Page 193 of Marked

“Oh, no, no, no, no…” I kept muttering the words as I typed out a response.

Me:You don’t have to do that. Seriously. Tomorrow is fine.

Already on my way. Hope you like pastries. They have a great chocolate croissant.

I pursed my lips, cursing myself for being so stupid. Apparently, sleep was in short supply all around. He would be at this hearing, too. I should have assumed he’d have a hard time sleeping.

“Well, shit,” I muttered as I got up.

I had no way of knowing how soon he’d be here, so I got dressed and went to wait in the living room. The last thing I needed was for him to pound on the door and wake up Mom and Gael.

Twenty minutes later, a light tap sounded at the door. I swallowed hard and took a steadying breath as I checked the peephole. There he was, holding a white pastry box under one arm. Sighing, I quietly opened the door and let JC into my apartment.

“Good evening,” he said with a grin.

“Hey,” I muttered.

He strode over to the kitchen table, putting the box down and flipping the lid open.

“Oh,” I said, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t lying.”

Over a dozen items sat in the box. For the most part, I only knew the names of them from watching cooking and baking shows with Mom.The Great British Bake Offwas our favorite. There were croissants, macarons, eclairs, chocolate-dipped madeleines, cream puffs, and a few things I didn’t recognize.

“Are you trying to give me diabetes?” I asked.

“Late at night, junk food doesn’t quite hit the same as French pastry,” JC said. “It’s not all dessert, though.”

He lifted a tiny insert that separated the top of the box from the lower portion. Inside was a small loaf of French bread, along with some cheeses and spreads.

I pointed at a small tin. “Is that paté?”

“Indeed it is.” He was keeping his voice low, respecting the fact that my family was asleep. “Grab a plate. We can eat and talk. Can you grab three extra plates, though? I want to give some to the guys watching over your place.”

“Three? I only saw two.”

JC grinned. “That’s the two you were supposed to see.”

After putting some food on the plates, he went out to give them to the guy in the hall. The kind gesture touched me. JC was basically the king of Toronto and Ottawa. He didn’t have to do that for the men working for him, but it showed how much he cared about his people and pack.

Once we were settled in the living room, JC said, “So… Nate?”

I paused, a piece of cheese and bread halfway to my mouth.

“That was why you texted me, right?” JC asked with a half-grin. “To ask about getting him into the pack?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I have to tell you, I was not anticipating you answering tonight. You’ve sort of caught me off-guard.”

JC sighed and popped a macaron into his mouth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a pretty important subject for you, and I thought we should get this conversation out of the way as soon as possible.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “Since you’re here, what do you think about him joining? I know what the laws say, but can’t you make some kind of exception?”

“It’s a lot to get into, but it boils down to two basic laws,” JC explained. “One more or less states that changing packs should be difficult. The thought was this would help strengthen andstabilize packs as well as keep things homogenized and safe. The other is the illegalization of allowing lone wolves into packs and the legal ostracization of feral or near-ferals. There are checks and balances that would technically allow a lone wolf in, but that’s tough to get. You’d need a hell of a lot of people on your side. That being said, I do still think we have a good chance of getting Nate in if all this investigation works out.”

“That’s good to hear, I guess. It sounds like things aren’t easy to change,” I said with a sigh.

JC stared at me for a few beats. “You guys met a woman named Anita, right?”

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