Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) (18 page)

Chapter Eleven

I studied the weapon. It was a small caliber, most likely a .22. It wasn’t likely to kill you unless you placed a lucky shot right into the head or a vital organ. But a bullet was a bullet and I’d rather no one got shot in my house today.

Michael glared at her. “What are you doing?”

I winced at his tone. If he was hoping to intimidate her into giving up her weapon and her advantage it wasn’t going to happen. This was a woman who’d gleefully ordered the death of another human being without any sign of remorse—she wasn’t going to weep because her hubby grew a pair.

“Keeping our future secure.” She waved the light weapon around. “The baby’s better off with me, with us. We’ll give him everything he needs, everything he deserves.”

“So you’re going to show up with Liam at the next charity ball?” I brought her attention back to me, keeping my eye on where the pistol was pointed. “How are you going to explain him away?” I gestured at her slim form. “You don’t look pregnant. Going to be tough explaining a year-old child away as a newborn if you’re planning the ‘taking a year abroad for my health’ scenario and returning with him in your arms.”

She let out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s a classic scenario. A distant relative’s child brought to us after an unfortunate accident overseas. We adopt the baby as our own and no one cares as long as the proper paperwork gets filed. If you have enough money you can make anything happen.” Her warped smile grated on my eyes. “Hanover Investments will have a future.”

“What?” Bran interrupted. “What about me?” His grip tightened on my fingers.

“You’re still our son. But you’ve never shown any interest in the business. This fascination with journalism—we thought you’d outgrow it in time and consider your responsibilities to us, to your heritage.”

I frowned. We were slipping down the rabbit hole fast and furiously. “He’s a respected journalist. What do you want from him?”

Bernadette smiled. “I wanted him to step up and be a man, claim his place. Instead he persists in writing these stories for pennies, scrabbling out a living when he could be working beside his father.”

“I like what I’m doing. It’s my life,” Bran replied.

“But you could do so much better,” Bernadette whined. The pistol waved in my direction. “You just need to expand your vision.” Her upper lip curled up. “If you came back to the family business you couldn’t bring her to the dances, to the parties. The Knights have a lovely daughter and the Bentlesons have two. Good families, good reputations. They’d kill to marry into the Hanover line.”

I bit my tongue at the unfortunate phrasing.

“But I don’t want to,” Bran interrupted. He raised our entwined hands. “I love her.”

“Love,” Bernadette scoffed. “Love won’t keep a roof over your head or food on the table. Money does. You should know that. You’re living in the condo, the one we bought. You’re cashing those monthly checks. So don’t tell me how important love is to you when you have your fingers in your father’s pocket.”

My pulse hammered in my ears. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Bran was thinking, what he was going through. Within the last twenty-four hours he’d discovered his father was an adulterer and his mother was a murderess, along with the existence of a half-brother. I wondered why his head hadn’t exploded.

To say this was a lose-lose situation was a major understatement. The least that could come out of this was someone going to prison for a long time.

The worse would be more dead bodies. Judging from the wild look in Bernadette’s eyes it was a viable possibility.

Her hand shook, not from the weight of the tiny weapon. Her master plan was unraveling and I wasn’t sure how far she’d go to keep it alive. I kept watching the pistol barrel as it jumped up and down, left and right on her emotional wild ride.

I might be able to get out of the way of a bullet with my Felis reflexes but I knew Bran wouldn’t and I was darned sure Michael couldn’t.

“So you hired Keith Shaw to follow me to the hotel and find Molly Callendar. You told him to kill her and take the baby back to his own hotel room until you could meet him.” I kept talking, hoping to find some way to bring her back to earth and ground her in reality. Maybe if she realized the depth of what she’d done, the enormity of her bad decisions, she might come around and let us settle this as best we could.

She stared at me.

I didn’t see a high-society woman trying to do what she thought was best for her family.

All I saw was madness.

My heart went into overdrive.

Any hunter will tell you the most dangerous animal isn’t necessarily the one that’s injured or cornered.

The rabid ones are right up there, because when you don’t fear anything you might do anything.

I continued talking, trying to predict her next move. “He sat there in his dirty, grungy little hotel room waiting for your phone call to arrange to drop off the baby or for you to show up and finish the deal.”

The small pistol moved between the three of us, shifting targets. “The woman left her apartment weeks ago, not long after the baby was born. I didn’t know where she was.” She scowled at Michael. “She didn’t leave anything behind, nothing to track her with”

Michael didn’t say anything.

“I paid for her parents to be followed. I figured they’d go visit their daughter at least once before she left town. Nothing.” The spittle flew from her lips. “Damned woman thought she had it all figured out—don’t let anyone know where you’re going, and cover your tracks. I had nothing and Shaw was waiting.”

Her eyes tracked to her husband. “Until we had dinner and you asked to talk to Rebecca alone. I knew you didn’t like her any more than I did. I told Shaw to be there when you had your meeting with her and she trotted off like a good little courier girl to go to where the bitch was holed up.” Her voice broke. “Nice fucking hotel. Keeping your whore in high style.”

Bran’s grip tightened.

“I told Shaw to follow Rebecca and as soon as she was gone to take care of the woman. I knew the cops would look at Brayton. As far as I can tell they still are. The sole ones who know who Liam is are right here. I went to the hotel where Shaw agreed to meet me and saw you walking in, you and Rebecca with some other woman. I waited until I thought it was safe and went to Shaw’s room. He was dead and the baby gone.” The edges of her mouth twitched. “Killing Shaw saved me a bit of cash—I assumed he’d ask for more when he had the baby in hand. Thank you for that much.” The icy stare returned. “But that means you’ve got Liam. Where is he?”

The pistol swept the room, her gaze following.

I anticipated her next move. “He’s not here. He’s with a friend. Safe and sound and out of danger.” Now it was my turn to sound menacing. “From both of you.”

“Shaw struck me as a pretty tough character. How did you get the jump on him, stab him like that?” Fear entered her voice for the first time since I’d met her.

My stomach jumped at the memory of Shaw’s dead body. But this wasn’t the time or place to get sensitive about death.

I curled up my fingers, squeezing them into a fist. “What do you think?” I sounded as nasty as I dared, given the circumstances. If she were afraid of Bran and myself so much the better.

I left out the part where it was Jess who delivered the killing blow, not myself. The devil might be in the details but right now the devil pointed a pistol.

“He was smothering Liam,” Bran offered by way of explanation. “We had to do something to save the baby.”

“What? Why would he do that?” The pistol wavered in her grip, enough to tempt me. I might make it across the floor to knock the gun free but I wasn’t willing to play those odds with Bran’s life.

“The asshole was freaking out because we found him,” Bran growled. I sensed the tension in his voice, in the way he held himself. He couldn’t take much more of this. “He was killing Liam. Drop the gun, Mom. Drop the gun and we’ll sit down and talk about this.”

“We’ll do no such thing. We’ll call the fucking cops,” Michael snapped.

Bernadette’s stare slashed the air around her husband. “You’d hand me over to the police?” The disbelief in her voice rose. “You bastard. You go around screwing anything with a vagina for decades and now I’m the bad guy?”

I felt sorry for her, despite the situation. In a society where men were considered studs and women whores if they took multiple lovers I couldn’t help but agree with Bernadette on one level.

That, however, wasn’t the level where killing and kidnapping were acceptable actions.

“Put the gun down and we’ll talk,” Bran repeated. He shot his father a warning glance—
don’t piss off the woman with the weapon.

Michael Hanover might be a business genius but you could put everything he knew about women in a thimble and have room left for more.

Michael opened his mouth as if to respond to Bernadette’s accusations and then closed it.

It might have been his best decision in days.

“Put the gun down, Mom. Please.”

Bernadette looked at him as if he’d asked for a second serving of pie. “You don’t understand. I get it—you’ve been writing your little stories and doing your little trips around the country. I understand how you don’t get what I’m talking about.” She drew a ragged breath as if she was running a marathon. “When I married your father your grandfather was adamant about us keeping the family strong, keeping the business strong. We can’t let just anyone take over the family business. We need to guide them, nurture them.” She tilted her head toward Michael. “All of his hard work can’t be wasted on someone who won’t know what to do with it. We need a Hanover at the helm, someone to carry the business into the future.” She sneered at her husband. “If Bran decides not to take it, who will? Your cousin Eric? The idiot who keeps getting caught cheating on his income tax?”

“What, you’re going to take the kid and spend twenty years raising him to take over the business?” Michael snapped. “That’s insane.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t helping.

“If Bran doesn’t take it, then who?” Bernadette replied.

Bran shook his head. “There’s plenty of good friends, good relatives you can hand it over to.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to take a business steeped in blood.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired of this. I want the baby and I want him now.” Bernadette directed her comments to me, ignoring her husband and son. “You call whoever has him and tell him to bring the baby here.”

“No,” I replied.

The acidic sting tore at my senses as if I’d inhaled a full shot of lemon juice. I spun around, yanking my hand free from Bran’s grasp.

Bran stared at me.

Michael squinted, looking past me at his wife.

She looked down at the barrel of the pistol with a confused expression as if it’d jumped up and bit her.

A light puff of smoke rose from the tip.

Chapter Twelve

My left arm itched.

The itch turned warm, burning hot.

I looked down to see the ragged three-inch gash in my skin, just below the shoulder. It oozed as the jagged pain shot up my arm.

“Reb!” Bran caught me as I fell to the ground.

“Where is the baby?” Bernadette asked, her voice trembling.

“You bitch,” Bran cried as he cradled me in his arms. I babbled something incoherent.

“You will not talk to me like that. I am your mother.” She waved the pistol again. “Where is the baby?”

“With a friend,” Bran answered.

Michael stood helpless to one side, paralyzed.

I gasped, clawing at Bran’s arms. He looked down at me.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured.

“No I won’t,” I whispered.

The world around me shifted and warped, changing enough to both scare and thrill me.

I was Changing.

The burning in my arm dimmed as my senses came into full focus. I could smell Bernadette’s fear, hear the loud pounding of her heart. Michael’s sweat dripping off him like small grenades, exploding when they hit the hardwood floor.

My claws shot out, digging into Bran’s duster. The sharp edges tangled in the dark leather and pulled him closer.

Bran pulled me close, hiding me as best he could from his parents.

I drew in short huffs. I couldn’t afford to Change—not here, not now.

“Stop it,” Bran whispered, lips pressed to my ear. “You know how to do it.” His words took on a commanding, dominating tone. “Stop it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the overwhelming rush of information attacking my senses.

The irony didn’t escape me. After being unable to Change at will for decades I was now trying to stop myself from Changing. The secret I’d had to keep from his parents was right in front of them if Bran shifted his position even a few inches to either side.

Bran sucked in his breath over clenched teeth. I knew what he was seeing—blond fur covering my face with dark brown horizontal streaks. My mother had once called them war paint, invoking a long speech from my father about political correctness.

The last time he’d seen me Changed he’d cut and run.

This time it was different. His eyes were soft, tears threatening to break free as he gazed at me.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Bran murmured.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead I burrowed into his chest.

The pounding in my ears began slowing as I forced myself to draw long, deep breaths. All I needed to do was take control again.

I might as well be trying to control a runaway train with a shoelace held in my teeth.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bernadette snapped.

“She’s in shock,” Bran responded. “You shot her.” He swept his duster over my shoulders as I ducked my head down.

The thick musk of alpha male swallowed me up, cutting out some of the outside influences smashing into my senses. It was a blessing and a curse, the shredding pain in my arm mixing with the inherent urge to protect my mate and lash out at those who had hurt me, hurt us.

I ran through mental exercises I hadn’t thought about for years, going back to the start to stop the Change. A powerful Felis like Jess could Change back and forth in seconds.

I might take a wee bit longer.

“Where’s the baby?” Bernadette repeated. “Get me the baby and you can call the ambulance, take her to get help.”

Michael’s voice cut through the pain. “Bernie—what are you doing?” The sadness in his voice tore at my heart. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ll call her,” Bran said, surprisingly calm. “I need to get my phone out of my pocket. Don’t shoot me.”

“Smart-ass,” Bernadette shot back. “She’ll live. Just get me the baby.”

I suppressed a growl.

He shifted behind me and pressed his knee against my side, holding me in his shadow. “Keep chilling,” he murmured. “I got this.”

His right hand slipped into a pocket and extracted the cell phone. He held it up over us.

My arm burned, the pulsing running from my fingertips right into my shoulder and back.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Bernadette barked. “No funny stuff. I don’t trust you.” She gave a light giggle, the phony type reserved for the public. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Bran leaned in. “What’s Jess’s number?”

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.

For my part I couldn’t testify to anything other than I’d run the package around and found Molly’s body. Revealing Liam’s parentage would reveal the Felis and that wasn’t an option.

Jess sure as hell would go to ground before going into a courtroom and saying she clawed Shaw to death to save Liam’s life. Not because she regretted it but because it violated our secrecy and would open a whole new world of fear and persecution for our Felis family. She’d go to jail or die before giving up the secret.

We were, collectively and individually, screwed.

“No.” Michael Hanover walked toward her, his right hand outstretched. “This ends now, Bernie. Give me the pistol and I’ll call Danny. He’ll meet us at the police station.” He whispered, “Let’s stop this now before someone else gets hurt.”

She shook her head like a petulant child. “I’m not going to let this family be destroyed because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. You started all this with letting her become pregnant. Don’t you dare think you can start calling the shots now.”

I couldn’t help grinning at the last few words despite my pain.

“All this,” Bran snarled, “all this death and destruction because Dad screwed up?” He took a step closer. “You’re both so fucking messed up.” He lifted his fists, visibly shaking with anger. “So fucking messed up.”

“Do not use that language with me. All families have secrets, Brandon. Some have small white lies that choke the life out of people, some have larger ones that suck you dry over time. But the good ones know the net worth of keeping them.” Bernadette giggled, an almost maniacal sound. “I’m sure Rebecca knows that.”

I froze.

“What are you talking about?” I forced the words out.

“I saw the investigator’s report on your parents. Dead in a car accident.” She chuckled. “How wonderful you had family to take you in and raise you. Family like Jess Hammersmythe.” Bernadette gave me a beatific smile. “What secrets does Jess have, hmm? How about her family and friends? We could dig so much deeper if we tried. What do you have in your past that you want to keep hidden?” She laughed. “You’ll toe the line and like it or we’ll set the dogs on all of them. How would you like that, hmm?”