Page 7 of Laurels and Liquor

I give him a little growl, but it lacks any real heat. My heart twinges, a little guilt creeping in. This is hardly the time for teasing and joking, not with so much to do and so little time to do it. But Lucas always brings out the petulance in people, even when he isn’t trying.

“Are you going to tell us what your dad wanted?” Lucas asks, turning his attention to Lex.

I catch the way her shoulders tense for a moment before she relaxes again, but she doesn’t speak for a while. And then she sighs and rubs her face with both hands.

“I have no fucking clue how, but he found out Seth’s been charged, and that he’s on the run,” Lex groans.

My body locks tight at the mere mention ofhisname. Seth Douglas. The omega who’s ruined my life several times over. He wormed his way into my bed, and through me, my pack. He’s a manipulative narcissist who trapped me and Lex in mating bonds we never wanted. For years we tried to get rid of him, but he blackmailed Lex into giving him a monthly stipend, and God knows however many other concessions. When Lydia came into our lives, he took umbrage at our relationship with her, and turned his evil, twisted focus onto her. There seemed to be no limit to what he was willing to do to get her away from us: hiring someone to stalk her, convincing his followers to harass her any chance they got, even grooming a vulnerable fan into going kamikaze, causing an accident bad enough to kill him—one that nearly killed Lydia too. But finally, we had a breakthrough. It took months of searching and digging, but we finally managed to get enough evidence to prove Seth’s guilt and get him sent to prison.

But just when we thought we’d won, he had to fuck things up. Again.

When the police went to serve the arrest warrant, they found Seth gone without a trace. It’s only been twenty-four hours since then, so they haven’t had a chance to even start chasing leads. The fact that Leopold St. Clair knows about Seth’s warrant when even the nosiest gossip rag, The Everton Review, doesn’t, strikes a nerve.

“So what did he have to say about it?” I ask quietly.

“Oh, you know. After he got done telling me how right he was about Seth, and that I should have known better than to associate myself with ‘his kind,’ whatever the fuck that means, he wanted to know what I was going to do to keep this out of the papers and away from the St. Clair name,” she says, words getting faster and more clipped in her anger as she speaks.

“‘His kind?’ Does he mean, clout chasers?” Lucas asks harshly.

“If I had to hazard a guess, he probably meant omegas, but who knows. His disdain for everyone who isn’t kissing his ass knows no bounds,” Lex returns, just as venomously.

“I hope you told him to take his nose out of our business and shove it up his ass,” I grumble.

“As much as I would have loved to, I didn’t. I told him I was working on it and if it became something he needs to know about, I’ll tell him.” Lex sighs, a defeated sound that tugs at my heart.

“So what is the plan?” Lucas asks with a resigned exhale.

“When I have one, I’ll let you know. But my priority right now is getting Rhett out of jail and back home,” Lex drones, letting her head drop against the headboard and closing her eyes.

Hearing her admit it is something else, even if I’d already come to the same conclusion. And the look in Lucas’s eyes, the flash of worry and exhaustion mixed with sorrow, steels my resolve.

“One thing at a time. We’ll get in touch with Ted, and get him down to New Orleans to spring Rhett from the slammer. We can let the police deal with Seth for now. That’s sort of their job,” I say, ending with a humorless chuckle.

Lex’s shoulders relax once more as she latches onto my steady words, nodding to herself. She still doesn’t move, and I don’t blame her. This little bubble of safety we’ve created is ready to shatter at any moment, and when it does, reality will come flooding back in. But I resolve to stay positive, because someone in this pack has to keep us from slipping into a sea of depression. Even though there’s a massive, Rhett-shaped hole in our pack, the rest of us are together and that sort of feels like a minor miracle.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Seth’ll overdose on steroids or something and cease to be our problem,” Lucas snarks.

Lex’s head snaps up, eyes wide as she gasps. But then her face morphs into a serious frown with a furrowed brow, eyes darting back and forth in thought. Lucas and I stare at her, waiting for her to say something, to elaborate on whatever epiphany she just had, but she continues to converse with herself in her head.

“For the record, that was a joke. You know that, right?” Lucas questions, leaning forward with a concerned expression.

“Yeah, yeah. For sure,” Lex replies faintly, not looking at him.

And before either of us can say anything further, she’s clambering out of the nest, and out of the door. Lucas and I stare at each other, exchanging silent concern. Lydia whimpers in her sleep, shifting a little in his arms, and Lucas’s expression darkens, his shoulders slumping. The impulse to shield him from whatever burden he’s carrying hits me hard, but I push it aside. He’s never reached out to me like that, and now’s not the time to test the waters.

“Do you think she’d actually do it? Kill Seth?” Lucas asks, turning to me.

The concern in his steel-blue eyes has become true worry. I want to tell him that Lex wouldn’t do something so extreme, but I hesitate. I’ve known Lex for a long time, over a decade, and I’ve never seen her like this. So, I settle on the only thing I can say honestly.

“I don’t think there’s anything she wouldn’t do at this point.”

Chapter five

Lydia

Thewarmwatersprayingdown on my face brings me out of the waking dream I’ve been living in for God knows how long. These days, time slips through my fingers like sand, and I slide from one moment to the next, often not really aware of how I got there. It can’t have been too long, as I still feel the soreness in my knees from when my father forced me to them at the wedding. I look around, realizing I’m in my bathroom, and that I’m not alone.

The humidity makes Mateo’s lemon and ozone linger against my skin, and I lean into his touch, happy to let him support my weight for a moment.

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