Moira Rogers - Crux

She swayed, and he pulled her into his arms. “Just over this rise here—” He stumbled but regained his footing. “Okay. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

Marcus carried her to a dark sedan parked at the edge of the woods, out of sight of the road below, and set her next to the passenger door. The car alarm blipped, the locks disengaged, and he jogged to the other side. They both scrambled into the car, and Mackenzie tugged at her tangled seatbelt with a low curse. “Where are you planning to go?”

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. “Boston, probably. At first.”

She had to call Jackson before she did anything else. “There’s some people I can call, I think. The ones who were helping me. If you have a cell phone, maybe I can call information…”

“There’s a disposable one in the glove compartment.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “Just in case he decides to try technology instead of magic to find us. I doubt it, but I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances.”

Mackenzie found the phone and powered it on before she realized she had no idea if Jackson’s cell phone would even be listed. She could probably find a number for his office, though, or maybe someone at the bar could tell her how to reach Nick.

The tiny clock on the cell phone blinked on, and she groaned. “Jesus, I didn’t realize it was three in the morning.”

“I got things settled and ready as fast as I could.” He sounded apologetic. “It took me several days to free up some money and find someone trustworthy to help with the magical things like the clothes.”

She froze with her finger on the keypad. “Our clothes are magical?”

He spared her a quick glance as he flipped on his blinker and turned onto what looked like a main highway. “Had to be, so Charles can’t track us. Well, not as easily.”

“God, I forgot about that.” She shivered and glanced at the phone again. The bars on the left side indicating reception had disappeared. As she watched, one reappeared but vanished. “Reception is crap. How far are we from civilization?”

“Depends on what you consider civilized.” Marcus kept checking the rearview mirror, as if he expected Charles to be hot on their heels. “It shouldn’t be long before you get a better signal. But you can call your friends in the morning, if you want. We should be in Boston in a few hours.”

Jackson would be worried, but Mackenzie was exhausted. It was hard to keep her drooping eyelids open, and sleep called to her. She could spend a few frustrating hours battling a weak signal and waking people while she tried to track someone down. Maybe she should.

Or you could take a nap and call around later when you’re coherent.

She tucked the cell phone back into the glove compartment and curled on her side. “You’re probably as exhausted as I am, but would you mind if I took a nap? I haven’t been sleeping much since Charles told me that stuff about the psychic.”

“Sleep. I’ve got a lot of driving to do and…a lot to think about.”

It was hard to believe he’d been the person she feared most in the world a few short days earlier. The pain in his voice urged her to rest a hand awkwardly on his arm. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I didn’t—I wish it could have been different.”

He tensed under her touch. “Don’t. I did this as much for myself as for you. Maybe more.”

“Still.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Jackson rubbed his thumb over the warm surface of his mug and stared out the window over the sink. Dawn was breaking, the sun setting the clouds on fire as it rose above the horizon. It finally broke free of the trees and forced his gaze away.

Nick stood just inside the kitchen, one shoulder against the open doorframe. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re worried.” She shoved her fingers through her hair and braced her hip against the wood. “Don’t be. It makes me nervous.”

“Can’t help it, Peyton.” Not for the first time, Jackson considered the risk Nick was taking, not only with her own life, but with her sister’s, as well. “Nicky—”

“Knock it off, Holt.” Her words might have been flippant, but her expression was serious, almost scared. “None of that ‘if we don’t make it out of this alive’ shit. I’ll hurt you.”

“He’ll snap out of it.” It was Alec’s voice, quiet behind them. “He always does when it’s time to get down to business.”

“He’d better.” Nick glanced at Alec and shot Jackson a stern look. “Mackenzie works for me. I hired her. I took her in. She’s my responsibility. And don’t get me wrong. I like her. I do. But I like my sister more. If Michelle is going to be in danger, you need to get straight, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jackson said harshly. “Just because I care doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

“No one thinks you are.” Alec crossed the kitchen. “We wouldn’t be going in there with you if we did. But it’s just us, Jackson, when it comes down to it. Everyone else’s priority is going to be Charles. It’s you and me going after your girl, and if you get my ass killed because you’re distracted, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“And if he can’t manage it,” Nick added, “I’ll find someone who can make you think he’s haunting you.”

“I get it. My head will be in it, I promise.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m not afraid of death, but it would be a crying shame if I bought the farm before I had the chance to bag your secretary’s hot cousin.” She grabbed another mug and filled it from the coffee carafe. “Just my personal feelings on the subject.”

Alec smirked. “Tell us something we don’t know. That’s pretty much the worst-kept secret in New Orleans.”

Nick favored them both with a wry look as she added cream and sugar to her mug. “Then help a girl out. I’ve dropped so many hints I’m starting to trip over them.”

Jackson pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. The banter felt normal, like everything might turn out all right. “Maybe he’s not interested in a tee-tiny loudmouth,” he offered helpfully.

Oddly, Alec’s reply was more earnest. “Derek likes you too much.” He ignored their startled looks as he poured himself a mug of coffee. “He wasn’t born a shifter, Nicole. He’s got a lot of odd instincts he didn’t have to deal with before, and he wasn’t ready to start anything that might end up serious.”

Jackson stared at his partner, open-mouthed. He hadn’t known Alec had spent that much time with Derek Gabriel, much less talked about such personal things with him. “When did you become a confidante to lovelorn werewolves everywhere?”

Alec stomped over to the table, glaring. “It was once. Kat was worried, so I promised her I’d help him out. It’s not like guys like him have a lot of people to go to for help.”

Nick was suspiciously quiet as she stared into her coffee. When she finally raised her head, her eyes were wide and bright. “Don’t you dare get me killed, Jackson Holt. I have things to do when we get home.”

“Let me guess,” Mahalia drawled as she walked in and headed for the refrigerator. “Derek Gabriel?”

Jackson raised his mug in salute. “Got it in one.”

She clucked her tongue. “You always have had it bad for that boy, Nicole.”

“See?” Alec took a sip of his coffee and grinned. “Worst-kept secret in New Orleans.”

Mahalia smiled at Nick’s flustered look. “Hell, Jacobson. Who do you think introduced them?”