: Chapter 9

Savannah

Jaxson effortlessly heaved my suitcases into the back of his black SUV.

So much for running from my troubles. Now they were giving me a lift.

I gave a last forlorn glance at my Gran Fury as the tow truck driver loaded it onto his rig. He handed me a card. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re taking it to Savage Body, one of the best repair shops in Magic Side. It’ll be up and running before you know it.”

I thanked him and gave my poor car one last miserable look. I’d come so close, halfway over the bridge, with only a few more blocks to go. I’d pushed the car over its limit to cross the finish line, and it wasn’t any wonder that it had conked out.

Sometimes you ran so fast, you wound up tripping over your own feet and landing on your face. That was me in a nutshell.

I sighed and hopped into Jaxson’s vehicle. I didn’t dare ask him about his keys, or where he’d gotten an SUV to chase me with. A sliver of guilt tugged at me. He could get new keys made, right?

He climbed in the vehicle and fired up the engine, and we rumbled across the bridge to Magic Side.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Was I really driving off into the middle of the night with a perfect stranger? The cop had vouched for him. Still, I kept my hand on the mace in my pocket, though something about Jaxson’s demeanor told me I wasn’t going to need it.

He brooded as he drove, clearly lost in thought, and didn’t even glance at me. When I tried pressing him for information, he dodged at first, but finally, I wore him down.

“It seems like I’m being targeted,” I said. “Do you know why?”

He kept his eyes on the road, avoiding my stare. “No. There’s been no pattern in the abductions. We assume that those who were killed were the ones who fought back.”

“How do you know?

“A woman witnessed an attack three days ago, but she didn’t get a good enough look to identify the attackers. You did. Would you be willing to work with a sketch artist tomorrow?”

Hell, I had enough talent to draw them myself, but that probably wouldn’t be official enough. “Sure.”

Biting my lip, I silently watched the city lights roll by—illuminated old storefronts, artsy shops, restaurants, and blocks of tightly packed red brick walk-up apartments. I racked my brain as to why those monsters might be after me.

The answer I kept coming back to was my parents.

“You said my family—the LaSalles—are dangerous and wrapped up in bad business.”

“Yeah, they deal in illegal arms and materials.”

Crap. Were my parents gun runners?

They sure as hell had made certain I could shoot. Mostly rifles, shotguns, and pistols, nothing heavy. Mainly, they’d hunted deer. My mother had spent a lot of time alone, hunting in the woods. She’d said it reminded her of who she was.

Then they’d died in an explosion. What if it had been ammo? Had I spent my childhood sleeping on a powder keg?

“My family…could that be why people are after me?”

He nodded. “Quite possibly. None of the other victims were related to the LaSalles, but there might be a connection. Your family is…not well liked in the region. You definitely shouldn’t reach out to them, not until this is over.”

Maybe I had gotten very, very lucky that my car gave out. I brooded silently, trying to imagine how badly things could’ve gone.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of Eclipse. There was no parking, and the street was hopping and filled with all sorts of colorful people.

I slipped out of the SUV into the strangely dressed crowd. A woman with pointy ears slung her arm around a man who was wearing contact lenses that made his eyes look catlike. I’d always heard Chicago was wild, but this wasn’t what I was expecting. Was there some sort of costume party going on?

“Do people in Chicago normally dress up like this?” I asked as Jaxson stepped around the front of the car.

He passed his keys to a valet. “Only in Magic Side. We tend to draw the most interesting people.”

Great. He’d taken me to dinner in the middle of crazy town.

I followed Jaxson toward a solitary black door marked with the restaurant’s name in bold white letters. We cut in front of the line of waiting patrons, and a handsome bouncer with rippling muscles opened the door for us. He tipped his head as we entered. What did Jaxson do around here to command so much respect?

The sound of jazz and the aroma of amber and spice overwhelmed my senses. Cocktail waitresses in red wove between candlelit tables occupied by people sipping fancy drinks. Waiters flitted around with trays of delicious-looking food, and my stomach groaned.

Toward the back of the room, several people were swinging their hips and twirling to the beat of the live band that I couldn’t quite see on the stage. The pulse of the music was hypnotic. A sweet riff from the horns sent shivers down my spine. I’d never seen anything like it in my whole life, nor been anywhere even close.

Certainly not in Belmont.

The people were out of this world as well. Absolutely gorgeous, but to be fair, there were quite a few with strange costumes. I had to shimmy out of the way of a weirdo wearing a headband with horns. He’d gone so far as to paint his skin a pale shade of blue. Completely nuts.

I caught the eyes of a man dressed like a vampire, and suddenly, it all made sense: there had to be some kind of Comic Con going on. I knew they held a few big comic and gaming conventions in the city every year, but I wasn’t a big enough fangirl to shell out the money to attend one.

I followed Jaxson to a dark marble bar illuminated with blue lights.

“How about a drink, Ms. Caine?” His smoky voice wrapped around me, whispering of mystery and power.

I nodded because my voice failed. I knew I should run from him—he was dangerous. But somehow, when he looked at me, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

He moved like he owned the place. People melted away around us until we were isolated at the bar.

Who was this man?

A tough-looking brunette bartender swung over. “What can I get you, hon?”

I tended to drink like my folks had: whiskey, add one glass. Panicking, I tried to think of a fancy alternative and managed, “A Manhattan?”

“Two,” Jaxson echoed.

She nodded and grabbed a lowball glass, eying Jaxson with a raised brow.

I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles. I was grossly underdressed in my wrinkled sundress, and my hair had seen better days. I was obviously small town in the big city, all the while standing next to the hottest guy in the bar.

God, how could a man like that stomach being seen in public with a bedraggled girl like me? Embarrassment bored through my remaining confidence like a swarm of termites.

Why, for heaven’s sake, had the cop recommended this place? There was something almost magical about the atmosphere. It had to be insanely exclusive, and I couldn’t be more out of my element.

I made a couple of stealthy adjustments to my dress and looked up. Half a dozen women were shooting daggers at me with their eyes, probably wondering how I had the gall to be with him—the man the whole place seemed to revolve around.

Like a slap in the face, that hardened my resolve real fast.

Screw them.

I’d been attacked by some kind psycho super-soldiers the night before, and I’d killed one of them. I could handle a couple of bar bitches. I tossed my hair to let them know that I’d killed better folk and that I could wear whatever I damn well pleased.

Then I gave the one on my left the look.

To my surprise, she backed off with a shocked expression, then quickly averted her eyes.

Chicago was so weird.

I looked up at Jaxson and froze. He was studying me. Intensely. Heat warmed my cheeks, and I lowered my eyes, just like the woman had.

The bartender slid a couple Manhattans in front of us, and I welcomed the interruption. I took a sip and savored the sweet and smoky flavors, delighting in the way the whiskey warmed my stomach, then followed Jaxson to a table. Several women shot inviting glances at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He wouldn’t notice you, either, if you weren’t a witness.

I adjusted my hair—my best characteristic—as I sat. For a second, Jaxson’s full lips twitched downward, as if somehow, my hair was an insult.

I buried my face in the menu to hide my shame. Whatever moment of confidence I’d experienced at the bar was over—clearly, the only reason he’d brought me here was to buy my cooperation.

Well, he’d soon learn that my cooperation had a steep price.

The menu was all small plates, so I didn’t feel overly embarrassed when we wound up practically ordering one of everything, along with another round of drinks.

Soon enough, a waitress swept over with plates of bacon-topped figs, charred brussel sprouts, and endive cups filled with some kind of cheese and herbs. By the time I was halfway through, I was thankful I was wearing something flowy and comfortable.

I kept trying to get tidbits of information out of Jaxson, but he delayed or deflected, instead responding with prying questions I didn’t want to answer. Stymied, I mostly kept my head down and focused on the food.

Just sitting across from Jaxson was intimidating. I could feel everyone’s eyes on us. He drew attention to himself like a black hole, all the light and color of the room swirling around him, slowly being pulled in.

So was I.

He was beyond eye candy with his sleeves rolled up, lightly circling the rim of his glass with his thumb and index finger. I’d never seen a man built like him before. So much strength, tightly bound. His jaw set as if he were holding back a great force in his chest.

“Who are you?” I finally asked as I watched the room study him.

“I’m the man who’s hunting your attackers.”

“That’s not an answer. Who are you? Who do you work for?”

He set his glass down as if dropping a heavy burden. “I run Dockside, this section of the city.”

That explained a lot—he was a king in his petty kingdom. Probably a powerful politician. No wonder everyone seemed to bend before him.

I opened my mouth to press him, but Jaxson leaned back and traced me head to toe with his eyes. They flashed gold for a second, and heat rushed through me.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” he asked.

“You know who I am.” I prickled. He seemed to know a lot about too many things.

“Who were your parents?”

That killed whatever heat had built up in me. “Nobodies. They’re dead,” I snapped. “It’s time to stop delaying and tell me what’s going on.”

I shoved the last bacon-topped fig in my mouth to make a point.

Jaxson inclined his head with a look of amusement in his eyes. “You have a healthy appetite.”

Was he judging me? I wiped my sticky fingers on my napkin. “My only appetite is for information. Dish.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who attacked me? You said you believed my story—that I was attacked by people with claws for hands. That they’d chased me down on the road. What the hell were they?”

Jaxson looked around the room, then rose. “We should discuss these things discreetly. Why don’t you join me on the terrace?”

I nodded. At last, I was going to get some real answers—and they were going to be good ones, because Jaxson didn’t want people eavesdropping.

We took our drinks, left the table, and headed to the rooftop terrace. It was packed with revelers when we arrived, but Jaxson gave the waitstaff a look, and the place emptied in a few minutes.

Holy smokes, he’d just kicked everyone out like it was nothing.

The terrace offered a view of the entire island. The skyscrapers of downtown sparkled to the northwest, and the whole city was a sea of light, with the nearly full moon floating high overhead. A light breeze stirred the leaves of potted plants, and I sighed, for some strange reason feeling at home here overlooking the city below.

I joined Jaxson at a small table positioned next to the railing. “Okay, you’ve used your mojo to clear the deck somehow,” I said. “You need to start giving me some straight answers. Who attacked me? None of it makes sense.”

He leaned casually against the railing, disarmingly handsome and dangerous. “Ms. Caine, when you set foot in Magic Side, you entered a world very different from the one that you thought you knew. You’re going to need to open your mind to possibilities you’ve never imagined.”

“Fine. I’m used to batshit-crazy discussions with my aunt. Who attacked me?”

Jaxson fixed me with a long, serious gaze.

“Werewolves.”