Moira Rogers - Crossroads

“I think he understands.” Her voice dropped, and Nick heard the first hint of pain. “I think I’m taking advantage of him, and he’s letting me.”

“Sweetie.” Nick braced her hands on the counter and leaned down to catch Michelle’s gaze. “You think that, and you may be right. But it’s what he wants . He wants to be able to take care of you.”

“I’m not going to love him, Nick. Even if I did some day, for some reason…it wouldn’t matter. I’m done.”

Only a few days earlier, Nick would have protested the finality of the quiet declaration. “I understand.”

Michelle tucked her hands in her lap. “I suppose what upsets me the most about it is that I’m not sorry. I’m using his feelings and doing it unkindly, and I should feel something. Anything.”

She’d been walking around in a fog all morning, and Nick had the feeling it wouldn’t clear until things were settled. “I don’t think you should feel anything right now. If you could, it might drive you crazy.”

“Maybe.” Awkward silence filled the kitchen for a few moments before Michelle changed the subject. “I talked to Dad. He said he’s issuing a challenge on behalf of the Peyton family.”

“It’s nothing less than they expect.” What they couldn’t foresee was who exactly would be showing up to participate. “I wonder if they think he plans to fight Coleman himself.”

“They can’t imagine a girl issuing a challenge. They could think Alec’s going to step in for us.”

A hysterical giggle bubbled up in Nick’s chest. “God, can you imagine his father’s reaction to that?”

Michelle didn’t laugh. “His father would be ecstatic if Alec defeated a Conclave member in a challenge. It would put Alec one step closer to being a serious contender for real power. And New Orleans is in the Southeast council.”

Michelle wasn’t joking, not in the least, and a shiver claimed Nick. “If that’s what he still expects, he’s crazy. I don’t care if the council was headquartered in Alec’s front yard, he’d never take a spot on it. He’d wall himself up in his basement first.”

“Do you think his father wants to believe that?”

“No.” Alexander Jacobson would believe the earth was flat if he thought it might help elevate his station. The man craved power more than anything else.

“But it won’t be Alec.” For the first time, something other than pain or blank stillness shone in Michelle’s eyes. She smiled, a trembling, tentative movement, and warm magic filled the kitchen. “He loves you so much.”

“I know.” Derek loved her. Without her own uncertainty blurring her perceptions, she could see how much every time he looked at her. “We both spent so much time running.”

“Aaron really liked him.”

The mention of his name brought back memories of the day Aaron had forced her to promise him she’d take care of Michelle when he was gone. Nick tightened her hand around the edge of the marble counter. “He told me Derek was worth more than a few of these Conclave sons.”

“He was right. He usually was.” Michelle’s smile wavered. “Except when he told me I’d be fine without him.”

Nick had no words to comfort her, so she rounded the island, slid her arms around Michelle’s shoulders and rested her cheek on the top of her head. “I think…he wanted to believe it. For your sake.”

“We’ll have a son,” Michelle whispered, her voice thick. “I need to be fine for him. I need—” Magic spiked in time with Michelle’s gasping sob, pain tearing through the room, riding on an edge of power that would have sent the Conclave scrambling in fear. “I can’t do this alone, Nick.”

Michelle’s pain sparked her own, and Nick closed her eyes against the tears that welled. “I’d planned on selling the bar when I came here, and I think I’m still going to. Maybe I can visit you on the ranch? Stay for a while?”

“I—” Another sob, and Michelle’s icy control shattered. Deep, jagged sobs wracked her body and her tears fell hot on Nick’s shoulder as her pent-up grief spilled out.

“Shh. It’ll be okay.” Nick rocked her sister, only half believing the words she whispered. They may have figured out their options and made a plan to deal with things, but nothing could change what had happened, and what Michelle had lost.

The only thing she could hope was that time would bring relief, and that Michelle would heal. At least she’d have something to live for—her son. Without him, the rest of her sister’s days seemed almost too bleak to imagine.

Derek spent the three days leading up to the challenge learning why Nick’s father ruled the wolves. Seventy years and change, and John Wesley Peyton had still kicked Derek’s ass around the room with an ease that left his ego just as sore as his body. By the end of the second day, Derek was bruised and exhausted, and thanking every god he’d ever heard of that Andrew and his newly aggressive instincts were safely on the opposite end of the country.

The interminable wait culminated in a lengthy drive upstate, their destination a private bit of land owned by the Conclave. When the scenery had shifted from urban sprawl to rolling woods, Derek glanced at Nick. “Do they use this property for anything other than beating the crap out of each other?”

“Running,” she murmured. “Congregation. We used to come up here all the time when I was a kid.”

The car slowed to turn down a long, unmarked drive lined with towering trees. “Guess it’s a good place to run.”

Her hand tightened around his. “Don’t forget. He’s too aggressive. He leaves himself unguarded.”

“I remember.” He took a breath. “So what do you think they’re going to do when they find out the representative of the Peyton family is a mutt?”

“They’ll be scandalized, and Coleman will think you’re bound to be easily beaten.” She turned until she was facing him on the seat, pride shining in her eyes. “He’ll be wrong.”

“Yeah, he will.” The expensive leather creaked as he shifted his weight and looped an arm around her shoulders. “How’s Michelle?”

She leaned into him. “Holding up. She and Luciano should be married by the time we get back. Dad seems to think they were right to not wait and ask the Conclave’s permission.”

“Luke explained it to me.” It hadn’t seemed logical at first, but Derek had to admit there was a certain cunning in the maneuver. To the Machiavellian minds on the Conclave, it would probably look like Luciano had leapt at the chance to snatch up Michelle’s money while no one was around to stop him.

“Mmm. They get rid of two problems—him and Michelle—all at once, and it looks just self-serving enough for them not to be too suspicious of his motives.”

“His mother’s going to be furious, isn’t she?”

“That doesn’t really cover it. Apoplectic with rage, maybe?”

Derek slid his fingers through Nick’s hair, taking comfort from the soft strands on his skin. She was safe. She was his. Life would be perfect, if it weren’t for his impending fight to the death. “Can she do anything to hurt either of them?”

“Not unless Hoffman and Ochoa don’t officially support Luciano’s plan, for some reason. Personally, she’ll never lower herself to acknowledge that it bothers her.” The car stopped, and Nick sat up and glanced out the window. “Here it is.”

Here proved to be a graceful mansion with at least four stories and two distinct wings. It looked completely out of place nestled in untamed forest, and it took a few moments for Derek to realize it was the lack of landscaping that bothered him. Trees were trimmed back from the roof itself, but the only token attempt to control the wild around it came from the rough gravel drive that lead to two heavy oak doors adorned with massive carvings.