much of a crier.”
Michael Hanover gave me a curious look. Maybe he saw something, maybe not.
Right now it was the least of my worries. Jess was going to be walking into an ambush with Liam in her arms.
I studied Bernadette. She rocked from side to side, the pasted-on smile fraying at the edges. This was beyond what she’d imagined what would happen when she first saw Molly Callendar, pregnant with her husband’s child, sitting at a desk stuffing envelopes.
“You were going to kill Shaw, weren’t you?”
She gave me a sly look. “Maybe.”
“Come on.” I motioned at the pistol. “You couldn’t afford to have anyone know the truth—you were going to shoot him as soon as you got into the hotel room.”
She shrugged. “I considered it. Depending on how bitchy Shaw got and if he got too greedy.”
“Ever think about how all this might affect Liam?” I was trying to draw her attention away from the two men. “Seeing his mother gunned down in front of him?”
“He won’t remember anything,” Bernadette answered. “All he’ll know is his mother loves him and he’s got a wonderful heritage to grow into.”
“His mother’s dead,” I replied.
Her lips tightened. She glared at me.
“What are you going to do when Jess gets here? Kill her, kill me, kill all of us?” My arm was numb. I wasn’t going to be able to go much longer on guts and adrenaline.
Bernadette gave me the skunk eye. “There’s no need for further violence. Once we get the baby we’ll be on our way.”
“We who? Way to where?” Michael asked. “Where do you think we’re going to go?” His voice rose to a shout. “You killed Molly.”
She shook her head. “Shaw killed the woman. Bran and Rebecca killed Shaw. There’s nothing to connect us to the crime. We leave here, get on the private jet and go on our merry way to raise our new child.”
“And us?” Bran asked.
Bernadette continued. “You shut up and stay quiet about all of this. You’re already in it deep with killing Shaw; you’ll have as much to lose by speaking up as we do.”
“Bernie...” Michael took a step toward her. “We can’t do this.”
“Sure we can. All it takes is a little money to hide everything.” She pointed at the open door. “The police have nothing to link me with Shaw other than wild theories and conjecture.” She smiled. “David Brayton won’t talk and if he does no one will believe him. All the evidence points to Brayton and to Brayton alone.”
“A paternity test will prove Liam’s not his child,” Michael said. “And what about Shaw? They’re going to find him at some point.”
Bernadette let out an exasperated sigh. “Who’s going to make the connection between Shaw and Brayton? And who’s going to point the finger at us?” She began to speak louder and faster. “And who’s going to ask for a DNA test? I am getting tired of this. We’ll make it all go away. We have the money and we have the power.” She waved the pistol in the air.
I couldn’t fault her logic. Unless someone had the bright idea of doing a paternity test with Liam and Michael there’d be no reason to suspect Bernadette. Brayton would be the only one who could or would bring his friend into the story and I wasn’t sure if he’d crack under Attersley’s interrogation or not. Even if he confessed it’d take a lot to hook this on to Michael Hanover, much less his wife. If she’d covered her tracks with Shaw there’d be no easy evidence linking her to any of this. It looked suspicious having him at one of the Hanover charities but a good lawyer would tear it to shreds with a wide smile and testimony on how many other people were helped by the same program.