Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,30
I wore over a blue My Little Pony T-shirt had cute fuzzy bear ears attached to it.
At least my black Converse sneakers were my own. But the whole ensemble made me look about as menacing as a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
Nolan picked up on the second ring. “’Allo?”
“Pack a bag,” I told him.
“For what?”
“You’re moving temporarily.” I explained the circumstances. Since I wasn’t sure who was after me, those close to me might be in danger as well. I couldn’t take Brigit with me on a werewolf field trip without giving Lucas a coronary, and since she wasn’t yet under the council’s protection I didn’t want her left vulnerable. Nolan might just be human, but Brigit meant something to him. Having the two of them together would ease my mind because I knew they’d look out for one another, and I wanted to be certain they were safe.
When I hung up, Desmond shook his head. “Only you would worry about the safety of a vampire at a time like this.”
I smiled innocently, not quite sure what to say to that. “Let’s go get my stuff, okay?”
“I’m taking you right to the airport. No stops. We can’t take the risk.”
I gaped at him, indicating my middle-school-themed ensemble. “I’m supposed to meet a king dressed like this?”
“I’ll make sure your stuff gets there. Brigit will know what you need. I’ll get her to put together a bag for you.”
“What do you mean? You’re coming with us.”
“No.” He frowned. “I have to stay behind and be responsible for the pack while Lucas is gone. That’s my duty. When Lucas is gone, I have to be here, it trumps all my other responsibilities. Even my job to protect you.” He reached over and gave my hand an apologetic squeeze. “Morgan, Dominick and Jackson will be with you.”
“Awesome.”
Minutes later we pulled into a parking lot behind JFK where a small Cessna with the Rain Industries emblem painted on the side was waiting for us. A pilot stood a safe distance away, smoking a cigarette, and Lucas—with Morgan at his side—was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. It sent a pang through my heart to see how much more right Morgan looked beside him with her chic bob and expensive, tailored blazer over her expensive, tailored jeans.
“Can I do this?” I asked, fingering one of the fuzzy ears on my hood.
Desmond took my hand, the one without the engagement ring, and kissed my knuckles.
“You’ll knock ’em dead.”
Knowing my luck, he’d be right.
Chapter Fifteen
For some odd reason I thought Louisiana would be hot. I’d spent only the first months of my life there and had no memories of the place at all, but my brain led me to believe it would be hot. Like somehow it was a magical, tropical place where April temperature didn’t affect the state as it did the rest of the continental US.
We got off the plane just before dawn, the sky a deep, hazy purple. Even though it was much warmer than New York, New Orleans wasn’t anywhere near as sweltering as I’d imagined.
A car was waiting, and Lucas, Dominick and I climbed in. Morgan and Jackson waited for the next one. We left the airport, bound for city center, and the purple of the sky began to take on a distinctly pinkish hue.
I yawned.
“We’re almost there.” Lucas must have sensed my anxiousness about the oncoming sunrise, but neither of us said anything about it. We’d had to tread carefully the whole way here because of Morgan. Even Jackson knew about my connection to the vampires, but Morgan was still in the dark, and that was the only place I trusted her.
The car deposited us in front of a beautiful hotel in the heart of the French Quarter. The building was old, covered in wrought iron and festooned with charming details, giving it a look like it was airlifted right out of Paris and dumped here.
The entire block looked much the same, glowing with warmth and alive with activity even in the predawn hours.
When we got out, the other car was pulling up behind us, perfectly timed for the crew of bellhops who came out to collect our luggage and fawn over us. I guess it paid to travel this way.
Whenever I’d traveled for the Tribunal as an assassin—which hadn’t happened often—it was to budget motels or hotels with bad plumbing. The council didn’t have to stay there, so what did it matter to them?