Moira Rogers: Crux

“I’m fine,” she said quietly, hoping he wouldn’t hear the slight tremor in her voice. She moved slowly into the living room, dropping the bag by the side of the couch. She surreptitiously wiped her eyes, turned and sat. “Are you sure Nick isn’t going to mind?”

He shook his head and spoke, his voice low. “Nick won’t mind. She’ll be glad you stayed someplace safe.” His grin was encouraging. “Hey, you’re not likely to be late for work tomorrow.”

His smile was as irresistible as his eyes, and she found herself wishing she had an excuse to get him to stay a while longer.

Don’t be stupid , she reminded herself sharply as she pulled her gaze from his. Now is not the time for distractions. She couldn’t get involved with him. At best, it would make it hard to move on when she needed to. And if Marcus showed up while they were together…

He was too nice a man to get tangled up in her problems, so she met his eyes again and tried to show gratitude in her expression without letting anything else creep in. “Thank you, Jackson. It—it’s really nice that you and Nick are helping me out. I promise I’ll find someplace else to stay.”

“Sure,” he said easily, rocking the door back and forth absently. “I’ll call Nick in the morning and tell her you’re here, so don’t worry about that. Bolt the door behind me. Sleep well, Mackenzie.” He disappeared, and the door closed with a gentle click.

Mackenzie let out the breath she’d been holding. Exhaustion dragged at her as she made her way to the door to lock the deadbolt and back to the couch, and she sank back into the plush cushion with a soft sigh. I’ll just sit here a few minutes…

In moments, she was curled comfortably on her side, her head resting on a bright blue cushion. For the first time since Marcus had found her over a month ago, she drifted to sleep feeling safe, comfortable, and almost hopeful.

Jackson leaned against the lamp post and scratched his arm as he looked at the second-floor windows of Mahalia’s old apartment. The lights hadn’t gone off, but he hoped Mackenzie was getting some rest, anyway. She’d almost fallen asleep in the taxi back from her crappy motel, even though it was obvious she was fresh out of trust for strangers.

A handful of people walked past, almost knocking into him, and Jackson stepped back automatically, his mind on the woman upstairs. She’d been so skittish he hadn’t wanted her to look out and see him on the street, so he’d thrown up a quick shield, something to shadow him from most people’s sight. It was a trick Mahalia herself had taught him, back before she’d decided to retire to Boca Raton and make him learn all his magic the hard way, from dusty old books that tended to fall apart on him and make his eyes water.

There was no doubt in his mind Mackenzie was on the run from something, though he’d bet anyone a hundred bucks it was someone . An old boyfriend, perhaps, or a husband. Some overprotective, possessive asshole, maybe even an abusive one. His fists clenched at the thought. Surely if she was a shapeshifter, as Nick had suggested, she could have taken care of such a situation. Or maybe the hypothetical guy was just as strong, or stronger. It made sense.

Except that she really had seemed clueless when he’d tossed out that line about people like them. That part didn’t make so much sense. He resolved to ask Alec to take a look at Mackenzie. His partner was fifteen years older than Nick, and his shapeshifter instincts were more refined. He should be able to settle the question.

What wouldn’t be so easy to settle was why Jackson could still remember the striking cobalt shade of her eyes, or the way she moved like the same gravity that affected everyone else couldn’t quite reach her.

He scratched his head and huffed in disgust. He was standing under a streetlight, waxing poetic about the shade of a stranger’s eyes. Add a show tune or two, and his already bizarre life was headed straight for the theatre of the absurd.

Jackson growled and balanced a coffee tray and a paper bag in one hand as he tugged open the office door. “Morning,” he said dourly as he walked in and dropped the bag on the small table that held the cold, empty coffee maker. “I stopped by Café du Monde on the way in and bought beignets.”

The young woman behind the receptionist’s desk looked him over before raising an eyebrow. “I thought Alec was the one staking out crazy husband dude. Did something go down last night that you both needed to handle?”

“No, Katherine.” He placed a coffee cup on her desk and laid the tray on his own. “I was working on something else.”

“What were you—” Her words cut off as the door opened again and Jackson’s partner shoved through it, looking even less cheerful than Jackson felt.

Alec also held a coffee tray and paper bag, which he raised as the door swung shut. “I stopped by Café du Monde and got…” His gaze fell on the bag beside the coffee maker and jumped to Jackson. “Shit, what the hell happened to you?”

“He was working on something else,” Kat supplied helpfully, an amused glint in her light blue eyes. The look she flashed Jackson was downright mischievous. “So Alec doesn’t know about this mysterious other job?”

Jackson dropped into his leather chair, his elbows hitting the desk as he rubbed his eyes. “I was doing Nick Peyton a favor. Well, not exactly. She’s cutting our bar tab in half as payment.”

“In half? Must have been quite a favor.” Alec dumped a second cup of coffee on Kat’s desk and sank into his own chair with an inhuman grace Jackson found particularly offensive, considering the fact that Alec had not only also been up all night, but had more than ten years on him to begin with.

“Mmm. She hired someone new, but the woman’s been acting kind of squirrelly, so Nick wanted me to make sure she had a decent place to stay. Turned out, she had a room in some condemned roach motel upriver.”

“Where’s she staying now?”

Jackson hesitated. Alec had been his partner for five years, and the man was bound to take his next revelation the wrong way. “I took her back to Mahalia’s and let her into the apartment upstairs.”

Alec’s eyebrows rose, but it was Kat who spoke. “And since Café du Monde was on your way into work, that must mean you stayed there.” There was far too much amusement in her voice.

“Yeah, I stayed there,” he replied irritably. “Outside, in the company of my favorite streetlamp, which is why I look like sun-dried crap, and not like some guy who got lucky last night. So shut up already.”

“Did you figure out why she’s so squirrelly?” Alec shot Kat a quelling look Jackson probably wasn’t supposed to see.

“Nope. I’ve got a good idea, though.” Jackson flipped through his address cards and picked up the phone.

Alec took another sip of his coffee. “Gonna share?”

“Uh-uh.”

Blissful silence filled the office for a full five seconds before Alec snorted in exasperation. “Jesus. You’ve got the hots for her, don’t you?”

Jackson shot him an exasperated look of his own and put down the phone. “Not everything in my life is about sex, Jacobson. I just figure it’s none of your damn business, that’s all.”

“If you’re doing a job, it’s my business. You were supposed to be sleeping last night so one of us would be ready to deal with the fallout on the Smith case this morning. Now your personal business is screwing up my professional business.”

“ Is there fallout to deal with?”

Alec pulled a slim camera from his jacket pocket and held it up. “As soon as Kat pulls the pictures off of here, you can see how much. The man’s not subtle. I’m not surprised his wife figured out exactly what he was up to.”