"Have away," Weldon flung out an arm. I went to stand in front of Kellee.

Winkler stood in the background, waiting to see what I would do. "You will mourn your father as a daughter should," I said. "You will be respectful of Winkler and all the Dallas Pack," I continued. "You will never raise your hand or conspire against me again, or against the Grand Master, or his family, or anyone in the Sacramento Pack. Do you understand?" Kellee nodded obediently. "You will deliver your children and you will leave them with their father and find a life of your own. You will never speak ill of their father in front of your children, Kellee." She nodded again.

"Anything you'd like to add?" I turned to Weldon.

"I think that about covers it," Weldon sighed.

"Good," I sighed myself. "Go to bed, Kellee. You will have to speak with your mother in the morning." Kellee rose stiffly and went off toward her bedroom.

"Christ," Davis cursed. "Why didn't you do that for us before?"

"Because it's unethical," I said. "But she threatened my life and tried to kill me. It's allowable in those cases."

"Lissa, I welcome the former Boise Packmaster back to the Sacramento Pack," Thomas Williams smiled at me. I went to give him a hug.

Chapter 13

My shower was one of the most welcome in my life. Weldon, Thomas and Kipp (Kipp stayed behind while the challenge had taken place) all went to bed while I cleaned up. Weldon was upstairs with me; Thomas and Kipp were downstairs in the same guesthouse. Winkler was sitting on the side of my bed when I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I only had one extra set of clothing, along with pajamas. I'd had to buy them the evening before since my bag was still inside the stolen van. I hoped it was in the hands of the FBI now.

"Lissa, will you sit down and talk with me for a bit?" Winkler asked.

There was a nice chair in the corner of the bedroom, so I pulled it over to the end of the bed. I didn't want to feel like I was talking to Winkler across a canyon or something. "What's on your mind, Winkler?" I wasn't sure I wanted to have any conversation with Winkler right then—I still had the image of Karl Johnson in my head, his body cut in half and the memory of his eyes losing the light of life as he'd died in front of me. And of R.J., weeping beside his brother's body. I said all that to Winkler, too.

"Lissa, I watched the light die in my father's eyes, as well."

"Winkler," I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. Winkler had scars that would never heal. I guess we both did.

"Baby, you did what you had to do. Just like I did. We are what we are and our races are inherently violent. There's no way around that. Maybe the other female vampires don't have to deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis, but they don't have the talent and the intelligence that you do. Don't let this rule your life, Lissa."

I had vampires, a whole Council of them, a surrogate sire and a fiancé who ruled my life, whether I wanted them to or not. I didn't have much control over anything. If Gavin, Merrill or Wlodek found out just what I'd done tonight, they'd likely do a little more ruling.

"Winkler, the one thing I'm generally thankful for regarding the rejuvenating sleep is that I don't dream. It's impossible, apparently. Otherwise, I'd more than likely have nightmares after tonight." I looked across at him. His face was so familiar; I could close my eyes and describe it to anyone. Tonight, he looked hopeful.

Winkler rose and came to kneel beside my chair. "I think I may have good dreams for the first time in two months," Winkler sighed, lifting my hand and kissing it.

"How is Kellee's mother going to take this?" I asked, turning my head and looking into Winkler's beautiful, dark eyes.

"She was so far under Karl's thumb she didn't own a personality," Winkler snorted. "Davis is packing; Weldon already called Karl's Second and he's waiting to meet Davis to see how they get along. If it doesn't work, Davis will pick his own Second."

"I hope he likes it in Boise and I hope he doesn't get challenged," I said.

"The Wolf sculpture for Glen's grave will be finished in a couple of months," Winkler said, going off subject for a moment.

"I hope I didn't get Davis killed by passing Boise off to him."

"If he hadn't wanted it, he wouldn't have taken it," Winkler shrugged. "He'll be good at it. I've depended on him for a long time. I even came to him when I should have gone to Phil in the past. Lissa?"

"What, Winkler?"

"Do you know how much I owe you?"

"Winkler, I wish you wouldn't worry about that. You're going to be a father. Think about that, okay? I want to see pictures of you and those babies, Winkler. Of them riding on their daddy's shoulders and laughing. Go find them a stepmother someday, Winkler. One that loves them for what they are and not how much money you have or how handsome their daddy is." I reached out and ruffled Winkler's black hair a little.

"What would you have done if I hadn't blackmailed you, Lissa, and forced you to stay when you worked for me?"

"I don't know. I might have stayed if you asked me. There really wasn't any place for me to go, to be honest. But you had me trapped, didn't you?" I turned my face away from him then.

"Trapped and then handed right over to Gavin and the Council," Winkler growled.

"Water under the bridge, Winkler."

"Will you still be my friend?"

"Planning on coming all over my clothes again?"

"Not anytime soon."

"Then I'll be your friend," I said. "And you owe me a leather blazer."

* * *

Winkler's jet flew me straight to D.C.; Weldon was taking a commercial flight back to Grand Forks. Thomas Williams hugged me before I left Dallas and since I still didn't have my bag back it was just me, a few pints of blood in a cooler, my laptop and my cell phone that boarded the jet. Tony picked me up at the airport and drove me straight to Arlington.

"So, you were Packmaster for a whole thirty seconds," he grinned at me as we walked into his home later.

"You know, I'm going to stop worrying about how you know all this shit," I said and stalked past him to get to my bedroom. I'd lost my wig when I'd come out of the body bag in New Mexico and my short hair was a little over an inch in length, now.

"I got this for you," Tony stood in my doorway, a file folder in his hand.

"What's that?"

"Information on the kidnappings in Great Britain."




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