Mated To The Devil (8 page)

On top of those musings, she couldn’t deny a curiosity to discover if Remy ever thought about her. Pierre claimed he did, but she doubted it.
I might dream of him, my pleasurable moment of sin, but I’m sure I was just another girl to him.
Another notch on his college bedpost.

Despite telling herself that, she couldn’t deny an urge to see once again the man who held her prisoner with his strength while he made her body feel wicked things. Find the man she dreamed of still, whom she measured all other men against and found them lacking. The only man she’d ever met who made her long for something more. Something hot. Something carnal, naked, and . . . sinful.

For years she’d fought the pull to find him. For what felt like a lifetime, she’d hidden from her family and the world, wondering if Remy ever sought her. And now she had the chance to find out, if she possessed the courage.

A weight on her lap drew her from her thoughts, and she looked down to see Jacques ready for a cuddle, finally calm. Her baby. She wrapped her arms around him and rocked, holding his wiry body against hers, wishing she knew the right answer.
What is best for him? How do I know?
Should she turn his world upside down? How could she not, though? This was his father. Jacques deserved a chance to know him no matter her feelings about the man. If only she could see the future and see how it all turned out.

What should I do?

Despite her fervent prayers, she went to bed with no clear answer.

The following day at work, tired from tossing and turning, she mulled over Pierre’s offer. What she wouldn’t give for a life less fraught with anxiety and one where perhaps Jacques could enjoy some of the finer things in life. Why shouldn’t Remy pay his fair share? If he wanted to take responsibility, then let him start by offering some support for his son. Other women got child support and the occasional weekend to themselves. Why shouldn’t Mina go after those same things? Maybe then she could afford the fresher fruits and vegetables or an apartment in a nice part of town.

Her fighting spirit swelled up only to have doubt try to knock it down.
What if I show up there with Jacques and Remy rejects us?

Indignation filled her that Pierre was the one trying to convince her to leave home instead of Remy.
But in fairness, Pierre didn’t expect to find me or Jacques.
Found her because of a blood test indeed. In the light of day, it bothered her that she’d so easily accepted his explanation that Jacques, Remy, and Pierre were werewolves. Had she become that gullible? Needy for an answer? If they spoke the truth, however improbable, what exactly did being a Lycan mean? Would Jacques turn into a wolf or did he just have some outward characteristics?

A part of her already knew she’d have to call Pierre and talk to him further no matter what she eventually decided to do about the Remy factor. If Pierre’s family line had some genetic anomaly, then as Jacques’ mother she needed to follow up on it and get as much information as possible so she could decide on a course of treatment. Decisions on whether to allow Remy into their lives, more specifically Jacques’, could come later, once she thought about it more. While the idea of giving Jacques a father and a family seemed on the surface a no-brainer, did she dare open up her son to the possibility of hurt? And what about the color of her skin? Sure, Remy thought nothing of it when he had seduced her, but he was drunk at the time. Sober, would his lack of caring still apply? What if Remy’s extended family and friends took issue with the fact she was white and her son of mixed blood? Would they become the object of racist remarks or snubbing like she’d already suffered from her own family and even strangers on the streets? Or worse, what if Jacques grew to love his extended family, to count on his father, and something happened to change things like Remy marrying someone else and fathering a new family, shunning the son he’d created during a drunken mistake in college?
What if he’s already married?
For some reason that idea didn’t sit well with her, but she couldn’t have said why.

More questions than answers filled her brain, thus she wasn’t quite attentive when she picked up Jacques from the neighbor up the street who babysat him. Holding his hand as they made the short trek back to their apartment, it was his growling that snapped her back to awareness just as a dark paneled van pulled up alongside them. The rear passenger door slid open and a pair of men jumped out, their hands grabbing at her and Jacques.

What on earth?

Shock momentarily paralyzed her, then rage as one of the strangers roughly grabbed her son.
How dare he lay hands on my baby!
Motherly instinct kicked in.

“Let him go!” she yelled. The man complied with an oath not fit for ears but not because of her words. Jacques had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. Distracted by her son’s violent reaction, she didn’t notice the second creep behind her nor could she evade his iron grip. He latched onto her arm and dragged her toward the van opening. She struggled and kicked, yelling, hoping for help, but in this neighborhood, people tended toward deafness and blindness. Not a single sheeted window twitched. Not a single door opened. No one wanted to get involved.

The sound of Jacques snarling reassured her because it meant they’d not yet succeeded in taking him, but it was his cry of pain that galvanized her.
My baby.
“Jacques! No,” she screamed. She renewed her struggles, elbowing the man who held her. He didn’t even grunt. Remembering the self-defense classes she’d taken, she dropped to the ground and used her weight to break his hold. Her victory was short-lived.

A third man and then a fourth came to join the fracas, and despair filled her. She couldn’t prevail against that many. Jacques darted around, nimble and quick, his eyes glowing eerily, but it was nothing compared to the sound he made.
He’s howling.
The shock of that realization paled, though, in comparison to their situation. The man she’d fought free from grabbed her arm once again, and this time, she couldn’t break his hold. He dragged her toward the van, and resignation reared its ugly head.
This is it. The thing I’ve feared for so long has happened.
Their secret was out, and now someone intended to take them—by force if necessary. Or was this part of Pierre’s plot to bring them under his wing? Somehow she couldn’t picture Jacques’ grandfather ordering something so violent, not if his grandson stood a chance of getting hurt.

Lost in her musings, it took a moment for her to register that the hand holding her had slackened. Meaty thumps filled the air, and she peered about wildly. The fourth addition to the impromptu battle as it turned out wasn’t with the wannabe abductors. On the contrary, the Good Samaritan fought all three kidnappers at once!

Jacques scrambled from the van’s interior where they’d tossed him and launched his small body at her. She caught her son, stumbling back with the force of his leap, but refusing to let go. Hugging him, she let the tears roll down her cheeks as their mysterious savior finished teaching the thugs a lesson, a violent one that she shielded her son’s eyes from. As quickly as the fight began, it ended with three bodies groaning on the ground, bruised and bloody. Good. They deserved it for what they’d tried to do.

Opening her mouth, her words of thanks got caught in her throat as the stranger raised his head, revealing eyes that glowed. As for his reassuring smile? She swallowed hard at the view of his bared elongated canines.

Oh, my goodness, what is he? A werewolf? Almost certainly.
The realization proved too much.

Overwhelmed and with the adrenaline wearing off, shock set in. Mina sank to the ground, her mind going blessedly dark.

Chapter Eight

Pierre drove like a rabid wolf to get to Mina’s place, his phone glued to his ear. “What the fuck do you mean they were attacked? By who? Neighborhood hoodlums?”

Dean snorted. “I doubt it. These guys were pretty brazen and organized. They arrived in an unmarked van. No plates, no papers, nothing. I stuffed the guys who tried to snatch them inside the van and called the local Lycan chief. He was supposed to send someone over for them.”

“You didn’t stay and oversee?” Pierre wondered if he needed to worry about the thugs recovering and making a second attempt.

“I thought it best to take your daughter-in-law and her son up to her apartment. The mother fainted, and the boy lost his mind. I needed somewhere without eyes.”

In other words, Jacques’ wolf tried to surface. Dean did the right thing in hiding them. The world was not yet prepared to meet or coexist with Lycans. Pierre doubted humans ever would be. “Any other bad news?” Pierre had a sneaky suspicion there was more.

“Her apartment was either tossed earlier in the day, or she’s a big slob.”

“She’s not a slob.” He’d seen the inside of her place with everything in its place and not a speck of dust to be seen. Pierre clenched his car’s steering wheel. Someone targeted them, but for what reason? Although he didn’t know Mina well, he’d encountered enough people in his career that he could safely boast he understood them. Mina wasn’t the type to do drugs or gamble, so the thugs probably weren’t looking for payment. She wore a cross along with conservative clothing, so he doubted she was a prostitute or other type of adult entertainer and, while cute, wasn’t the type pimps went after. And if you factored in the attempt to take Jacques as well? With a cold chill tickling his soul and ruffling his wolf’s fur, he suspected a deeper plot, something involving the Lycan secret. He needed to get her out of there and safe within the bosom of the pack.

“Ah, fuck.” Dean cursed into the phone.

“Now what?”

“We’ve got bigger problems than the trashing of her apartment. I just took a gander out the window. The van is gone.”

“Do you think the local pack had someone that close?”

“Hopefully. If not, then whoever they were, they’re already reporting back to whoever hired them.”

Report back and then what? Would they return in greater numbers? With more violence? Give up? The what didn’t really matter. Pierre needed to protect his son’s mate and his grandson. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Pierre cursed the red light that stopped him. “How are Mina and the child doing?”

“Fine, I think. The woman fainted when the fight was done and hit her head. I don’t see any blood or see anything worse than a few bruises and scratches. But that’s all I can tell. The boy won’t let me near her. He’s sitting on top of her right now, and he growls at me any time I even look his way.”

“So growl back.”

Dean lowered his voice. “He’s frightened. I don’t want to worsen it. He’s just doing what any pup would do, keeping his mother safe. I won’t chastise him for doing that.”

“You’re right. Leave him be, I’m almost there anyway.”

Pierre hung up. Thank hell he’d called Dean in to act as an extra layer of security for Mina and her boy. Not liking the neighborhood, Pierre had acted on instinct and it paid off.
But it would have never happened if she was with us, where she belongs.
Despite her protests, this incident just reinforced his determination to convince her to leave with him,
even if I have to take her kicking and screaming.

When Pierre entered her apartment, his scent letting Dean know it was him, he stopped dead at the look of fear on Mina’s face. It appeared she had woken and wished she hadn’t. She sat huddled in the corner of her couch, Jacques clutched tightly to her. Her wide eyes bore a wild look, that of a trapped animal. The most dangerous kind. Add in a mother’s instinct, and Pierre needed to tread lightly.

Dean shrugged at Pierre’s pointed look. “I didn’t do anything. She’s been looking at me like that since she woke up.”

Holding his hands up in an appeasing gesture, Pierre approached her and knelt. “Mina,” he said in a soothing tone. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” His grandson growled. Pierre met his gaze with a hard one of his own. The little boy quieted and lowered his eyes before tucking his head into his mother’s shoulder. “You’re safe now, Mina.” He spoke the low promise as he knelt on the floor beside them, slowly and carefully so as to not startle the pair.

A tremor went through her. “Those men, they—they . . . ”

“Tried to take you and my grandson. I know. Dean told me.”

“You know this guy?” Her blue eyes pierced him with accusation.

“I called him in to keep an eye out for you both. Forgive me for my presumptuousness, but I am not as keen on your neighborhood as you are, and with good reason it seems.”

“They weren’t from around here,” she whispered.

“Do you know who they are?”

A shake of her head made her tangled strands fly. “No. But I heard one of them say they weren’t to hurt us. Boss’s orders. He wanted Jacques and me undamaged.”

Rage filled Pierre. How dare someone think to touch his family? Because despite their recent discovery, that was what he considered them. His family, and
no one messes with my family
. “You are unhurt?”

“Just some little aches and pains. I don’t know about Jacques, though.”

“The boy is fine.”

“How can you tell?”

Because as pack alpha, Pierre would sense it if one of his kind was hurt, especially a Lycan sharing his blood. Uninjured, his tough grandson calmed now that he sensed protection. Pride and anguish filled Pierre at Jacques’ evident inner strength, and vulnerability.
You can share the burden now, little one. You are no longer alone.
“Just trust me when I say he’s fine. A little scared, as is normal, but he’s not physically injured.”

“But what about his heart and soul?” she whispered, rubbing a damp cheek against Jacques’ thick hair.

“They’ll recover. He’s a courageous boy. He’s made of sterner stuff than you give him credit for. He’ll bounce back. You’ll see. I’m more worried about you. How are you handling this?”

A hysterical giggle mixed with a snort escaped her. “How do you think I’m doing? Someone tried to kidnap me and my son. Destroyed my apartment. And yesterday I found out my son might be a werewolf. How can this week get any worse?”