The Unleashing Page 13

  “Do you have dessert for the dog?” When Vig just gazed at him, Siggy added, “You don’t want her to feel left out, do you?”

  Once the dishes were done and Vig had kicked his Raven brothers out before they could settle in to play video games, he went back into his house and tracked down one of the earliest adult books he could remember reading.

  When he walked back out of the house, he found Kera sitting on the porch. She rested her head against one of the wood pillars at the front of the house while an exhausted Brodie lay on her other side, on her back, so that Kera could rub her chest and belly.

  Vig sat down on the steps and handed Kera the book.

  “What’s this?”

  “A book to help.”

  “The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology,” Kera read out loud. “By Snorri Sturluson.” Then she snickered.

  “I wouldn’t laugh too much at that name. A few guys in the Clans are named Snorri. And they’re pretty proud about it, too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway, I thought it would help you get a better grasp of our pantheon.”

  “Thanks, Vig.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She looked out over what Vig considered his yard and sighed. Long and deep. “Guess I should head back, huh?”

  “No. You’ll stay the night.”

  Kera looked at him, her lips turned up at the corners. “Oh? Will I? On your couch?”

  “No. In my bed.”

  “Presumptuous!” she laughed.

  “I’ll be on the couch.”

  “No way. I can’t put you out of your bed.”

  “You’re not. I usually fall asleep on the couch anyway. You’ll stay the night and get a fresh start tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? Brodie’s used to sleeping with me and that means dog hair in your bed.”

  “That’s why one changes the sheets. It’s not exactly a hardship.”

  “Thanks for all this, Vig,” Kera said. “Taking care of me and everything. Pulling me out of that fight this morning. Going through the window with me. Dinner tonight. I really owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Kera. I just enjoy hanging out with you.”

  “Even if that means almost getting hit with a crazed redhead’s flame-of-death whip?”

  “You act like that’s the first time I’ve gone toe-to-toe with Erin Amsel. It’s not. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

  “Well, I still appreciate it.”

  “Anything for you, Kera. You have to already know that.”

  Kera nodded and stood, Brodie right by her side. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  Vig heard Kera move toward the screen door. It creaked when she opened it, then slammed shut.

  He thought she’d gone inside until her hands pressed against his shoulders and Vig looked up to see her standing over him.

  “Everything o—”

  He never got to finish because she kissed him. Warm lips pressed against his and her hands moved from his shoulders to frame his jaw, her fingers stroking against his bearded face.

  Vig started to reach for her, but he forced his hands down. Forced them to tighten into fists so that he didn’t have her straddling his cock in two seconds flat.

  “You want my advice?” his sister had said before she’d headed back to her own house on Valkyrie territory. “Let her set the pace. At least in the beginning. Don’t push with this girl. Trust me.”

  He had and now Kera was kissing him. Their tongues touched, stroked. She tasted like the peach pie he’d bought for dinner.

  Then she pulled away. She smiled into his face. “See you in the morning.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all he could manage, and then she was gone, the screen door softly closing behind her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Erin pulled up to the valet and handed over the keys. She headed into the enormous award-winning building and over to the front desk.

  A woman who could easily be a supermodel smiled at her in welcome. “Hello. May I help you?”

  “Erin Amsel to see Betty Lieberman please.”

  “Sure. Hold on.”

  The receptionist called in and after a few seconds that Erin knew would mean trouble, she disconnected the call.

  “Ms. Lieberman asks that you come up in the elevator and barrel past her assistant’s desk and right into her office.”

  Erin shook her head. “Seriously?”

  All the receptionist could do was smirk and shrug.

  Letting out a sigh, Erin made her way to the large glass elevator and went to the top floor. She walked out and stalked down the long hallway, not even looking at Betty’s assistant as she went by.

  “Oh! Excuse me! Miss. Miss . . . uh . . . Amsel? Miss Amsel, please! If you could just . . .”

  Erin walked into Betty’s office, and she had a second to see her old mentor smile—or maybe it was a vicious leer—before her assistant came running in.

  “Ms. Amsel, please—”

  “Goddamnit, Brianna! I said no interruptions!”

  “I’m so sorry, Betty,” Brianna rushed to say, but she ended up ducking as Betty chucked a half-empty bottle of water across the room.

  “Get out! Get the fuck out of my office! And not one more interruption!”

  “Yes, ma’am. Yes.” Brianna charged out of the office, closing the door behind her and Betty sat back in her leather office chair.

  Tongue stuck out between her teeth and swiveling back and forth, Betty grinned at Erin like a naughty child rather than a fifty-year-old woman with two grown sons and a third, much-younger husband.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” Betty greeted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Was that really necessary?” Erin asked. “You’ve made that poor girl into a mental case.”

  “It’s the Betty Gauntlet. T.M.”

  “T.M.?”

  “Trademarked. If you survive the Betty Gauntlet, you go on to great things in this business. Remember my last girl?”

  “The one who had to go to one of our rehabs because she’d gotten addicted to her anxiety meds? That she only started taking after working for you?”

  “Yeah. Her. She is now VP of Marketing at Benoff Studios. And do you know why she has that job? Because of me and the education I provided her. Because I’m that amazing.” She jumped up from her chair, her energy as boundless as ever. “Now come over here and give me a big hug!”

  “Betty—”

  “Hug!”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Erin complained, but she still walked around the way-too-big desk and into Betty’s open arms.

  “Come here my little Irish-Catholic Jew.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Betty hugged Erin tight, then kissed her on the forehead before pushing her back. “Now, what’s going on? What do you need me for?”

  “I need advice.”

  “Oh, because you called the new girl a dog killer?”

  “How did you hear about that already? Did Yardley tell you?”

  “Yardley didn’t have to tell me shit, sweetheart.” She motioned for Erin to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. “That little bit of information has already made the rounds of all the other Clans, much less the retired Crows.”

  “Shit.” Erin dropped into the chair. “It escalated a little out of my control.”

  “It’s never good when that happens to you.”

  “I know. I know. And Tessa won’t let me out of being her mentor, but I may have gone too far this time.”

  “Gee, ya think? If I recall correctly, I was never that mean to you.”

  “Oh my God, Betty! You are such a liar.”

  “Of course I’m a liar,” Betty admitted with a laugh. “I’m a Hollywood agent. All I do is fucking lie!”

  “What am I going to do? Watson’s never going to trust me now. And I can’t say as I blame her.”

  “Well, there is one thing you can do. I call it my
ace in the hole when I’m really, really desperate.”

  “What is it?”

  Betty motioned Erin closer and they both leaned on the desk.

  “Can you hear me?” Betty whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. This is what I do when I’ve completely run out of choices. I . . .” Betty glanced to her left, then her right, then finished with “apologize.”

  Erin reared back. “That’s your big secret?”

  “It’s amazing what ‘I’m sorry’ can do in a really bad situation. I actually saved a hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar film by just saying ‘I’m sorry.’ Fucking tell the girl you’re sorry and get it over with.”

  “I don’t want to say I’m sorry.”

  “Because you don’t think you did anything wrong or because you’re being stubborn and ridiculous like you always are?”

  “Can I get a third option?”

  “Erin. Sweetie.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “You know I love you. Of all the Crows I have mentored over the years, you were definitely one of my favorites. Do you know why?”

  “Because of my charm and street smarts?”

  “Because you’re like me.”

  “Oh, come on, Betty! That’s not fair!”

  “Just like me. You fuck with people just to fuck with people. You enjoy making their lives uncomfortable. You’re too smart for your own good. And you’re insanely talented.”

  “You do know that at this point, you’re really just complimenting yourself, right?”

  Tessa examined the new glass French doors the workers had installed and nodded her head. “Perfect. Thank you, Armand.”

  “I love you guys,” the installer told her with a hearty laugh, his grin wide as he handed over paperwork for Tessa to sign. “I’ve never had one place need so many replacement windows and doors. I’ve put both my kids through college because of Giant Strides!”

  Signing and initialing where indicated, Tessa could do nothing but laugh along with Armand even though she knew he was serious. The Crows were admittedly harsh on their windows and doors. Mostly due to parties where drunk sisters ended up flying into glass windows and doors that they thought were open but were, in fact, well cleaned.

  “Thanks, Armand.”

  “And thank you!”

  The installer and his team left and Tessa looked over the work. That’s when the morning sunlight happened to catch her eye as it glinted off a camera lens in one of the trees.

  “Tee?”

  Tessa glanced over her shoulder and saw Annalisa walking toward her. “Hey.”

  “So . . . where are we?”

  Watching the intruder closely, Tessa asked, “Where are we with what?”

  “The new girl and Amsel? Chloe wants me to take over as mentor.”

  “They’ll work it out.”

  “Are we so sure?”

  “I love your use of the royal ‘we.’ ”

  “Maybe we should—”

  “They’ll work it out, Annalisa. Ya gotta have faith sometimes.”

  “Okay.” She stepped closer and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Watching this paparazzi guy in our tree.”

  “Again?”

  “He’s probably hoping to catch Yardley sunbathing or something.”

  “Just a suggestion, but maybe we should re-think having a fully stocked bar in the backyard. Since we are supposed to be a rehab and all.”

  “Eh.”

  Annalisa leaned in so she could see. “You know, between these idiots and that bitch next door . . . I’m getting fed up with our place being stalked.”

  “I guess I should go deal with him?” Tessa stated.

  “Why?” Annalisa asked, gesturing to the trees. “We have sentries for that.”

  That’s when the first crow dived at the tree and the man in it, followed by another. Then the crows and ravens, which filled the trees that surrounded their house, took to the air and, as one, dived back in to mob the person trying to take pictures.

  Tessa and Annalisa laughed when they heard the man’s screams and watched him hit the ground. Hard. And face-first.

  “Call EMS,” Tessa said, still laughing. She walked out of the house and headed toward the man, who wasn’t moving. Of course, that didn’t stop the birds from continuing to dive-bomb his inert form.

  As a registered nurse, Tessa would absolutely do what she needed to do to keep the man alive. But she felt no pity for the son of a bitch. From what she’d seen, the paparazzi were nothing but parasites. They weren’t photojournalists or journalists. Just scumbags. But he was still a human being who deserved care.

  Besides, he might have a partner who would notice if he did disappear, and the last thing Chloe would want was a full police investigation of Giant Strides and, especially, of the Bird House.

  By the time Tessa reached him, he had a small crowd of sister-Crows staring down at him but not trying to help.

  “Is he dead?” one sister asked. “He should be dead.”

  Tessa checked his pulse. “He’s not dead. Get his phone, camera, and wallet.”

  One of the Crows did, but as she opened the man’s wallet, she froze.

  “Uh . . . Tessa?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s a private investigator.”

  Tessa looked up. “What?”

  “He’s a P.I.” She held a card between two fingers and lifted it so Tessa could see.

  “Could he be doing the photographing stars thing on the side?” another sister asked.

  “Oh God,” one Crow gasped. “You don’t think Alexandersen sent him, do you?”

  No. Tessa didn’t think Josef would ever send anyone else to spy on his ex-wife. Not when he could do it himself. They usually liked to torture each other face-to-face except when they were forced to get their lawyers involved.

  Tessa stood and took the license from Sophie. She studied it, her anger beginning to simmer.

  “Find out who this fucker is and who he’s working for,” she ordered her sister-Crows, handing the card back and tossing the wallet onto the unconscious man.

  “Maeve.”

  Maeve eased past her sisters and over to Tessa.

  “See if you can find out anything from our friends, would you?”

  Maeve nodded and moved away from the group, whistling. Crows and ravens immediately followed her.

  “What are you going to do now?” another Crow asked.

  “Let the EMS guys in and tell Chloe.”

  That’s when all her sisters moved away from Tessa, none of them envying her one bit.

  “God, Erin, just apologize and get it over with,” Betty practically begged. Erin knew the tone.

  “And then what?”

  “Be her mentor. Like I was to you.”

  “I’m not sure I’m right for that.”

  “Sweetie, of course you’re right for it. What makes you think you aren’t?”

  “I punched her in the cunt and tried to hit her with my angry-flame.”

  Betty snorted and Erin rolled her eyes. “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kind of funny.”

  “But even if you take that out of it, I still don’t know if I’m right for the mentor thing.”

  “Sweetie, you’ve gotta have more faith in yourself.”

  “I have lots of faith in myself.”

  “You have faith when it comes to your fighting and your ability to permanently mar someone’s flesh with pictures of their dead labradoodle.”

  “People love their labradoodles.”

  “But when it comes to you dealing with people outside of fucking with their heads, you’re kind of a mess.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m just being honest. In order to be a good mentor, you need to learn to be kind to people even when they’re pissing you the fuck off. Maybe this uptight Marine with her clipboards can help you with that.”

  “You already heard about the clipboards?”

  “Swe
etie, everyone has heard about the clipboards. Even other Clans. And FYI, they’re highly entertained. Just go, find her, and apologize.”

  “She’s going to make me grovel.”

  “Probably.”

  “I don’t grovel.”

  “Try just apologizing first.”

  Erin sighed and briefly glanced out the ceiling-to-floor and wall-to-wall window behind Betty’s head that looked out over the city of Los Angeles. The woman had the best view from her office.

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “Bring her to me. It might be time to show her some things.”

  As the Crow’s resident “Seer,” Betty was the one person who could show Watson what she needed to see in order for her to understand the world she’d just joined. But most of the girls didn’t need that and for some, what they saw could be . . . traumatic. So it was always a last resort.

  Betty rested her arms on her desk and said in the “I’m being serious” tone that she used with her clients, “And trust me, sweetie. The way she handles your apology . . . will tell you everything you need to know about her. As a Crow and as a woman.”

  Which was exactly what Erin was afraid of . . .

  To Tessa’s surprise, Chloe wasn’t up yet. As the Crow leader and a natural morning person, she was usually up and working long before the rest of the Crows. But this morning, she was still in bed.

  Tessa, needing to head over to the Beverly Hills site to check on the staff and their clients, decided not to wait until Chloe got up on her own. Instead, she headed to her second-floor bedroom. The biggest bedroom in the house.

  Chloe didn’t have to live at the Bird House, but she had ever since her divorce.

  Tessa lived about fifteen miles away at her husband’s horse farm. Her Mike raised beautiful show horses and their two children. He never asked what Tessa did at night when she returned to the Bird House after a long shift at the other rehab sites, but he always seemed to understand she wasn’t out partying or cheating on him. And, even stranger, when she came home bruised and bloody, he just handed her an ice pack, a couple of aspirin, and kept her company on the couch until she was ready to go to bed.

  It was like the man knew what she was and what she did on some deep, internal level. He knew, he accepted it, but they never discussed it. Ever.