Chapter Twenty-Five
Several days later, sitting in Sebastiani Security’s corner conference room with Lukas, Jack, Bailey, Chico, and Gideon Lupinsky, Wyland tried to focus on Gideon’s report, but he wasn’t having much luck. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tia’s cheery wave, and to the soft, clinging kiss she’d given him as they’d parted ways in the garage earlier that evening. She’d asked if she could take one of the SUVs to Stillwater, but she hadn’t mentioned why she needed to go, or how long she’d be gone.
Dread sludged through his system. Was she moving back home?
He shifted in the chair once again. The damned thing felt like it had sprouted tacks.
“Something to add, Wyland?” Gideon inquired.
“No. Please continue.” Now that Dominic Reese was in custody, how could he keep Tia from moving back to Stillwater? How could he keep her, period? Bloody hell, her independence—one of the traits he’d come to most appreciate—was about to circle around and bite him on the ass.
Gideon flipped to the next page of his report. In the last hour, the Commander had covered the high points of the case, going over Tia’s interview transcript, Mila’s, and his own. With each moment that passed, his role in this meeting became more complex. Doctor, lawyer, eyewitness, yes—but victim? No. His fractured finger was a self-inflicted injury. Regardless of what their law might say, Dominic pulling a weapon in a Council member’s presence shouldn’t carry a heavier penalty than actually using the weapon on Tia. She was the one who’d been assaulted, whose throat looked like a crazy quilt.
She was the victim here.
“After being examined at the ER, Mr. Reese was transported to Central Holding, where he was processed and once again read his rights,” Gideon said. “He declined legal representation. I was about fifteen minutes into our interview when a lawyer showed up and asked to speak privately with her client.”
“Isn’t that convenient,” Lukas muttered.
And it’s the law. “Who’s representing him?”
“Penelope Winton Miller.”
“Krispin Woolf’s personal lawyer?” Jack’s eyebrow climbed. “That’s overkill for a case like this.”
“Not if the Alpha thought Dominic might be charged with assaulting a Council member,” Wyland said. Perry Reese had worked for Krispin Woolf for years. Maybe Woolf was stepping in because Dominic’s father couldn’t. He said as much, adding that while they’d been in Mila’s office, Dominic had said that the Alpha had rejected Dominic’s plea that he be allowed to end his father’s life. “Apparently Woolf told him using The Old Ways would be too visible, too risky.”
Bailey looked horrified. “Does that mean that if Perry Reese wasn’t so high-profile, Woolf would have signed off on the idea?”
“I don’t think so.” Chico levered himself away from the brick wall, then dropped into the open chair next to Jack. “Say what you will about the Alpha’s business practices, but I think he finally realizes times are changing.”
Gideon snorted. “More likely he realizes forensics is changing.”
“That, too,” Chico acknowledged. “But I have to tell you that, among the wolves, Lorin Schlessinger bonding with your brother—one of those quote/unquote ‘damaged Lupinskys’—was a game-changer.” He cast a sheepish glance at Gideon. “No offense meant.”
“None taken.”
His response made sense. Of all his immediate family, only Gideon was healthy.
Or…was he?
Gideon had literally been the first responder the night Tia was assaulted, arriving at the same time as the hospital security team.
Gideon had already been in the building.
Why?
“During our interview, Mr. Reese seemed fixated on the issue of pure bloodlines, genetic purity, and how the Underworld Council had devolved into…what was the phrase he used?” Gideon swiped at his tablet. “Ah, here it is. A ‘nest of nepotism.’ One minute he was spouting the old-school GPL line, next he was apologizing to the Alpha, and then he was railing about Ms. Quinn. Before the lawyer arrived, Mr. Reese admitted he’d been following Ms. Quinn for months, since before she moved to Stillwater. He also admitted to breaking into her home, and leaving the garter snakes in her bedroom.”
Wyland barely quelled a full-body shudder.
“Well, whether the violence against a Council member charges stick or not—” Gideon gave him a careful glance “—assault with a deadly, with multiple witnesses? No way he’ll walk.”
Not if he had anything to say about it—and thankfully, Mila was cooperating with the prosecution.
“He probably thought the snakes would give Tia a damn good scare, but why do that? To what end?” Lukas asked. “I don’t get it.”
“I don’t, either.” Gideon set his tablet on the table. “The only thing he accomplished with that stunt was to give Ms. Quinn reason to move to the most heavily guarded private home between the Twin Cities and the Wisconsin border.”
“Which might have caused him to escalate.” Wyland looked down at his splinted finger. “Going from scaring someone with garter snakes to cutting them with a switchblade is a significant leap.”
“No shit,” Chico muttered. “And why contact Tia in the first place? Did he really think she’d help him bring down the Council? Expose our existence to humanity? The dude is delusional.”
Did the delusion go beyond Dominic? How much indoctrination, or radicalization, might the Genetic Purity League be responsible for inflicting upon its members? The Council must find out.
“Reese will be psychologically assessed before I can question him again—” Gideon’s phone blipped. “Hang on a second. Might be the lab.” As Gideon read, a satisfied smile grew. He glanced at Jack. “Looks like your hunch was right.”
“What hunch?” Wyland asked.
“Mila Stanton was running a test during our interview,” Jack explained. “When the test finished, I caught a momentary glimpse of unencrypted patient data, which she quickly blocked from view. I figured if I could see the data, other visitors might, too.” Jack tapped his pen against the table. “Given how frequently Dominic visited Mila at work, it made me wonder whether he might have seen Bailey’s data, then sent her a letter.”
And what of Mila Stanton? Her punishment was his to decide—her work lapse had a confidential Council impact—but nothing he’d considered could possibly be as effective as the punishment she’d already inflicted upon herself.
Maybe Mila would be willing to provide some helpful information about the GPL. Yes, he’d give her a chance to help.
“It also appears as though Perry Reese’s home office printer was the one used to produce the threatening letters,” Gideon said. “Each letter has the same half-centimeter ink deposit located in the lower left corner. The test pages from Perry Reese’s printer are a visual match.” Gideon set down his phone. “We’re still combing through the computers, and have yet to interview other family members about their use of the office.”
“That poor family,” Chico murmured.
“We’ll also test the switchblade against the nick pattern you discovered on the door at the Archives,” Gideon said. “All in all, I think we have our man.”
Thank the universe.
“How is Tia doing?” Lukas asked him.
What was Tia doing? “She’s healing well. She’s already back at work.” She’d bounced back quickly, having slept through the short procedure to repair her lacerated earlobe. The plastic surgeon he’d called in hadn’t been pleased about Wyland’s very close supervision.
“And Mila Stanton?”
“Fine.” After examining her at the ER, Mila’s mulish expression told him not to bother with his usual lecture about telling her parents about her health problems. This time, he’d listened. Mila’s comments to Dominic about her little sister Katarina had burrowed into his brain, a tiny sliver he couldn’t quite dislodge. As Tia would say, something felt…off.
Lukas gestured to his hand. “And how are you?”
“Fine.” The splint didn’t hinder his work, and he was burying himself in it. After all, if he and Tia didn’t have a spare minute to talk, she couldn’t tell him she was leaving.
Leaving him.
What the hell was she doing in Stillwater?
Lukas turned towards Gideon. “What do you need from Sebastiani Security? As always, our resources are at your disposal.”
Wyland’s phone vibrated. Fumbling it from his jacket pocket, he quickly read: I’m back home. Meet me at the Archives?
She was back. Back home.
Bailey leaned over. “No sexting during meetings.”
“Why not? It’s most invigorating.”
She blinked.
Pocketing the phone, he started packing his briefcase. “Does anyone need anything more from me?” When he pushed his chair back from the table, no one looked surprised. All those times he’d left meetings to respond to emergency calls were paying off.
“Hope it’s nothing serious,” Lukas said.
“Quite serious, actually.” His urge to see Tia was as serious as a heart attack.
“This patient requires his personal touch,” Bailey said blandly.
“Indeed.”
Lukas’s gaze ping-ponged between them. It was time to leave.
“Hey,” Bailey whispered. She caught his uninjured hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Go get her.”
He kissed her cheek as he rose. “I’ll do my best.”
As he walked toward the lobby, the idea burst from his subconscious like a submarine surfacing at sea. He knew exactly what he had to do.
What was that phrase Chico always used before a difficult job? ‘Go big or go home?’ He had to go big or go home. Take the home run swing.
Nothing less would do.
Yet another mechanical hum behind her.
Tia stopped typing, swung away from the computer screen, and shot the shifting shelving unit a death glare. What the hell was Wyland doing back there, playing Tetris with the furniture?
What was his deal?
Yes, when he arrived, he’d kissed her hello—a very nice kiss hello—but as soon as he laid it on her, he’d disappeared into the stacks, processing the latest batch of books and manuscripts as if the centuries-old paper would burst into flame if he moved too quickly. He seemed withdrawn, remote, and his thoughts were on lockdown.
She nibbled on her thumbnail. Had something happened at work? Was there a problem with a patient? Should she ask him what was going on? If something was going on, could he even tell her?
Exasperated, she turned back to the screen, where Sigurd’s biography glowed. If this was an indication of what living with the Vampire Second would be like—him, all mentally constipated, and her, trying to figure out whether it was okay to ask a freaking question? She’d tap out. It was no way to live.
Maybe moving her home office to Vamp Central had been a wee bit premature.
She glanced at her now-ragged nail, then plucked a flake of purple polish off her tongue. “And now he’s ruining my damn manicure.” She settled back to work, her fingers clacking against the keys a little more loudly than was strictly necessary.
“Tia?” Wyland walked toward her, down the center aisle, looking nervous but determined. He’d shed his suit coat, loosened his beautiful tie, and popped the top two buttons of his dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms and that gorgeous vintage watch.
A wave of sensual craving rippled through her. “Are you ready to go?”
“Not quite yet.” Clearing his throat, he looked at the screen where she was working. “Working on Sigurd’s bio?”
She nodded, gesturing to the open instant messaging window. “With Bailey’s help, I just finished formatting the document. It’s almost ready to upload to the Archives.”
“Good.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I need to update my bio.”
“Tonight?” Seriously? “Can’t it wait?”
“Just a quick update.”
“Whatever.” While he made his precious update, she could send Thane a text message, telling him it might be best if he put his plans to transform the second floor guest bedroom into her office on hold.
Rather than sitting down at the other workstation, Wyland reached over her shoulder for her computer mouse. She couldn’t move, couldn’t reach for her phone, without bumping into him. His subtle ocean scent permeated the space, scrambling her thoughts. Though the splint hindered his movements somewhat, he pulled up his own bio, and went into edit mode.
Her eyes widened as the mouse hovered over “Relationship Status.” Suddenly, his mental drawbridges dropped, leaving him wide open.
Such fierce, unruly emotions, all of them for her.
“Tia Tèodora Quinn...” She heard him swallow. “Would you do me the honor of being my bondmate?”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “Oh my.” She hadn’t expected…this.
“I know it’s fast,” he blurted. “I know I’m no prize. Your life will have constraints you can’t possibly imagine, political ramifications you don’t yet understand—”
“Shh.”
“Tia—”
“You asked me a question. Give me a chance to respond.” Thankfully his left hand rested on her shoulder, because without it, she’d probably float out of her seat. Taking control of the mouse, she selected ‘Bonded’ from the drop-down menu, typed her own name in the ‘To Whom’ field, and saved the change with a surprisingly steady hand.
When he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she cuddled into his scent, his heat. “I love you so much,” he murmured.
Hearing him say the words aloud was sublime. “I love you, too.”
Relief flooded from him, along with a giddy happiness that twined with her own. He moved in to kiss her, but she held up her hand. “Hold on a sec.” Retrieving her own bio, she changed her relationship status from ‘Single’ to ‘Bonded,’ then typed his name with a flourish. “There,” she whispered. “It’s official.”
They were bondmates.
And then his lips were on hers, sealing the deal with a kiss that told her…everything. He loved her. Wanted her. Needed her, desperately and always.
*ping*
His fingers plunged through her hair, pulling their mouths more tightly together.
*ping*
She reached for his ponytail holder and yanked. When his hair spilled loose, she buried her face in it, inhaling as if the scent was essential to life. “We’re not going to make it home,” she panted.
“Fine with me.”
*ping*
*ping*
*ping*
Wyland lifted his head with a scowl.
“Instant messages.” She glanced over to the screen, where images of celebration—confetti, champagne bottles, fireworks, kazoos—filled the small instant message box. “Bailey must have noticed the status change.” She grinned up at Wyland. “How many other IM chats do you think she just started?”
“Who’d be online at this time of night?”
*ping*
[ASebastiani:] Dudes! Congratulations! So happy for you.
*ping*
[SFontaine:] OMG seriously? Congratulations!
*ping*
[ChicoP:] <high five>
She logged off without responding.
“You’re ruthless. I like that in a woman.” Wyland took her by the hand, nibbling her knuckles. “How about we celebrate at home?”
She grabbed her purse. “Great idea.” Because that wisp of an English accent was melting her panties, and she wanted them…off. “So, about the guest bedroom…”
He turned off the overhead lights, plunging the room into darkness. “You’ll never sleep there again.”
No one would, but tomorrow was soon enough to tell him.
His fangs flashed. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”
“Same goes,” she murmured, flashing her own. She’d just drawn him into a wet, teasing kiss when Axl Rose wailed from inside her purse.
“Turn that damn thing off.”
As she set her phone to Vibrate, Wyland’s phone chirped. “Looks like the word’s getting around,” she said with a sigh.
Wyland glanced at his phone. “Elliott offers us his congratulations.” When it chirped again, he flicked a button and put the device back in its holder without looking. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Let’s.” As they started up the stairs, she ignored the vibrations coming from inside her purse, snuggling closer to Wyland. Tomorrow would be was soon enough to respond, and tell others their news.
Because tonight, and always, were theirs.