Change of Heart (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 3) Read online

Except for the one wearing a black thong as an eyepatch. She kept yelling arrr while slashing her hooked finger through the air.

  “Mr. Mendelsohn.” I kept a safe distance from the action. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to exit the fountain and put on some clothes.”

  “You’ll have to catch me first.” His untamed laughter filled the night. “Better hurry.”

  No one who had spent five seconds with Mendelsohn would accuse him of being the sharpest tool in the shed. Even if the shed caught fire with him in it and burned to the ground, reducing everything to ashes.

  No, wait.

  That last part was wishful thinking.

  Ambrose cocked his head, his attention focused behind me, alerting me to an approaching presence.

  “He’s been like this for an hour,” rasped a voice raw from yelling. “They’ve all been like this.”

  Happy for any excuse to look away before the exhibition caused permanent blindness, I cut my eyes and angled my chin toward her in acknowledgment. The others I kept in my periphery, wary of their wild abandon in a public space.

  Dim recognition sparked from the late stages of the Bonnie Diaz case as I took in the details of the woman’s outfit. She had been wearing a sundress the last time we met too. “Gayle, right?”

  “That’s me.” She worried her top dress button until its fraying thread snapped, and the disc fell into her hand. “I’m the one who called.”

  The start of a headache throbbed behind my right eye. “Who did you call?”

  “The OPA.” She produced a creased business card with my information. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Yet somehow, instead of Bishop, she had gotten ahold of Remy. No other explanation came to mind for the tip from my employee that would explain why the team at the OPA had yet to update me. Remy had hacked the Swyft database for her own purposes. She might have jacked our forwarding service too.

  If that was the case, when Bishop found out—if he didn’t already know—he would be pissed.

  “You did right.” I folded her hand over the card, urging her to keep it. A contact inside their pack would be worth cultivating. “We’re happy to help in whatever way we can within city limits.”

  Wargs policed their own. I got the call because this was a situation involving an incapacitated alpha. I was Gayle’s best hope for a peaceful resolution, and I had to act fast, before other packs in the area got any ideas. A vulnerable alpha was a dead alpha, and Mendelsohn was out of his gourd. Well, more than usual.

  “You were the designated driver?” I noted her clear eyes. “Any idea what they’re on?”

  Thanks to wargs’ higher metabolism, alcohol gave them a buzz, but only if they worked hard for it. Most street drugs fell into the same low-risk category with almost zero addiction rates. That said, there was always something new on the horizon.

  “Deric isn’t a user, but he’ll take favors at parties.”

  That fit with his anything goes outlook on life. “What about his girlfriends?”

  “The pregnant ones,” she said, taking my meaning, “would never endanger their babies.”

  Thank the goddess for that. “How about the unpregnant ones?”

  Lips tight, she watched her alpha frolic. “They would follow Deric’s lead.”

  “You never said if you drove them here.”

  “Oh, sorry. No. I wasn’t there.” She tore her gaze away from him. “I got a call from a girlfriend who works the club district. Jemima tipped me off about the pack. I picked up their trail and followed them here on foot.”

  “Your friend…” I cast around for anyone else coherent but came up empty, “…she’s pack too?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Vampire.”

  “So, they hit a club?” I made a vague gesture toward the gathering. “All of them? Except you?”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her thumb in the shallow divot of the button like a worry stone. “I tend to stick close to home, keep an eye on the elders and the kids.”

  And if that was longing in her voice for it to be otherwise, it was none of my business.

  Gwyllgi protocols stumped me on the regular. I wasn’t wading into warg politics uninvited.

  “Did your friend name the club?”

  “Greenleaf.” A shudder twitched her shoulders. “That themed bar on Crescent Avenue Northeast.”

  Clubs weren’t my scene, but I was familiar with most by name if not location from my homework.

  “Last week, Deric got an invite to an exclusive party. Heavy paper, calligraphy, the works. That’s not uncommon, everyone knows he loves to party, but this must have been a special case. He’s been pumped for days.” Her voice softened. “I didn’t recognize the sender’s name or the address.”

  “Do you know if he kept the invitation?”

  Gayle worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “He doesn’t usually, but if he did, it would be in his tent.”

  “Check for me when you get home.” I tapped the card she had yet to put away. “Call me if you find it.”

  Her slow, tight nod conveyed her struggle with the request she invade her alpha’s private quarters, even for his own good.

  “What are you going to do?” Gayle rubbed a pink splotch I hadn’t noticed on her forearm. “I tried to get him out of the fountain when I arrived, and he bit me.”

  Having met Mendelsohn a time or two, that pulled me up short. “He’s aggressive?”

  All I had witnessed from him so far was a very tra-la-la attitude, but I hadn’t cornered him either.

  “Very.” She kept rubbing, but the mark didn’t fade. “It’s not like him.”

  Mendelsohn had challenged and killed his father to take over the pack, and he had done the enforcer gig for his old man before that. Rumor had it he executed the coup for the right to knock up every fertile female in the pack. The end result was he tended to choose mating over brawling.

  Lashing out at a female, let alone a member of his pack, was out of character for him.

  “We need to contain the situation.” I woke my phone. “Do you mind if I call for backup?”

  Panic brightened her eyes, and her body trembled with the need to shift and defend her packmates.

  The spark of magic she exuded barely rated a glance from Ambrose, but the promise of violence set him quivering.

  “No…” she gritted out from behind elongating teeth, “…wargs.”

  “I won’t allow any non-Mendelsohn wargs near Deric until he’s detoxed,” I promised. “Your alpha is safe.”

  Sweat beaded and rolled down her brow, salting her too-bright eyes. The fine bones in her face shifted and popped. Skin stretched, elastic. Her jaw yawned wide in the beginnings of a horror-movie-style transformation before she regained control of her protective instincts.

  “Yeth,” she rasped through a misshapen maw. “Do it.”

  With a tight nod, I walked off to make my call and get me the heck out of Dodge.

  “I’m sorry in advance,” I murmured to the universe, then dialed.

  Ford hopped down from his pickup with a pasted-on smile that flaked off once he spotted Mendelsohn.

  The courtship with Midas had torpedoed my friendship with Ford, and I absolutely hated it.

  Hurt darkened his eyes whenever he looked at me these days, and I wished I could blame it on the coven.

  But I had helped put it there.

  So had Midas.

  “This is a warg matter.” Hip against the fender, he tucked his hands under his arms. “I can’t intervene.”

  “Wrong.” Bishop exited shadows too thin to conceal his approach, and Ambrose stalked him on his way over with glee. “The wargs are in our city, causing a disturbance guaranteed to draw human attention. That makes it an OPA matter.”

  “You’re slipping.” I cocked my hip. “Remy tipped me off like an hour ago.”

  Bishop ignored me, and the hit to his pride, in favor of staring down Ford.

  “I can’t intervene,” Ford repeated without heat
. “I’m sorry.”

  “You help me and the OPA all the time.” I threw my hands up in frustration. “How is this any different?”

  “I’m different,” he said softly, a world of pain spinning through his voice.

  The decent thing to do would be to cut him loose now and let him come to me when he was ready.

  “Mendelsohn took his harem to a party at Greenleaf,” I told him, “and this is the result.”

  So long, decency.

  “Some of these females—” I kept hammering at him, “—are pregnant.”

  Ford punched the side of his truck hard enough to leave a dent. “I can’t intervene.”

  Unflappable Ford losing his temper dried the spit in my mouth, but that wasn’t half as shocking as him raising a hand to his truck. He loved that thing. It was his baby, his pride and joy, and he had struck it.

  That was not like Ford. None of this was like him. He might as well have been body snatched.

  Actually, thanks to the Martian Roaches using him as a host, he almost had been.

  “You can go, Ford.” Bishop rested his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got her back.”

  Ford flexed his hand, testing it for broken bones, then he climbed into the cab of his truck and sat there.

  “I thought I could do this.” He aimed the hard words like an arrow straight at my heart. “Be just friends with you.” His grip on the door handle turned white-knuckled. “I need more time.”

  “Ford…” I would have stepped closer, but Bishop held me in check. “You are my friend.”

  Before he slammed the door, he murmured, “I’m sorry I can’t return the favor right now.”

  The white pickup sped off before the engine had time to cool from his arrival.

  “Give him space.” Bishop dropped his arm. “His head is all screwed up, kid.”

  “I really did a number on him.”

  “Don’t take all the credit,” he chided. “More is going on in his head than in his heart.”

  Afraid of how much I wanted off the hook for hurting him, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “What the coven did to him left a mark that won’t fade soon. He’s got to make peace with what happened before he can move on. You’re just a handy target.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, rejection sucks. He’s going to be feeling that sting for a while too.” He started walking, and I fell in step with him. “Broken hearts mend, eventually. Broken spirits are iffier. Broken minds… Sometimes that’s impossible.”

  Guilt hit me, heavy and hard. “Do you think I should mention this to Abbott?”

  “Ford could use a friend.” He refrained from pointing out I had cost him his best one. “The more neutral, the better.”

  Since we were doing the bonding thing, I dared to switch gears. “Are you doing okay? After everything?”

  “I’ve had worse.” He brushed me off easily. “That doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”

  Three nondescript vans pulled up behind us and spat out eight women and four men dressed to weather a downpour. They each nodded at my wave, about as much of a hello as you could expect from cleaners, who did their best to avoid on-scene interaction for the sake of their impartial reputation.

  Moving into position, one man and one woman opened the rear swinging doors on each van, revealing a stainless bench bolted to the wall and the floor on either side.

  I stared at the cleaners, and the cleaners stared right back.

  Apparently, everyone had decided this was an OPA matter.

  Where were the sentinels when you needed them? Sheesh. They should have been here by now.

  “Come on, kid.” Bishop nudged my shoulder. “This is going to be fun.”

  “And just like that, you’ve earned a homework assignment from me to you.”

  A line bisected his forehead. “Oh?”

  “Look up fun in the dictionary and tell me if Mendelsohn’s hairy ass is the picture beside the definition.”

  “Smartass.” Bishop popped his knuckles. “What’s our move?”

  “We take down Mendelsohn first. The others should fall in line once he’s subdued.”

  “You’re the boss.” He punched his fist skyward. “Lead us onward to victory.”

  “Smartass,” I grumbled back at him. “There is no victory in this.”

  With magic off the table, Ambrose lost interest and parked himself on the sidelines. Super helpful, that guy.

  “P.S.” I gave Bishop a heads-up. “I’m pretty sure Remy hacked into your database.”

  With a scoff, he brushed me off. “That’s not possible.”

  “All I’m saying is, she answered an incoming call for the OPA.” I met his gaze. “From her cell.”

  “Godsdamn it.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “She must have planted a charm near the CPUs. No one can breach my firewalls through non-magical means, and she couldn’t have managed if she didn’t have direct access. A magical strike couldn’t have gotten through the wards on HQ.”

  “Well.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Have fun with that.”

  “Oh,” he said thoughtfully, “I will.”

  As much as I hated to narc on her, she had to learn to keep her hand out of the OPA cookie jar. She would always get caught in the end, and Bishop was likely to take off her hand in the process.

  “Mendelsohn.” I approached the alpha with caution. “You need to exit the fountain.”

  “Catch me.” He whooped, spun in a puddle, and shook his bare ass at me. “If you can.”

  On cue, lukewarm water jetted from the silver Olympic rings design inset into the bricks and soaked me.

  “I’m not paid enough for this,” I told Bishop. “There’s not enough money in the world for this.”

  Just as well. Atonement couldn’t be bought. It had to be earned. And I was working hard for it.

  “You go left.” He dodged a pregnant female too exhausted to keep playing tag. “I’ll go right.”

  Mendelsohn spotted us and bolted to the right. I couldn’t help the evil grin spreading across my face as I pictured Bishop wrestling with the slippery warg and not me. But as Bishop’s grasping fingers glanced off Mendelsohn’s wet skin, the alpha dodged left. Right into my waiting arms.

  Eww. Eww. Eww.

  A precise kick took out Mendelsohn’s right knee, and he fell with a crack of bone and a howl of pain. The shock bought me time to bend down and capture his wrists. Sadly, wargs heal quickly, and before I could finish twisting his arms behind him, he mashed his face into my cleavage, such as it was, and motorboated me through my soaked top.

  “You’re a pig,” I spat as he bit the side of my breast faster than I could break free of him. “Not a wolf.”

  Oinking between snorted laughter, he got his legs under him and lunged at me with inhuman speed. I let him scoop me off my feet, wrap his long arms around me, and pin me against his chest.

  And then I crushed his grapes with my knee using every ounce of strength Ambrose could loan me.

  “My…” Mendelsohn wheezed in my ear, “…balls.”

  “They’ll drop again,” I assured him. “Eventually.”

  Coughing up slurs and swearing a blue streak, Mendelsohn leaned all of his considerable weight on me. We both went down and landed on our sides. I was still trapped within the cage of his arms, and he was ratcheting them tighter around me until breathing hurt worse than the alternative.

  “Let her go.” Bishop hooked his hands under Mendelsohn’s arms. “Unless you’re done siring offspring.”

  The threat slid right off him, unable to gain traction in his addled mind.

  “Diiie.” The alpha thrashed and giggled as Bishop hauled him off me. “Biiitch.”

  “Calling Bishop names is rude.” I got to my feet. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

  “Ouch,” Bishop deadpanned, yanking Mendelsohn’s arms behind his back.

  I palmed the modified pen in my pocket, almost dropping my pot of emergency ink for more traditional workings, and I drew o
n the one sigil I used on the regular. The magical restraints clicked into place and locked the insides of his wrists together. With that done, I gave his ankles the same treatment to make escape impossible without assistance.

  Together, we lifted the writhing, babbling alpha and carried him to the nearest van.

  The cleaners, who were paranormal crime scene techs, not brute enforcers, kept well out of spitting range. They might be in charge of cleaning up messes, but that didn’t mean they liked getting their hands dirty.

  Only after we dumped Mendelsohn on a bench and traded his magical restraints for silver ones, did the sentinels arrive wearing Atlanta Police Department uniforms. They waded into the fray and helped us herd the more docile females toward their alpha and the waiting transportation.

  “We’re missing two,” Gayle called. “Any sign of them?”

  “Hadley,” Bishop yelled, jamming his finger toward a flesh-toned streak. “She’s making a break for it.”

  The female clutched her distended belly with both hands and squeezed her thighs together as she ran.

  “Ma’am.” I jogged after her. “Can you please…?”

  Once her feet hit grass, she squatted and…peed.

  “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job,” I chanted while I waited on her to finish. “Ma’am?”

  Unable to stand again, the female toppled sideways, thankfully not into her mess. I helped her upright then escorted her to Gayle, who got her settled. Bishop rounded up the last holdout, who had fallen asleep under a tree, and handed her off to a pair of sentinels.

  “That’s everyone,” Gayle confirmed, then sought out my face. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I squished when I walked now, and my heels rubbed in my wet shoes. “Take care.”

  With a tired wave, Gayle sat next to Mendelsohn. He lowered his head onto her lap, finally exhausted, and she stroked his hair with a fond smile softening her expression.

  “Come on, heartbreaker.” Bishop slung his arm around me. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

  As much as I wanted to go home, shower, and bleach my brain…free food won.

  Leaning against him, I rested my head on his shoulder. “From Tex-Mex Momma?”

  “Keep eating those ghost chili tamales, and they’re going to burn through your stomach lining one day.”