Part 14 (1/2)

”Us.”

I didn't realize I'd said the word aloud until I heard his chuckle. I twisted to glance over my shoulder but found I couldn't speak. Not with the way he looked, heat in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils, the tightening of his jaw. I swear I could smell his arousal. Or was it my own.

”Bran . . .”

I didn't know what I wanted other than him. And that was pure stupid.

He said nothing, as if waiting for me to dig both our graves.

I shook my head as if one or both of us had spoken. ”Not a good idea.”

His lips quirked upwards but no smile reached his eyes.

It took everything I had to move, to pull myself away, and stand up, locking my legs because they quivered. Not exhaustion this time but with a need I wasn't willing to admit. ”It's late.”

Stupid comment but better than asking where the nearest bedroom was, though that was my implication. Even I knew not to throw kerosene onto a fire.

He nodded toward a door I hadn't noticed yet. The s.p.a.ce felt more like it had originally been, a warehouse rather than a home, so it threw me for a few seconds as to what he meant by his gesture.

”Your room,” he said at last, his voice raspy and raw, as if he was struggling as much as I was.

Thank the Spirits. I hated being the only puddle of need.

Fido Francois yawned at my feet, which helped give me enough umph to move. I'd forgotten all about his presence, which only went to show how far gone I was.

I waited until I was across the room, as far from Bran as possible before I turned and trusted my tone enough to say, ”Thank you. For the back rub.”

It was meant to be light and casual. But all I could see was Bran's look that promised we were not done yet. What smoldered between us was not over. Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER 28.

Jeb woke shortly after nine though it'd been after six when he finally returned to his bedroom last night, or better yet, that same morning.

The French police were less aggressive than he expected, or maybe the first go around was only meant as a warm-up. No questions about Alex. Most about his relations.h.i.+p with Philippe. From some of the questions asked Jeb realized his old friend had fingers in far more pies than even Jeb knew about. Business interests. Politics. International connections.

Before he'd closed his eyes, jet lag and grief pummeling him, Jeb had tried a journey to the other side, to see if he could connect with Philippe. No such luck. Not that Jeb held high hopes. One didn't dabble in the spirit world like a quick day trip to the seash.o.r.e. To really learn anything he needed to treat his gift as the responsibility it was.

Later then, after he asked some more questions of Pdraig. And after he found new lodgings. He didn't feel right being in his old friend's home alone. Not because of fear of a threat against his own life, but Philippe possessed a bounty of possessions and, in spite of the Frenchman's words to the contrary, Jeb didn't trust Pdraig enough yet. All the protege had to do was point a finger or raise some doubts as to what might be missing in the house and Jeb would suffer. One's reputation, once stained, remained stained.

Stretching and mentally reviewing what needed to be done first, Jeb's eye was caught by a piece of paper slipped beneath the door. The cream color stood out against the silk Isfahan rug of golds and blues.

How did someone get the note get into the house and know which door to slide it under?

Jeb felt the quality of the note as he picked it up. It was handwritten in older fas.h.i.+oned ink, in a style it took a few moments to decipher. When he did his heart stuttered.

Your son is in danger. Your daughter is not safe.

If you wish to see either again: Noon Small park behind 72 Rue de Varenne.

Come alone.

The last line felt like a kick. With Philippe dead, Jeb had no one else to come with him. He had no doubt he'd go. As soon as he figured out how to grab a taxi and find the location.

He dressed with a jerky, rough urgency, though he had several hours before he was supposed to arrive at the location noted. But he wanted to get a feel of the place, a sense if this was a trap or worse.

By the time he opened the door he had a rudimentary plan. But he didn't expect to see Pdraig waiting for him in the hallway. Last time he'd seen the young man was exiting his own interrogation last night. By the time Jeb finished with his and showed the police out of the townhouse Pdraig was long gone.

”What are you doing here?” he said, his voice brusquer than he meant as the younger man stepped back.

”I was sent to summon you to a meeting of the Council today.” Jeb remembered that Pdraig was involved with Council business in a periphery capacity. Sort of a Sergeant-at-Arms, who had acted as Philippe's right hand. Most of the members, except for Jeb, had an a.s.sociate. That individual had no say in decisions made but was held to the same level of accountability and secrecy. Right now Pdraig looked as tired and strained as Jeb felt. ”At one. Chamber locations.”

Good. Whatever was going to happen at the designated park took precedence. Depending on the outcome there, whatever had been set up, Jeb would attend the Council meeting. Since there would only be six present it could not be a formal meeting, and no doubt it'd been convened as a result of Philippe's death. But the speed of calling all the remaining members told Jeb one thing for sure. The other a.s.sociates, who represented all seven continents, must be in close enough proximity with such short notice.

”Will all the Council be in attendance?” he asked Pdraig.

”Oui. We have been called to discuss the issue of the dress designer and the possibility of drugs that could expose non-humans to the human population.”

But Jeb had not officially been summoned. Not yet at least. Interesting. Jeb's tone must have said as much as Pdraig cleared his throat and added, ”Five of the members were at the soiree last night. Where . . . where, you know. . .”

”Where Philippe was killed?”

”Oui.”

Jeb's radar just tilted from interesting to dangerous. Were some factions within the Council banding together against other members? ”Was there Council business being held there?”

Pdraig gave an emphatic shake of his head. ”Not that I was aware of, though Philippe might have had his own agenda, outside of the Council.”

Then why have the Council members near? Unease rode Jeb. Too many coincidences happening. Van's disappearance. Jeb being in Paris at the summons of an old friend. The threats against Alex. What drew the other members here, too?

Something was going down, he just wished the h.e.l.l he understood what.

Without another word he started toward the door, his duffel bag clenched in his hand.

”You going somewhere?” Pdraig asked, a frown carving a groove between his brows.

”I'll be staying elsewhere.” Jeb's tone indicated his mind was on more pressing issues. It was just half past nine but he felt the time pus.h.i.+ng at him.

”You seem disturbed. Did something happen after I left last night?”

”No.” Jeb looked at the Irishman and reined in his impatience. This was still Philippe's friend, his protege. He deserved more. ”I received some news. About my children. I'm going to look into it now.”

Pdraig lifted his brows but said nothing.

”Did you leave a note under my door last night?” Jeb asked.