Linda Robertson - Shattered Circle

“Thanks. Oh, Johnny. He should be here in a bit.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought it might be him. Wow! The Domn Lup in my shop? He’s sooo handsome, you’re so lucky, you know that? Oh hey, will he have an entourage? You know, like the president?”

My head spun at the speed of her questions. “I hope not.” That hadn’t even crossed my mind. Were his closest people now his secret service, listening in on his conversations with me?

“Don’t make a fuss over him, okay?”

The other girl handed me the cider.

Mandy said, “Oh. Sure. Wærewolf King of the World, local rock star, and boyfriend of the Lustrata. Of course I’ll treat him like he’s a regular guy.”

At three forty-six in the afternoon, Johnny pulled up to the parking garage of the Cleveland Cold Storage (CCS) building. Before losing cell phone reception he’d texted Red to let her know he’d be ten minutes late. Sunday traffic had been light and he’d made good time returning from upstate New York, but he still had a few things to do before he saw her. Getting a shower was on the top of that list.

The huge old building, formerly an ice house, now served as the den of the Cleveland-area wærewolves. He had a parking spot near the elevator, but with the sense of urgency he currently felt, he steered the Maserati right in front of the lift and threw it into park.

He retrieved his gym bag from the trunk and got on the elevator to the ninth floor, where an apartment for esteemed guests was located. He could clean up there before heading to the coffee shop.

With a quiet ding, the lift halted and the doors rolled back. He stepped into the hallway, but the sound of footfalls in the stairwell made him hesitate. Someone was hurrying up the steps. Someone wearing heels.

In seconds, Aurelia’s gorgeous and leggy self burst into view. Having managed the climb in inappropriate shoes, she was surprisingly not out of breath. However, her short skirt had ridden up and Johnny couldn’t help noting the muscular flex of her thighs. As he forced his gaze upward, over her low V-neck blouse and onto the perfection of her face, she flicked her long blond hair behind her shoulder and smiled, altering her walk to a more seductive gait. “That must have been some drive,” she said sweetly. “You couldn’t even answer your phone.” She’d been calling him every fifteen minutes for the last several hours.

“You could have left a message.”

She drew close. “You and I were supposed to celebrate.” The way she articulated the last word left no doubt that she meant a celebration of the naked and sweaty kind.

He said nothing, but repeated silently, Remember, you’re on your way to talk to Red.

“Were you even going to stop in your office, sire?”

“No. I have to—”

“Are you avoiding me?”

“I have to get a shower and—”

“Oh.” Her smile broadened. “Would you like someone to scrub your back?”

You’re in a hurry to see Red. “I’ll manage.”

She pouted. It was entirely, adorably sexual. “Are you sure?”

Johnny turned on his heel. Cold shower. Cold, cold, cold shower.

Behind him he heard a frustrated sigh. “So . . . where have you been?” Her tone was on the verge of demanding.

Let her be pissed. What she wants she can’t have. He kept walking and gave her a flat-toned answer. “Away.”

“Yes, we all noticed the newly announced Domn Lup drove an old woman home and didn’t come back.” Her scornful sarcasm was not hidden. When he didn’t respond she instructed, “Bathe fast. The diviza will be here in twenty minutes.”

In pack hierarchy, the dirija was a pack leader, the adevar was an area bean counter who kept tabs on the dirijas , and a diviza was the region’s next step up, serving a function that was part outreach, part campaign manager, part lawyer, and part CEO. They had an incredible amount of authority where local packs and politics were concerned.

Johnny spun back. “The diviza ?”

Aurelia nodded.

After negotiations went south between the pack and the Ohio Department of Transportation, or ODOT, who wanted to buy and tear down the den building for their new I-90 project, a dossier had been sent to the diviza requesting intervention.

Johnny had opted out of the recent meetings, leaving the dilemma to Todd, who would become the pack’s dirija after Johnny’s coronation. They had all believed the issue would be resolved after the new year. “I thought he wasn’t coming until January?”

“ODOT and the mayor are very serious about their new compensation package.” She advanced on him again. “They demanded mediation to obtain an immediate decision, and demanded it directly of the diviza, leaving us out of the loop.”

“Bastards. Did the diviza ’s office contact us?”

“ I only learned of this a few hours ago.” She crossed her arms, enhancing the bulge of her cleavage. “Seems they didn’t want to overwhelm you prior to or during your official announcement. According to them, the mediation was scheduled for next week, but ODOT called them with the change at one thirty. The diviza immediately chartered a plane, which . . . ” Her words trailed off as she checked her watch. “ . . . should have landed by now.”

Johnny turned back toward the apartment. “Get Todd in here. He has to handle it.”

“You’re the Domn Lup.”

Stopping, Johnny squared his shoulders before facing her again. “And I have another meeting scheduled—one I don’t intend to miss. Besides, this will be Todd’s pack in a few weeks, so let him handle it how he wants.”

“The diviza expects you.”

Of course he did. The Domn Lup was a power title. Johnny knew that his attendance at the meeting would give the wæres more credibility, more leverage.

This was part of the reason why he didn’t want to be Domn Lup. It wasn’t solely about grown-up choices and people looking to him for answers he wasn’t sure he had. This song and dance was about politics and etiquette. Every meeting would be tainted with a false spotlight meant to illuminate the idea that those involved were important, and that important people made decisions that were good for all. However, the agreements politicians reached were never brought to bear by the politicians themselves. Not getting their hands dirty with the real work meant the ruling class was out of touch with the reality of the decrees they made. Johnny wanted to change that. He wanted to shake things up and bring some rock-and-roll irreverence into play.

“Fuck him,” he said, and walked away. Talking about a problem didn’t fix it, work did. They would get his presence and full support when they were ready to work .

He was three steps from the door when Aurelia’s voice sliced down the hall like a razor. “This is how you intend to lead? Ignoring one of the six U.S. divizas when he’s come to negotiate for your pack’s den?”

Again, he stopped, but this time he didn’t turn. All he wanted to do was go and make things right with Red and tell her about Evan. But that was his heart talking. His mind knew he couldn’t abandon the pack like this. It was their den . If they lost it because he’d skipped out on them . . .

Fuck.

“Everyone is watching you, John.”

He said nothing, but he hung his head and tried to figure out the perfect wording for the text he’d send Seph to cancel.

Aurelia turned and retreated into the stairwell.

Red will understand. I know she will.

• • •