Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-three
TOM
The kitchen was too quiet. Tom leaned against the counter, a mug cooling in his hand. Voices drifted down the hallway—Matt’s low and level, Bryce’s tighter, frayed at the edges.
He didn’t want to be here.
Jesse appeared in the doorway. “They’re done talkin’. You can head on in.”
Tom nodded. Setting down the mug, he took a deep breath and followed Jesse. He just had to see Bryce one last time, and then he’d be free. Or so he told himself, but the ache in his chest said otherwise.
Matt’s voice carried down the hallway, clear and unmistakable.
“Maybe you should ask yourself why you don’t want to see your mate in danger.”
Tom faltered, stopping just shy of the threshold.
Bryce’s voice was rough-edged. “Fuck it, Matt. He’s not my mate. Not in any way that counts.”
The words hit like a gut punch. His lungs wouldn’t work. He’d known, of course he’d known. But hearing it, so cold, final, and dismissive…
Jesse turned, his eyes wide with apology. Tom shook his head once. Don’t.
Then he pulled himself together, and walked in. By the time they looked up, he was composed. Distant. Professional.
Bryce surged to his feet, hand half-lifted, eyes wide with something like horror.
“Tom—”
“I need to tell you something important, Tom,” Matt said sharply, cutting Bryce off. “It’s not going to be easy to hear, but I want you just to listen and save any questions for afterward.”
Tom nodded, terse and tight. “Go ahead.”
Only the years in the job and the importance that they’d drilled into him of giving nothing away kept Tom’s face impassive as Matt spoke.
He laid out a blunt succession of facts about the criminal alpha who’d been after Jesse, the fact he’d claimed to have a buyer who was a member of the National Council, and the massacre that had followed once Jesse’s existence became known in Washington.
Tom had to bite his lip to keep himself quiet when Urban told him Jesse’s pack had been slaughtered when he was a pup, and that, according to an eyewitness, Jax had been in the area at that time.
When Urban stopped speaking, Tom drew a deep breath. “You do realize what you’re saying?”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Matt said calmly. “All I’m doing is laying out the facts we’ve gathered. If they appear to lead to a certain conclusion, that’s not my doing.”
Matt Urban wasn’t a man to spin wild theories. And Bryce—well, Bryce didn’t lie. The only inference to draw was that they believed every word.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone when you found Cale’s pack? There should have been an investigation into what happened while there was still evidence to be found.”
“We didn’t want anyone to know we knew,” Bryce said.
Tom frowned, trying to follow his reasoning.
“We believe the killing was ordered to cover the buyer’s tracks. If we knew about the murders, we might also know about the reason for them and might even know the buyer’s identity, which would put us next in the firing line.” Matt’s lips quirked, but there was no humor in them.
“So you’ve got no evidence of any of this,” Tom said.
“Aside from the eyewitness testimony of my pack, you mean.” Matt’s voice was soft and deadly at the implied criticism of his pack.
“With respect, Matt, they witnessed the aftermath, not the event,” Tom said. “They don’t know who did it. Any evidence left will probably be gone by now, lost to animals and the elements.”
“But the perpetrators don’t know that, do they?” Bryce was leaning forward in his chair. “If they think there’s an investigation, maybe they’ll betray themselves.”
“Which brings us to why we’re telling you this,” Matt said. “We don’t know who we can safely tell, what alliances there might be between Council members. We’re hoping that you do and can approach them.”
The breath was driven from Tom’s lungs as he stared at Matt. “You want me—fuck,” he said. “You want me to stick my neck out. To sacrifice my whole damn career.”
“Not necessarily,” Matt said. “If whoever’s responsible gets found out and punished, then you’d get the credit for it.”
“For being a whistleblower? I don’t think so.”
“Well then, you need to decide what you’re going to do.” Urban was merciless in laying out the stark choice in front of Tom, with no recognition of what it would cost him.
But as Tom thought about what he’d been told, that one of the packs killed in their own territory had included at least one young pup, he swallowed hard and couldn’t help looking at Jesse. He was quiet and still, his gaze on the floorboards in front of him.
When Tom had landed himself the job on the security detail for the Council, needing a job that was both physically and mentally challenging to distract him from the shattering of his Air Force dream, his mom had looked stricken.
He was too honest to survive in a place like Washington, she’d said.
She’d been right. No matter what it cost him, he couldn’t forget what he’d just been told.
He couldn’t ignore the fact that this had happened.
If he did, and something like it happened again, it would be on his head.
He nodded jerkily, signaling his agreement.
“Councilor Garcia will be a safe pair of hands to put this into,” he said.
“He’s an outsider, only elected last year, and he’s made his name by standing up against most of the rest of the Council.
He’s much brighter than his platform makes him seem—he just wanted to get the votes.
He’s young, too, so there’s no way he could have been involved all those years ago.
Even if he’s allied with someone, he’s ambitious enough to look out for his own interests if he thinks this is going to be exposed. ”
“Does he have any reason to believe you?”
Tom’s lips twisted. “No one’s going to disbelieve the Argent and risk losing his support. He’ll have to make a show of looking into the story if it comes from Jesse.”
Jesse snorted, showing precisely what he thought of that.
“And Councilor Steadman,” Tom mused. “It’s too dangerous to only tell one person in case I’m wrong about Garcia, and she’s more connected than just about anyone else in Washington.”
Also, that way he might just keep his career when all this was over. If she knew he’d cut her out, she’d be ruthless in getting rid of him and making sure he never again worked anywhere she had influence. And that was a lot of places.
“Do you trust her?” Bryce was leaning forward, his knuckles white as his hands clenched into fists.
Tom was silent for a moment as he thought. “I trust her to do what she believes to be the right thing for the shifter community. I also trust her to do what’s in her own self-interest. What she’d do if those two things came into conflict is another question.”
“I don’t like it.” Bryce’s voice was low and rough. “Look how fast this person acted against Cale. You’re going to be exposed out there—”
Fury hit Tom so fast he could scarcely breathe.
“You have no fucking right.” He was on his feet, shaking with rage. It had come from nowhere, but was twisting inside him with such wild strength he thought he might fly apart. “You’ve made it damn clear you want nothing to do with me, so don’t even pretend you care.”
“Tom—” Bryce was on his feet too, moving toward him. “Look, just because I don’t want—I can’t—doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“Fuck you.”
Savage triumph burned through Tom as he saw the shock and pain in Bryce’s face at the venom behind his words. He looked away then, ignoring Bryce, and nodded briefly to Matt, underlining just how unimportant Bryce was to him. “I’ll be in touch.”
And with that he was walking out of the room and out of the house, away from the loose-limbed cowboy who had seemed to promise so much and had ended up tearing apart the little that Zack had left of his heart.
He threw the car into drive and didn’t look back—not at the house, not at the man who’d unraveled him, not at the mess he was leaving behind.
He was a professional. He had a job to do, maybe the most important thing he’d ever done.
He’d concentrate on that, and by the time it was over he’d have forgotten all about Bryce Reynolds.
And at the little voice in his head that told him he could never forget just how good it had been with Bryce, he stamped on the gas hard. A rabbit darted across the driveway and barely made it. He didn’t even blink. He was done caring. Done feeling.