Chapter Nineteen
Louis dropped the bullet he’d dug out of his shoulder, and held up his hands. “Easy, now, Melinda. Put the gun down.”
She swung his way, a shaky finger on the trigger, and he stared down the barrel. The bullet wouldn’t kill him—unless she got off a lucky shot and nailed him in the head—but it would hurt like hell. Fucking Faucherians and their silver-coated bullets.
She stared at him, then Pierre, the horror in her eyes all but wrenching his heart from his chest. Their mate was afraid of them.
He looked around at the carnage on the floor—throats ripped out, gaping wounds.
One guy was missing a hand. It lay curled around the grip of a pistol.
Neither he nor Pierre were unscathed. Covered in the blood of their enemies as well as their own.
The wound in his shoulder was healing. Pierre’s wound in his thigh was a through and through.
Gabriel, the connard, had come out of the fight uninjured, his face, neck and chest splattered with blood, none of it his.
He couldn’t blame Melinda for being scared.
Annabelle stepped forward. “Maybe I should—”
She froze as Melinda spun the pistol in her direction. Gabriel roared and leaped, shielding his mate. Before Louis could utter a word, Melinda fired. The shot went wide.
“Melinda.” He took a step toward her.
“Stop.” Melinda gripped the pistol tighter, her attention skittering between them all. “Don’t come any closer.” She half sobbed. “I will shoot you if I have to.”
“Melinda, it’s me. Louis. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“We’re your bodyguards, remember? You’re paying us to protect you,” said Pierre, his voice soft, soothing, though Louis sensed the turmoil and the pain his brother held in check.
She spun to face his twin. “I don’t know who…what you are anymore.”
“We’re still the same Louis and Pierre who invited you to our apartment for drinks.” He inched forward. She swung the barrel at him again. He gave her his best friendly smile. “You liked my nuts, remember?”
If they could just talk her down, get her in their arms and reassure her she was safe… “We flew all the way from London with you. If we wanted to hurt you, we had every opportunity. You let us touch you then. Comfort you. More than comfort. The three of us.”
Her hands dipped a little. They nearly had her.
Behind the barrels, Stef moved on silent feet, sneaking up on Melinda.
“Wait,” he called out, but it was too late.
Stef clamped a hand around Melinda’s wrist. Their mate screamed and struggled. The gun went off, the bullet plowing into the warehouse roof. Then Stef had control of the weapon. She removed the magazine and the cartridge from the chamber and tossed it aside.
Melinda backed away from them all, her eyes wide. “Who are you people? Are you all…?” She cackled, on the verge of hysteria. “Wolf Enterprises. I should’ve guessed. How could I have guessed? Who in their right mind would believe people could turn into…animals?”
Animals? The word sucker punched him in the chest. She thought them animals, now?
Annabelle held up a backpack, tossing it to them. “Why don’t you boys go get cleaned up, put some clothes on and go wait with the cars? Melinda, Stef and I are going to have a little talk, woman to woman.”
Louis growled his displeasure. She was their mate, and she was afraid.
She needed them. The urge to protect her, comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right, burned within him.
But would it be? Right now, she wanted to run from them, from what they were.
To lock it away in the back of her mind and pretend she’d never seen what she had. He could smell it on her.
He took a step toward her, and Melinda backed away, her bottom lip quivering. His heart cracked wide open at the look in her eyes.
“Thank you, Annabelle. Perhaps that’s for the best. For now.” Pierre put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Come, Louis.”
The ride back to the Ritz-Carlton was a somber one.
How Annabelle and Stef talked Melinda into returning with them, he didn’t know, but there must’ve been some heavy persuasion.
Convincing her to ride in the car with them was out of the question, so the girls took one car, and Pierre, Gabe and he drove back in the other.
In the foyer, they parted ways. The women heading for the bar, while they took the elevator to the penthouse suite.
She looked at them then, as they stood in the elevator waiting for the door to close.
Her face pale and tear-stained, the terror gone from her eyes, replaced by bewilderment and a good measure of shock.
Worlds away from last night as they’d fucked her fear away. Now they were what frightened her.
In their suite, Pierre poured them all a glass of whiskey. Gabriel flopped on the sofa and Pierre stood by the window, looking out at the San Francisco skyline. Louis downed his glass in one gulp, the burn of the spirit doing nothing to quench the pain in his chest. He poured himself another.
“Well, that went as well as we could have expected,” said Gabe.
Louis rounded on his brother. “As well as we could have expected? Our mate is afraid of us. Cordelia has escaped. There are six dead bodies in an otherwise empty warehouse by the docks. Worse, Cordelia played the part of the poor little old lady to perfection. Melinda still believes her client is in danger. Not the danger!” He was yelling now, his hand fisted around the crystal glass so tight it might shatter. “Our mate thinks we’re the danger.”
“Louis—”
“No! Don’t Louis me, Pierre!” He hurled his glass at the wall.
It shattered, crystal and whiskey spraying over the wall and the cream carpet.
Louis slumped down on the sofa, his head in his hands.
“What if…?” He raised his head to meet the anguish in Pierre’s eyes.
“What if she wants nothing to do with us now?” He raked his hand through his hair.
“Look at us. We’re already trying to drink away our pain. ”
Pierre turned away. His brother always did like to mask his feelings, but they throbbed in the air, more powerful than an electromagnetic pulse. His brother was hurting as much as he was.
Gabe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Don’t give up, Louis.” He swiveled to include Pierre. “Either of you. Remember, I thought I’d lost Annabelle. Three long years without her almost killed me. Then look what happened. Now, here I am. Mated. Fate will find a way.”
Louis was glad Gabe had omitted the ‘happily’ bit. He didn’t think he could face it if he hadn’t.
Pierre grunted. “Tell that to Maxime.”
“Have a little faith. In Stef and Annabelle. In your mate. She’s had a shock.
It’s not the way any of us would want our mates finding out what we are, I’ll grant you, but she’ll come around.
Just give her some time. A lot happened in that warehouse.
She’s going to need to come to grips with it all, to assimilate it. ”
Maybe.
“Louis,” said Gabe. “She’s smart, right? Stupid-smart, like you two.”
Oui, she was. Their malware had only got them so far. She hadn’t made it easy for them to track her down.
“And you’ve done nothing but protect her. You saved her from the Faucherian sent to kill her. You protected her at the warehouse. Killed for her. She’ll join the dots. Once she’s had a bit of time to think about it.”
“Gabe’s right, Louis. We need to give her time.”
Time? They’d be lucky if she ever wanted to be in the same room with them again. Accepting she was their mate? Convincing her to bind herself to them forever? To become one of them? Right now, they’d have more chance hacking the fucking Pentagon.