Broken

Strategy

THE PHONE RANG EARLY THE NEXT MORNING.

“I’ll get it!” I said.

I rocketed from the table so fast that I temporarily forgot my new center of gravity and nearly landed face-first on the floor.

“You expecting someone?” Clay called after me, as I righted myself and hurried to the study.

“Work,” I said. “A…job assignment.”

Like I ever moved so fast to get work. The sad truth was that I wasn’t expecting a call-I just wanted contact with the outside world. Any contact. At this point, a vacuum cleaner salesperson would do.

Just last week, when our tenacious local Avon lady had dropped a catalogue in our mailbox, as she’d done for the last four years without ever getting an order from me, there had been a moment when I’d thought, “Huh, maybe I should give her a call, get a makeup consultation.” It didn’t matter that I hadn’t bought new makeup since the nineties. Even when I recalled Jeremy’s story about the last Avon lady that showed up at Stonehaven, I wasn’t deterred. After all, Clay had been only seven or eight years old, and even if he did terrorize the Avon lady again, as bad as I would feel about that, it certainly would liven up an afternoon.

The phone hit its fourth ring. I dove for the answering machine, and hit the off button, then glanced at the caller ID as I reached for the receiver. A pay phone tag flashed past. A pay phone? Maybe Jaime calling back or Paige checking in.

“Hello?”

“Elena!” a voice boomed.

“Xavier!”

Silence. A bit too enthusiastic on my part, I guess. He was probably trying to figure out whether that was a happy shout of greeting or a warning snarl.

“Good to hear from you,” I added.

Silence. Then, “What’d I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just…good to hear from you.”

Clay appeared in the doorway. I mouthed “Xavier.” He scowled. I turned to face the wall.

“So what’s up?” I said. “Have you heard anything about that letter? Or do you have something else you need us to do? We still owe you for the Hargrave tip, don’t forget.”

He paused, certain a trap lurked behind my enthusiasm. “Uh, no, I haven’t. It’s the letter. Things have fallen back into place-”

“So we’re on? Great! When do you want it?”

“The, uh, buyer would like it within the next couple of weeks, but if that’s not enough notice, I can probably swing something-”

“A couple of weeks? Perfect. Just send us the updated plans and we’ll be on it. Do you still have my fax number?”

He did. We discussed a few final details, then I hung up and turned, beaming, to Clay.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “So don’t even ask.”

“Ask? Since when do I need your permission?”

I bounced past him out the door.

“He’s going to say the same thing,” Clay called.

We’d see about that.

Wrangling a day pass from Jeremy…take two.

Since I’d started showing, Jeremy and Clay hadn’t wanted me leaving Pack territory or meeting with any supernatural who wasn’t a good friend. As overprotective as that sounded, there was logic behind it. They wanted to keep my pregnancy a secret from the werewolf world for as long as possible.

Being the only female werewolf always made me a target. Becoming Clay’s mate had upped the ante. There were plenty of mutts who wanted to get to him, and wouldn’t mind doing it through me. But we’d learned to deal with that…or I’d learned to deal with it, and Jeremy and Clay had learned to trust that I could deal with it.

But now I was carrying Clay’s child, and my growing belly already hampered my ability to fight, or to run from a fight. So they’d laid down the law. I was to stick to New York state-Pack territory. As much as I wanted to argue with that, I knew what mutts were capable of. Maybe I was willing to take the risk, but I had no right to subject my unborn child to it.

But Xavier wouldn’t have to see me. I could conduct all arrangements by phone and courier. Plus, it was mere larceny, with no violence or personal threat involved.

“The plan will stand as we decided two months ago,” I said. “I’m not arguing with that. Jeremy takes the letter and Clay stands guard. My job will be to escort Jeremy into the house, so he doesn’t have to worry about opening doors in wolf form.”

“And what if-” Clay began.

“The doors are rigged with deadly gamma ray trip wires?” I bit back the sarcasm. “Sorry, I mean, what if it’s not safe for me to go inside the house? Then I don’t. Jeremy, you wanted Karl to go over the plans. I agree. If he has any safety concerns, then I won’t go in.”

“That’s any concern,” Clay said. “Not a high risk or a moderate risk. Karl even brings up a potential risk, you don’t go, right?”

“Right.”

“And anything goes wrong, we get out of there.”

“Absolutely.”

“And it’s there and back, just an overnight trip.”

“Fine by me.”

“And you stay in my sight or Jeremy’s sight at all times, the entire trip.”

“Except for bathroom breaks.”

He hesitated. I glared.

“Fine,” he said. “Except for bathroom breaks.”

We looked at Jeremy.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get this over with, then. Elena? Call Karl, and see how soon he can look at those plans.”

Karl Marsten arrived two days later. Prompt for Marsten, who had spent the last three years dragging his heels on another matter: joining the Pack. Five years ago Jeremy had granted him territory for helping us when a group of mutts tried to overthrow the Pack. Since he’d been part of that group, though, his last-minute change of heart had only won him territory in Wyoming, which I’m sure is a lovely state…if you aren’t a cosmopolitan jewel thief.

While Marsten did a good trade robbing celebrities in Jackson Hole, after a year he’d decided maybe he’d join the Pack after all, see whether he could get territory farther east. Jeremy hadn’t fallen for that. He’d laid out the responsibilities Marsten would be expected to follow as a Pack member. That made Marsten back off, but not give up. For three years he’d been fence-sitting, attending our meetings, and helping us when we asked for it.

His help, though, usually came slow…like a week after we needed it. Then last spring he’d come to me. He’d met a half-demon tabloid reporter who wanted to help the council and asked me to “mentor” her. An odd request from a guy who never lifted a finger to help anyone unless it would benefit him. Since then, Marsten had been quick to come when I called.

When he declared the job looked sound, we left for Toronto.