"I can relate. Mike and me almost got into a huge fight before Heft."
"Over what?"
"Over nothing."
"Come on, cough up."
"It was stupid."
"Did it have anything to do with you being an alpha now?" Jon asked quietly.
"What, did Moira put it in the newsletter?"
"No. You're different. You walk different, stand different. . . even smell a little different. I bet Michael knew before you did and just waited for you to figure it out."
"Well, we almost tore each other's heads off. I had to get the hell out of there before I did something really stupid. Even for me."
Jon pondered that one in silence, while Derik finished the beer. Finally, he said, "It's a dangerous business, I guess. Sometimes. You're lucky you didn't really fight. The last thing you need is to be running the Pack. Also," he added matter-of-factly, "Jeannie would have shot you in the face."
Derik shrugged.
"And now you're with that cute, curly haired redhead."
"Yeah."
"Human, huh? Well, congratulations."
"Thanks."
"You don't seem like a happy mate-to-be, you'll excuse me for pointing it out."
"We've been fighting a lot." Finally, an unvarnished truth! "She might be having second thoughts."
Jon shook his head. "She hasn't even had first thoughts. How long have you guys known each other?"
"Never mind."
"So, less than a week."
"Never mind, you nosy S.O.B."
"Swept her off her feet, huh?"
"Something like that," Derik said lamely.
"Uh-huh."
"Well, it was." He'd thought it would be bad, trying to fool a regular Pack member, but this was Jon. Practically his littermate! Of all the safe houses in all the world, why'd he have to walk into Jon's? "It's been kind of a stressful week."
"Mmm. You know what your mom always said."
"If you chew on my hardwood floors one more time, I'll break your neck?"
"The other thing."
"Yeah," he said sourly. "Stick to your own kind."
Jon spread his hands, but didn't say anything.
21
"SO!" Sara said brightly, bouncing into the living room, which was floor-to-ceiling windows on the entire west side. She'd thought Kansas was supposed to be flat and boring, but it had a kind of wild beauty about it—like a prairie rose. And the windows in this place! Werewolves must not like being unable to see out. Well, of course she already knew that from Mr. "Can't we please get a convertible?" "What should we do?"
Derik, the big dope, nearly fell out of his chair. "What? Now? What are you talking about?"
"It's only nine o'clock, calm down," she said. "Do you guys want to watch a movie? Play a game?"
"A game?" Jon asked. He was a yummy one, all right, with that build and that hair and those green, green eyes. No Derik, of course, but who was? He was a watcher, though, while Derik was a doer. She could tell. . . Jon didn't say much, but his eyes were always calculating, judging, weighing. She pitied the house burglar who tried to crackthis place. "What kind of game?"
"I don't know . . . this isyour house. Whatcha got?"
"The only games we have are Candyland and Chutes and Ladders," Jon admitted.
"Oh, you have a little girl, that's right—I saw the pictures in the hall. She's adorable." Adorable, with about six hundred too many teeth. A truly frightening smile for a four-year-old. "Really darling."
"Thank you. Shouldn't you guys—um—aren't you tired? Don't you want to go to bed?"
"No," Sara said, at the exact moment Derik said, "Yes."
"Uh-huh," Jon said, narrowing his eyes at Sara. "Tell me again why you guys are—"
"Deck of cards?" she said hurriedly. "You've got to have one of those lying around."
"Right!" Derik said heartily. "I could really go for a—a game of—vim—"
"Cards!" Sara said brightly.
Jon sighed and got up. "I think I can find one around here somewhere. Be right back."
Once he left, Derik muttered, "Very smooth."
"Shh! I thought you said he could hear everything."
"He can. When are we going to bed?"
"When you stop being an asshole." She glanced at her watch. "Shouldn't take more than a few years."
"Very f—"
"Here we are," Jon said with fake heartiness.
"This isn't such a great idea," Derik said.
"Horny bastard," Sara muttered.
"Well, yeah, but besides that."
"Don't be such a spoilsport." Jon sat down on the end of the couch and pulled the coffee table closer to them. Though the tension was thick enough to swim through, he ignored it and, ever the polite host, handed the cards to Sara. "One or two games, big deal."
Sara was blinking in confusion. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Sare-Bear, we've sort of—"
"Got to stop calling me that."
"—got the advantage. I mean, you can't bluff us. We'll know it. Your body language gives it away, even your smell changes."
"Gross," she commented.
"We'll always know when you have a good hand or a bad hand. It's not really fair. Now checkers ... we could play checkers ..."
"That's okay," she said. "Cards will pass the time. Consider me warned."
"Seriously," Jon said, shifting uncomfortably on his end of the couch. "It's like playing cards when we can see your cards, but you can't see ours. Not very sporting."
"Oh, hush up and deal. It'll be fun. What are we playing for? Got any quarters?"
"Oh, boy," Derik said half an hour later.
Sara, stacking her quarters, didn't look up.
"Let me get this straight, no pun intended," Jon said. "In ten hands, you've been dealt a full house, queens over jacks, a straight, a straight flush, four aces, another straight flush, another full house, aces over kings, and another four of a kind. Aces again."
"What can I say? Lady luck likes me."
"Uh-huh."
"Told you it'd be fun."
"Uh-huh. Derik, can I talk to you a minute?"
"No," Derik said.
"Now."
"That's what I said, now. You just misheard. Back in a minute, Sara."
"You, uh, want me to come with?" she said, nervously watching Jon grab Derik by the shoulder and haul him away.
"No! Don't go near him. I mean, I'll be fine. I mean—"
Then they were in the hall, and then they were in the office with the door closed.
"Okay," Jon said.
"Now, Jon—"
"What the hell are you up to?"
"Shh! Sara will hear."
"She couldn't hear if I left the door open, and you know it, What's going on?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Jon glared, and Derik didn't drop his gaze. Finally, Jon dropped his and said to the floor, "For the record, you're both full of shit. You're not engaged, you barely know each other. You're hiding something huge, and there's something weird about your lady friend.Really weird. I can't put my finger on it... can't even get my nose around it... but it's making me really nervous." He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.
"Like I said. You wouldn't believe it." Derik could feel his heart rate—which had been trip-hammering at about one-eighty—slow down once Jon quit challenging him. Maybe this wouldn't be ugly. Maybe—
Jon dragged his gaze up. "Derik, you're my friend, we grew up together. So I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, here. And I don't want to fight, and I don't want to call Michael."
"Well, shit, Jon, I don't want to fight either."
"Uh-huh. But you better get your thumb out and do whatever the fuck it is you're supposed to do. I have a family."
Derik nodded. "I know, Jon. Mike has one, too, and it's like my own family.You're like my own family. You think I'd screw around if it meant hurting you, or someone important to you? I'd never do that. I'd kill myself before I'd do that."
"Finally," Jon commented, "a truth."
"Look, I'm not sure what's going to happen myself yet, but I've got it covered."I think.
"Maybe I can help. Can you tell me about it?"
"Not really. It's hard to explain, but Sara and me—we make a good team. She can—you wouldn't believe it. But we're gonna do the right thing. She'll see to it, and I'll see to it. I swear it on my life, man. Not your family's, or Mike's, or Lara's life ...my own life."
There was a long, tense, moment, and then Jon relaxed. "All right, Der. We've known each other too long not to trust each other when it gets down to the wire. Do you need help? I can come with you if—"
"No!" Christ, no. He didn't want Jon anywherenear Arthur's Chosen when it went down. Bad enough he and Sara were going to be there. "No, you stay here. Take care of your family. I'll come back and tell you all about it, when we're done."
"Swear."
"Swear."
Jon nibbled his lower lip, cut his eyes away for a moment, then finally said, "All right, then."
Derik staggered down the hallway. He'd gotten away with it! Jon knew—it had been stupid to even try to fool him—but the sensible bastard was letting it ride. It wasn't the first time Derik had thanked God for Jon's basic levelheadedness. Werewolves really did have it better . . . Jon knew Derik was good for his word, and thus the unpleasantness of a fight to the death was avoided. Good deal!
