Chapter One
Summer found one of the small empty tables and slipped her shoes off. She hated wearing heels, but it was kind of hard to avoid at her cousins' weddings. She wasn't thrilled to be here anyway, so the shoes just served to piss her off.
Oh, she was happy for Meg and Tara. Really, she was. But with them both marrying werewolves, and their own werewolf in the family tree, it made her nervous as hell to be in the room. She'd been watching for one in particular all night, but Jackson had stuck to his promise and not shown up. She felt a little guilt at that and squashed it down. She'd only met the man one time, but the way he'd looked at her ... No thanks. The matching leg shackles were not for her.
The reception was winding down, and she could now make her escape without hurting anyone's feelings. If she could just track down her cousins to say goodbye, she could then swing by Tara's and grab Tinnie's journals and be on her way. Both couples had disappeared a while ago, though. She snorted. She knew exactly what they were doing; it was just a question of where.
"Excuse me. Summer?"
She turned to see a tall handsome werewolf standing behind her. He looked friendly enough, and he was wearing a wedding band. Something about him was familiar.
"Yes?" Slipping the hated heels on, she stood to face him.
He held his hand out. "I'm Eric. I work for Darius."
Nodding, she shook his hand. "His Beta."
He grinned. "And here I was, under the impression you spooked easy."
Her eyebrows both shot up. She did not spook easily. She just recognized the danger one werewolf in particular posed to her freedom. "That's not exactly how I would phrase it."
He laughed. "Eventually Jackson is going to catch up with you, you know."
She shrugged. Not if she could help it. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."
He shook his head, still chuckling. "Okay. So Darius asked me to make sure you get to your plane tonight, and Tara left a box of books for you. Just let me know when you're ready, and I'll give you a lift over there."
So they hadn't forgot. She was dying to dive into her grandmother's journals. When the eccentric old benefactor that ran the non-profit she currently worked for offered her the company jet and lodge as a bonus, she'd jumped at the chance. Two secluded weeks in the Smokies should give her ample time to study Tinnie's books.
She smiled, probably her first real one of the day for anyone other than Meg and Tara. "I just need the box. I made arrangements to leave my car rental at the airport."
"Sure. You want to get it now?"
"That would be great."
She followed. As soon as she stepped outside, the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. She had the feeling she was being hunted and let her senses flare to isolate the danger. It faded away instantly, and she frowned. Maybe she'd imagined it.
The box was quickly transferred and she was off to the tiny airport that served the local area. Parking in the lot, she grinned at the sight of the small gleaming jet on the runway. Tiny airport, but big enough to handle most corporate jets. She pulled her bag from the trunk and slung the strap over her shoulder, then lifted the box, nudging the lid shut with her elbow.
As she approached the terminal--though giving it the lofty name was a stretch--the door opened for her. The long building had a car rental counter at one end, a ticket counter at the other, and a small snack bar crammed in between. Doors on the opposite wall led out the boarding area.
"You must be Summer Lambert. Let me take those for you," the man said, reaching for the box and her bag. She almost didn't let the cardboard carton go, but relented after looking into the kind face of the older gentleman.
"I'm Clint Osborn," he said. "Your pilot."
She blinked. There was something off about the man's aura. She didn't get an impression of danger, but he was definitely hiding something. Shrugging it off, she returned his smile. People were entitled to their secrets after all.
"Nice to meet you, Clint. I just need to drop the car key off and we can get going."
"No problem," he answered. "Take you time. I'll take your things out to the plane."
She let him take her bag and the box, and then she hurried to drop off the car key. Outside, the plane's engines were whirring, and she again got the impression something wasn't quite right. She shook it off and chalked it up to fatigue when she couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.
As soon as she got to the lodge, she was going to sleep for twenty-four hours. Since meeting Jackson several months ago, she'd thrown herself into work, staying so busy that exhaustion rode her hard. Mr. Hardy had offered her the use of the jet and the lodge as a bonus for finishing a project early, but she suspected he'd done it knowing how badly she needed a break. Smiling, she wondered if she was finally going to meet the old man in person and started the climb up the steps to the plane.
The inside was small but plush, with a couch along one wall and two captain's chairs on the other. The cockpit was to her left, and she assumed the door to her right led to a bathroom and maybe a small galley. The floors were carpeted in a thick pile, and she slipped her shoes off with a sigh. The cockpit door opened and a young man stepped out. He grinned, walked over and extended his hand.
"Summer. I'm Billy Cagle."
"Hey, Billy," she answered, pleased to finally meet one of the anonymous names from the other side of her email account. "It's nice to meet you in person."
"Yes, it is. We'll be taking off soon. Can I get you something first? Something to eat? A drink?"
He seemed eager to please, so she hated to say no. "Sure. Something to drink would be great."
He walked past her through the cabin and she trailed him, wondering what was behind the other door. It opened onto a narrow hall with a restroom on the left side and galley at the end. Opening the small refrigerator, he poked around.
"Wine?"
She nodded in response.
"Red or white?"
Definitely not red. After the champagne at the reception, she'd end up with a raging migraine. "White is good."
She looked at the door to her side and thought she'd better use the facilities before they took off. While Billy uncorked the wine, she stepped in and splashed water on her face. Leaning over, she took a good look in the mirror. Makeup barely concealed the black circles under her eyes, and fine lines marred her forehead. No wonder he was offering her wine. She looked tired and stressed out.
When she came out, he was waiting for her in the cabin and handed her the glass. She took a sip as she walked to the couch. Sitting, she tucked her legs up under her. She really ought to change; she'd ruin the dress. With a mental shrug, she gulped more of the wine. It wasn't like she was planning to wear it again. Lifting the glass for another drink, she was surprised to find it empty. Amused, she looked up and caught Billy's intent expression, as if he was waiting for something. She should be curious about that, but she was suddenly very tired. Standing, she swayed on her feet, and he caught her shoulders, letting go as soon as she stilled.
"Steady there. I think you drank that a little too fast."
She shook her head, trying to clear the growing haze and puzzle this out. Then she caught site of something under the open collar of his shirt. A small silver disc. It threw off a hazy vibe, interfering with her senses. She hadn't seen one in more years than she could remember.
"That's a witch's talisman. Why would you wear one of those, Billy?"
She swayed, and he again caught her shoulders. A shadow blocked the open cabin door. Why was it still open?
"I think she's feeling a little woozy, boss."
Boss? Was this Mr. Hardy? She leaned around Billy and squinted, but her eyes didn't seem to be working right. The shadow moved closer and took over, plucking the glass out of her hand and passing it to Billy.
"I've got it from here," he said with Jackson's voice.
She'd never forget that voice. It haunted her dreams and kept her up nights. But how could he be here? She struggled to think, to force her eyes to focus on him. Yep. It was definitely Jackson.
"What are you doing here, Jackson?" Her mouth felt like cotton, and she had to force the words out.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, you're gonna be fine." He looked over his shoulder and spoke to Billy. "Shut the door and tell Clint we're ready to take off."
Her mind cleared a moment, and she realized what must have happened. She sat down hard on the couch, and he moved closer, reaching a hand out to balance her. Glaring, she shifted away from him. "You drugged me."
The moment of lucidity didn't last long, though, and she stifled a yawn once the words were out, her eyelids sinking closed no matter how hard she fought against it. Before the drug took her, she felt him pull her into his lap and cradle her in his arms like a child. She couldn't find the will to struggle. Besides, it was kind of nice to stop fighting and sink into his warmth. He smoothed the hair away from her face. She wasn't sure if his response was real or imagined.
"You didn't give me much choice, sweetheart."
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