"Which isn't to say that she couldn't handle it on her own, but I knew Jeremy was in town and Elena wanted me nearby in case of trouble. Discovering that it involved you meant there was no reason not to stay close, keep my eye on-"
He stopped, gaze fixed on something over my shoulder.
Hope started toward us. "I sensed a werewolf and thought it was Jeremy, so I came down to meet him. I should have known better. Werewolf plus chaos equals only one person I know. Care to finish that sentence, Karl? Who were you keeping an eye on?"
Genuine dismay rippled Karl's composure. "I was-"
"Doing his job," Jeremy cut in. "Watching me, at Elena's behest."
"Ah." She gave Karl another hard look, one that said she didn't believe it, but would take it up with him later. "I suppose you might as well join us, then."
"With such a welcome, how can I refuse?"
"With such an entrance, how can you expect a welcome?" Hope turned on her heel and headed for her backdoor. "At least I didn't come home to find you in my living room again."
"I was testing your security."
"You just like pushing your luck. One of these days you've going to spook me on the wrong night and push it right into an early grave."
WHEN WE reached Hope's apartment, Karl looked around.
"I see your mother's been here," he said. "She has impeccable taste."
"She does. And she's single. Close to your age too. Want her number?"
He only strolled into the living room and stretched out on the sofa.
"Make yourself comfortable," Hope said, tossing her keys on the counter.
"I am, thank you. And I'll take a Scotch and soda when you have a moment."
She flipped him the finger. He smiled. As she invited us to sit and offered coffee, his gaze followed her, lips still curved. She tossed him a bottle of Perrier. He caught it easily and we started to plan.
DIVISION OF DUTIES
JEREMY TOLD US HIS THOUGHTS as Karl scavenged through Hope's fridge, pawing past the take-out cartons and pulling out the leftovers.
When Jeremy finished, he looked at me. "I know you should accompany me. After all, this is your investigation-"
"No. Well, yes, I'd love to follow through, but under the circumstances, you don't need to be checking over your shoulders, making sure I'm okay." I glanced at Karl. "I presume you're going with Jeremy? As backup?"
"I am." He turned to Jeremy. "Fried chicken or pork vindaloo?"
Jeremy's gaze slid to Hope.
"Eat up. I have so many leftovers, I can barely squeeze in a carton of milk. The perils of cooking for one. Jaime?"
"Nothing for me, thanks."
"The vindaloo, please," Jeremy said to Karl.
"Good choice," Karl said, scooping out the stew for Jeremy and some of both for himself. Then he opened a container of what looked like potatoes au gratin. "So, if I'm playing bodyguard, someone needs to stay behind with Jaime."
"Not if I'm in Brentwood," I said. "The house is surrounded by cops, so Hope can go with you two-"
"I'd prefer you had backup, Jaime," Jeremy said. "If Hope doesn't mind."
From the disappointment that flickered across Hope's face, she did mind. Not much fun babysit when there was an adventure going on.
She could have played the sexism card, but she didn't, probably realizing gender had nothing to do with it. Out of a necromancer who can talk to the dead, a half-demon who can see visions of chaos, and two werewolves with superhuman strength and senses, it was obvious which two should head into battle. They could have used Hope's chaos detector, but someone had to stay behind to guard the main target.
Hope covered her disappointment with a smile. "Sure. That's fine."
Karl paused, spoon in a bowl, his gaze on her, steady and piercing. She glanced at him and they exchanged a look. He nodded, and put one of the plates into the microwave.
AN HOUR later we were back at the Brentwood house, where Hope and I would wait while Jeremy and Karl met Zack Flynn and, with any luck, used him to infiltrate the group.
With the ongoing confusion at the house, no one questioned me bringing guests in. Didn't seem to notice, even when I took three people up to my room.
Karl and Hope were on the balcony, door closed to give them privacy as they talked. Though I couldn't hear a word, I could tell it wasn't their usual banter. Karl was doing most of the talking, his fingers resting on Hope's arm, leaning down to her, face grave.
Hope's fingers grazed the gun under her jacket. Jeremy had been happy to see that gun… and even happier when Karl assured us that Hope could use it.
I pulled my gaze from the balcony as Jeremy returned from scouting.
"All clear?" I asked.
He nodded. "Nothing has changed with the police, and May hasn't returned."
"Before you go, could you draw a couple of your runes for me? The protective ones?"
"You don't need to humor me, Jaime. I know that whatever irrational urge I have to draw those is just that: irrational. A symbol can't protect someone."
"Please?"
He looked around, fingers drumming against his leg, as if almost hoping he wouldn't see anything to write on. I took a sheet and pen from the tiny writing desk. He sketched a few runes, not even pausing to consider which to do, as if he already knew. Then he quickly folded the sheet in quarters and reached around me to tuck it into my back pocket, using the opportunity to lean close, body pressing against mine.
I whispered, "If we finish this tonight, you won't need to rush back to New York before morning, will you?"
"Make a mess and leave you to clean it up? That wouldn't be right. I'd have to stay an extra day or two, to help."
"Good."
AFTER JEREMY and Karl left, Hope slipped away to get a better picture of the house-entry points, escape routes, "safe" rooms and such. I doubted we'd need any of them. Jeremy had told Zack Flynn that I'd flown back to Chicago to escape the media attention.
But scouting the property probably made Hope feel more useful, so when she suggested it, I said it sounded wise and promised to stay in my room until she returned.
While she was gone, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was worried about Jeremy. Though I didn't doubt he could look after himself, I wasn't comfortable having Karl Marsten as his only source of backup. And I knew Jeremy was equally uncomfortable with it, as much as he'd pretended otherwise.
Six years ago, a group of outside werewolves had banded together to overthrow the Pack. Clay had been kidnapped and tortured. Two of Jeremy's Pack brothers had been killed. Only one member of that rebel group survived: Karl Marsten.
In the final battle, Elena had spared Karl because he'd helped her. Then, with Clay's support, she'd asked Jeremy to pardon him. Before the uprising, Karl had never caused any trouble for the Pack-even been on good terms with them. He hadn't participated in the killings or Clay's torture, and had joined the group for a reason the werewolves could understand-the wolf's instinctive need for territory, which the Pack had denied him.
So Jeremy had granted Karl his reprieve and territory in a distant state on the condition that he at least consider joining the Pack. It was all very fair, very Solomon-like, very Jeremy.
Now Karl had joined the Pack and proven himself a loyal and useful member. And the Pack had accepted him. Including Jeremy… or so everyone thought.
Jeremy gave every appearance of supporting and even encouraging Karl's membership. It was what he considered the best way to deal with Karl.
Yet he couldn't forget what Karl had done. Maybe Karl hadn't personally killed Peter or Logan. Maybe he hadn't beaten Clay. Maybe he'd even acted as a buffer, keeping Clay from the worst of his captor's hate. But he'd sanctioned all that by standing aside until he saw the tables turning and only then had he flipped sides.
Jeremy strove to accept Karl as a Pack brother. Clay had been the one tortured, and he'd forgiven Karl, so why shouldn't Jeremy? But, to me, that was the very reason why he couldn't. It was easy to forgive someone for what he did to you. Not so easy when he did it to someone you love. Clay looks at Karl now, shrugs and says, "It was just business." Jeremy looks at him and sees the man who stood by and watched his son be beaten within an inch of his life.