Great. As far as date nights with Lucas went, we were right on schedule. A little sweet talk, followed with a heavy dose of serious business.
Chapter Three
In hindsight, wearing red to a Rangers game when they were playing the Jersey Devils was not my wisest fashion decision ever. The dirty looks I got on our way to the boxes, coupled with clever one-liners like, “Stupid she-Devil” made me wonder at the mob potential of a crowd of hockey fans. Thankfully we didn’t have to share the box with anyone.
We took our seats close to the front with all the pretense of actually watching the game. Now that we were away from all the people, part of me really wanted to relive the thrill of watching night pond hockey games in Elmwood like I’d been able to as a kid, but Lucas had other plans in mind. He stroked his chin, a habit he’d picked up when he’d had a beard that had stuck with him when the hair was gone.
“It must be bad if you’re stroking the invisible beard.”
“That sounds like a ninth-grade euphemism for masturbation.” He tried to smile, but it came out half-broken and grim.
“Out with it, then. Rip the Band-Aid off.”
“We’ve got trouble.”
“You say that like it’s something unusual. Hello, King of the Obvious, we always have trouble.” I tried to give my words a joking quality, but his frown told me I’d struck a nerve. I was incredibly skilled at that.
“One of the Alphas in the southwest corner of my territory is turning traitor. He’s being courted by another king and is going to try to take the region with him.”
“A hostile takeover?”
“More or less.”
“Do we know which king?” Please say west, please say west, please say west.
“No one is owning up to it yet, but I have my suspicions.”
“You think it’s my uncle, don’t you?”
The thin line of his mouth twitched, but Lucas said nothing and stared ahead at the hockey game. The players had barely been on the ice five minutes, but already someone was punching the hell out of a forward from the Devils.
Lucas neither confirmed nor denied, but asked, “What do you know about him?”
“I’ve never even met the man.”
Lucas gave me a serious look, the one that meant I wasn’t with my boyfriend anymore. Now I was Pack Protector and he was King. As he was fond of telling me, this wasn’t a time to be glib.
“Callum McQueen. Son of Elmore and Vivienne McQueen. Brother of Mercy and Savannah. Currently unmarried with no heir apparent. In his late thirties, now, I believe. From what Grandmere told me, he was fifteen when she left, so he’d be thirty-seven or thirty-eight.”
“What else?”
I felt like asking, Do you see a fucking dossier in front of me? But I managed to refrain.
“Elmore chose him as the successor for his throne instead of his two older sisters. I don’t know how Savannah felt about it, but I have a good idea about Mercy’s reaction.”
Lucas kept staring at me.
“What?” I asked finally. “Do you want me to call Grandmere and grill her for information on her youngest? As far as I know she hasn’t spoken to Callum in twenty years.”
“Do you think he’s bitter about that?”
“You mean do I think he blames me for her leaving. That’s what you’re thinking, so just say it.”
“Okay. Do you think Callum harbors a grudge against you?”
“Probably. It seems to be a popular hobby for the McQueens.”
“Secret…”