Her faith in him was something Jono would never take for granted. The moment he did, Jono knew he’d be no better than Estelle and Youssef. His job as the alpha of the New York City god pack was to fight to protect the packs under his care.
Jono was finally in a position where he could stand his ground, and he wasn’t moving one bloody inch.
23
“Do you see him? I don’t see him,” Wade said, standing on his tiptoes to try to see over the Wednesday afternoon crowd at the Arrivals area.
“Patrick’s plane landed ten minutes ago. Give it at least ten more before he even gets off,” Jono said.
“Marek should’ve let him use the private jet.”
“We don’t need that paper trail with the government.” Jono reached out to grab Wade by the collar of his jacket and reel him back in so he wasn’t in the way of the exit. “And keep your hands to yourself.”
Wade tugged free with a mock-scowl before he decided to pull a Pop-Tart packet out of his jacket pocket. Jono let him snack in peace and kept scanning the people coming through the Arrivals security gate.
It had been a week since he’d last laid eyes on Patrick, though they’d rung each other every night to check in. Jono was far more forthcoming than he had been the other week, realizing his mistake in keeping Patrick in the dark.
Closing out the Chicago case had turned into a right mess that had gone all the way up the chain in command of the federal government. From what Jono understood through his chats with Patrick, Setsuna had been called in to privately brief the president. It was like New York last summer all over again with the domestic terrorist attack on home soil, and no one was pleased with that turn of events.
The Chicago mayoral election had happened yesterday. While Westberg’s name had remained on the ballot, his opponent in the other party had won by a decent showing. It wasn’t a landslide, and mail-in ballots were still being counted, but at least they wouldn’t have Loki in an urban seat of power. That thought was enough to give Jono a headache.
In New York, the PCB was still looking into the hunter death in vampire territory. Jono hadn’t interacted with the police since his interview, though he anticipated more scrutiny, especially now that Casale was aware of the god pack rivalry. Sage had assured him there were laws on the books that would cover his defense if the PCB pressed the hunter issue.
The soulbond, which had been stretched thin since Jono had left Patrick in Chicago, had settled into its normal weight in his soul once Patrick’s plane had landed. It tugged at Jono’s soul from close proximity sometime later, a warmth pooling in his chest.
“There he is!” Wade said.
Jono’s gaze latched onto the sight of Patrick slipping through the crowd, his dark red hair standing out. He looked tired, smelled tense, but he was the best thing Jono had laid eyes on all week once Patrick got within kissing distance.
“Hey,” Patrick muttered against Jono’s lips. “I thought you were picking me up at the curb?”
“Wade needed a walk,” Jono murmured before kissing him again.
“Hey!” Wade protested through a mouthful of Pop-Tart.
Patrick broke the kiss and laughed tiredly. He leaned into Jono with a sigh, and Jono rubbed his back with a firm hand. “Long couple of weeks.”
“I can take you home before I head to Tempest if you want,” Jono said.
Patrick shook his head, stepping back a little. Wade had grabbed his carry-on and was already heading toward the exit on his own. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been gone for almost two weeks. I should show my face again. Let people know I’m back.”
“If you’re sure.”
“You can drop Wade off first if you want.”
“Nah, he said he was going to do homework at the Starbucks down the street.”
“You sure that’s a good idea? He might drink five lattes with extra espresso shots in each one and then be up for two days straight.”
Jono laughed, curling his arm around Patrick’s shoulder and pulling him close. He turned to press a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head, breathing in his scent that didn’t smell anything like pack, just him. Jono fixed that once they made it to the Mustang, taking a minute to press his scent into Patrick using both hands pressed to his neck. Jono distracted him from the scent-marking by kissing him and didn’t stop until Wade cleared his throat pointedly.
“There are cameras,” Wade said primly. “Don’t give the security guards a show.”
Patrick snorted. “Like Jono would ever do that. He’s not an exhibitionist.”
“He ran around the park in Chicago while naked. He does the same thing here.”
“Not with Patrick,” Jono said firmly. “Now get in the car.”
Wade scrambled into the back seat, and Patrick took the front passenger one. Jono got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Getting out of the parking garage was slow, but they eventually got on the road.
“What happened to the invitation?” Jono asked once Patrick had set a silence ward into the Mustang’s frame.
Patrick stretched out his legs and reached over to rest his hand on Jono’s thigh. The touch made Jono smile, settling him in a way nothing else had since Patrick had been gone.
“It’s being held in the Repository under armed guards, spells, and wards. The PIA is taking lead on investigating chatter that might be related to it. The SOA will still be looking into domestic leads, but the general consensus is the auction will probably not happen on US soil.”
Jono frowned. “You really think the auction will be held out of the country?”
“I think anything is possible. Ethan got his mercenary bona fides in Europe after he fled the country when I was a kid. Westberg didn’t get all those artifacts in his mini-museum house
