Chapter 10

 

When Reece stumbled home, the events of the day caught up with her. She was more weary than she remembered being since her father died. His sudden death had made her feel numb, incapable of constructive thought or progress. All she'd wanted to do was cocoon and hide from the world for a while. Tonight, if she could take a break, hide her head in the sand, and pretend werewolves, gargoyles and witches didn't exist, it would be a godsend. Unfortunately, reprieves rarely happen. She opened her apartment door to find Andre and a man who must be his father whirling to greet her. Damian stood behind them.

The older man didn't wait to say what was on his mind. "I owe my son's life to you. Thank you."

How could you snarl a reply to that? Reece gathered any shreds of human dignity she could muster. "It sounds like you tried to do the right thing, and it didn't happen."

"Bernard." The father spat the name. "My sister's son. Always weak. That's why she sent him to me. Nothing but trouble. Always."

Reece wanted to ask why they'd trust such a man with the protection money they had to pay every month, but then she remembered the dynamics of her own family. Someone was right when they said you chose your friends, but your family chose you. Blood, no matter how murky, was thicker than water. "How much did he take for himself?"

"Enough that they killed him and turned my son into …. what? A werewolf?"

 

"Your son will have more help than most with what happened to him," Damian assured him.

The father turned to gaze at him. "In my country, we revere gargoyles."

"Revere is too much." Damian looked down at the floor, uncomfortable. "We try to protect humans. That doesn't always mean we succeed."

The father shrugged. "You get what you get when you're dealing with mortals."

"What happens now?" Damian asked. "The rogues demanded protection money. You tried to pay it. That went wrong. What do they do now?"

"They leave us alone." The man's hands gestured as he talked. "They're the ones who screwed up."

"If they don't see it that way?"

The father's expression turned hard. "I did what they asked. My son didn't deserve to be punished."

Damian took a minute to assess that. "Did they come with more demands for Isabelle's husband?"

"After she died? Not if they're smart. He doted on her. She was extraordinary."

Sadness settled over Reece. Good people were getting hurt, people who had every intention of contributing to life. "The rogue pack has to be stopped."

Damian nodded. "It won't be easy."

"Nothing that counts is." Reece's dad always told her that when she complained. When she was young, it annoyed her. Now, she cherished it.

Andre's father gave her a long, hard look. So did Damian. Finally, the father said, "It looks like my son's in good hands. If you need help, tell me what to do. But for now, I have to get to my restaurants. Bernard's murder made the papers. People will be curious. They'll come. I have to keep an eye on things."

Andre looked worried. "I can't help you right now."

"I know. We'll manage. We'll find a way to work around your problem. If you're gone a couple nights a month, the rest of us will work around it.'

Reece shook her head. Being in the restaurant business might be the best werewolf hours she'd heard of.

Andre walked his father to the door. When they were alone once more, he turned to look at her. Dark circles cratered his eyes. He looked as tired as she felt. "I've only seen one bedroom here. Are we going to share?"

"You get the couch."

Andre eyed it skeptically. "It's barely long enough. You have a king-sized bed. We wouldn't touch unless we wanted to. If you take pity on Damian, we could have a ménage a trois."

Andre was goading her, and she knew it. "I don't ménage an anything." She gestured to the red, leather sofa. "Pull your knees up. You'll fit."

"There's no way I can change your mind about our sleeping arrangements?"

Andre's gray eyes glittered, his expression more serious.

The sooner they got this over with, the better. Reece looked past the bookshelves to her huge bed. "I don't do casual relationships. Are you proposing?"

Damian choked on a laugh. Andre threw a dirty look his way, and he pretended to be busy straightening magazines on the coffee table.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Andre asked.

"No," they said in unison. Too quickly. Andre raised an eyebrow.

"Not everything in life has to be serious," he said.

"Really? Life's never seemed all that frivolous to me." Reece opened a black, leather ottoman and tossed a pillow on the sofa. "This is a good time to tell you that my little brother and sister are spending the night with me tomorrow. You have to clear out."

"Is that safe?"

"You can come to my nest," Damian told him.

"A nest?" Andre looked confused. "Did I hear you right?"

"I work with two older gargoyles. They can save you if you're in a pinch, but you'll have to have good manners. We get along with werewolves, as long as they're well behaved."

Andre grimaced. "I get the point. I’m on my best behavior, or I’m on my own."

"That's pretty much it." Reece padded to the kitchen. "I'm hungry."

Damian smiled and started after her, but Andre hurried to the refrigerator. "I've cooked my whole life. It's what my family does. What would you like?"

A scowl pulled at Damian's brows. "I'm a decent cook myself."

"Is that so?" Andre looked him up and down. "Does your family own three bistros?"

The two men faced each other. Damian said, "I've lived in Italy, France, and Spain. I learned the cuisines of all three countries."

"Learned it, but not breathed it, inhaled it. I learned to cook in my grandma's kitchen."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Reece grabbed a spoon and reached past them to open a cupboard door. She popped the lid off a Chef Boyardee and began eating out of the can.

"Disgusting," the two men said as one.

"It's food, and you two sure as hell aren't feeding me."

Damian sighed. "I need to join Benito soon. You and Andre have a pleasant night."

She heard the resentment in his voice, and it gave her a tiny thrill. "What if we take turns? Each of us pulls kitchen duty every third night."

Damian's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What sort of things do you make?""I've survived this long on my own, haven't I?"

"What's in a Béarnaise sauce?" he quizzed.

"Doesn't that come in a jar?"

He shook his head. "Andre and I will take turns cooking to show appreciation for you letting us stay here, and we'll pitch in on the costs."

"You just don't want to eat what I make."

"You said it. I didn't." He didn't bother with a white lie. Of course, he didn't tell lies, did he?

She turned to Andre, but she should have known better. He was as serious about food as Damian.

He spread his hands in a charming gesture. "I'm with the gargoyle. It's the least we can do."

"Chickens." She turned on her heel and went to the sofa.

Andre followed and sank down beside her. "Good, I've finally got you in my bed."

She couldn't help it. She laughed.

His grin was dazzling. "You see? I can be very persuasive."

Damian's expression turned dark as he started to the balcony. "She teaches martial arts, you know. I'd mind my manners."

Was he jealous? Reece bit her bottom lip, then it struck her that he'd seemed more aggravated about sharing her kitchen than he was about sharing her. The light hit his face. He looked…what? Pensive?

"A black belt?" Andre looked surprised. "I'd better learn some new moves."

"Hope you don't mind a few bruises." Damian's voice had an edge to it. There was a flap of wings and Benito landed beside him on the balcony. They were going to the warehouse again tonight, Reece knew. She went to the French doors to watch them fly away.

"Get some sleep," Damian called to her. "You're a grump."

She glared. If that was his idea of charm, he had a lot to learn. To her dismay, she turned to find Andre standing in front of the refrigerator, gnawing on a raw steak.

"Sorry," he said. "I think changing back and forth did something to my appetite."

She plopped her empty can on the kitchen counter. "That's it. I'm going to bed. Eat anything you want besides me. If you make a list, I'll go to the store tomorrow and stock the cupboards." The minute she was out of sight, she heard the refrigerator door open again. She'd be lucky if there was a stalk of celery left for breakfast tomorrow.