by Cassie Miles
He hustled them into the closet and pulled the door almost all the way closed. They could still hear the drumming and chanting. Jolene’s voice was louder than the others’.
In a tuneless wail, she called out, “Death is coming, coming for us all. Feel his icy presence. Welcome him. The serpent will bring the truth.”
A man gave a hoarse shout. “Get that thing away from me!”
“Death is very near to you.”
“I mean it, lady. I’ll kill that snake.”
“And burn in the damnation fires for eternity.” She let out a cry. “Look at him! People, look at his feet. He has blood on his shoes. Who did he kill?”
“Back off, voodoo bitch. I’m out of here.”
In the closet, Alyssa looked up at Rafe. Just enough light leaked through the crack in the door for her to see the dimple on his chin. His head tilted down, and she knew he was looking at her. She asked, “Was Jolene talking to Woodbridge?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he has blood on his shoes.”
“Who died?”
“Jessop was badly beaten. We called the paramedics, and I’m hoping he’ll survive.”
“And you suspect Woodbridge.” In her mind, she’d placed Jessop into the bad-guy camp along with Davidoff and Charlotte. Still, it was possible that he was working for someone else. Double-crossing each other seemed to be standard procedure, which didn’t explain the attack. “Why would Woodbridge take that kind of risk? Why assault a fed?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Charlotte growled. “They all want the money. Until you tell them where it is or how to get it, they’ll keep coming after you.”
“I don’t know anything, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“Call it naive,” Charlotte said. “Would you please change places with me? I don’t want to be back here. The shelf with the rat cage is right next to my nose.”
Alyssa ignored her aunt’s complaint. “You’re as bad as they are. You thought you could get me to talk. Well, guess what? The joke’s on you. I’m not lying. I don’t have a secret.”
“But I do,” Charlotte said ominously. “This is your last chance, sweetheart. If we put our heads together, we might figure this out. I can tell you about the contacts I made with Frankie.”
“From ten years ago,” Rafe said. “I expect we’ll find that half of them are in jail and the others are dead.”
“He’s right,” Alyssa said. “You don’t have much to bargain with. Who are you working for, Charlotte? It is Davidoff?”
“Not a chance. That bastard crossed a line, and I can’t forgive him. He’s evil to the core.”
Alyssa wondered what Davidoff could have done to exceed her aunt’s very minimal threshold for bad behavior. Charlotte didn’t have a problem with stealing, cheating and deception. Nor did she seem worried about Jessop getting beaten so badly that he had to go to the hospital. Did she draw the line at murder?
“Suppose I agree to work with you,” Alyssa said. “Where would we start?”
“It’s obvious. We need to sit down with your old buddy Max Horowitz.”
Alyssa was glad they were in a dark closet where panic couldn’t be seen on her face. The raucous noise from the other room covered the guilty tremor in her voice. “Mr. Horowitz disappeared. Why do you think I’d know where he is?”
“You’re closer to him than anyone else.”
And she couldn’t betray him, couldn’t even tell Rafe about the phone call she’d made less than an hour ago. “I don’t know where he’s hiding.” That much was true. “And I can’t think of a single logical reason he’d steal from his own pawnshop.” Also true.
“I’ll give you a tidbit of information for free,” Charlotte said. “There’s a forger in Chicago who has information about a murder. It’s all about the paint. I’ve known about this for a couple of months, but I couldn’t go to the authorities. You can.”
“This cryptic thing doesn’t work for me,” Alyssa said. “Just tell me.”
“Later,” Charlotte said. “I’ve got to run. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Wait,” Rafe said. “The plan was for all three of us to leave together. We can drop you off at a hotel or at the airport.”
“Plans change.” She shoved her way past them to the front of the closet, stepped into the back room of the shop and shuddered from head to toe. “This place stinks. All that weird stuff in jars gives me the creeps.”
As Alyssa watched her aunt stride toward the rear door of the shop, she wondered if she’d ever see the woman again. In memory, she flashed back to a summer day in Chicago when she was nine or ten. Her mom and Charlotte had just finished a set of tennis and were both wearing whites. She’d thought they looked like angels. “Goodbye, Aunt Charlotte.”
Alyssa retreated into the closet with Rafe. Now that they were alone, she didn’t hesitate to snuggle against his chest. His arms draped over her shoulders, and he pulled her closer. His warmth comforted her. She couldn’t hear the beating of his heart over the loud drumming and chanting from the other room, but she felt his vitality and his pulse. While they’d been apart, she was terrified of losing him.
Gently, he kissed her forehead, probably not intending to be sexy, but her engine was already revved. After they’d made love, she couldn’t go back to the way it was before when they were merely friends. They were lovers. He knew the secrets of her body and vice versa.
Taking advantage of that knowledge, she went up on her tiptoes and nuzzled against a sensitive place on his throat just beside his carotid artery. He gave a low moan that only she could hear.
“A question, cher. Why are we still in the closet?”
“Jolene said to stay until she gave the signal, and she has a very long snake.” She kissed his throat again. “She understands reptiles. It only took a minute for her to pick Woodbridge out of the crowd.”
“The blood on his shoes was a clue.”
“What’s our plan?”
“I suggest that we leave here, get into the car and return to the safe house.”
More specifically, they’d return to his bed at the safe house. “Here’s what worries me. How did Woodbridge know we were here? Did he follow you?”
“It’s possible.” He shrugged. “After we found Jessop, we had to wait for paramedics and didn’t have time to plan a careful exit. We went down the fire escape, a messy retreat. He could have seen us.”
She was beginning to know Rafe well enough that she could read between the lines. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “Any other theory?”
“I suspect Charlotte is hooked into a tracking device, either voluntarily or someone slipped it into her handbag. Previously, I thought Jessop was monitoring her, but Woodbridge and his cohorts might be the ones keeping tabs on her.”
“Too complicated.” She nibbled at his throat, tasting the salty flavor of his skin. “I wish I had a scorecard that told me who was playing on which team.”
Aunt Charlotte seemed adamant about hating Davidoff, but she was a liar.
If Jessop was Davidoff’s contact in New Orleans, why was he beaten? Maybe Woodbridge was working for somebody else, like the Leones in Florida.
The Russian bride of Ray McGill might want revenge against Alyssa for her testimony against her sleazebag husband.
“In the future,” she said, “I’ll stick to juggling numbers. They’re not as complicated as people. By the way, how did you know to go around to the back entrance to the shop?”
“Sheila Marie and I have been texting.”
“She’s wonderful. Whatever you pay her as a confidential informant, it’s not enough. And I like Jolene, as well. Has she ever given you a reading?”
“Many times. After I left the FBI, she predicted a long journey across water and great wealth. What did she tell you?”
She hesitated, not
wanting to confess her link to Mr. Horowitz but wanting to be completely transparent with Rafe. “There was something about a tall, dark, handsome man.”
“I’m tall and dark. Two out of three is not so bad. C’est moi!”
He was also undeniably handsome, but she didn’t need to tell him. Rafe had a healthy ego. Her thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like a door being opened. Had Charlotte forgotten to lock it before she abandoned them? “Did you hear that?”
He peeked through the partially open closet door. “It’s Woodbridge. He has a gun.”
And the closet was the most obvious hiding place. After a cursory look at the rest of the back room, he would surely open this door and find them. They were in big trouble.
But then she had an idea. Woodbridge was afraid of snakes. Maybe rats would have the same effect. She took the mesh cage off the shelf and tried to squeeze past Rafe. “Let me by. This will freak him out.”
“What are you doing? Setting free the rats?”
“Yep.”
“If we were in a cartoon, I would agree to your plan.” With his gun in one hand and his phone in the other, he peeked through the slit in the door. “Stay behind me.”
Her adrenaline was already pumping, and her pulse raced. Her rational mind told her that she should be terrified. When Woodbridge opened that door, he’d start firing. Rafe would be forced to do the same. Either way, the result was a bloodbath. She ought to be scared to death, but she wasn’t. She believed they’d get through this. Maybe the gris-gris protected her, or maybe she trusted Rafe. She tugged at his sleeve. “What’s Woodbridge doing out there?”
“Poking around, touching things, handling the beads and jewelry. He keeps checking a small electronic device and looking toward the front of the shop.”
“A tracking device that Charlotte was carrying?”
“That’s my best guess.”
The atmosphere shifted. The rhythm of the chants sped up, and the volume turned up to high. Alyssa heard Sheila Marie shout, “Look here!”
She must have charged through the bamboo curtain. She continued, “People, do you see? The thief is here. He be stealing our treasures with his bloody hands.”
Jolene joined in. “The sacred serpent sees all. Her poison will make his fingers wither into stumps, and he will die.”
Alyssa appreciated the drama of Jolene’s threat, even though she knew for a fact that Burmese pythons weren’t venomous. No doubt Jolene was parading around with her favorite companion, Dominique, held high over her head. Alyssa heard the sounds of people running and dancing and drumming and singing.
“This is hot as the devil’s fire,” Sheila Marie shouted.
Alyssa thought of the mystery stew boiling on the hot plate. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s got a pot, and she’s getting ready to throw whatever is in it.” There was a scream. Rafe continued, “That was Woodbridge. He’s running. A sensible move.”
She heard the back door slam.
“The thief is gone,” Jolene announced. “Come with me to the front. We will speak of the future and the past and these precious moments in between.”
The crowd followed her instructions, which—Alyssa suspected—would lead to readings along with the sale of gris-gris and love potions. She looked up at Rafe and said, “This is the most amazing hideout.”
“When I’m here, I never know what to expect.”
Sheila Marie opened the closet door. “You okay?”
“How did you know that we needed help?” Alyssa asked.
“The magic of my cell phone. It is not as exotic as voodoo but more efficient. Your tall, handsome man sent a text.” She tapped Rafe on the chest and pulled Alyssa out of the closet. “How come you’re holding the rats?”
“I thought that if I released them from the cage, they might run after the bad guy.”
“Attack rats?”
“It’s not like I gave them tiny guns and helmets.” She returned the rats to the shelf in the closet. “I like your way better. It sounded like you scared Woodbridge half to death.”
“He won’t be showing his ugly mug around here again.”
Rafe gave her a hug and thanked her. “Give my love to Jolene. We’d better go while Woodbridge is still too scared to tiptoe into the voodoo shops.”
On the street, she stuck to him like a shadow as he dodged the light and kept to the darkness. “We’re almost to the car,” he said. “I found parking on the street.”
She couldn’t wait to sink into the comfortable seat of the Mercedes, sit back and ride to the safe house. Only a few days ago, she’d risked her life trying to escape from Rafe. Now she thought of the house as her home, the place where they were surrounded by security and no one could find them.
Why had they left that sweet little nest? Oh yeah, they’d ventured out to warn her aunt that Davidoff was on his way to New Orleans, which was definitely the right thing to do, even though Charlotte hadn’t paid much attention and had left them in the lurch.
They rounded a corner. Rafe took two steps and came to a dead halt.
“What’s wrong?”
He gestured to an open space at the curb. “Your aunt stole my Mercedes.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fuming, Rafe stared at the empty space where the Mercedes should have been waiting for him. There were no words sufficient for his rage. I trusted that woman. I saved her from being arrested by NOPD. And this was his payback?
He clasped Alyssa’s arm and pulled her off the sidewalk into a nearby alley. Halfway down, he ducked into a darkened doorway, where they wouldn’t be seen. His chest was tight, and his lungs constricted. He inhaled a gulp of night air, thick with humidity. Garbage from the seafood restaurant at the front of the alley reeked of onions and fish guts.
There had to be some mistake! He felt around in the pockets of his windbreaker and his jeans, searching for the key fob needed to start the Mercedes. He found his own keys, his Swiss Army knife, an extra clip for his Glock, his wallet and his phone, but the fob for Chance’s car was gone. While they’d been jammed in the closet together, Charlotte must have picked his pocket—a skill he wasn’t surprised to learn that she possessed.
“I guess we need a new plan,” Alyssa said with a grin that was too cheerful for his current mood. “We could hop onto a streetcar and go back to the house.”
He hated that solution. Trapped inside a streetcar, they were vulnerable to Woodbridge and the men he was working with. Rafe knew there would be more thugs out on the street, looking for them. Even if Woodbridge had started the evening on his own, he would have summoned backup when he knew their location.
“No streetcars,” he said.
“Maybe we can stay in the voodoo shop for the night,” she suggested.
For a moment, Rafe considered returning to the Dragon’s Blood and lying low, allowing Jolene’s python to protect them. But he didn’t want to bring more trouble to her doorstep. One encounter was enough.
“I’ve got a plan,” he said darkly. “A simple plan.”
She looked up at him expectantly. “What is it?”
He could track down Charlotte and tap her on the shoulder. When she turned around, he could drill a neat bullet hole into the center of her forehead. Ha! The plan gave him momentary relief. She deserved retribution. She’d put them in danger. Right now, she was probably at the airport buying a ticket to an unknown destination. But of course, he wouldn’t take such drastic revenge. “Never mind.”
Alyssa’s eyes were bright. Her attitude determined. In spite of the constant threat and betrayal by her aunt, she remained hopeful. He doubted that she thought of herself as courageous, but the description was apt. He needed to focus and to find the best way to protect her.
“Here’s another plan,” he said. “Where do you keep your getaway car?”
“A long-t
erm parking structure over by the docks.” She pumped her fist like the winner of a tennis match. “I knew that car was going to come in handy.”
“Do you have the key?”
She bobbed her head. “In my backpack, I’ve got the car key and the card to get into and out of the parking garage. I’m so happy we’re going to get it. I can really use all the clothes and shoes packed in the trunk.”
“I’m guessing that you selected a parking garage that stayed open late.”
“Twenty-four-hour access, and there are two night watchmen on duty.” She beamed a radiant smile that lit up the dingy alley. “I know which streetcars to take to get there. We’d only need one transfer.”
Hadn’t he already told her that he wasn’t going to hop onto a streetcar like a schoolboy headed to classes? “We’ll take a taxi. With all the hotels around here, it won’t be hard to find one.”
Hand in hand, they walked to the end of the alley. Before they stepped into the comparative light of the street, she pulled her cap down on her forehead—a minimal disguise but better than nothing. All he could do was hunch his shoulders to look shorter and blend in with the other people on the street.
He glanced across the street, looking for the people who were looking for them. In this touristy area, most of the pedestrians were walking in couples or groups. The car traffic on the narrow streets of the French Quarter was minimal, limited mostly to taxis and rickshaws and scooters. The lack of vehicles suited Rafe very well. With the glare from neon streetlights bouncing off windshields, it was difficult to see the interior of a car.
She nudged his shoulder. “Lighten up. You’re supposed to be a happy tourist.”
Taking on that undercover role, he splashed a smile onto his face. “Do you think we should pretend to be lovers?”
“Pretend?” She threw her arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Was that convincing?”
“That was a start.”
Though he enjoyed the sensations that came when her body pressed against his, Rafe maintained his surveillance. He noticed two men standing at the street corner who didn’t cross when the light changed from red to green. One of them spoke into a phone. The other wore sunglasses.