They stared at each other, each breathing hard in agitation. Jack stood a few inches taller, but Stone didn’t back down.
“Now that you are unfortunately partnered with Mary,” Lucien said, as he adjusted his lapels, “do not think to go back on your word.”
Jack clenched his fists to keep from pummeling Stone. “Wouldn’t cast you in a flattering light, would it?”
“Nor you.” Stone smoothed back a lock of his dark hair. “If you have an ounce of care for that woman, you’ll keep your mouth shut. For if she should learn—”
“She’d hate you too,” Jack interjected through his locked jaw.
“Not as much as she’d hate you.” Stone’s pitiless gaze held. “I’ll not have her unnecessarily hurt.”
“You ought to have thought of that before you laid out our little agreement.” Fucking bastard. Blackmail was more like it. Jack had had enough of it. Of everything.
Stone read this well, for he narrowed his gaze. “And should your family learn that you were with the Nex, have been for all these years?”
“Shut your fucking GIM mouth.” Hate coursed through Jack like hellfire. “You have no idea who or what I am—”
“And yet you’ve kept your fucking shifter mouth shut all these years, no?” Stone’s smile was tight. “So I’m thinking there is more than a kernel of truth to what I know.”
Jack’s shoulders met the rough wall behind him with a thud. Stone had him. For years he’d had his number. When Jack could speak, the wrong words emerged. “You have her. Always have. What more do you want?”
A wrinkle formed between Stone’s brows. “I want her safe.”
Jack laughed, hard and ugly. “Too late for that, mate.”
“Because of you.” Stone punched the center of Jack’s chest, where it felt hollow. The hollow feeling spread, and he couldn’t bring himself to punch back. Stone took the advantage. “You want to protect her, as I do? Then stay away from her as I told you to do.” He took a step, and they were nose to nose. “Before you destroy her just as you do everything around you.”
For Mary, a Sunday roast was a lovely event that she, the only child of a woman who liked nothing better than to sleep away that particular day, would never experience. She wasn’t even certain when or where she’d heard of this mythical moment during which families got together to eat a grand feast and simply enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps she’d followed the scent of roast beef and pudding in the air one crisp autumn day to press her nose against a window. Or perhaps her nanny had espoused its glories. She didn’t remember. It was simply a clear picture left in her mind, one of happiness, warmth, and light.
Whatever the case, when Inspector Lane sought her out after Talent left her, and extended an invitation for Sunday lunch, Mary accepted. More out of shock than anything else.
“Excellent.” Lane’s eyes crinkled kindly at the corners. He touched her arm, a solicitous gesture that spoke of friendship and camaraderie, and yet Mary stiffened. Lane curbed the move but the damage was done. He’d noticed and was clearly chagrined. Mary cursed herself. She hadn’t meant to react; she was very fond of Inspector Lane. But the unexpected touch of a man’s hand had set off the immediate instinct of defense.
The air grew thick and awkward between them. More so when Inspector Lane merely gave her a soft smile. “I consider this visit progress, Mistress Chase.” He spoke so affably that one might never have known she’d insulted him. Mary inwardly cringed as they began to walk down the hall, and he continued speaking as though nothing odd had occurred. “Soon we shall have you attending every Sunday.”
“Let us not be hasty, Inspector.” She wanted to smile, though, for his desire to include her in his family warmed that small, cold place that always felt like an outsider.
“Now, now, Mistress Chase,” Lane admonished, “I shall not be dissuaded. Mrs. Lane considers you one of us, and quite rightly.” He opened the outer doors for her and ushered her through, careful not to actually touch her. “Without your assistance, I might have lost my family.” Lane’s handsome and scarred face darkened for but a brief moment. He brightened again. “So as you can see,” he went on as if she understood him perfectly, which she did, “your presence is quite important.”
“Inspector, you do not have to feel obliged to—”
“And let us not forget Mrs. Ranulf,” interrupted Lane. “She’s been most vocal in her desire to see you at the family roast.” Lane glanced down at her, and his mouth twitched. “I needn’t tell you how persistent that woman can be once she has a bee in her bonnet.”