Secrets and Shadows (17 page)

His jaws moved.
Chewing.

Max whimpered.

“His eyes are glazing,” Wanda said.

“Do you see me?” I leaned over further, unbalanced by more than my precarious posture. I reached out to place my hands on either side of Pietr’s head.

“Don’t touch him,” Wanda warned. “He’l bite your hand off as happily as he’l lap up his own brother’s blood.”

Pietr snarled as if in agreement. Startled, I yanked my hands away.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

I whipped around to see Catherine leaning against the door frame. “What?”

She shrugged. “We’re animals, after al , Jessie. Survival and dominance drive us. Pietr’s deep in his desire to dominate, and Max isn’t smart enough to submit.”

desire to dominate, and Max isn’t smart enough to submit.”

“She’s right,” Alexi coughed, rol ing over to watch with detached curiosity. “Give him something else to focus on.”

“I doubt unbuttoning
my
shirt wil get Pietr’s attention.”

“You might be surprised,” Alexi muttered.

My gaze flicked to Wanda.

“Do what you have to before I do what
I
have to.” She tapped the holster snuggled just beneath her shirt.

Max started sliding forward, eyelids drooping. I fumbled at my top button.

“Pietr,” I whispered, stooping back over to catch his eyes. The first button opened.

Pietr’s eyes narrowed.

I opened the second button. “Pietr, don’t do this,” I pleaded, focusing my eyes on his. He watched my fingers work, watched them tremble and flounder. His eyes widened when he got a glimpse of more bare skin.

“You’re no monster.” I drew down a deep breath. This was not what I’d ever imagined as a moment with my werewolf ex-boyfriend. Not me unbuttoning my shirt. And not in front of an audience.

I tried to think of it as an actress playing a part with a strange actor. Necessary. But nothing to do with anyone’s relationship. I fought back the fact I’d earned a D in Drama. My life now should rate extra credit.

The third button opened, and the tension left Pietr’s jaws. He let go. There was a clunk as the back of his head hit the floor. He rol ed to right himself, lying on his furry stomach, canine attention absolutely fixed, tongue lol ing. To the credit of his animal instincts his eyes stayed hopeful, entranced by what remained beyond button four.

Max flopped to the floor with a whine. One eye stil open, it also lingered on my fourth button expectantly.

Catherine howled and I blushed, buttoning up in record time.

“What have I said, Jessie? Men can be total
dogs
,” Wanda said, blousing her shirt around her holster.

I kept my eyes on her to avoid the distraction of two naked guys slipping back into the clothes their wolflike counterparts always slinked out of.

Max spoke first, back in his pants and running his hand through his tangled hair. “Thanks, Jessie,” he said coyly. “For everything.” He grinned and rubbed the wicked bruise already fading on his throat.

Pietr’s head snapped up, the first rumblings of a growl beginning. Blood streaked his shoulder, but the long cut mended as I watched.

I stomped a foot. “See that, Pietr Rusakova?”

He rol ed his eyes from my foot to my face, only pausing briefly on my shirt’s buttons on the way up.

“
Da
,” he said thickly.

“That is me putting my foot down. No fighting with family.”

He arched an eyebrow at me.

“And don’t expect me to”—my tongue tangled in my mouth and heat rose to color my cheeks—“to do
that
for you again, either.” I crossed my arms.

His lips twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered.

Max snorted. “It’s al you’l be dreaming of now, little brother!”

I kicked him in the leg. Not hard. But it was better than getting his attention by unbuttoning part of my shirt again. Far more satisfying, too. “You almost got your head chewed off.”

“Because you threatened Jess,” Pietr said level y.

Max rubbed his jaw, remembering my slap.

My hand ached. Max was thick-skul ed in more than one way. I’d probably remember the slap longer than he would.

“I’d never hurt Jessie.”

“Damn rrright you won’t,” Pietr said.

Heart in my throat, I reminded myself this wasn’t about me. This was stupid alpha and beta wolf stuff, nothing more. I was territory to piss on. And man, did it piss me off.

Max looked at me and lowered his gaze. Submitting for now. “Sorry, Jessie. Are you al right?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” I insisted. “Why is everyone so worried about
me?
Ask Alexi how
he’s
doing.”

Alexi bowed his head, looking away.

“We’d have to care before we’d ask,” Max said, his simple logic chil ing.

“He’s been your brother for years,” I reminded them.

Catherine frowned. “He’s
played
our brother for years. He is no relation. We share no blood or DNA.

No kinship.”

“But you share a bond.”

Three pairs of eyes met mine. Assessed me as if they were once again more wolf, more ferociously feral, than not.

“The bond of your secret.”

“And that means he’s a liability,” Max stated.

“Am
I
a liability, Max?” I stepped forward.

Wanda hissed. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I know the same thing Alexi does. Wil you try to kil me?”

“Don’t you have any common sense?” Wanda wondered aloud. “Nonconfrontational!”

“Wel , Max? When wil you try to choke the life out of
me
?”

Max dragged a finger along the carpet’s edge. “I won’t.” One shoulder rose. “You’re strange—”

“Says a werewolf,” I muttered. Wanda swore. And not for the first time since we’d entered the room.

Max smirked. “I trust you, Jessie. I
used
to trust him. But now, he just needs to go.”

“Unfortunately that won’t work. He’s the only one of legal age to play guardian,” Wanda pointed out.

“A few months from now…,” Max growled as he rose, reminding us al of his upcoming eighteenth birthday. He crossed his arms and widened his stance, readying for a confrontation.

With a sigh, Wanda continued. “If he goes, you al wind up wards of the state.”

“Foster care,” I realized.

“Yes. Probably split apart because groups are harder to place.”

The three ful -blood Rusakovas grumbled.

Alexi sat up straighter, rubbing his neck with slow and ginger hands.

“How do we trust him again?” Pietr voiced a subtle protest.

“Maybe you don’t. Remember: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ ” Wanda quoted.

“Good advice,” Max agreed. “Exactly why we keep you around.”

“We should go,” Wanda suggested, snaring my arm. Obeying, I felt Pietr’s gaze fol ow us out the door and al the way to Wanda’s car.

Dad opened the door and I slid along the metal wal , whispering soothing words to Rio as I backed her out of the trailer. Al around us horses and riders warmed up for the Golden Jumper. I’d have to thank Derek for getting me in—and thank him again for not attending. I told him I needed to focus. It was true.

I was returning to normalcy.

This would be my first jumper competition since Mom’s death. As much as I’d practiced, and as good as Rio was, I knew the stands would be quieter without Mom intermittently screaming and gasping for us.

I reached for my worry stone but wanted the amber heart pendant. Some sort of anchor. That morning I had put Mom’s netsuke rabbit necklace on. Warm against my skin, it was solid. A connection to my past.

“Let’s walk,” I said to Rio. “Stretch those legs.”

Dad glanced my way, his face fil ed with what mine hid. He was forever beside Mom at these things, Annabel e Lee fol owing. This was hard on al of us. The truck pul ed away.

I eyed the course. Eight jumps; one very wet-looking liverpool. Total y doable. Rio pranced, eager for eventing. This was more than a competition—a way to return to a part of my life I’d nearly lost when I lost Mom—it was a reward for Rio.

When Pietr turned a cold shoulder and Annabel e Lee was wedged deep in a book and I had no one but Dad looking at me with disappointment deep in his eyes, it was Rio I went to. She deserved to have some fun on a jump ful of rails and water.

I did, too. There was no lying between horse and rider. Every move she made, every muscle she twitched told a subtle truth I recognized and read. And the only way to win a jumper competition was with good communication.

Open and honest.

When Pietr and I fel apart, Rio and I grew together.

It was only right Rio got to play over fences and race through the flats and mixed terrain of an exciting course. I wanted her happy. And if I won?

Bonus.

A number of riders in my class had already gone when Georgia Main was announced. I moved Rio back so I could watch. The time started, and she raced through the course, her horse—one I’d admired a while—nimbly approaching fences and flying, beautiful y, over each one. A nearly flawless run—a great time, but I knew enough about Georgia to know she’d be humble about her performance. Being a rising star didn’t go to her head.

They announced us and I mounted, guiding us onto the field. I snugged my helmet’s chinstrap and waited for the signal. Scanning the crowd I found Dad and Annabel e Lee in the stands. Annabel e Lee set aside her book to watch.

But something else caught my eye. Not one to fit in easily with the jumper crowd myself—they were polished, elegant and general y moneyed—I easily noticed others who didn’t fit the given mold. And there were several of them. Men. Broad-shouldered, tal , with a rigidity to their stance and a hard expression that spoke of surviving tough times.

They seemed more uncomfortable here than a novice rider on her first course. Not the regular crowd.

Although they stood apart from one another, they seemed to communicate. A glance from one to another, the raising of one cel phone moments before the next.

One of them looked toward the stands. Then two. Three. And four. Al at once they were staring at Dad and Annabel e Lee. The crowd was peppered with werewolves, not the type that made my blood hot, but those that chil ed me—marked men—Mafia.

Rio leaped forward when the signal sounded, snatching me from my fear. It was a public place.

Crowded. Dad and Annabel e Lee would be fine. I focused on the task at hand—helping Rio show how amazing she was when she leaped and soared.

A beautiful beast, Rio’s legs folded high and evenly, her neck stretched, graceful as a swan’s over each jump. Ears pricked forward, she ignored the stress I telegraphed.

I wasn’t worried about the course; I was worried about what would come after. If we flew through the jumps cleanly we’d have to ride out and get Dad and Annabel e Lee’s attention, hoping we could get to the truck before the Mafia made their move.

But if we
didn’t
jump cleanly …

Rio never faltered, though my heart thudded in opposition to her hoofbeats. She took the verticals easily until we headed over a broad oxer, two rails across. Her hind hoof clipped the rail, and I took my chance.

I slipped from the saddle, fal ing as the crowd groaned. Tuck. Rol . It sounded so simple, but it was bone-jarring—my back popped, my legs tangled, and my teeth rattled with the impact.

I came to a stop, face first, in the turf.

Ow.

Rio stepped back around, nudging me with her nose and snuffling, confused.

Medics rushed me, fingers probing my neck and easing me into a col ar before they rol ed me onto a board and lifted me.

“I’m okay,” I assured them. But not too much.

Rio was walked out with me, her head bobbing alongside, ears twitching as she snorted.

“I’m okay,” I repeated.

Off the course Annabel e Lee and Dad caught up to us.

“Seriously,” I said, watching the Mafia men group and disperse. “I’m okay. I want to go home.”

Dad looked at the medics. “Does she check out?”

“We’l look her over in the ambulance,” they said. “You can pul alongside.”

Dad took Rio and scrambled to get the truck and Annabel e Lee situated. Watching them go I considered holding my breath until they reappeared.

“Jessie,” a voice cal ed, and I turned to see Georgia.
Ow.
“I never thought I’d see
you
fal ,” she admitted. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The medics helped me stand. “I’m fine.” They shone a light in my eyes, and I resisted swatting them. “Hey. Congratulations on a nearly flawless course.”

Georgia ducked her head and smiled.

“Gracie’s a great horse.” Someone grabbed me for a pulse. It would escalate if the Mafia reappeared.

“Don’t you have to go and accept a prize or something? You don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah. I thought you two would blow past us. I kinda wish you had. It would have been a great comeback story.”

“Things change,” I said, struggling to keep the smile alive on my lips when I realized I’d quoted Pietr.

“You total y deserved the win.”

She smiled and headed toward the waiting judges.

The medics announced what I’d been betting on. “She’l be stiff, a little bruised, but other than that, she’s fine.”

They eased me into the truck, and Dad got us home quickly. The whole way I watched the side-view mirror, wondering why we hadn’t been fol owed—hoping I was wrong about the men lurking in the Golden Jumper’s crowd.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Russian Mafia members looked like many men. It was like Nickolai had said, many of them started as good men—military men—who returned home from war to find the promises their government made weren’t kept. Disil usioned and without support, they turned to the streets for survival.