“What if the stray strikes again?”
I closed my eyes, silently praying he wouldn’t. My heart ached for Abby and Sarah, and for those two human girls, who’d probably never known what hit them. If they were lucky.
The desk chair creaked, and I looked up to find my father standing in front of his desk, with his back to me. “If he does, Danny probably won’t have access to the victim. This stray would have to be an idiot to strike twice in the same state.”
“Maybe he is an idiot,” Owen said. “He’s certainly crazy.”
“Crazy, no doubt. But if he were stupid, we would have known about him before now.” Daddy’s voice was tight with anger. He was mad at himself; I could hear it in the way his words were clipped short. He was angry that he hadn’t known about the stray sooner, and about the girl in New Mexico. “Come on home.”
“There’s a flight out at nine,” Owen said, his words coming faster than usual. He must have recognized the anger, too. “I should be home by eleven.”
“Fine.” Daddy dropped the phone into its cradle and stared at it. I heard his heartbeat slow, then steady, and I knew he was counting silently in an attempt to rein in his temper. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath as he prepared to turn from one problem to face another: me.
“Faythe, this is not a good time for your theatrics,” he said, tugging down his jacket sleeves.
He was right about that; my timing was awful. But there was nothing I could do about it now, short of backing down completely. And that wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted him to ever treat me like an adult.
I set my feet on the floor and started to stand, but one glance at Michael froze me in place. He would follow the letter of Daddy’s law until otherwise instructed. So I took a deep breath and launched my argument from the couch, substituting good posture for the erect stance I would have preferred.
“I’m not being theatrical,” I said, doing my best to project a respectful tone into my voice. “I’m completely serious. I’m leaving.”
My father finally turned to face me, and the gravity in his expression made my mouth go dry. “Stop arguing on autopilot and listen to what I’m really saying.”
Nervous and curious in spite of my determination to stand my ground, I nodded. Could he possibly be saying something other than the usual no?
My father eyed me somberly, as if to convey the weight of what he was about to say through expression alone. “Freedom from the Pride doesn’t mean true freedom for you.” I started to argue, but he cut me off. “What would happen if I let you strike out on your own in a free territory? Do you think the strays would respect your wishes? Would they leave you alone?” He paused, but I made no reply. I was too busy thinking.
“Whether you see it or not, you have choices here. I do care what you want. But the strays in Mississippi won’t give your rights a second thought. They’ll care what you’re worth, and how having you would affect their rank among the others.”
I frowned as if I didn’t understand, but his point was frighteningly clear, and devastating to my argument. Alone in the free territory, I would be a living, breathing status symbol. A trophy for the biggest, fastest and strongest stray. Unless I was willing to fight every day of my life, I would have no life worth living. Not in the free territories, anyway.
But what about the south-central territory? I thought, a new plan rising from the ashes of its predecessor. Daddy had more land than he knew what to do with. I could live six hundred miles from the ranch and still be safe within the territorial boundaries.
“Fine.” I nodded in concession to his point. “You’re right. Leaving the territory isn’t the greatest idea I’ve ever had. But it’s a big territory, and I don’t have to leave to gain a little privacy and independence. I’ll go to Oklahoma. Or Kansas. I’d still be a member of the Pride—just living on my own. Like Michael.” I glanced across the rug at my oldest brother, hoping for his support. I should have known better. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, unwilling to take my side against our father.
Daddy shook his head slowly, but I could see him thinking…
“I’ll do holidays on the ranch. And my birthday. And Father’s Day.” Did that sound too desperate? “I was at school for five years, and everything was fine. This would be just like that.”
“The guys took shifts watching you for all five of those years,” he said, frowning as if I’d missed something really obvious.
“Yeah, but that was a total waste of resources.” My father’s color deepened to an angry red, and I decided to rephrase. “I was fine. And I will be fine. Because I’m going.” There. Decision made. And it wasn’t even unreasonable—at least in my not-so-humble opinion.
But my father clearly disagreed. He watched me intently now, his expression unreadable. There was no frustration, no more anger, and no glint of determination. Definitely not good.
“Listen to me carefully,” Daddy said, his words as slow and deliberate as each measured step he took toward me. “Because what I’m about to say isn’t coming from a father to his daughter. It’s coming from an Alpha to his subordinate Pride member.” His voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. I’d heard him take that tone with few other cats, all of whom had been repeat offenders, intruders being offered one last chance before he turned them over to Marc.
Surely that wasn’t his plan for me. I wasn’t breaking in; I was trying to break out.
He stared down at me, not quite three feet from where I sat. I’d never seen him this mad, and the worst part was knowing that there would be no wiggle room because his anger stemmed from concern for me. He wouldn’t compromise my safety for anything. Even if the danger was only theoretical.
“I absolutely forbid you to leave the ranch…”
I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he held up a hand to cut me off.
“…but I acknowledge that I can’t stop you if you’re determined to go. The choice is yours.” He took a breath deep enough to strain the buttons of his dress shirt, and dread made my heart thud in my chest. “However, if you choose to leave now, I will send every tomcat at my disposal to bring you back. You’ll be lucky to see daylight by your next birthday.”
I gaped at him, wide-eyed, my pulse racing. I’d turned twenty-three less than a month before; he was threatening to lock me up for nearly a year. I didn’t know whether to be angry or scared. Or pleased, because he was finally taking me seriously. My father had never threatened me before. Well, not as Alpha anyway.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Faythe?”
“If I run, you’ll send the guys to drag me back by my hair and toss me into the cage.” I aimed for nonchalance in my expression, as if I were threatened by an Alpha every day. But my heart was skipping entire beats in an attempt to slow itself down, and I knew he could hear it.
He smiled his polite-company smile and returned to his armchair, smoothing his suit coat into place as he sat. “I prefer my manner of delivery to yours, but yes, that’s what I mean. Do you still intend to go?”
Did I? It wouldn’t do any good; he was right, I wasn’t really willing to hurt my brothers. And they would catch me, eventually. Daddy would use every resource he had to track me down, and I suspected that if I pushed him that far, my stay in the cage might stretch out long past the year he’d threatened.
My eyes found Michael, looking for his take on our father’s threats. He shrugged, apparently unsure whether or not to take Daddy seriously. But in my entire life, I couldn’t remember my father making an empty threat. Not once.
I inched forward to the edge of the couch, hoping that would make me look confident and alert rather than like I might bolt at any minute. “I assume if I say yes, you’ll lock me up.”
He nodded, his hands clasped in his lap. But his thumbs were twitching. That meant something. It didn’t mean he was bluffing; I couldn’t get that lucky. But it might mean he wasn’t as confident as he seemed to be in his ability to find me if I took off. I was a kid the last time
I ran away, and I’d accumulated several more years of real-world experience since then. Or at least several years of college campus experience.
I held my breath, thinking. “What if I say no?”
“If I think you’re sincere, I’ll settle for twenty-four-hour supervision until you’ve proven yourself trustworthy.”
If, I thought, finally onto something. We’re both speaking hypothetically…A smile blossomed on my face, slow and sweet. “Are you willing to negotiate?”
He arched one eyebrow, and I knew I’d said the magic word. My father loved to negotiate. He enjoyed the process of begrudging give-and-take the way most cats enjoyed the thrill of a good chase, and he considered himself very tough to bargain with. He was right. However, if I’d judged correctly, he would go easy on me because he’d view a request to negotiate as a sign that I was coming closer to accepting my place in the Pride. But that was his mistake, not mine.
“What did you have in mind?” My father leaned forward in his chair, eyes glinting in anticipation.
I fiddled with my watch, buying a little time to think. He would see through that, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was playing his favorite game. “I’ll agree to defer my decision about leaving until Sara and Abby are found, if you’ll forget about the round-the-clock supervision until we revisit the issue of me moving out at a later date. How’s that sound?”
He smiled. “Nice try, but you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
My hope faltered, and I shifted on the sofa, leaning forward to mirror his pose. “Meaning what?”
“Name the later date.”
“But I don’t know when we’ll find them. Soon, hopefully, but I’m not psychic, Daddy.”
Michael chuckled, and I glanced away from Daddy long enough to glare at him.
“You don’t have to be psychic,” my father said. “You just have to be explicit. The key to negotiation lies in stipulating the details.”
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. I’d heard that line at least a dozen times since my twelfth birthday, but I merely nodded, playing the part I’d signed on for.
“Let’s set the date of your decision for the day after the last missing girl is found, in case Sara and Abby are found separately or someone else disappears between now and then. And if we find the girls before we catch the jungle stray, you have to put off your decision until he can be found and disposed of.”
“Fine.” I had no problem with that because I agreed with Marc’s theory that the jungle cat was involved in the abductions. “So—for the record—if I agree to wait until the abductors and the trespasser are caught and disposed of, you’ll forgo the twenty-four-hour babysitting?”
He sat back in his chair, considering, and for a moment I thought I’d won. Then he spoke and I realized what a fool I’d been to think he’d go easy on me. “Your agreement to put off your decision is good enough to keep you out of the cage, but the chaperone is nonnegotiable.”
My jaw dropped, anger blazing through me. “Then you haven’t conceded anything! You would have caged me even if I hadn’t agreed to put off my decision.”
“You’re right.” His voice took on an instructional quality, as if he were addressing a class full of students instead of one very angry daughter. “Another important principle of negotiation is knowing when you have the upper hand and when your opponent has it. And right now, I have the upper hand.”
I shrugged. “So there’s no reason for me to wait.”
“How about this.” He couldn’t keep satisfaction from his face. He loved putting me through hell! “Round-the-clock supervision, with restroom privacy on a trial basis?”
“No way. That’s bullshit,” I cried, pounding on the arm of the couch. I hadn’t even realized bathroom privacy was an issue, and I certainly wasn’t going to use it as a bargaining chip. He had no right to, either.
Michael started to object to my tone, because whether he was acting as my father or my Alpha, no one got away with cussing at Greg Sanders. But Daddy held his palm up for silence, cutting off Michael’s protest without a word.
“No, that’s compromise,” he said to me. “If you were not willing to put off your decision, I’d offer you no privacy at all. I’m sure Jace would be happy to observe your shower to head off any attempts to crawl through the bathroom window.”
I cringed. “Daddy, how could you say something like that?”
“I’m not your father. I’m your Alpha.” His smile was gone; he was absolutely serious. And he wasn’t going to give in on the watchdog issue. “Whether you believe it or not, even Jace has the ability to concentrate solely on the job at hand. I wouldn’t employ him if he didn’t.” He shrugged, but the casual gesture looked alien on my suit-and-tie father. “However, if you’d rather forget your first attempt at negotiation, there’s always the cage. Of course, the cage has no privacy at all…And no shower or proper toilet.”
He had a point, and I knew I’d lost round one. But round two would come soon enough, assuming I hung around long enough to fight it.
I pouted, slumping against the back of the couch. “Fine. You win. But if you send Marc into my room at night, I swear he’ll come out a eunuch.”
Daddy nodded. “Fair enough. Marc stays on the day shift.” He glanced at Michael, amusement lifting the corners of his mouth. “Make the arrangements.”
“No problem.” And with that, Michael left to strip away another of my civil rights. You’d think his law school education might have at least made him hesitate. Whatever happened to the Bill of Rights? But apparently Baylor Law didn’t teach complicated concepts like that. What was the world coming to?
Fourteen
Jace wound up with the first shift of Faythe-sitting, because Daddy wanted Marc to help greet the arriving Alphas and bring them up to speed. Ethan got the same assignment, along with Parker, once he’d returned from the airport with the Di Carlos. Every half hour or so the doorbell would ring as another Alpha and his small entourage arrived. After the third large man in a dark suit asked me how I was holding up, Jace and I retreated to my room with a plate piled high with food from my mother’s buffet.
“So, what’d you do?” Jace asked me around a mouthful of ham and cheese on whole wheat. I lay sprawled across my bed on my stomach, the plate of food in front of me. He sat in my desk chair, which he’d pulled up to the bed so he could reach the food.
I licked a smear of pimento cheese from my finger and reached for another tiny sandwich. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” He brushed crumbs from his shirt, and my eyes followed his hand, lingering on the lines of his chest, clearly visible through the thin white cotton. “What’s with the babysitting detail? Is it because of Marc’s leg, or did Ethan rat you out about the guy in the woods?”
“Why? You have something better to do?”
“Not a thing in the world.” He sniffed the air in my direction. “But you do smell a little ripe. Maybe you should go run a bath.”
I laughed, jiggling the bed and the plate of food. “Nice try, but I’ve been granted restroom clemency.”
“It was worth a shot.” He shrugged, popping a cube of sharp cheddar into his mouth. “So, was it Marc’s leg, or the hunter?”
“Neither.”
“What then? How could you possibly have had time to get into any more trouble between then and now?”
That was a very good question. I speared a chunk of honeydew on a toothpick topped with a strip of green cellophane, making him wait while I chewed extra well to prolong the suspense. Swallowing, I motioned for the Coke we were sharing. Jace grunted in impatience as he handed me the can from my nightstand. He chose another sandwich while I drank, and I waited until he took the first bite before finally answering. “I told Daddy I was leaving the Pride.”
His eyes widened, and he made a wet, strangling sound, nearly choking on the bite in his mouth. I pounded his back, and he turned angry eyes on me. “That’s not funny, Faythe.”
I shrugged. “I said I’d stay within the territory. And don’t worry, I didn’t mention my winning our little—” Before I could finish the sentence, he flew out of his chair, launching himself at me before I had time to do anything more than drop my sandwich on the comforter. I landed flat on my back, the top of my head pressed against my headboard. Jace’s right hand covered my mouth, and his knees straddled my stomach.
Damn. Pinned again. I was going to have to work on my reaction time.
“Are you trying to get me killed?” he demanded in an urgent whisper, brown hair flopping onto his forehead.
I shoved his hand away, grinning at how familiar our casual play felt. Along with Ethan, we’d been chasing and tackling each other since I was ten years old, and deemed sturdy enough to run around with the boys. I’d kind of missed being with people who wouldn’t break if I played too hard.
“Daddy wouldn’t kill you,” I said, beaming up at him.
“Shit, I’m lucky Marc didn’t. If you take my car, he’ll tell your dad about our bet, and Greg will skin me alive and hang my hide in his office as a warning to all future enforcers not to mess with his daughter.” I laughed, but he never even cracked a smile. “Promise me you won’t go.”
“I already promised Daddy I’d wait till we find Sara and Abby. Then we’re going to ‘revisit the issue.’”
He relaxed and sat up, moving back to straddle my thighs instead of my stomach. “How’d he get you to listen to reason?”
“It was either that, or have my mail permanently forwarded to the cage.” I propped myself up on one elbow and gave him a shove with my free hand. Jace fell over sideways on the bed, rebounding into a sitting position almost instantly.
“Oh.” He pouted for effect. “Surely a few hours with me is better than a night in the cage.”
“Tough call.” I grinned, watching him sulk. “But he wasn’t talking about just one night. Seriously. We’re talking long term. Months, at least.” I sat up, noticing that Jace had knocked the food over when he’d tackled me.