White Knight (15 page)

Jack Chesterfield seemed to be at the center of a small crowd of gawkers, and every one of them buttoned up when Knight and Rook emerged from the barn. No enforcers were around, so whoever had shown up had gone off in search of Dell.

“Dell Jones is wanted by the Alpha for questioning,” Rook said. “If anyone finds him, see that he’s detained.”

Every single head nodded an affirmative.

“You gonna make it?” Rook asked a few minutes into their walk. They were cutting across backyards and side roads for expediency and privacy. He’d kept Knight’s slow pace, but he stayed hunched, angled sideways, like he expected Knight to keel over at any moment. It was almost amusing.

“Hurts.” No sense in lying. Rook would see the pain in his face.

“Not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I’ll make it.”

“How long are you going to blame yourself for Luke?”

Knight didn’t have the energy to flip his brother off. “Dell was trying to shoot me.”

“No shit. He did shoot you, bro. And Luke got shot because he volunteered to stay here and protect you. He was doing his job.”

“I know, but that’s not going to make Tanner feel better if his brother dies.”

“No, you’re right. Brothers aren’t replaceable.”

Knight couldn’t imagine losing Rook or Bishop. Their father’s death had been excruciating, but children were meant to outlive their parents. How did someone cope with the loss of a sibling? The loss of someone who’d fought with you, picked on you, played pranks with you, stomped in the mud with you? His brothers meant everything to him.

For the first time, he realized how much mental pain he’d caused them. Two months ago, he’d agreed to go with Fiona willingly if she promised to spare his family further torture. He’d been sick over the choice but it had been his choice—one of the few he’d made for himself recently, and he hadn’t regretted it. He’d known the future he was in for with the hybrids. And he’d lived through the agony of saying good-bye to both Rook and Bishop. He had cut off his empathy so he couldn’t feel their anguish—it might have made him change his mind.

They’d respected his choice and let him go. They had proved their love that night.

What have I ever done to show them mine?

Oh yeah. I went crazy and made them think they’d lost me, too, right after losing our dad. I’m such a giver.

“What’s going on in your head?” Rook asked.

Knight blinked, unaware he’d stopped walking in the middle of the street, halfway between their house and Dr. Mike’s. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Dell shooting you wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head, obviously on a different thought track than Rook. “For making you worry. For having been an awful brother these last few weeks.”

“You haven’t been an awful brother. You’ve been trying to cope and adjust. We all have.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be out there holding everyone else’s hand.”

“You do more than your fair share. With Agnes here, it’s okay to take some time out after everything you’ve been through.”

“She’s been through a lot, too. Her town was destroyed.”

Rook frowned and crossed his arms. “Comparing your pain to hers isn’t fair to either of you. I’m grateful she’s here.”

“So am I.”
Even though I hate how she got here.

“Look, if you need to hear me say I forgive you, then I forgive you for whatever you think you’ve done wrong.”

Knight huffed. “Gee, that’s generous.”

“It’s all you’re getting until that graze is looked at.”

“Fine.”

Tanner was already in the waiting room when they entered, sitting ramrod straight in one of the chairs, hands clutching his knees. “What happened?” he asked without getting up.

“I went out to the Chesterfield barn to clear my head, and Luke followed me there.” Knight sat several chairs down, and his ribs thanked him by calming their rage a bit. “A man whose family was attacked by the hybrids came into the barn. Blamed me for their deaths. He shot at me twice before Luke intervened. Then he shot Luke and ran.”

“You’re wounded.”

“It’s a graze. I’ll be fine.”

Rook took a position standing between the pair of them, off to the side, creating a kind of triangle. As if he wanted to be in the best place to stop Tanner if he decided to lunge in Knight’s general direction. Knight didn’t believe that Tanner would—not unless Luke died. Then all bets were off.

“What was his name?” Tanner asked. “The man who shot my brother?”

“Dell Jones.” Maybe Bishop would have kept the information from him, but Knight couldn’t lie about this. “He’s not a run loup. They sought sanctuary here.”

“That doesn’t excuse attempted murder, especially of a run’s White Wolf.”

“No, it doesn’t. When he’s caught, he’ll be properly punished.”

“How?”

“However our Alpha sees fit.”

Tanner glowered at the far wall. “My Alpha would have his tail.”

Knight shivered as disgust trickled down his spine. The practice was medieval and unnecessarily cruel in many cases. A swift death was preferable to most loup, rather than be so maimed. He’d heard about the Rockpoint teen who’d been punished that way, and then wandered to his own death. Bishop would never order such a thing done to another loup.

“Alpha McQueen’s decision will fit the crime,” Rook said with a soft snarl. His use of the formal address drove the point home. This wasn’t up for discussion.

“You may want to stanch that before it stains the chair,” Tanner said, pointing.

Knight checked his wound, which was still bleeding steadily. It had soaked a fist-sized spot on his pants. Rook went into one of the exam rooms and returned with a packet much like Rachel had opened. He applied the pressure dressing, earning a sharp hiss from Knight at the new flash of pain.

“I’ve got it.” Knight took over holding the dressing. The room tilted a bit. He shook his head, clearing away the brief dizzy spell. Emotional overload and blood loss—not a great combination.

Bishop and Jillian stormed the waiting room a few minutes later, and Knight had the great pleasure of repeating his story for the third time in less than twenty minutes. He kept glancing at the door during the telling, but the one person he wanted to see the most hadn’t come to him yet.

“Devlin reported in a few minutes ago,” Bishop said. “Dell’s trail went into the woods. He apparently attacked Jeremiah, who was patrolling that side of the mountain, and then fled. Dev followed him to the stream, and then lost his scent.”

“Smart move,” Tanner said. “Lose the scent in the water.”

“Everyone has been informed to keep their eyes and noses open, but I don’t want our attention divided from protecting this town.”

“You’re not searching for him beyond your borders?”

“No.”

Tanner’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Bishop didn’t have to explain his decision, but like their father, he didn’t allow his position to remove transparency. “The rest of Dell’s family is here in town. They are free to leave, if they choose to, but we’re their safest option. Dell is punishing himself by being apart from them. If he chooses to return, he’ll be dealt with.”

Knight didn’t particularly like the idea of Dell Jones running loose in the world, but he really was a danger only to Knight and the people standing between him and Dell’s revenge.

“Has anyone questioned the family?” Tanner asked.

“Jonas. He’s been in charge of the boarding house since the Joneses arrived. He’s certain that neither Porter, nor his wife, Melissa, knew what Dell was planning. He says they’re both devastated, and they don’t know how to explain it to Dell’s daughters.”

Angel and Summer, ten and thirteen respectively. Knight had never met them, either, but he knew about the half-human children. They’d already lost their mother to a violent death, and now they faced a future without their father. He ached for their pain.

“As soon as you hear something about Luke, pass it on,” Bishop said to Rook.

“Of course.”

Bishop and Jillian left, onto other Alpha business. Knight sometimes envied Rook his position as Bishop’s second-in-command. They were developing their own shorthand, creating an actual friendship where none had existed before. They were united in their roles as leader and soldier. Knight was, for all intents and purposes, simply a healer. He would always be on the outside of certain things.

Sometimes he was okay with that.

Time passed, and still Shay didn’t come. Rook left for a while, summoned away by a text message he didn’t share. No news of Dell Jones came. Nothing about Bishop’s eventual face-to-face with Atwood. Zilch on the two living hybrids. Knight and Tanner existed in a bubble, the silence broken occasionally by the rumble of voices beyond the door that led to the operating room. Sometimes a clang of metal, probably an instrument being placed in a pan or tray.

All Knight really knew about surgery came from watching human films, and he often wondered at their accuracy.

Two hours had passed from the time of the shooting to the moment that the surgical door opened. Dr. Mike stepped out, his smock streaked with blood, a grim set to his face.

Knight braced himself for the news.

Shay had barely closed her eyes before a muffled commotion downstairs woke her again. Another grueling house-mapping session with Leopold, coupled with Knight’s continued absence from the house, had exhausted her into needing a short nap before dinner. She’d barely paid any attention to the comings and goings of others, and her instincts tingled.

Something had happened.

She sat up, awake and alert. Footsteps thundered up to the second floor. Stomped halfway down the hall before stopping. No door creaked or slammed. Except for Leopold, who should be napping on the third floor, no one else was upstairs.

Her beast stirred, and she knew before she smelled him. She stood. Waited. Heart pounding.

Knight finished his journey to her doorway. He was shirtless, which didn’t surprise her as much as the swath of white bandages across his torso, a small spot of which was stained red. She had seen him run the gamut of emotions from extreme rage to extreme grief. She’d never seen him so empty. Completely spent, shut down.

“What happened?”

He blinked at her, so slowly. Like a man waking up from a deep, terrible sleep. “Dell Jones tried to kill me, and he shot Luke instead.”

“He what?” Hate for a man she barely knew blazed in her chest. Her beast prowled and snarled, incensed by the news that someone had tried to hurt her mate. She pointed at his bandage with a trembling hand. “He did that to you?”

“It’s a graze. Luke’s worse.”

“He’s alive?”

“Hanging on. Dr. Mike’s doing everything he can but . . .”

She knew the but. She saw it in Knight’s empty eyes. He was fighting an internal battle and losing to himself—a blame game with no real enemy. No real victory. Only acceptance of what had happened.

“He saved my life,” Knight said on a whisper, more to himself than to her.

“Then he did what he remained here to do, love. He protected you.” She had no words to express her gratitude for Luke’s actions. She only had her love for Knight, and the overwhelming need to see life in him again.

Shay pulled him to her, and he went willingly, muscular arms snaking around her waist and hauling her in tight. He pressed his face into her neck and held on. She rubbed his back and shoulders, anywhere she could reach, showing him that she was there. She wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t judging.

They remained there, in the middle of her room, existing as one person for as long as he needed. She couldn’t fix it, but she could hold the pieces together until he was able to move again. So that’s what she did. Eventually some of his tension melted away and his grip loosened. He rested his chin on her shoulder. She tickled the short hair on the back of his neck and he leaned into the touch.

“It’s not my fault.”

Shay startled at the unexpected statement. She pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes. Anger simmered there, but she didn’t see the grief or shame that often followed another attack. The lack of those things gave her a small flutter of joy. “What isn’t your fault?”

“Luke getting shot. I didn’t kill Dell’s family. I was a convenient target for his rage.”

“Are you saying this because you believe it, or because it’s what you think I want to hear?”

His lips twitched. “I believe it. I really do. I think it helps that Tanner doesn’t blame me. He knows Luke was doing what he stayed here to do.”

“Yes, he was. And Luke’s strong. He’s young. He has an excellent chance of recovering.”

“I know. Dr. Mike says if he pulls through the next twenty-four hours, he should be fine.”

“I’ll keep him in my thoughts.” She noticed some of the strain on his face and stepped back, aware that the pink stain on his bandage had darkened. “Are you in pain? Did I make it worse?”

“It got me between the ribs. It hurts to breathe.”

“I imagine so.”

He rested both hands on her hips, a hold both gentle and possessive. “It will heal when I shift.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

She reached around him to shut the door partway for a bit of privacy. “Tell me why not, Knight.”

His shoulders hunched, and in that brief moment, he looked very young. And scared. Then he stood straight, those warm hands tightening a bit on her waist. Awareness of his proximity prickled across her skin. “The last time I shifted I almost didn’t come back.”

“That was a forced shift. You didn’t have control over it. This is different, and it will only be for a few minutes.”

“I know that.”

She didn’t envy him his trepidation. Shifting wasn’t a pleasant experience on the best day. Shifting while wounded hurt even more. She couldn’t imagine the prospect of shifting when he’d been lost to his beast for more than a day. Lost to instinct and rage. She’d hated seeing him like that.

I want to see his beast while in control.

“Would you like me to stay in the room while you shift?” she asked. When he hesitated—not denying her, which meant he wanted to say yes, only something else was stopping him—she added, “We’re loup garou. It’s a shift, nothing sexual.”

He didn’t respond. She was close to understanding what he couldn’t seem to say.

Victoria.

“Knight, I promise I won’t touch you while you’re vulnerable.”

Gratitude washed away his apprehension, and he nodded. Shay smiled, proud of herself for figuring out the problem on her own. One day she hoped Knight would be able to say what he wanted out loud. But he had to say something else out loud first. That one thing would break the dam of silence and allow his emotions to run freely.

“Would you like to do it here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She closed and locked the bedroom door, more for him than herself. She didn’t care that being alone in a bedroom with him, as an unmarried Black Wolf, was improper according to tradition. But nothing about her relationship with Knight so far was traditional. And if anything she did with him helped him heal, his brothers would forgive perceived impropriety.

Knight unwound the bandages and dumped them into the small wastebasket by her dresser. The wound was angry and swollen at the edges, a gash thicker than a knife wound and still oozing blood. She growled softly at it, hating its existence. Hating that it marred his beautiful skin and gave him needless pain.

Shay moved to sit on the bed, giving him as much room as she could. He didn’t do anything except watch her intently, until she understood. She turned to face the window.

A belt buckle jangled. Boots thumped. Denim whispered over skin.

The man she’d claimed, the man she was falling in love with, was naked less than five feet away. She longed to see his body. To admire the muscles always hidden behind cloth and cotton, and to show her appreciation. A flutter of arousal settled deep in her belly.

Stop that.

Magic tickled beneath her breastbone as the shift began. Knight groaned through the soft sounds of his shift. The crackle and pop of bones reshaping. The scrape of newly formed claws on the wood floor. A human moan that became a lupine whine. The air displaced as a large, furry body shook itself out, and the magic settled.

He wuffed.

She turned to face him, and the sheer beauty of him stole her breath. He stood proudly, his white fur gleaming in the afternoon light. Copper eyes were wide and aware. She had seen him shifted before, but something about an intentional shift changed him. She had never seen a beast so glorious.

Mine.

She slid off the bed and knelt in front of him. Face to face. She held out her hand, palm facing him. Knight bumped his head against her fingers, giving permission. She stroked his thick, silky fur. Behind his ears, along his muzzle, down his throat. He huffed, enjoying the attention.

“You’re magnificent.”

He licked her cheek. She laughed.

“One day we’ll be free to shift together and run. We’ll run through the woods and play in the stream. We’ll be happy, Knight, I promise. One day we’ll both be happy.”

He tilted his head to the side, as if considering her words. Then he surprised her by stepping around and leaping onto her bed, his massive size making the wood frame creak. He settled in the center, sprawled out like he owned it.

“Who invited you?”

He wuffed and thumped his tale on the mattress, as clear an invitation as she’d ever seen. Shay stretched out with him, head resting on his shoulder. He draped a muscled leg across her legs, the silky fur soft and warm on her bare skin. Peace and safety wrapped itself around her, and her beast sighed in contentment.

She didn’t want the moment to end, so she pretended it didn’t have to. She pretended the two hybrids weren’t still a threat, and that a man wasn’t fighting for his life across the street. She pretended they were in some undefined future time, relaxing on a weekday afternoon, with nothing more pressing to do than be in each other’s arms.

She pretended that they were unequivocally happy.

***

Bishop hung up his office phone, his insides a little squirrely with nerves now that the meeting with Atwood was happening. In two hours.

After confirming Atwood would be traveling from Philadelphia, Bishop had chosen a very public place for the necessary conversation: the parking lot of Dutch Wonderland, an amusement park in Lancaster. It opened in October only on weekends, but it was situated along the main highway, which meant traffic. And lots of people traveling past.

He hating doing this now, with Dell on the loose and Luke hanging on, but he couldn’t put it off. He had to get a feel for Atwood and what he wanted out of this partnership. He had to find the best way to turn Atwood’s goals in the loups’ favor. He had to find a way to stop the hybrids for good so his family could finally heal.

He sent a 911 text to Jillian, Devlin, Rook, and Brynn, and then he waited. A few minutes later, four breathless people were in his office. He filled them in on his plans. “I’ll record the entire conversation,” he said. “I want this kept quiet. If anyone not in the know asks where we are, it’s business. Nothing else.”

Jillian circled the desk and clutched his hand. “You be careful.”

“Always am.”

Rook turned to Devlin and said, “Take care of my wife and baby.”

Devlin nodded. “With my life, brother.”

Bishop hoped the entire meeting would go smoothly and without the need for such promises, but they were dealing with a Magus. And the Magi were not known for their honesty or their transparency. Bishop was prepared for anything to happen, and he prepared Devlin and Brynn by giving both of them sidearms. Brynn stared at hers like it offended her, and then took it anyway.

“You know Knight’s going to bitch at me about not being here to see you off,” Rook said when they reached the blue SUV.

Bishop chuckled at the mental image. “You’ll live. I’ll text you both when we get there, and again when we’re leaving.”

“Good.”

The drive took about forty minutes, and they didn’t speak. No one had much to say, and Bishop didn’t want his anxiety to slip out. He had to stay collected and calm, in charge. He was Alpha. And he was about to have a conversation with a man who could incinerate him from the inside out.

No pressure at all.

As expected, evening traffic along the main highway through Lancaster was steady. The city boasted a giant outlet center that drew tourist traffic year-round, so even in the off-season it never really quieted down. He parked by the large, white “Support Center” sign, across the road from a hotel. Except for their SUV, the lot was empty. He sent the “we’ve arrived” text. They rolled down the windows and waited.

Atwood arrived precisely on time, rolling into the lot in a black Mercedes with heavily tinted windows. Bishop got out and stood by the fender of his car, with Devlin and Brynn at his back. The Mercedes parked parallel to him, and he half expected a suited driver to get out and open the passenger door.

Instead, Atwood himself emerged from the driver’s side. Bishop wasn’t sure what he’d expected the man to look like. He was tall and thin, with the same black hair and pale complexion as Brynn. He also had a pointed nose and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and he walked like a man who’d been taught to have proper posture or else.

He circled his car to stand on the passenger-side rear door, instead of keeping the vehicle between them like a shield. The barely disguised sneer he had for Bishop and Devlin melted away when Brynn stepped out from behind their protective shield. For a moment, he wasn’t a Magus meeting a loup Alpha. He was a father presented with a daughter he’d been apart from for a long time.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Atwood said.

“I wanted to come.” Brynn didn’t go to him, only offered a sad smile from a distance. “How are you, Father?”

“Relieved to see you looking so well. I am reluctant to admit this, but I don’t think I have ever seen you happier.”

“I am happy. I’ve found the people I was always meant to be with.”

He cut his eyes at Bishop. “Your safety and happiness is what I want for you, daughter. With the loup constantly under attack, I worry for you.”

“And whose fault is it that we’re under attack?” Devlin asked.

Bishop held up a silencing hand, annoyed at Devlin for overstepping.

“You’re right,” Atwood said. “The hybrids were my project. I am responsible for their being alive, and our security should have been better. They never should have been allowed to escape.”

Bishop wanted to say they never should have been created in the first place, but he couldn’t hurl such a hurtful thing in front of Brynn. She was one of those creations—the only one with any kindness or joy. The only one who hadn’t been raised in a lab and taught to kill.

“I’d say they had pretty good motivation for wanting to leave, wouldn’t you?” Bishop said.

“Every caged creature craves freedom at some point.”

“Especially one that is systematically raped by one of her guards, and then becomes pregnant with his child.”

Atwood blinked hard. Color rose high on his cheeks, and a deadly glare pinned itself on Bishop. “How do you know of this?”

“Desiree told Shay Butler about it. Do you know who Shay is? She was the daughter of Chelsea Butler, the loup garou woman you stole for your experiments. She’s the half-sister of all of your creations, and they kidnapped her not too long ago to take care of Fiona’s baby.” Bishop’s temper burned bright. “The baby you helped them accidentally poison.”