Andrew stared at him for a long moment and nodded. He hefted his bag again and patted the counter in front of Zola. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Then he walked out.
Zola tilted her head to the side and regarded Alec from those darkly exotic eyes. “My English has been learned many places, from many people. It is not always…..precise. But when I am arriving in New Orleans, I have heard one thing again and again, until I finally asked what these words mean.”
“Don’t suppose it was Mind your own business?”
“Alec Jacobson is a jackass.”
Imprecise though her English might be, Zola had no trouble landing a verbal blow. Alec refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Nice to be popular.”
Zola shook her head. “Wolves have no subtlety. Why speak words that hurt without purpose?”
“He needed to know.”
“Even I am seeing that he knows. Only a fool would be thinking he doesn’t know.”
The woman was starting to get on his nerves. “Fine. I’m a fool.”
Zola smiled and walked from behind the counter. “No, you are maybe something else, something you want no one to make comments about. I am thinking you are a romantic. You want a happy ending for Andrew and Katherine?”
Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been an insult. Once upon a time, he’d been young and stupid, had told his rich, snotty family to go f**k themselves and had married his one true love, a no-name human who had roused everything good and protective inside him. She’d made him a man, made him a lover, made him whole.
In return, his family had made her disappear. One night, one bullet…..
Once upon a time, he’d thought the pain would fade with the passage of years and the comfort of his vicious revenge. He was a fool.
Andrew wasn’t, so he would do the one thing Alec hadn’t. He’d keep the woman he loved alive. Kat would heal from a broken heart, but she’d never survive a life chained to the violence of Andrew’s new world.
Zola had paused at the foot of the stairs, her eyebrows pulled together and an uncertain frown curving her lips. “Alec?”
The press of her sudden sympathy was unbearable. Alec snatched up his bag and strode toward the door. “I’m not interested in happy endings.” A lie, but only a little one. After all, his happy ending had died and forgotten to take him with it.
Chapter Two
Carmen picked up the last chart and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t gotten used to Franklin’s handwriting yet.”
Tara, the clinic’s senior nurse, snorted. “Yours isn’t much better. You came from a hospital with electronic charting.” It wasn’t a question.
“Busted. Vanderbilt’s ER even has a computerized whiteboard.”
“You’re from Nashville?” Tara leaned one hip on the desk and eyed Carmen. “How do you like the Big Easy so far?”
“I love the city. I always have.” She was no stranger to New Orleans. Her best friend had already moved to Louisiana, and it was her recommendation that had led to Carmen’s decision to join Franklin Sinclaire’s small clinic.
Lily’s recommendation, and Carmen’s own heritage. The clinic served the public as well as the underground supernatural population of New Orleans, witches and shapeshifters and psychics who had no other place to turn to for help with their unique medical problems.
It was outside the realm of what she’d learned officially, but Franklin had proven a skilled teacher. After four short months, he apparently felt comfortable enough with her performance to leave her in charge of some of the day-to-day operations at the clinic.
A wave of intense and foreign curiosity washed over her. Carmen took a deep breath, methodically built the mental walls necessary to block out Tara’s emotions and smiled. “You were either a cat in a past life, or you have more questions for me.”
The woman blushed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to an empath.” Carmen’s phone chimed, and she checked the display to find a text message from her brother Miguel. See you @ 8. “Is it always this dead on Friday nights?”
“Don’t say that,” the younger woman warned as she gathered the completed charts and turned toward the tiny filing room behind the desk. “It draws them in like flies.”
And I thought people in the ER were superstitious. “My kid brother’s meeting me here in an hour. We’re having dinner.”
The petite blonde stuck her head out of the filing room. “Is he cute?”
“He’s young,” Carmen answered automatically. “Only twenty-one.”
“When you say ‘kid’, you’re not joking.”
“I was twelve when he was born.” Her phone chirped again, this time indicating an incoming call. “Speaking of brothers, there’s my other one.”
“Older?”
“Younger.” She grinned. “But only by a couple of years. He’s a firefighter in Charleston.”
Tara laughed. “Come to mama.”
The lobby door buzzed, and Carmen hit the button to ignore the call on her cell phone. If it was important, Julio would keep trying until she finally answered. For now, she had work to do.
That work happened to be a stuffy nose soon treated and dispatched. It was a far cry from the busy hustle to which Carmen was accustomed, but that was nice in its own way.
Tara winked as she handed Carmen a can of soda. “Calm before the storm. It’ll pick up later, but that’s the night shift’s problem.” The door buzzed again, and she snorted. “On the other hand, maybe people got a head start on the night.”
It was only Miguel. “Almost ready to go?”
Carmen couldn’t leave until her shift replacement showed up, ready to work, but she was more interested in the wave of nervous energy that had accompanied Miguel into the lobby. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.” He smiled, bright and brittle.
He was the worst liar she’d ever met. She didn’t bother to shield the thought from him, and his sudden look of guilty discomfort told her he’d caught it, loud and clear. Carmen let it drop. “Where are we going to eat?”
“I’m in the mood for steak. How about Besh?”
“That place in Harrah’s?” Carmen groaned. “I’m not dressed for it, and I don’t want to go all the way over there either. Can we pick up a pizza and take it to my place instead?”
The discomfort sharpened, and she realized she could not only see it on her brother’s face, but feel it as well. He looked away. “Car…..”
If he didn’t want to alter his plans, it could only mean one thing. Carmen shivered. “Harrah’s. Who’s here, Dad or Uncle Cesar?”
He rubbed his face and leaned on the counter. “Both.”
“Both? That’s new.” They couldn’t be there for a visit, because neither of them gave a damn about her. “What do they want?”
“You didn’t answer their calls or letters, and they—”
“That’s why they’re here, not what they want.” She fought to keep her tone even. It wasn’t Miguel’s fault their father and uncle could still manipulate him, and did so at every opportunity.
“I don’t—” The denial rose but, to Miguel’s credit, he choked it back. “Shit, okay. They want to introduce you to some guy.”
A politically advantageous marriage, no doubt. “Tell them no, but thank you.”
“Carmen, just come to dinner. Then say no, if you want.”
Someone entered the lobby with enough roiling emotion to hit Carmen like a blow, and she bit her lip to hold back a pained moan. “Go sit, Miguel. I’ll be a while.”
He started to argue, then caught sight of the young woman who’d walked into the clinic. She was almost as tall as Carmen, with spiky short hair that bore nearly every color in the rainbow.
Her wide blue gaze darted around the room, skipping over Tara and only lingering for a heartbeat on Miguel before fixing on Carmen. “Franklin’s not here?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She eased around the counter, taking care not to move too quickly. The girl had a swollen lip, and one eye was red and puffy, like she’d been hit. “I’m Carmen. Come in the back and sit down.”
“It’s bad. It’s bad.” The girl tightened her grip on the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. “There’s a body. I mean, he’s not dead, but I didn’t know how long my stun gun could keep a shapeshifter down and I panicked and called Alec, and if Franklin’s not here to calm him down it’s going to be so bad. I should—I should go before he sees me….”
Tara held the cordless phone in her hand. “Should I call someone?”
The police or Franklin, the nurse could mean either—or both. “Not yet.” Carmen touched the girl’s shoulder and braced herself against the immediate jolt of emotion that ripped through her. “We can deal with your friend when he gets here. If not, I’ll page Franklin. He’ll hustle right over.”
The girl laughed, and it sounded hysterical. “No one can deal with Alec Jacobson when someone he cares about just got punched in the face.”
Carmen recognized the name. She was confident in her ability to handle almost anything, but a black-sheep alpha wolf with a questionable reputation might be beyond her. “All right. Tara, call Franklin. We’ll be in room three.”
The girl let Carmen lead her down the hall to the last examination room on the right. Franklin had laid out a lot of money to have the room warded specifically for psychic magic, and that could be important once the girl’s shock began to wear off. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Kat. Katherine. Katherine Gabriel. I—I have a file, I think. I need to go to the….” She trailed off as they stopped in front of the room, which she clearly recognized. “Yes. This one. You can tell I’m psychic?”