Page 27 of Jacob Michaels is Trouble

“But,” I said, holding a hand up as Andrew started to rise from his seat, “if you were maybe able to help me out a little, maybe she’d be less pissed off when the time came for her to talk to you.”

If she remembered.

Big “if.”

Andrew didn’t have to know that Oma had probably already forgotten about being mad at him.

“What do you want, Rob?” Andrew sighed, his exhausted eyes closing slowly. “Jacob. Whoever you are?”

“Where is your pack? Family? Whatever you call them.” I asked. “Back in New York?”

“That’s where they are based, yes,” Andrew replied, his eyes sliding open cautiously to appraise me from the other side of the desk.

I smiled.

“Things have happened in the last week. A few days ago,” I shook a finger at him, “I would’ve missed what you just did there, Andy.”

“What?”

“Where are they now?” I asked. “I don’t care where they are based out of regularly, I want to know where they are now.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and sighed, sinking back into his seat.

“I don’t know.”

“Sure ya’ do.” I grinned goofily as I laid my hand on his desk, palm down, and pushed out a little magic.

When I raised my hand, the scorch marks were very noticeable.

“Jacob…Rob.” Andrew pushed his chair back slowly. “Don’t.”

“I wonder if I set this office on fire with magic if anyone would believe you?” I asked thoughtfully. “Or would they think you’d gone ‘round the bend and haul you outta here in a ‘Me Time’ jacket?”

Andrew stared at me, nearly emotionless, as we sat across the desk from each other in his fancy-schmancy office in the tall, fancy building. I’d had many a meeting with self-important people in fancy-schmancy offices in tall, fancy buildings. Typically, I used my charm and charisma to deal with their bullshit—especially since my memory had been a problem during those meetings—but that would not work with Andrew. Magic was the answer.

“You seemed like such a nice guy.” Andrew finally sighed, his head slowly shaking as he stared into my eyes.

I frowned.

“But you’re kind of a douche, too, ya’ know.” He said.

“I don’t think the guy who verbally and physically assaulted me on a date has a right to tell me about my manners.”

“What’s happened to you?” He asked, his head cocking to the side marginally. “I mean…I’m getting a vibe from you now that wasn’t there before. That trick there is new, too.”

He pointed at the scorch marks.

“It’s funny what happens when someone remembers how exhausted they are, Andrew,” I replied evenly. “I’ve been tired of my circumstances for a very fucking long time. And I’m looking to correct them. Immediately. Where is your fucking pack?”

With each word spoken, I leaned in closer and closer, pushing myself into the desk and further into Andrew’s space.

“What’s that even mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I clenched my teeth tightly. “I got—well, we—got attacked by two werewolves the other night. I want to know whose pack they’re a part of because Jason doesn’t claim them.”

“That’s convenient.” He snorted.

“Why would he lie?”