Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,32

“She had none at the end, after I removed Marcus’s pack. Here she’s royalty.”

“So are you,” Lucas pointed out.

I snorted. Very princessy of me.

I began to work up another argument as to why I thought the dream should be considered with more seriousness, but my ringing phone interrupted us. Lucas tried to hide his smirk over my ringtone.

“Hello?” I got up from the table and moved into the master bedroom for some privacy.

“Took a little vacation, did you?” Sig’s tone could have been mistaken for cheerful. I wasn’t fooled.

A shiver ran down my spine and I tried to gather my thoughts before speaking again. “Pack business.”

“Imagine my surprise,” he went on like I hadn’t spoken at all, “when I received a phone call last night…a phone call…from a frantic Oracle convinced you were in immediate peril. In Louisiana.”

Oh my God. Calliope had called him? Not only did the half god, half fairy never use the phone, she also hated Sig more than anyone I’d ever known. Broken hearts will do crazy things to people.

“Sig, I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

“Choice is a lie we tell ourselves when we do things we feel people won’t like.”

I said nothing.

“You won’t come back if I tell you to, we both know that.” He sighed.

“Not until I’m done here.”

“I expected as much. So I sent you something. It took a lot of time, money and favors to get it to you, though I somehow doubt you’ll appreciate the effort.”

Why didn’t I like the sound of that?

A knock at the door sent a shard of fear deep into my gut. “What did you do?” I asked the dial tone. Although he was gone, I still held the phone to my ear as I went to the door and swung it open. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Actually my mother was a lovely woman,” Holden said. “Now are you going to invite me in?”

Chapter Sixteen

It took some convincing to let Lucas allow me to leave with Holden and no guards.

“Like hell,” the wolf king said.

“I need to talk to him,” I countered.

“Talk to him here.”

I huffed a sigh and turned to the vampire for a little help. He dropped the two suitcases he was carrying—one looked suspiciously as though it came from my apartment—then he smirked.

Helpful.

“He can’t stay here,” Lucas continued.

“He won’t.”

“Actually…” Sure, now Holden wanted to be helpful.

“Shh-ush,” I hissed.

He grinned. I almost wished he were being grim and surly. Then his mood would match Lucas’s. And mine for that matter.

“Out of the question,” Lucas insisted. “I don’t trust his…discretion for one. Fucking. Second.”

“My orders supersede your opinion of my indiscretions,” Holden said, and on the last word he gave me a lascivious wink.

Oh for God’s sake. He was enjoying this.

“Outside.” I pointed to the door.

“Not now—”

“Yes. Now. That’s an order.”

My command sobered him up right quick. He nudged the yellow Coach weekend bag he’d brought, the one I suspected was mine.

“I brought you something.” Then he stalked back out the door.

“Secret.” My name was all Lucas said.

“This wasn’t my idea.”

The look on his face told me he didn’t entirely believe me. “Be that as it may, I need it undone.”

I didn’t bother explaining how Sig’s orders trumped mine and I couldn’t get rid of Holden if I wanted to. Instead I gave Lucas a tight nod. “You need to let me talk to him. I’ll take care of this. I’ll be safe with him.”

Lucas grumbled something and threw his hands up in the air before stomping back to the table.

I took that as permission.

Before going to Holden, I stooped over my bag and unzipped it. Desmond had anticipated Brigit would be choosing my clothes for me, but it seemed a different vampire entirely had snuck into my closet and done the job. Desmond was out often enough it wouldn’t have been hard, I was just hoping he’d think Bri had taken the items, not Holden.

Inside the small suitcase was an array of sharp-looking outfits to make me appear both royal and dangerous. Leave it to Holden to think of my clothing needs above and beyond jeans and sweaters.

Underneath a leather skirt I found the real treasure, though. Extra clips for the SIG I’d brought in my purse and a wooden box containing the dagger Desmond had given me for Christmas. I couldn’t wear the dagger now, having no coat suitable to hide the leg strap, but I gratefully took the clips of silver bullets.

Unfortunately, in spite of all the new and lovely clothes I’d had