“Good.”
“I got us an alliance and recognition with the Chicago god pack. You have to admit I’m doing something right.”
“Maybe, but there’s always room for improvement.”
She said it with a teasing smile, and her scent was full of happiness and mirth. Jono shook his head, laughing a little. Sage was never mean-hearted about her teasing, but their pack’s sense of humor was built on a solid foundation of loving sarcasm and a bit of gallows humor. If she hadn’t needled him, he’d be worried.
“Lucien called the other night. He said he wanted to speak with you when you got back,” Sage said once they were on the highway heading toward the Queensboro Bridge.
“Did he say why?” Jono asked.
Sage shrugged. “No.”
“If he called rather than show up in person, it can’t be much of an emergency. It can wait.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
“We already brokered an alliance with him and the other Night Courts. We can’t jump every time he demands something from us. That’s going to put us in the weaker position and piss off Patrick.”
Sage smiled, a sense of calmness filtering through her scent. “Good. I’d hoped you’d say that.”
Her faith in him was something Jono would never take for granted. The moment he did, Jono knew he’d be no better than Estelle and Youssef. His job as the alpha of the New York City god pack was to fight to protect the packs under his care.
Jono was finally in a position where he could stand his ground, and he wasn’t moving one bloody inch.
23
“Do you see him?I don’t see him,” Wade said, standing on his tiptoes to try to see over the Wednesday afternoon crowd at the Arrivals area.
“Patrick’s plane landed ten minutes ago. Give it at least ten more before he even gets off,” Jono said.
“Marek should’ve let him use the private jet.”
“We don’t need that paper trail with the government.” Jono reached out to grab Wade by the collar of his jacket and reel him back in so he wasn’t in the way of the exit. “And keep your hands to yourself.”
Wade tugged free with a mock-scowl before he decided to pull a Pop-Tart packet out of his jacket pocket. Jono let him snack in peace and kept scanning the people coming through the Arrivals security gate.
It had been a week since he’d last laid eyes on Patrick, though they’d rung each other every night to check in. Jono was far more forthcoming than he had been the other week, realizing his mistake in keeping Patrick in the dark.
Closing out the Chicago case had turned into a right mess that had gone all the way up the chain in command of the federal government. From what Jono understood through his chats with Patrick, Setsuna had been called in to privately brief the president. It was like New York last summer all over again with the domestic terrorist attack on home soil, and no one was pleased with that turn of events.
The Chicago mayoral election had happened yesterday. While Westberg’s name had remained on the ballot, his opponent in the other party had won by a decent showing. It wasn’t a landslide, and mail-in ballots were still being counted, but at least they wouldn’t have Loki in an urban seat of power. That thought was enough to give Jono a headache.
In New York, the PCB was still looking into the hunter death in vampire territory. Jono hadn’t interacted with the police since his interview, though he anticipated more scrutiny, especially now that Casale was aware of the god pack rivalry. Sage had assured him there were laws on the books that would cover his defense if the PCB pressed the hunter issue.
The soulbond, which had been stretched thin since Jono had left Patrick in Chicago, had settled into its normal weight in his soul once Patrick’s plane had landed. It tugged at Jono’s soul from close proximity sometime later, a warmth pooling in his chest.
“There he is!” Wade said.
Jono’s gaze latched onto the sight of Patrick slipping through the crowd, his dark red hair standing out. He looked tired, smelled tense, but he was the best thing Jono had laid eyes on all week once Patrick got within kissing distance.
“Hey,” Patrick muttered against Jono’s lips. “I thought you were picking me up at the curb?”
“Wade needed a walk,” Jono murmured before kissing him again.
“Hey!” Wade protested through a mouthful of Pop-Tart.
Patrick broke the kiss and laughed tiredly. He leaned into Jono with a sigh, and Jono rubbed his back with a firm hand. “Long couple of weeks.”
