THIRTY-TWO

Billie

XANDER PULLS THE truck into a business park on the edge of pack lands and then reverses into a parking spot across from one of the middle buildings. Sitting up from my slouched position against the frame of the back door, I rub the side of my head, sore from leaning against the hard plastic. Normally my head would be cushioned by Jax's lap, but we're all somewhat smelly and sweaty from soccer practice, and what I'm learning is, as a shifter, sweat is one hell of a turn-on. Musky man-sweat even more so. Sounds gross, yet drool forms in my mouth all the same.

Since this is an official—like, legal—meeting, we all agreed going in smelling like sex wouldn't be a great idea. Hence why Jax and I buckled ourselves in on opposite sides of the bench seat as if we'd been put into our respective corners for a time-out.

"Is there anything I should know before we go in there?" I ask, unbuckling myself and zipping up the neck of my black O'Sullivan's fleece, wanting to look as demure as I can, even though I'm braless underneath. Xander turns off the engine and rotates his head around to look at Ethan.

My gaze is on the front where Xander and Ethan are having a silent communication with their eyes. Glimpsing over at Jax, I see he's already unbuckled himself and has tossed the towel he had between his back and the seat onto the floor of the cab. When he climbed in the truck, he had the towel tied under his chin and draped over his shoulders like a freakin' cape, claiming he was, and I quote, "too damn hot in so many ways to wear anything." He's grabbed his red WMU soccer zip-up knit, which not only matches the knit warm-up pants but matches Ethan's and Xander's warm-up set also. Yup, the tossers are all dressed the same, wearing last year's soccer warm-ups. If I even wanted to try and match their reds, I'd only have my bras and panties. Jax glances up through his damp bangs at Xander and Ethan, waiting for one of them to respond.

Letting the accidental wardrobe snafu go, I look at the four of us and can't stop a small grin from sliding across my face. When it comes to formal events, or anything semibusiness related, it's like Jax and I are the kids and Xander and Ethan are the parents. I'm completely fine with the arrangement.

Ethan's gaze swings between Jax and me. He states, "As little reaction as possible. Let the lawyers do their job. If you have questions, make note of them to ask later, and we'll discuss them with DeLuca, who can either clarify or bring our concerns up to Xander's father's lawyer. From what I can remember from my... my parents passing, nothing is ever final at these meetings, and there will be correspondence between the lawyers for weeks, if not months, after."

"So stay quiet, don't react, gather info, and take notes?" I clarify while digging through my purse for my ADHD armor: gum and meds. 'Cause I'm gonna need them.

Ethan exhales and nods, then both he and Xander swing their doors open.

I pop my meds and slurp down some water before turning to Jax, who's slumped against his seat, head dropped back with his eyes on the ceiling, looking even less impressed than I feel about this whole thing. Both Xander and Ethan have already exited the vehicle, closed their doors, and are patiently waiting for us. Popping my gum into my mouth, I give Jax's elbow a little nudge. Picking his head up, he arches a brow at me. I flash him a conspiratorial smile. "Come on, Jax, let's get in there. If we're really good, maybe we'll get crayons and a coloring book while the 'rents talk business."

A shine of mischief lights up in my playmate's eyes. Turning to me, he scoffs a chuckle. "They better have more than just two colors, yea."

"And sharpened points," I add. Smiling wide, our fists bump with palm explosions and associated sounds, obviously. The cab fills with our lighthearted laughter, which spills outside when our doors are yanked open.

"Let's go, you two," Ethan tuts, stepping aside to let Jax out. Xander says nothing. He simply manhandles me out of the truck. Setting my feet down, he places a hand on my nape and tugs me close to his side before closing the door. Jax pops up from behind onto my other side and grabs my hand. Ethan steps in front of us and gives a small wave to his lawyer, Mr. DeLuca, who's in a light-gray plaid suit, standing at the entrance to one of the middle brick buildings.

On approach, I take a closer look at our lawyer. We have a lawyer. How... adult. He reminds me of Elder Allan, long and thin both in frame and face. His posture is somehow both erect and relaxed, and his long arms hang in front him, with his hands clasped around the handle of a worn soft, brown-leather briefcase. The last rays of the sun reflect off the face of a gold watch on his left wrist. His face is clean-shaven with gaunt cheeks. Thick black-framed glasses are perched on a hooked nose, and his thin lips are bracketed by faint laugh lines. His short, spikey hair is more salt than cinnamon, and his beige skin tone is lightly etched with wrinkles around his light-brown eyes and across his forehead. A welcoming smile breaks over his face when he steps forward to shake Ethan's hand. Then he leans back, pulling open the glass door with Kubrick and Associates LLP embossed under the logo of a wolf's head howling.

Jax places a hand on the open door, and DeLuca gives him an appreciative chin dip before leading us through the glass-enclosed entryway and another set of doors. The sound of water flowing has my head rotating around as much as I can while Xander's hand grips and massages my neck. The decor is sleek and modern, with shades of gray and dark blue with gold accents. The sound of running water is coming from the stone wall waterfall across from the reception desk. It's framed by large green-leafed plants in brass standing pots on either side, and several cushioned chairs align the wall down the hall.

Mr. DeLuca approaches the tall L-shaped reception desk and pulls a card from the inside chest pocket of his suit jacket. "Hello, I'm Warren DeLuca, representing my client Alexander Knight, here to meet with Mr. Kubrick." He speaks in a pleasant voice, sliding his card across the thick light-gray marble top to the small-boned twenty-something male receptionist who's standing in front of a computer screen, his fingers typing away. The receptionist lifts his head, and his almond-shaped dark eyes, which are highlighted by trimmed dark brows, slide from the screen to the card. Inhaling, I confirm that both DeLuca and the receptionist are wolf-shifters. Not really surprising.

The receptionist steps away from the computer and faces DeLuca. His features are rather feminine and sensual. Trimmed, dark facial hair adds texture and strength to an otherwise delicate, diamond-shaped face and jaw. His full lips part into a rehearsed smile, showing white teeth and canines that seem larger and more prominent than normal. "Yes, of course," he says in a lyrical singsong voice. Reaching a manicured hand out, he takes DeLuca's card and places it on the secondary desktop below. "I'll let Mr. Kubrick know you're here." The sleeve of his tailored dark-blue pinstripe suit pulls up as he taps the Bluetooth device in his ear and announces our arrival, while his gaze takes the four of us in. His upturned button nose scrunches up and his pouty lips turn down, indicating he's not impressed with our attire. Whatever. At least Jax didn't walk in with his towel cape; I wouldn't have put it past him.

The swooshing of a door sliding over carpet from down the hall announces the arrival of another man. Holding the posture of a runway model, he strides toward us with easy confidence. His tall, fit frame only adds to the model-like impression filling out his dark-blue suit like he's paid to wear it. His dark-blond hair is longer in the middle and held back with enough product I don't think gale-force winds could lift a strand. Bright blue eyes glide over us while his toothpaste-commercial smile never wavers, not giving anything away about his initial impression. He basically looks like a Ken doll. When he gets closer, his gaze settles on Xander, and he reaches his hand out with his brows raised. In a voice that could have him reporting the nightly news—masculine, clear, friendly yet authoritative—he says, "Alpha Alexander Knight, I don't think we've ever been formally introduced, at least not since you were a pup."

Xander's posture stays tall, not bending in the least as he shakes Kubrick's, I assume, awaiting hand. "Yes, I don't believe so either, though I do remember seeing you around and at pack meetings," he replies flatly, his fingers on my neck kneading and rubbing a little harder like I'm his own personal stress ball. I squeeze my quads, locking out my legs in order to maintain proper posture and prevent myself from softening into him. Xander lets go of Kubrick's hand, and I stifle a gasp when I catch sight of his watch. It's rose gold and has a rainbow of sparkling gems around the face. I find my eyes widening momentarily, spellbound. I feel like a fish, and he's the crab in Moana . It's so shiny , and I can't help but wonder if he was "a drab little crab once." Unaware of my hypnotized state, Xander motions his arm across Ethan to DeLuca and says, "And this is our lawyer, Mr. Warren DeLuca."

"Yes, Warren, we've met a few times, and please just call me Ken," the lawyer says greeting our lawyer, and now I'm biting down on the insides of my cheeks, forcing myself to swallow down the bark of laughter that wants to escape. I mean, damn , the Ken doll look-alike is in fact named Ken. Glancing over his shoulder at the receptionist, he wets his lips and offers a slanted smile. "Clinton, please have some waters and"—spinning his head around, he assesses us and lightly laughs— "maybe some fresh fruit and granola or protein bars brought to the large conference room." His gaze settles on Ethan, and he rolls his lips, cants his head to the side, and in a voice a full octave lower says, "It seems like we have some athletes here after all."

Not liking the way he's looking at my mate, my stomach offers to be a distraction by growling loudly in earnest. Jax makes no attempt to hide his howl of laughter. He rubs one hand over my belly and shakes his head, chuckling. "Yeah, I think some snacks would be good." Pausing, he hitches a brow at me. "It's best for all of us if Billie is well fed."

Hot and red. That's my face, and I refuse to make eye contact with anyone. My, what a lovely waterfall.

"Well, it'd be my pleasure to ensure she's properly nourished," Ken Doll teasingly retorts. "Shall we head to the conference room?" he offers, leading the way with our lawyer at his side and us following. Peeking over his shoulder at Xander, he exhales and draws his smile down. "As you know, I was your father's estate and business lawyer for the last fifteen years as was my father before that. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you for your condolences," Xander robotically replies, both in word and voice.

Ken Doll holds Xander's blank gaze for a second, and I see the slightest pursing of his lips and dipping of his brows. It's as if he knows what an ass Xander's father was, and he nods once, pulling open another glass door to a large glass-enclosed conference room. Holding the door Kenny Boy smiles. "Please, come in."

A small water feature set in the corner farthest from the door fills the silence with soothing sounds. In the center of the room is, as you may have guessed, a large conference table. It's oblong with some letterhead notepads, pens, and a couple of devices in the center, probably a projector and conference call console. A third of the seats around the table are already filled. Xander's gran and his mother sit with their backs to us on the side we've entered. I can only see a slice of his mother's profile, but it's enough to have me do a double take. She looks like a completely different woman, physically and emotionally. She's at least ten pounds heavier (still could use another ten), but her cheeks are fuller and hold more elasticity instead of looking slackened and hollowed. Her brown eyes seem larger and sharper, no longer lost in chasms of dark circles. She's chopped off all that stringy brown hair into an edgy pixie cut and dyed it platinum blonde.

Across the table facing us is Bruce, and wait, Jax's mother? What is she doing here? A lump of unease forms in my gut, and my thumb automatically begins rubbing the back of Jax's hand, which seems colder than just moments ago. His fingers flutter and tighten around mine in response. My gaze lifts to a robust man I've never seen before, who is standing behind the chair next to the one Jax's mom is seated in. My eyes narrow, and my face twists into a scowl, noting that he has one pudgy hand resting on the back of Jax's mother's chair.

Taking a deep inhale, I confirm that, yeah, everyone here is a wolf-shifter but me, which only increases my unease. The stranger who I've marked as danger—hey, sometimes you just know—steps back and swaggers around the table to come to stand to the side of us, closest to Jax. My impression upon closer inspection? He's used to getting what he wants and overindulges in every way. Tilting his head back, he hides his growing double chin, while the fluorescent lights highlight the ruddiness of his pockmarked cheeks and nose and thinning tousled white-speckled blond hair. Slipping one hand into the pocket of the tailored dark-gray vest that's corseted around his barrel chest, he pulls out a gold pocket watch and checks the time. He tsks not so subtly under his breath, his light-brown, almost yellow eyes stare at Xander under patronizing raised brows before he puts his watch away.

Clicking his tongue, he states, "Alexander, I'm Councilman and Alpha of the Midwest Wolf Pack Gerard Hogan." Alarm bells and sirens go off in my head with a cartoon level of warning. I remember what the alpha, Owen, had stated about those in charge of the laboratory testing: that this goes to the top, that council members were involved, and that Owen was in fact from the Midwest Pack. Yeah, my stranger-danger radar from the streets has yet to fail me.

Hogan extends his chubby hand out just enough that Xander will either have to move or bend over in order to shake it. Xander takes one step while retaining his height, which is at least a few inches taller than the councilman's, and gives him a short but firm handshake. Hogan continues in a resigned and rough sympathetic voice. "I'm sorry we have to meet like this under these circumstances." His tapered eyes land on me, and he blatantly checks me out from feet to face, the action seemingly so natural to him. It's as if this is how he greets all females. It's a slimy leer similar to how Xander's father looked at me, and my pores suddenly feel oily under his regard. I bite the insides of my cheeks again, this time to prevent myself from baring my teeth. Hogan licks his lips and gruffly proclaims, "And based on what William told me, you must be Wilhelmina Mahoney-Volpella."

The crack of Xander's teeth from his jaw clenching shut, and the flare of his nostrils, gets me out of my own head. I wrap my arm possessively around his back while his fingers on my nape creep forward to grip around my throat. "Yes," I rasp, feeling the pressure of Xander's fingers against my neck as I answer. And damn I like it, but I tap that shit down fast. Now is not the time to explore new sex kinks. No way do I want this creep to smell my arousal and think he has anything to do with it, because it just seems like that would be so him. As if to prove my point, the councilman spreads his thick hand wide on his chest and trails it down his torso as he takes a long inhale, and then he grunts... crassly.

The tension is broken by the clearing of a throat. Spinning my head around, I squint from the flash of Ken's pearly whites as he smiles wide and tilts his head toward the table. "Why don't we all sit down?"

"Sounds good," DeLuca affirms, placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder and guiding him down the table, with us following. Xander rolls out a chair for me before taking the one between Ethan and me, while Jax takes the one on my other side next to Xander's gran and mom. Xander's hand on my neck never leaves, and my hand around Jax's frigid fingers never lets go. With my free hand, I quickly grab one of the notepads. Oh, textured paper! Very nice, very nice. I snag a pen as well and place it on top. Street thinking kicks in; they're free, and now they're mine.

Ken walks around and sits across the table next to Bruce, who's between him and the councilman. Kubrick and DeLuca are both pulling out and sorting paperwork into organized piles—ugh, lots and lots of paperwork—when there's a tap-tap on the glass door behind me. Ken glances up, and with an appreciative smile, he waves the person at the door in. "Please set the trays along the center and hand out waters and napkins to everyone, Clinton."

"Yes, sir," Clinton replies with a purr to his voice, reversing a small bar cart in.

"Thank you, both," I say, sliding my gaze from Clinton to Kubrick, whose eyes are currently on his receptionist, in particular his small peach-like ass that's on display in his bent-over position.

Ken's cheeks pinken ever so slightly when he turns to me. Wetting his lips, he smirks. "It's our pleasure." Returning his gaze to his receptionist's, his voice all but smolders. "Clinton loves to serve, isn't that right?"

Clinton leans between Xander and Ethan and places a tray of fresh fruit on the table. He holds Kubrick's heated stare and huskily replies, "Yes, sir," before stepping back and continuing to serve. I clench Jax's hand and my pen to resist the urge to unzip my fleece, because I'm suddenly feeling rather steamy.

With a triumphant smile, Ken nods and then begins handing out the first pile of papers to Xander, Bruce, Xander's mother, and Gran while stating, "Thank you all for coming. We're here to discuss Alpha William Knight's passing, last wishes, funeral service, and will."