She took her Brayshell exit and slowed her speed to enjoy the lights and sounds. Glancing down at the 3-D map guide, she took a right on to a dirt side road. While the surrounding areas grew more modernized and crowded, towns like Brayshell and Wyldway maintained their rural nature.
Her communications link gave a shrill beep, breaking the silence. Jerking her ear piece out of the box, Zina put it in and turned it on.
“Yeah, what?” not quite a snarl, but enough warning to give the caller pause. “Well? I’m waiting!”
“Ma'am, we're all here as you requested.”
Zina rolled her eyes. The young male on the other end of the line was the reason she hated working with pups. Had to hand lead them through everything. “Yes, Devin, I know. I will be at the location in one minute.” His weak gasp of relief irked her. “Devin,” she growled.
“Yes, Alpha Zina?” Nervous humming filled the line.
“Devin, darling, if you ever disturb me again with such a trivial message, I will personally rip you from limb to limb. Do you understand?”
He gulped and stammered, “Yes, yes, Alpha Zina!”
“Now, be a good male and hang up.” Zina laughed when he disconnected before she could berate him further. Men. They were a waste of space most days, but occasionally had their uses.
She brought the car to a stop. Ahead, gathered around a picnic table, stood ten men. Most were outcasts from their families and each had an useful skill. She had snared them all with teasing promises and whispered words of hope of becoming an Alpha mate. Others she'd bought off. “Hello, boys,” Zina purred. Her nose caught the scent of rising pheromones and she hid a smile. Yes, so very gullible, but highly effective. “Gerard, is everything in place?”
“Yes, my Alpha. The scouts have the route memorized and our prey's daily schedule is consistent, never changes. We are ready.”
“Excellent. We will go after the prey tomorrow. Until then, send out the scouts to secure their posts. I want no screw-ups. Understand?”
“Yes, Alpha!”
The males' enthusiasm for the hunt was building. She would triumph this time and neither Henry nor the Were Council would stand before her might. This plan had taken thirteen years to ready and she could almost taste success. It was that close. Zina would rule them all and her enemies would cower before her or die. She grinned and the men, mistaking it for approval, cheered.
“Come! Let us eat.” Leading the way, Zina headed into the woods and toward the game she knew would be there.
Chapter 11
Jacques was waiting for Laylah at the usual pick-up spot. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't appear sad like yesterday. He took that as a good sign. “Laylah, I've got a surprise for you.” That perked her up and he was pleased by her reaction.
“Surprise? Is it in the limo, Jacques?”
He laughed. “No, not in the limo, saucy girl. You have to wait until you're home.”
“Why are we waiting then? Let's go!” Laylah climbed inside and Jacques chuckled at her eagerness, as he steered the limo toward home.
Jacques had barely parked before Laylah flung open the door and ran up the front steps and into the house. He shook his head and followed at a more sedate pace. He entered and saw an impatiently pacing Laylah.
“Well, Jacques? Where is it?”
“Patience is a virtue, Laylah. Besides, you need to get dressed for this surprise.” He saw the joy leave her face. She paled, no small feat, considering her olive colored skin. “Laylah?”
“Maybe we should forget about the surprise. I mean, you know, I have a ton of homework and a paper to input.” Laylah edged toward the stairs.
His eyes narrowed. “Laylah Cherie Le Croix, freeze!” Jacques strode toward her until he stood directly in front of her. He cupped her face in his hands and peered into her eyes. “Laylah?” It was a demand for answers and a question. He didn't understand which of his words changed her mind so fast. Jacques continued to stare into her eyes, waiting for her response.
She gulped, her gaze going everywhere around the room, refusing to settle on his face. “The only time you tell me to “get dressed,” it means we're going out to see Father or attending one of his social functions.”
“Don't you want to see him?” Jacques decided to switch tactics.
“I do, but....”
“But what, Laylah? And it'd better be a good reason.” Jacques wasn't going to let a silly response stop him. He and Naiya plotted for weeks to get father and daughter together for dinner. He thought Laylah would be pleased, but she acted like she was heading for an execution.
“It's just…well.” Uncertainty shone in Laylah’s eyes as her shoulders sagged. “Never mind. How formal does the dress need to be?”
“Black and white affair. Your father is meeting you at the 911 Restaurante in Heyendo. The reservation is for 6:00 pm. That means you have an hour to get ready.”
“Guess I'd better get a move on, then.” Laylah’s sad expression contradicted her cheerful tone. Hastily she headed upstairs.
Jacques waited until he heard the bedroom door close and growled, “If you want to know what's going on, Naiya, all you have to do is ask instead of skulking in the shadows eavesdropping.”
Naiya stepped from her hiding place with a grin. “Don't get yourself in a twist, Jacques. You know I'm a mother hen any time Laylah has to go see Henry.” She glanced upwards. “We can't keep forcing them together. I think I'm about ready to give Henry up as a lost cause. Laylah, however, she'll be an adult next summer. She has University to look forward. Maybe then she can enjoy life and make some friends.”
Jacques grimaced. “This is the last time, I swear. I know it's not in my job description to keep her happy, but the kid grows on you. Well, gotta change. You know how strict the 911 is about their dress code.”
Naiya laughed. Jacques gave her a mock salute and went to get ready.
Chapter 12
“Dr. Le Croix? Sir, it's 5:30 and if you don't hurry, you will be late for the dinner at the 911 Restaurante.” Delilah tapped Henry on the shoulder.
“Not now, Delilah, this is delicate work.” Henry focused on dropping the nanos onto the DNA on the slide before him.
Delilah patiently waited until Henry glanced up in irritation. “Why are you standing there?” He glared at his assistant.
“Sir, remember? Your dinner meeting? You now have fifteen minutes to clean up and get there. No matter what you do, you will be late.”
Henry frowned. “I don't recall seeing it on my calendar.”
“Trust me, sir, it's been there for weeks.” Delilah pointedly glanced at her watch.
Henry huffed and stood. “Fine, fine. Is the limo ready?”
“Yes, sir. Your clothes are in the bathroom and so is a razor.” She closed her PDA. “I'll go inform the driver that you will require a few more minutes.”
“Thank you, Delilah.” Henry went to change and shaved his several days' growth of facial hair. He made his way to the lobby where Delilah handed him his coat. He went outside and got in the limo.
As his chauffeur Boris drove, Henry read the latest reports and smiled. If the next set of trials yielded the same results, he would begin testing on volunteers. He was so close to finishing the serum. The profits would be huge. He could almost feel a Tri-Science Prize in his hands as he got what he deserved.
~***~
Laylah fidgeted, but stilled at Jacques' look. “Sorry,” she mumbled and then tugged at the straps of her black cocktail dress. Her hair had a multitude of braids in it, courtesy of Naiya's deft hands, and Laylah wore lipstick and eye shadow. She wished she were somewhere else. She felt exposed looking like this and the stares she was getting made her uncomfortable.
“Laylah, it'll be fine. Besides, you look lovely.” Jacques smiled encouragingly.
She blushed. Her gaze dropped to the table and her tightly clenched fists. The butterflies in Laylah’s stomach threatened to consume her. She glanced at the wall clock. 6:15.
Father wasn't going to show. She felt Jacques staring at her and Laylah shifted in her seat. She knew this was going to be a disaster. The clock's numbers, 6:20, blared mockingly at her. Jacques had said if Father didn't come, they would leave at 6:30. Ten more minutes to go. She was almost giddy with relief, but disappointed too. So typical of her father.
Jacques drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at the clock, the doorway and then Laylah. “We can stay and eat or we can go home. I'd rather stay and get some food, since you haven't had any time away from the house or school in a while. Just a suggestion, but tonight is yours, so whatever works best for you.”
Laylah rewarded him with a tiny smile. “I really, really want to go home and get this stuff,” she pointed at the makeup, “off me. And I want out of this dress too. I want my oversized Pis and normalcy.”
“Laylah, if all you ever go for is normal, how will you enjoy life?” Jacques' chided.
“I'm sorry.” Stung by his words, Laylah automatically dropped her head. She heard Jacques' irritated growl.
“Laylah....Henry!” Jacques stood as the hostess and Henry neared the table.
Laylah froze, eyes wide, her breathing a little too fast. 6:29. Her father had arrived with one minute to spare. She fought for calm and found none. She heard the faint rumble of her father's voice and Jacques' deeper bass tone. Too afraid to look, she kept her eyes locked on the table's edge that she held on to with a death grip.
“...come and sit. Laylah's been waiting.”
Laylah didn't need this stress. Already her shoulders ached with tension.
“Oh, very well.” Her father stopped at the table and stared at her.
Three very simple words, said in his annoyed tone, struck Laylah’s heart and she shrank back from him, cheeks pink with shame. The other customers whispered and she wanted to hide away and never see the light of day again. The onlookers had front row seats to her father's obvious distaste of having to eat dinner with his only child.
It was too much. Laylah pushed her chair back hard, quickly rose and circled away from her father, and headed for the door. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If her father didn't want her there, then she would go home.
“Laylah, wait!”
She ignored Jacques. This was his fault! If he hadn't set this up, she wouldn't be getting humiliated in front of everybody. She should have stayed home. Laylah wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into something. Her gaze shot upward to collide with her father's angry blue eyes. Time slowed and she felt all the anguish of not having him around slam into her emotions. She gulped, tried to speak and failed.
“Young lady, you will go sit down and stop making a scene.” Her father's glower held her in place. Though he'd spoken calmly, the heat of his temper scorched her and like a coward she slunk back to her seat. For one second, something inside Laylah urged her to be defiant, but she squashed it. Jacques' look of disapproval didn't help either. She felt cornered and her one and only instinct was to hide.
Her father's eyes traveled over her from head to toe. Without looking at Jacques, he growled, “Leave us.”
Laylah watched Jacques stiffen and then her only supporter left. She was alone with Father. This couldn't be happening to her again. She should have told Jacques no. She had plenty of time to fret about her situation as Father ordered the meal. An uncomfortable silence fell. She didn't know what to say to her father.
Should she talk about school or ask him about work? Should she talk about her best friend Britta, whose party she badly wanted to attend? 7:00. In that moment Laylah envied the clock. Time could go fast and no one would care. It didn't have to be subjected to such things as dealing with issues and people it didn't understand.
Laylah’s nerves finally got the best of her and unconsciously she began humming.
“Stop that,” her father snapped.
Laylah twitched and went silent. Tentatively she spoke, wanting to explain. “I'm-I'm sorry. It's a nervous habit. Jacques says I've done it for years and that I'll grow out of it sometime soon.” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it.
“You are too old to behave in such a childish manner. You are sixteen years old. You should handle yourself better.”
“Seventeen,” Laylah ground out, her eyes sparkling with hurt and a hint of anger.
“Excuse me? Did you say something?”
Laylah ignored his warning tone. “You said 'sixteen years old.' I'm seventeen, Father. I had my birthday in June.”
Her father waved her explanation off. “Then you definitely should act in a more mature fashion. People watch everything we do, and when you do not behave properly, it reflects badly on me.”
His glare bored into her and she muttered, “Yes, Father.” She wanted to rail at him, even hit him for being so mean. Fear and a little of the needy child she once was kept her from following through with her thoughts.
She considered leaving. She didn't get the chance. The waiter arrived with their meal. She picked at her food. 7:05. The clock was still mocking her.
“Why did you bring me here tonight? I have important things to complete.”
Father's question caught her off-guard. She hastily swallowed her food. “Me? I didn't invite you here. Jacques did.”
“I see.”
Laylah squirmed at his expression and stared down at her plate, afraid to look at him. Things were not going well, not at all. “Jacques wanted to cheer me up.” She would defend Jacques' idea even though it was turning out to be a huge mistake. “He thought we should spend time together.”
“I don't pay him to think. He is supposed to keep you safe from bodily harm and escort you to school. That's all, nothing else. He is not your emotional nursemaid. Maybe he should be replaced.”
“No!” Laylah's head came up and she locked eyes with her father. “You leave him alone! He didn't do anything wrong!” Laylah was shouting and she didn't care that people were whispering and pointing.
Her father blinked and his eyes narrowed. Laylah understood, seconds too late, that she'd said the wrong thing.
“When I want the opinion of a timid, whiny, frightened child, I will ask for it. Until that time, you will keep your mouth shut unless given permission to speak. Since you seem to think that being rebellious is a great thing, you are grounded.”
“Gr--, grounded! You can't do that!” Laylah weakly protested, shock at his words numbing her mind.
“You are not in charge. I am your father and you will do as you are told, Laylah Cherie Le Croix, or you will face a more severe punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
His eyes glittered with intensity and wrath and she knew she'd lost. “Yes, sir. How long?” Laylah whispered the last as she fought back tears.
“For as long as I want it to be. You are going to learn respect, Daughter, or you will be taught it. Either way, you will remember this lesson. Dinner is over. You will go home and tomorrow you start being grounded.” Her father wiped his mouth, put the napkin down, took one last drink of his wine and motioned for the waiter. “Check, please, and send for her driver.”
“Of course, Dr. Le Croix,” the waiter murmured and removed the dishes from the table.
Laylah woodenly stared down at her feet and her black high heels and wished the earth would swallow her up. 7:29. In one hour, her father had ruined her appetite, belittled her, taken away what little freedom she had and crushed her feelings.
She wanted to weep but the tiny little bit of pride she had kept her from doing so. No way was Laylah going to give her father the satisfaction of seeing tears roll down her face or let him know how much his words had hurt her.
The waiter returned with a frowning Jacques. His glance slid from Laylah to Henry.
“Jacques, thank you for your promptness. Laylah needs to go home. I do not believe she feels well.” Her father stood. “Make sure she rests while she is grounded.”
“Grounded? Henry, what's going on?”
<
br /> “I will call you later with the details. For now, get her out of my sight. I don't have time for worthless individuals.”
Laylah gasped, her face turned bright pink and Jacques opened his mouth to speak.
She put her hand on his arm. “Please, Jacques. Father is right. I do feel a little sick and somewhat tired. Besides, I have an essay due tomorrow that I need to get done.”
Jacques’ expression was inscrutable as he glanced at her father before patting Laylah’s hand. “Of course, let’s get you home.”
Together, they left her rigid father standing by the table.
Chapter 13
The tense return trip home was filled with Laylah's angry silence. She’d tried to not let her father get to her, but like everything else in her life, she failed miserably. He treated her like a five-year-old and it hurt. The dinner idea was an unmitigated disaster. And to make it worse, she would not get to go to Britta’s party. Laylah’s eyes hurt from holding back tears. She refused to cry, preferring instead to wait until she was alone.
The limo stopped and Jacques opened the door. “Laylah, I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned.”
The pity was too much for her. She stormed by him, fury and humiliation burning her soul. Laylah ignored Jacques’ command to stop and ran inside. She rushed by a surprised Naiya and took the steps two at time before going into her room and slamming the door. Her tears broke free as she slid down the door to the carpet. She heard footsteps and she reached up, locking the door.
“Laylah, can we talk?”
“No, Naiya. I want to be left alone, please? Please, leave me alone!”
“Laylah, if you don’t let it out, you’ll make yourself sick.”
Laylah gritted her teeth. She hated it when Naiya sounded so…so reasonable. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m going to bed. Night.” She sniffled, angrily wiping away her tears. She heard Naiya sigh and several minutes later Naiya left.
Laylah got up and woodenly shed her clothes on the way to the shower. She made the water as hot as she could stand and stepped inside. Snatching up the makeup remover, she scrubbed her face until it hurt and all the makeup was gone. Still, the inner chill of knowing her father didn’t care about her lowered her self-esteem. She must be the worst daughter in the world to have a parent that would rather run in the opposite direction than talk to her.