with her?” The briefest hesitation made him demand, “Charlotte, is everything fine?”
Cee Cee smiled. “Yes. Of course. Susanna’s being cautious because of the genetic thing, but she doesn’t see any reason for worry.”
The relief in his features was reward enough for that tiny lie. Or so Cee Cee told herself as the house settled into peaceful silence. Bone-weary from the evening’s physical and emotional trials, she let thoughts prowl, comforted by the security radiating from the male tucked in close behind her, front-to-back, still wearing what she wryly considered his chastity gym shorts. Clutching the arm riding her ever-increasing middle, she sighed.
Having never expected to depend upon anyone except her childhood best friend, let alone a man both mobster and monster, she’d quickly found Max Savoie a habit impossible to break. Not that she wanted to. Never that. But after a lifetime of caring only for herself with a determined, excluding selfishness, sometimes she had to be reminded to let him in, to trust him to trust her. Like now.
Uncomfortably sweaty as her hormonal sauna made closeness impossible, she edged out from under Max’s intimate drape to scowl at the ceiling. She had no defensible reason for hiding her agenda. If anyone could be counted on to support her choices, that figure lay beside her. She knew that. But knowing and blindly believing were sometimes difficult to justify.
Alain Babineau had her back on the streets. Mary Kate Malone, now Sister Catherine, held her confidence as sacred as the sister’s God. But Max Savoie encompassed her heart with a tenderness and passion she’d never allowed or given another. This trinity, those two friends and this lover, were her world now. Yet she held back because a part of her still denied that good could defeat all the evil around her. And that darkness, here in her native city and in the distant North, grew, relentless, cold and all consuming.
A threat to her unborn daughter.
CHAPTER TWO
After a restless night next to a female hiding things from him, finding his table surrounded by a rival clan who discussed bringing war to his backyard over cups of chicory coffee and the remains of his housekeeper’s mammoth breakfast added to Max’s testy mood.
An immediate hush fell over the four Terriot princes and their kingdom-less king. Though only half-siblings, these five of Bram Terriot’s original twelve heirs all bore the hard, harsh traits of their father’s clan: Strongly cut features, varying shades of red hair, and the deadly strength of body and mind that made them unequaled warriors. Brutally trained to protect what was theirs and take what they wanted, their fiercely competitive natures had sent four of their dozen to early ends and crafted two more into dangerous enemies, leaving just one outside their arguments. These five had come to his door, bending reluctant knees to seek shelter for their kind, a humbling that made them desperate. And possibly dangerous.
“Hope you saved me something.”
His amused tone relaxed the brothers.
Colin, the big, pragmatic ladies’ man of the group kicked out a heavy chair, flashing his cover-model smile, as the others filled Max’s cup and shoved platters his way.
After that first bolstering sip of harsh, dark brew, Max looked to Turow, the newly arrived, still Nevada-based brother and asked, “News?”
“Nothing good,” the somber tracker admitted, tone carefully neutral.
Used to standing in the background to observe through cool blue eyes, Turow Terriot wasn’t much for giving things like feelings or opinions away, especially after mating with the traitor he’d been ordered to bring to justice instead of to his bed. Now he and his clever, survivalist mate, Sylvia, provided sanctuary for desperate members of their clan, many of whom had once demanded her head.
“We’ve done a couple of passes over what’s left of our home,” he added, quiet voice covering any emotion. “Lots of strangers poking about but no sign of family.”
He didn’t say what all were thinking. No additional survivors. Cale, thanks to his bodyguard’s sacrificial action, had been the last to leave their mountaintop hideaway alive . . . just barely.
“Do they have a way to contact you if they’re stranded somewhere, hurt or alone?”
Christopher “Kip” Terriot, the youngest, tech-minded one of the group, spoke to Max’s question. “We’ve got a system for checking in, but lately—” Words choked off abruptly.
His mother, stepfather and aunt had been found in the rubble of their home, that pain still too fresh to get past new losses easily.
Cale laid a hand on his shoulder, blame for his half-brother’s grief