Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
TOM
Tom was showered, shaved, and waiting in the hotel lobby thirty minutes before Councilor Steadman emerged from the elevator. His suit and tie armored him, and his expression was the one that got him through so many tricky DC meetings—calm and blank.
He had a job to do, and right now, it was the only thing he had left. Apart from the raw pain in his chest where something extraordinary had been ripped out before it even had the chance to take root.
The instinct to bury his wound ran deep. So he focused on protocol, on plans, on the flawless mask of a man for whom the mission was everything. He didn’t let himself wonder how long the mask would hold.
When their convoy reached the ranch, it was Tristan who opened the door to them, to Tom’s relief. Protocol said someone more senior should greet them, but none of the councilors was going to object to the lapse and risk offending Matt or Jesse.
Tristan stopped Tom when he would have followed the councilors and security guards through the door. “Is it okay if I ask the drivers in for coffee? They can’t sit out there all morning.”
“Sure,” he said. “Just make sure they’re in shifts so there’s always someone out here keeping an eye on the cars.”
“In case some random bomber slips past the guards and the pack, you mean?” Tristan’s tone left no doubt just how unlikely he thought such an occurrence.
“You wouldn’t think it so funny if they did,” Tom said, his voice sharper than Tristan deserved.
“Sorry.” Tristan’s hazel eyes were large and tragic, and Tom wondered how anyone ever found it in themselves to tell him off for anything. He shook his head with a rueful smile.
That resurrected Tristan’s enthusiasm. “Do you think you might introduce me to Councilor Steadman before she leaves? And can you tell me more about the relationship between Congress and the Council?”
“You were a straight-A student, weren’t you?” Tom asked, as he passed Tristan his card. “I’ll introduce you if there’s a moment. And if we don’t get a chance to get into things before I leave, get in touch with me in DC.”
Tristan looked crestfallen at the prospect of the meeting being over so soon, but he slipped the card carefully into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, and then hesitated. “I know it’s none of my business—”
“I need to get in before the meeting starts,” Tom cut across him.
“Oh, hell,” Tristan said, and rushed down the porch steps to the nearest car, where he tapped on the driver’s window and gabbled something at the guy. Then he was running back, his long legs eating up the ground. “Matt will skin me alive if I’m late.”
“You’re coming to the meeting, then?”
Tristan nodded enthusiastically. Evidently, Matt had made his own decision about who was welcome to attend, no matter what Bennett’s advice had been.
When they entered the same comfortably shabby living room as the previous day, Tom found the councilors already ensconced with Matt, Jesse and Bryce.
His stomach clenched painfully at the sight of Bryce, whose usually expressive face was stiff and blank, and who didn’t look up at their entry.
Like Tom didn’t matter anymore—not even as a mistake.
He focused on keeping his shoulders square and his breathing even. This wasn’t the time for grief or anger, not when every word might shape Jesse’s future.
Tom followed Tristan’s path to the empty armchairs at the end of the room and sat down without a word.
He busied himself with his phone, ready to make notes and quietly dig around for any information about subjects that came up in the course of the talks, which he could send directly to Councilor Steadman’s phone. He was here to work.
Once his job was done, he could leave and never see Bryce again. That should have been a relief.
Somehow, it wasn’t.
brYCE
Bryce glanced up swiftly as Tom entered the room behind Tristan, then firmly turned his gaze elsewhere. The guy looked like crap. His cheeks were hollow, his face drawn, and his eyes downcast. If Bryce didn’t know better, he’d say he looked ill. But he did know better.
His wolf was restless and unhappy, demanding to be with his mate, wanting to comfort him, and it took all of Bryce’s strength to push him down, deep inside, and concentrate on the meeting.
To watch the micro-reactions of the councilors to everything Matt said.
The hint of a raised eyebrow from Steadman, the way Thompson’s eyes rarely left Jesse, and Hart’s unnatural stillness.
He was concentrating so hard on them that it took him by surprise when he realized what Matt was saying—that Jesse would visit Washington. Apparently, Bennett thought Jesse should be introduced to the President and Congress. Matt and Jesse were agreeing to that? What the hell?
“We’ll need to have absolute trust in your security arrangements, of course,” Matt said.
“Of course,” Bennett leaned forward, wringing his hands together, eager to please.
He was a world away from the coldness seeping from Steadman, whose upright posture seemed to drip with disapproval.
“The Council security team answers directly to me—that is, to the Leader of the Council—and so I can put in place whatever measures you deem necessary. I can assure you they’re all consummate professionals.
We’ve had no trouble since that unfortunate incident with Forster. ”
That unfortunate incident being the attempted assassination of one of the more outspoken shifter councilors by a non-shifter some years ago.
Belatedly, Bryce understood why Matt appeared to be considering the invitation.
Because, easy as that, they’d found out who controlled Jax and his men.
It didn’t mean that Bennett had ordered the massacres, but it was a pretty big pointer.
And there was no denying Bennett was desperate to get his hands on Jesse, just like Cale’s buyer had been.
Having an Argent by his side would bolster his power and reputation considerably.
“I got no interest in all that political bullshit,” Jesse said. “But if it means folks stop looking at shifters like we’re something to be scared of, I’ll do it, so long as I don’t gotta dress up or kiss ass.”
Bryce happened to be looking at Councilor Hart as Jesse’s speech came to an end and he saw a muscle twitch in her cheek at the mention of dressing up.
As he followed her gaze to the threadbare cuffs of Jesse’s faded shirt, he had a flashback to Taylor Caddel’s cufflinks and couldn’t blame the woman for her reaction.
But power rested where it would, and no amount of dressing up would change that.
“The Council will need to vote on precisely how we handle this.” Steadman’s voice was calm yet forceful.
“While we are most grateful for your willingness to come forward, Mr. Turner, there are some question marks over whether that’s the most sensible course of action.
We’re still in the process of being fully accepted by the non-shifter population.
The last thing we can afford to do is rock the boat by looking as if we’re organizing into a unified force that might demand more power. ”
“We’re happy to wait for whatever the Council decides,” Matt said smoothly. “I just figured we should let you know that Argents still exist.” He sent a gentle smile in Jesse’s direction as he spoke, one that Bryce would have sworn he was unaware of.
The meeting broke up soon after. The politicians were in a much better mood than the previous night, which must mean Matt had given them—or appeared to give them—more than they’d expected.
As he got to his feet, Bryce realized that was why Matt had gone in so hard the night before, refusing just about everything.
It meant that anything the councilors got from him today was seen as an achievement.
God, Bryce never wanted to run for office, not even for sheriff, because he didn’t think like that.
He wondered how Tom had survived Washington with his principles intact.
Tom. Fuck.
For a while there, Bryce had actually managed to forget. He’d kept himself locked tight on the discussion—tracking the councilors, supporting Matt, doing his job. And it had worked.
Until Tom stood up, every line of his body rigid with control, his face expressionless. Like nothing had happened. Like Bryce was a stranger.
Bryce’s wolf surged so fast it made him dizzy. Go after him. Stop him. Fix it.
He gripped the back of his chair hard enough that the old wood creaked. His eyes tracked Tom until the door closed behind him. Only then did he move, muttering something about needing fresh air.
Outside, the sun was too bright. He made his way to the corral, needing the rails to lean on. Christian’s black came over and bumped his head against Bryce’s chest, wanting to be made a fuss of. Wanting to be loved.
Fuck it.
Bryce turned away to find Matt striding toward him.
“What’s going on, Bryce?”
He shook his head. No way was he going to tell anyone, but he had to say something to explain his abrupt departure. “I hate them being here, poking at Jesse and asking questions.”
“I know you do, but that’s not the problem.”
Damn it, he and Matt had known one another too long and too well. Bryce couldn’t lie to him. And maybe if he said it out loud, the situation would lose its power over him.
“Tom and I are mates,” he confessed.
Shock held Matt motionless for a moment. “And?” he prompted at last, when Bryce volunteered nothing further.
“And what? I told him I’m not doing the whole mate thing. He’s leaving. That’s it.”
Matt reached out a hand, then let it drop. Just as well. Bryce felt like a wire stretched too taut. One touch, and he’d snap.
“You don’t look too happy with that decision.”
Bryce let out a harsh breath. “It’s not what I want, Matt. I never wanted this. Being tied to someone for life because of something in our DNA? That’s not love.”