Fire Touched (12 page)

I opened my mouth to agree, but honesty stopped me. “It's going to rankle,” I said. “But I'm all right with it.” I looked at the bloody note. “It's the idea that he thought I might leave him over this that he's going to pay for.” I gritted my teeth. “Idiot.”

Warren grinned and hit his leg with his hat. “I told him he was worried over nothing. If we are okay here, I'm going to go get Kyle and head home. He's got a meeting with a new client tomorrow. Couple who've been married twenty-five years. Their youngest child just graduated from high school. I guess they were waiting for that.”

“Sad,” I said.

He looked at me with wise eyes. “Take happiness where you can,” he said. “It seldom lasts—'course, neither does sorrow,
right?”

I stalked out of the meeting room and ignored the surreptitious looks aimed my way as I stomped down the stairs. Adam wouldn't be in our bedroom—he tried not to bring conflict there. Given his temperament—and mine—he was only partially successful at this. But he did try.

He wouldn't want to linger among the wolves, either, not after his exit. He'd let them stew and absorb his edict on their own. Speaking of the wolves, as I got over myself enough to look around, the pack was still here. Lately, some of them lingered after meetings, choosing to go downstairs and play computer games, or stay to chat. They were lingering, chatting (pointedly not about me) and, if my ears didn't deceive me, playing computers downstairs. But almost no one had gone home.

I thought about that a moment. Of course no one was going home—I'd made our home a target, and we needed the pack to keep everyone here safe.

“Where's Zack?” I asked Ben, who was leaning against a wall scarfing down a couple of leftover hamburgers held precariously on a saggy paper plate.

He swallowed and ran his tongue over his teeth before opening his mouth. “Asleep. Tad suggested he take half the bed in his room, as it was likely to be quieter than anywhere else he could sleep tonight.”

That's not exactly what Ben said, but I'd gotten good at ignoring the swearing ever since I figured out it was a defense mechanism. Occasionally, he got me with something truly creative.

“And our guest?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I think he went to bed, too. But honestly, Mercy, I don't care, right? We promised to grant him sanctuary, but if he doesn't stick around like a fly on a whore's mattress, then I guess we're off the hook.”

I wasn't sure of that, but I was pretty sure, from his reaction on the bridge, that Aiden wasn't going to be running off while he was still safe.

“Adam?”

Ben grinned at me. “In his office.”

Of course he was. Because he wasn't a coward, he wasn't afraid of fighting with me. The only reason he'd left Warren to talk to me was so that he could face off with Bran.

I knocked on Adam's office door. Adam's office was soundproofed, mostly. Which meant I had to be leaning against the door to hear anything inside.

“Who?” he asked.

“You know who,” I told him.

“Come in.”

I slipped in and closed the door behind me, locking it. Despite my expectations, he wasn't on the phone. That was good, because I still had a few things to say to him.

“Afraid someone will interrupt us?” Adam asked, his face politely wary.

“Afraid you'll run,” I told him seriously. “Apparently. From what you told Warren. And Darryl. Oh. And Zack.”

He flushed a little. “I only said that because—”

“Because you were afraid if you jumped in between the pack and me, I would run,” I said.

He folded his arms and looked unhappy.

That was okay. I was unhappy with him, too.

“Because,” I said with fierce irony, “you can't count on me not to take off when the chips are down. Because every time we fight, I run away and lick my wounds. Because if you do something I don't agree with—and we'll get back to that—I'll desert you and go looking to find myself like your ex-wife did.”

“Because,” Adam said carefully, “Bran told me that if I treated you the way I did Christy, you'd leave me, too. Maybe not that day, or the one after that, but eventually you'd burst free of any chains I tried to wrap you in, even if it was for your protection.”

I froze. Raised an eyebrow. “Did Bran really compare me to your ex-wife, or are you just saying that so I'll be mad at him instead of you?”

“Would I do that?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “In a heartbeat, you would.”

He laughed.

“Okay,” he said. “I deserved that. But those were his exact words.”

I took a deep breath. “There are two of us in this relationship, Adam. I love you. If you need to establish a rule I disagree with, but it is necessary for you—I can compromise.” I took a deep breath because I really, really didn't like the gag order he'd issued. “I can live with the law you laid down on the pack tonight—I don't like it. But I can deal—and so will they.” Just like Bran's pack dealt with his wife, Leah. I hated her when I lived with Bran's pack. But I'd never disrespected her to her face.

Adam relaxed.

“Of course,” I said, “not letting me know how badly the initial treatment of your broken shoulder had gone, that might get you in real trouble. But you would never try to keep something from me, like having to break your shoulder twice because the first time didn't work, would you? Because you know that I would be really, really ticked off about that.”

He looked at me.

I held my hand up at hip height. “Here's my irritation level when someone jumps in to protect me when I don't need it.” I thought about it and bent down until my hand was at my knee. “Nope. This is where my irritation level is. My irritation level is here”—back at my hip—“when he does it without warning me. My irritation . . . anger level is here”—I held my hand up to my eyes—“when you keep me out of something that is my concern. When I landed in the hospital after your ex-wife's stalker tried to kill me”—he'd been an insane volcano god, the same one who'd destroyed my shop and turned my friend Joel into a tibicena—“
I
wasn't trying to make everyone keep you away because the sight of me all beaten up might make you feel bad.”

“You were dying,” Adam said. “You had no choice.” But his
face was tight. He didn't like to be reminded about how close I'd come to dying.

“Yes,” I snapped. “And if you keep me away again, you only
hope
you'll be dead when I find out about it.”

I was absolutely serious. The force of my anger took me by surprise. Adam was mine. I'd belonged at his side, not setting up a stupid barbecue. He'd sent me away—and I'd let him because I'd felt guilty for setting the pack up to face off with the fae, the vampires, and a host of other people and not-people who might take offense at my declaration that the Tri-Cities was our territory. It was probably myself I was maddest at, but Adam was a good substitute.

The computer chimed.

I marched around and saw that Skype was up, and hit the
ANSWER
button.

Bran appeared, his eyes half-lidded in the way they were when he was furious.

“Not now,” I told him. “Adam and I are having a fight about stupid wolves who don't tell their mates when some damned iron-kissed fae has to break his shoulder because your son the doctor is running around Europe. We have some competent EMTs, but EMTs are not up to bone work—which they proved by breaking his shoulder wrong. Excuse us. I'll call you back when we are done here.”

“Mer—”

I hit the button to hang up, turned to Adam—who was laughing. Laughing. It was going to be the last thing that he ever did.

“That might be the last thing either of us ever do,” he answered, and I realized I must have said that last thing out loud. “Bran doesn't really appreciate being hung up on.” He sobered. “I plead
stupid,” he said. “And prideful. In my defense, I was pretty badly hurt, and no one wants to get their shoulder broken. Three times today, actually, if you count the first one.”

“Four,” I said, hopping up to sit on his desk. “Because Warren said the reason their attempt failed was because you also had a hairline crack they didn't know about. For it to be a hairline crack an hour later, it was a break at first.”

“Four,” he said. He moved his keyboard and mouse aside, then slid me sideways across the desk until I was sitting directly in front of him, one leg on either side of his. “And I was worried about what I had to do tonight. I couldn't make everything work—my shoulder included—if I didn't think. And if you were in that room, I wasn't going to be thinking very clearly.”

“And getting Zee down into medical would let you talk him into letting someone take a look at his wounds, too,” I said thoughtfully. “Did you?”

“I can't say,” he said. “I promised someone something as long as he wasn't so bad that we couldn't help.”

I didn't say anything.

“He's a tough old smith,” Adam said. “But they had a real go at him.” Bad, I thought, but not bad enough he needed more help than Darryl and Warren could provide. “For what it's worth, they left Tad alone. Zee managed to convince them that Tad was fragile, and they don't know enough about humans to torture without killing him.” Adam smiled coldly. “But what they did to Zee—one of their own—puts me squarely behind your offer of sanctuary for Aiden.”

“Good to know that you are both on the same side of this disaster,” said a voice.

I wiggled and ended up on Adam's lap. He caught me and helped
me manage a not-very-dignified pose across his lap that was still better than the floor, where I'd been headed.

“Good evening, Mercy. Adam,” said Bran from Adam's computer screen. There was none of the usual Skype screen stuff—just Bran's face. “Courtesy is for the courteous.”

“Thanks, Charles,” I said. “Always nice to know that your computer skills are still cutting-edge. And good evening, Bran.” I wrinkled my nose. “Courtesy is for the courteous? Really? Did you find that in a fortune cookie?” I felt awkward on Adam's lap in front of Bran and Charles, but when I started to slide off, Adam held me where I was.

“You're welcome,” said Charles's voice from somewhere on the other side of the computer screen. Impossible to tell from his voice, but I think I'd amused him.

“My mother's phrase, actually. Though not in those words. She didn't speak English,” said Bran in a very soft voice. I don't know anything about his mother except that Bran only mentioned her when he was seriously unhappy. “Are you finished, Mercy?”

If Adam wanted me to stay on his lap, he had a reason for it. However, it felt really awkward to deal with an irate Bran while sitting on my husband's lap. Still, I trusted Adam's instincts, so I stayed where I was to mount our defense. And the best defense is a good offense, right?

“You really would have preferred we let a troll loose in a major human-population center?” I asked. If he was going to be mad, he was going to aim his mad where it belonged. At me. “Like you would have let one run around throwing cars all over Missoula without lifting a hand against it?”

Adam kissed my cheek—and I got it. He was worried Bran was
going to be mad at me, and he wanted Bran to remember that we were a team. If he thought a little PDA would help, I was willing to let him run with it.

“You can stop at any time, Mercy,” Adam said. “As much as I'm enjoying your stepping in to rescue me, it is not only unnecessary, it's likely to backfire.”

He turned his attention to Bran. “We got a call from the Kennewick police that they needed our help with a troll. We had no idea it was anything more than that. I had two wolves already there, so I grabbed the other pack member and Mercy and we headed in.”

Bran pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you did.”

Behind him, someone snorted.

“Go on,” Bran said.

“I have some video I e-mailed to you. Did you watch it?”

“It made the national news,” said Bran. “I've already watched it five times.”

Adam nodded. “Okay, then. You saw Mercy and Zack rescue a woman and her baby at the risk of their own lives. You saw Darryl get thrown off the bridge, get fished out by concerned citizens whom he did not hurt, and go running back up to fight the troll some more. ‘Heroic efforts' was the phrase I heard over and over again. ‘We could not have stopped that thing without more lives lost,' the police chief said. ‘We are grateful to Adam Hauptman and his werewolves, who saved a whole lot of people.'”

“Just wait until they get the bill for the bridge,” murmured Charles's voice—earning an irritated look Bran sent over his shoulder.

Charles was trying to calm Bran down, I realized. I shook my head. Hard to be dignified when you're sprawled across someone's lap, but I tried. “They will send the bill to the fae.”

“If they can find the fae to give it to them,” Charles said.

“Werewolves fighting the fae,” said Bran.

Silence fell.

“I've been trying for six months to keep that from happening.” Bran's voice had a rare growl in it. “To keep
this
from happening.”

“Neutral doesn't work,” Charles said. “When you watch your allies commit atrocities and do nothing, who is more reprehensible? Those who rape and plunder or those who could have stopped it but do nothing?”

“You are misquoting your grandfather,” said Bran. “And you have caused me enough trouble. At least we could argue that the fae struck the first blow against us when you hunted down that fae lord in Arizona. Here, we are clearly the aggressor.”