Prologue

Prologue

Sebastian wasn't sure why he was being called into the office of head of surgery today. He'd had to come in on his day off, and that wasn't anything that he was thrilled about either. And he was going to tell Dr. Lane about it, too. If he wanted to talk to him about something, then he should make time to do it on the days that he was working. No more of this demanding that he make himself available today. The little pisser was going to get an ear full for pulling this crap.

Not bothering with the secretary telling him that he had to wait for a moment, he barged right into the office. There were two men and a woman in the room, none of them that he recognized when he slammed the door behind him. That certainly got their attention, he was happy to see. Not that he would acknowledge their presence either. He had been called in today for this crap, and he wasn't going to waste his time when it was his day off.

"What is the meaning of this, Arthur? I was just getting my clubs ready for tee off when I got this message from your secretary to be here in twenty minutes. That is no way to treat me. Not when I'm the best surgeon you have working here." He said something like he used to be, but Sebastian was on a roll. Besides, he knew his worth better than anyone else. Even if most of what he told about himself was a flat-out lie. "I don't know who these people are, but since you called me here, you're to talk to me now. Just finish this up with them later, then tell me what was so fired up important that I had to drop everything and come here. It's my fucking day off. And as such, I said, I have plans for the day."

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Denver Tucker. Mrs. Tucker has been—" Sebastian said that he didn't want to meet them. He wanted them out of the office. "Shut up, Sebastian, and let me explain a few things to you. Now, as I was saying, this is—"

"Did you not hear me? Twice now, I've told you that I don't have time for this. I don't care who they are or what they're doing here. If you think that I'm going to do a surgery today for these…these whoever they are, then you're fucking insane. It's my day off." One of the two men stood up. The other just laughed. "What the hell has you so fired up? Christ. The next time they offer me the head of surgery job, I'm—"

"Sit the fuck down and shut your flapping lips." He didn't like being spoken that way, but before he could say a word to the man, he gave him enough of a push to have him sitting down in the chair that he'd vacated. "Now, as he's been trying to tell you, my wife, Bailee Tucker, has just been appointed to the board of directors. Her parents before her. You should remember them. Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Sims. Also, Jacob's parents, Lee and Bailey Sims, were there as well. Are things starting to fall into place for you now?"

"Jacob said he was going to get me fired. I sure showed him, didn't I? Not only did I get to be a good—no, a great surgeon, but I outlived the mother fucker too." The man, he assumed his last name was Tucker, put his finger to his nose. A gesture that he did when he was trying to make a point. Before he could stand up this time, the woman put her hand on his shoulder and held him there. "What the fuck is this all about then? Has he risen from the dead? Did he leave some kind of divine message that he wants me taken care of? It's not going to happen. I will tell you what I told him when he suggested that I find other employment other than surgery. I'm a damn good surgeon, and I won't have some halfwit telling anyone any different. I don't take orders from anyone."

When he opened his eyes, not even sure how he'd ended up with them closed, he was lying on a gurney. Lifting his hand up to see what had happened to him, he was shocked to see that he'd been handcuffed to the bed. Jerking it hard and yelling for someone to undo him, he was told to shut up. Again. Also, to lie still until someone got to him.

"I will not. Why am I even—someone hit me. Knocked me over the chair, and I hit my head." The woman from upstairs in Lane's office had done it. He knew where he was now. Sebastian knew that he was in the emergency department of his own hospital. The same woman came into the room and said that he'd not fallen over anything. "Then how did I end up down here? You'll not be spouting your lies either if you know what's good for you."

"I hit you. Hard too. No lying on my part. While I was going to kill you for talking about my parents, especially my father, the way you did, I was just as happy with you being arrested instead. That, I know, would have made my dad's entire month knowing that." He asked her why he'd been arrested. "Well, for starters, being drunk on the job. Drinking on the job. Sexually, as well as verbally harassing the people that have to work with you. Then there—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Of course, I abuse them. How the hell else are they supposed to be toughened up for the real world when they get out on their own. Not that I think very many have it in them to work in this profession. All of the new doctors and nurses are pussies. The lot of them. As for sexual harassment, that's not going to stick either. They wanted it, and I gave it to them. And if they tell you any differently, I want their names, then their badges. I cannot stand people who run and tattle on people, me, when something doesn't go their way. Fucking bullshit if you ask me." She told him that no one had. "Well, they'd better not if they want to know—Tucker. You're related to that little shit Ethan Tucker, aren't you? He came running to you about how I was treating him poorly, didn't he? Figures. Oh, boo hoo for him. The little fucker isn't going to get away with this, either. You mark my words when I tell you that he's going to be out the door before the ink is dry on his being hired here."

"Then it is my pleasure to tell you that you've been terminated. As of…well, I was going to say now, but it was actually about an hour ago that I knocked you on your ass and then fired you." He told her that she was full of shit. "About what? Knocking you on your ass or firing you? I can assure you that I've done both. I've also notified your wife of your termination, too."

Sebastian tried to swing at her, but the cuff had him bound up. Her laughter, even for as pretty as it sounded, only fueled his anger. There wasn't any way that they'd be able to run this hospital without his expertise. He told her that.

"Expertise at what? With the records that my husband and I have been given about you is that over the last four and a half months, about when Ethan finished up his training to work here, he's had to fix four of your botched surgeries. Then there was the eighteen—is that right? You were drunk when you came in eighteen times? Well, then, there are the times when there was alcohol on your breath. You might not have been drunk at those—" He tried to get her to shut her fucking mouth when she slapped him in the face. "Do not interrupt me again. I'm not even going to ask you if you heard me. You had better keep your fucking mouth shut while I tell you why you've been fired as well as going to be arrested. Now. Where was I? Oh yes, you might not have been drunk those times, but having a drink or two—or, in your case, a bottle before coming to work is considered a no-no. Were you aware of that? It's this hospital's policy that there be no drinking when you're on call. Yet every time you are told to come in on your on-call days, you're drunk."

"What I know is that you're going to regret fucking around with me." She told him that she doubted it, that she was actually enjoying herself. "Listen here, you bitch, I'm going—"

Sebastian didn't know who was fucking moving him around, but it was going to stop right this minute. Raising his head just a little when he realized that he was no longer in the hospital, he also realized that he was no longer cuffed. About time, he thought. This shit was getting old quickly. Sitting up all the way, resting his legs off the side of the tiniest bed he'd ever seen, he looked up when someone said his name and saw that there were bars in front of the other person.

"No, they're in front of you. You're in jail." Sebastian told the other man that was impossible. "Yet here you are. All right. Now, I do have enough magic to shut you up if you don't do as I tell you. You're in jail. Get over yourself, or I'm going to walk away and have your wife, who I like a great deal more than you, come back here and badger you for answers that you won't have for her. You're in jail for assault with a deathly weapon. As an attorney for the Tucker family, my brother, and his lovely wife, I can tell you that I might be stretching this a bit in saying that when you have a scalpel in your hands, you're assaulting the person on the table in front of you because of you being intoxicated. Now, moving on. Twenty-seven counts of, well, so far, twenty-seven counts of sexual harassment that we've been made aware of. These women and some men have been keeping notes about what you do to them. And have been taking pictures of the wounds that you've inflicted when they told you no. That's an abuse of power in the event you didn't know it. That's a good charge against you, too. Because of how it works with other charges against you. Every one of the charges for sexual or verbal abuse has abuse of power along with it."

"You're fucked up if you think anything is going to stick. No one in that hospital would dare say a word against me. Not if they want to live very long, that is. I'm a man of power, shithead, and everyone knows that." The man, he didn't know anything about him other than he was another fucking Tucker snapped his fingers. Not only was he gagged, but there was a wad of something in his mouth that Sebastian couldn't remove nor talk either. As he tried to free himself from it, the man continued.

"You were warned to keep your mouth shut, or I would shut it. When I'm finished, I'll remove the magic. But for now, you're going to hear your charges without any more interruptions. You're being charged with the death of nine women. I did wonder about why they were only women, but the men are under a different heading. Oh, do leave that alone and listen to me. This is important." Sebastian was so pissed that his head was pounding. Then to be told to leave the gag alone, like he was six years old, just pissed him off all the more. "Thirty-one cases of the death of men. See? We got around to that."

The man closed his file and looked at him after what seemed like another hour of him just reading and reading to him. It seemed like he was looking into his very heart. Sebastian wasn't happy that he was being stared at like he was some kind of insect, either. He tried to make the man understand that he wanted out of there. And he'd better be doing it quick. Sebastian didn't no more belong in jail than he thought this man was an attorney.

"When the police went to your home to inform your wife that you'd been hurt and arrested, she asked if we needed any proof of what you'd been up to at the hospital. Not only did she turn over all your files that you weren't supposed to take home with you, but also the dates and times that you stole them. She kept meticulous notes on it, too. All of it was deemed hospital property." Sebastian was going to murder his wife when he got home. "You're not. Going home. I guess you won't be able to murder your wife either because of that, but that's the way it's going to work. Also, I lied when I said she was here, and you'd have to explain to her what was going on. She has moved on. I don't know where she went, but I hope she has a better life than, I'm sure, the one that she had with you. Before she left, however, she showed not just the police but the FBI when they were called in where you had been doctoring files and taking the ones that had you looking like…well, a murderer, as it turns out. You're going away for a very long time, Mr. Abbott. Speaking of that, you've been stripped of your medical license, too. With your name and picture sent out to every hospital around the world. You really pissed off my new sister-in-law." He started away and stopped. "Ethan, my brother wanted me to make sure and tell you that since you've been fired, every surgery has been going well. And he's thinking of putting in for your job. I think he'd do a great job as being anything that he wanted. I do."

The man walked away, and Sebastian heard him laugh. Then, the gag in his mouth disappeared. He didn't know what to say right away. Or, for that matter, able to talk. His mouth was dry as the toast that his so-called little wife cooked him each morning. If Annie really had shown the police and the FEDs his files from work that he'd had, then there was no hope for him to be getting out of there. Knowing just what he'd done and how long he'd been doing it, Sebastian thought he'd be lucky if he didn't die behind bars for the shit that he'd pulled. Christ, that fucking Tucker was right. He would get his comeuppance soon enough.

Sebastian was still sitting on the side of his new bed when dinner was brought to him. Like the lunch they'd brought him, he didn't touch it. This time, he had been told that he'd not be able to starve himself to death if that was his plan. That they'd make him eat even if they had to put a tube down his nose to get food into his body. For some reason, Sebastian knew that they'd do it too. Without him having the benefit of something to ease the way. He was fucked.

Over the last few hours, it had to be hours now. He'd said that to himself several times. He was fucked. There wasn't even a glimmer of hope for him, a little bit of good that he might have remembered that would help him out.

Not that he was sorry for what he'd done. Given a chance to do it all over again, he'd do the same thing. He knew that and was sure that the police did as well. The feeling of power that he held over the peons at the hospital had been what he'd wanted. Craved even. His mouth turned up in a little smile. It was just like the finest brandy and whiskey. Having a good stout glass of the best stuff was the same feeling he got when he was lording himself over others.

Sebastian had hated the Sims. Ethan had been a rock in his shoe since he'd been assigned to this hospital after his last fuck up. And there had been plenty enough to have had him arrested at his two former hospitals, too. He just didn't want to learn a lesson. So he didn't. Now, he was well and truly caught.

There would be no more shuffling him around so that the hospital's good name wouldn't be tarnished by something he'd done. He wouldn't be fined either this time for knocking around another doctor or nurse. No one had the amount of money that he was sure that they'd try and wheedle out of him in the name of justice. And Sebastian had a real hard-on for knocking around male nurses as well as female surgeons. Women should have stayed nurses and men doctors. Not that he didn't abuse both jobs equally when he wanted. Sebastian laughed a little as he lay down.

"Christ, I was a god to them." He'd not been. Not even close. More like a demon or the devil himself. He'd done just what he wanted to do all his life and had made those who had the nerve to complain pay for complaining. But now it seemed that those days were over for him.

The lights went out, and he was plunged into darkness. Not a single light made it so that he could even see his hand in front of his face. He was slightly nervous about that. Never one to like the completeness of nighttime, he waited to see if any lights, even a small one, came on. But nothing. He was in the dark, and he'd be there until the sun came up. Christ, he wondered what he was going to do when he got to the big house.

Laughing to himself, he was happy that he was having this time to think about his actions and those around him. He knew by tomorrow, if not later tonight, that he'd be rethinking everything and that he'd be calling in an attorney who would get him out of trouble. In a few weeks, less if he could wave around enough cash, he'd be working again. Not here, of course, but somewhere in the country. He realized that it didn't even bother him that his wife was gone. Until he realized that she might well have known where he kept his money. As well as bank account numbers to get into his other accounts.

"I'll fucking hunt her down and kill her if she's touched it." That got him a little worked up. Just thinking about the things that he wanted in his cell got him in a better mood almost immediately. A good attorney would get it for him. Like he'd thought all his life, with enough money, a person can have a mountain moved to suit his own whims. Laughing again, he closed his eyes. Yes, sir, tomorrow heads were going to roll, by god, if they wouldn't.

~*~

Tate was inspired. He had asked for some time off from the foundation to work on his craft. He'd never called what he did as a painter as a craft before. But this entire week, all he'd been able to think about was the design that was in his head. The little fae that had come to him from the queen had sparked something in his mind that had made for a lot of sleepless nights. It was his wife, Caroline, that had made the arrangements for him to be off and got him out of the house when his fae, Blu, had given him a place to paint.

Not only was the place large and well-lighted, but he had about every sized canvas he'd ever want, as well as paints in colors and quantities that he was sure that not even larger department stores had in stock. Tate thought that he could paint the world and not run out of the shades of just red he had. He was giddy when he thought about working.

This morning, he'd spent walking around. Every time that he made a pass around the large area, he'd find something else that he'd not noticed before. A box of charcoal here. Then, there were the brand-new paint pallets stacked dozens high for him to use to blend and to spread paints. Tools lined up on the pegboard wall with the width of the brush and what the bristles were made of. He'd found aprons that the paint would just rinse off of. Blu had done that for him. So he'd not have to be messy all the time.

He'd not had the heart to tell her that he enjoyed that, too. Being colored in his work like a part of the canvas that he was painting on. As he made his last pass around the room and supplies, he'd found a door. Opening it up, he danced a little jig, making sure that no one could see him first when he'd found a break room. One with a cot and a fridge filled with his favorite water and snacks. There was a fan, too, as well as a nice stereo in the corner as well.

There had been a computer set up for him to use. It had better internet than he'd ever had when he lived in Texas. Also, since it was magical, too, he didn't have to worry about it being shut off for non-payment. Didn't have to ever worry about not being able to get more canvas or brushes. Ethan did another dance around.

"Dad?" Smiling at his son, John, he picked him up and swung him around. Both of them were slightly dizzy when he finally stopped. "You're being weird, Dad. Did you know that?"

"I feel weird. What is it I can do for you today, my wonderful son?" John rolled his eyes, and Tate couldn't help but tickle him a bit. "All right. Now, you tell me what it is that sent you out here. I'm in a great mood, so it could even be your grandma Cybil, and I'd still be in a good mood."

"That's what it is. She's here. She's yelling at Mom about her letting Grandma Cybil live with us. I don't want her to. I don't mind her visiting a little bit, but I don't want her to live with us again. She's…Dad, she smells like old people." Barely catching the laughter as it spilled from his mouth, he put John down and made his way into the house. Cybil was there, and she looked about as upset as his wife. Kissing Caroline on the mouth, he asked Cybil what she wanted.

"You have this big house now, and I don't get to see John much anymore. I want you to tell my daughter how much nicer it will be if I move in here with you guys again. It'll take a load off of your shoulders knowing that I'm here all the time for you, and I won't have to pay out the ass to have my own place. Not to mention, flying here to see you. You won't have to pay for a sitter, nor will you have to pay me that much to be here all the time, Tate. Room and board will be a part of my package for being willing to be here, of course, but I'll need a little walking around money, too. I was thinking that you can pay me two hundred dollars a week. Unless I need more. I've never lived in this area of the country before, so I have no idea what I'll need to keep me in money. That sounds good, doesn't it? Having a sitter around whenever you need one?"

"No." She looked at him like she didn't understand the word. Tate was just in too good of a mood to let her glaring at him now bother him. "Honey, how about you and John get dressed up, and we go to that nice seafood place you've been talking about. It wasn't my idea, mind, but Margo's. She invited us to go out with her husband. I think they're going to try to have a baby the next time around. Maybe that's what she wants to talk to us—"

"What are you going on about?" He asked Cybil what she meant. "I am offering you my babysitting skills for free. I know that the two of you don't have any money. This will be perfect for us all, you'll see. I'll need to have a few days off once in a while, at least a few times a month so that I can go to the beach. I cannot believe that you have this house and it's so close to the water. How much is your rent here? Not that I'm going to pitch in. I mean, my name isn't on the rental agreement. But I would like to know."

"None of your business, Mother. And no, as Tate told you, and I have as well, you'll not be staying here with us nor babysitting. John is going to the same school that I'm teaching at, so there is no need for a sitter. Not that he needs one anymore, anyway. He's nearly six, so he'll be going to school there too." Tate could have kissed his wife again when she glared at her mother and spoke again. "And your babysitting isn't free, Mother. It has never been. You have cost us more when we were living back home by living with us than I could have paid for a full-time nanny. Giving you money each week didn't help us at all when you were so unreliable all the time. Taking days off. Even dropping John off at school with me when you needed a break wasn't helpful at all. No, Tate is right, just like I've told you since you brought it up. You're not living with us. You're not going to be getting any money from us. And you won't be sitting for John. He doesn't care for you anyway."

"What a terrible thing to say to me." Cybil looked at John. "You love your grandma, don't you, John Wohn, my wittle boy." John looked at him, and Tate nodded. Her baby singsong voice was getting on his nerves, too. If she did that to his son all the time, no wonder he didn't want to be around her. "Come on, baby wabby, tell them that you don't want to go to that nasty old school. You want to hang out with your granny maw."

"No, I don't. You keep calling me names like John Wohn and treating me like I'm two. I'm not two, and I don't like you calling me those stupid names. Also, you stink. Not like you need a bath stink, but you smell just like the old people at the store at the first of the month." Cybil drew back her hand to no doubt hit his son. Before he could react, John did. "You hit me again, and I will never talk to you ever again. I mean it this time, Cybil. You're not going to hit me. I'm going to tell my Dad, and he'll tell Uncle Denver how you've been not paying your dues or ours to the pride when you were supposed to. See where that gets you."

He'd not known anything about that. Not that she'd hit John before, nor that she wasn't paying their dues. Thinking about all the money that he'd been handing over to her monthly when dues were due when she told him she didn't have the cash for it, he staggered back. She'd told him it was two hundred dollars a month. A due that he'd never thought of before because he'd given his due money to her to pay at the same time. He asked his son if he knew if his dues had been paid.

"No. She just pockets it. She told me once that I wasn't to tell on her or you'd beat me. I never believed you would, but I didn't know if she'd beat me. Cybil has done it before. Locked me in the basement, too." Cybil told John to shut his mouth. It was Caroline who asked her if it was true. "It is, mom. I swear to you, it's all true."

"You're going to believe this brat over me?" Caroline nodded, and that pissed her off more. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Caroline. What was I supposed to do? You weren't catering to me the way that your dad did. I missed that. And when I saw an opportunity to get some money, I jumped at it. You would have done the same thing in my shoes."

"No, I wouldn't have. That was money that could have paid our bills. Put gas in the car. Even food on our—that's why you were never hungry. You were using our money to feed yourself, no doubt better food than we had. Christ, Mother, how could you do that to us?" Caroline looked at him before speaking to his wife.

"I had to put up with staying in that shabby house, so I deserved better than you since your father made no provision for me. Come on, Caroline, wouldn't you want your mother to have the very best? I lost my house and my money. I lost my way of life when he decided to make me have to kill him." He knew the exact moment that Caroline heard what her mom said. "I didn't kill him. That was just…it's a figure of speech. I would never have killed John. He had the sense to let me do what I wanted to do, not like this idiot that you've married. ‘Tate is a ‘painter,' Mom' you'd tell me. ‘He makes enough for us to pay the bills.' And ‘he's happy.' Well, I wasn't. Doesn't that count for something? It should. I'm your mother."

"Get out of my house." Cybil laughed at him. "You heard me. Get out of my house before I call the police. And I'm going to. Just as soon as you get your fucking murdering ass out of my home."

"This isn't your home but a rental, you cheap fucking little shit." The knock at his back door where they were in the kitchen had Caroline going to the door. "You're nothing but a fool if you think that at any point you're going to be able to own a home like this one. You're too fucking lazy. And I will be living here too. You won't have any say in it when I tell the leader, that fool Denver, that you've kicked me out because I wouldn't sleep with you. And he'll believe me too over you. He hates you. I heard him say it over and over."

"That's enough." He turned to look at Denver when he put his hand on his arm. "I'm here if you need me, Tate. You do what you need to do to get this piece of trash out of your home, and then when you're finished with her, I'm going to take over. And I want you to know that I'd never say anything like that. Ever. Your lovely wife just let me know what she's been doing to us all about the dues. It's a small wonder that all of us weren't killed when she didn't pay the dues for your family. Because you know as well as I do that had it come out that she'd not been paying, we would have all died to save you and your family." Denver looked at Cybil. "This house, along with the other houses that our family lives in, are owned and paid for by them. All of us own the homes that we're living in now. Frankly, I couldn't care less if you believe me or not. But, and this one you can bet your ass on, you're going to be tried by the pride committee, Cybil, and I hope that you get everything that you deserve. Come on, John, your aunt, and I have been invited to dinner too. How about we get into the limo outside and wait for your parents. All right?"

When his brother left with Bailee and John, he waited until he heard the front door close before he spoke. He had plenty to say, and he wasn't going to waste his breath in saying it twice. But Caroline asked if she could speak first.

"Of course, my love. You say what you need to say to your—you're not. Are you going to…Wait. Let me get out my phone so I can record this." It only took him a few seconds to get things ready, and he had to make himself calm down. "All right, Caroline, love. Go for it."

"Mother, is it with the greatest pleasure that I've ever known to say this to you. Cybil Caroline Holster Armstrong, I no longer claim you as my mother. I will no longer call you mother nor any other derivative of that word. You are no longer welcome in my life. I denounce you as my parent from this day onward. You'll have no contact with my family, the Tucker family. None with John Tucker, the son of my body. My husband, Tate Tucker, will not come to your aid when you need it. You are forevermore nothing to any of us."