Bryce nodded slowly. “Don’t much like the thought of a murder squad on our land, watching us.”
“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “But now that we have a place to start, Riley’s chasing down Jax’s official records and anything else he can find, trying to identify his contacts. With a little less legality than I like.” Matt’s mouth twitched. “If there’s something there to find, he’ll manage it. And I’ve got more questions for Bennett this morning.”
That steadied Bryce. It was a problem he could work on, forgetting everything else. “See if he slips up.”
“Exactly,” Matt said. “Thing is, I get why someone would have come after Jesse, wanting to control him for their ambition, but what I just can’t get my head around is who would have gained from wiping out a pack that contained Argents. Makes no sense.”
“Maybe the Argents wouldn’t play ball? And the only thing worse than having no Argent to bolster someone’s position would be one standing against him, making sure he lost all that power and lifestyle he’s used to,” Bryce ventured.
Matt nodded, looking grim. “Bennett is a definite possibility in my mind,” he said. “He was just as ambitious then as now, and he’s keen as hell on getting Jesse’s backing. But those other two councilors who chose to come here have been mighty quiet. I’ll get them talking today—God,I don’t believe I just said that—and maybe we’ll find out more.”
“I’ll work the edges of the meeting,” Bryce said. “They might be more relaxed talking to a harmless pack member rather than the alpha.”
Tom might’ve ripped the ground out from under him. But this—helping protect his pack—this he could still do. This hehadto do.
It was something solid, when everything else felt like smoke and ashes.
Chapter Twenty
TOM
Tom was showered, shaved, and waiting in the hotel lobby thirty minutes before Councilor Steadman emerged from the elevator. His suit and tie armored him, and his expression was the one that got him through so many tricky DC meetings—calm and blank.
He had a job to do, and right now, it was the only thing he had left. Apart from the raw pain in his chest where something extraordinary had been ripped out before it even had the chance to take root.
The instinct to bury his wound ran deep. So he focused on protocol, on plans, on the flawless mask of a man for whom the mission was everything. He didn’t let himself wonder how long the mask would hold.
When their convoy reached the ranch, it was Tristan who opened the door to them, to Tom’s relief. Protocol said someonemore senior should greet them, but none of the councilors was going to object to the lapse and risk offending Matt or Jesse.
Tristan stopped Tom when he would have followed the councilors and security guards through the door. “Is it okay if I ask the drivers in for coffee? They can’t sit out there all morning.”
“Sure,” he said. “Just make sure they’re in shifts so there’s always someone out here keeping an eye on the cars.”
“In case some random bomber slips past the guardsandthe pack, you mean?” Tristan’s tone left no doubt just how unlikely he thought such an occurrence.
“You wouldn’t think it so funny if they did,” Tom said, his voice sharper than Tristan deserved.
“Sorry.” Tristan’s hazel eyes were large and tragic, and Tom wondered how anyone ever found it in themselves to tell him off for anything. He shook his head with a rueful smile.
That resurrected Tristan’s enthusiasm. “Do you think you might introduce me to Councilor Steadman before she leaves? And can you tell me more about the relationship between Congress and the Council?”
“You were a straight-A student, weren’t you?” Tom asked, as he passed Tristan his card. “I’ll introduce you if there’s a moment. And if we don’t get a chance to get into things before I leave, get in touch with me in DC.”
Tristan looked crestfallen at the prospect of the meeting being over so soon, but he slipped the card carefully into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, and then hesitated. “I know it’s none of my business—”
“I need to get in before the meeting starts,” Tom cut across him.
“Oh, hell,” Tristan said, and rushed down the porch steps to the nearest car, where he tapped on the driver’s window and gabbled something at the guy. Then he was running back, hislong legs eating up the ground. “Matt will skin me alive if I’m late.”
“You’re coming to the meeting, then?”
Tristan nodded enthusiastically. Evidently, Matt had made his own decision about who was welcome to attend, no matter what Bennett’s advice had been.
When they entered the same comfortably shabby living room as the previous day, Tom found the councilors already ensconced with Matt, Jesse and Bryce. His stomach clenched painfully at the sight of Bryce, whose usually expressive face was stiff and blank, and who didn’t look up at their entry. Like Tom didn’t matter anymore—not even as a mistake.
He focused on keeping his shoulders square and his breathing even. This wasn’t the time for grief or anger, not when every word might shape Jesse’s future.
Tom followed Tristan’s path to the empty armchairs at the end of the room and sat down without a word. He busied himself with his phone, ready to make notes and quietly dig around for any information about subjects that came up in the course of the talks, which he could send directly to Councilor Steadman’s phone. He was here to work.
