Prince of Power (House of Terriot Book 2)

by Nancy Gideon

  Silas smiled tightly. “Just three good buddies circling the campfire singing Kumbaya and deciding the fate of our clans. Who wants to start? What is it you want?”

  “Concessions,” Mia thrust like a knife point.

  New Orleans was a vital gateway to distribution stubbornly denied them. Securing rights would be a huge accomplishment.

  “Autonomy,” Silas countered, always the peacemaker.

  “The truth,” Colin concluded, ever the warrior in defense of his clan, “about what’s in the North.”

  Silas nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. How are we going to accomplish these things?” He glanced between their stoic expressions. “Exactly.”

  “Since we don’t trust each other worth a damn, let’s start with the threat to all of us,” Colin began, pouring another cup of the strong chicory brew. “My clan is tempted to hunker down on our mountain and say to hell with you. Let them destroy you all then we’ll pick through the pieces.”

  “Like scavengers,” Mia sneered. “The coyotes of our kind.”

  “Survivors,” he corrected. “We don’t need you. We aren’t vulnerable to outside attack or influence.”

  “Tell that to your brother James, and your king.” Mia watched with satisfaction as fury built beneath his impassive front, strengthening those luscious features.

  “We’re all vulnerable,” Silas cut in, “because we don’t know our enemy.”

  “I think we know them. Intimately,” Mia drawled.

  Colin’s chair screeched back as he stood, towering over the table. “Well, this has been fun.”

  “Sit. Down.” Silas waited until Colin reluctantly complied then began again. “We’re vulnerable because we think we’re our greatest enemy. That’s a mistake. If we continue to glare and squabble among ourselves, they’re going to sweep in like a plague and infect us all with their stronger will. What’s more important? Our petty differences or the survival of our people?”

  “I kinda like being petty,” Colin muttered, but his expression grew thoughtful. “I don’t know anything about them except what I’ve seen. We’re not much for politics outside our own.” He held up a silencing finger when Mia took a breath to respond. “But I’m here to learn. What do they want from us?”

  “We’re a resource,” Silas laid out simply. “And harvest time is almost here. They want us for our strength as a disposable work force. They’re dabbling in genetics to purify our lines. They’ve seeded this city with a dangerous drug to control our minds and turn us against one another. And they’re not going to leave us alone unless we show them we’re not to be toyed with. The only way we can do that is to do the unexpected. We have to get over our differences and join together, to make them fear us instead of the other way around.”

  “And who’s going to lead this charge?” Mia asked, studying MacCreedy suspiciously. “Savoie? Is that why we’re here on his home field, to protect you and yours?”

  “No.” His answer surprised her. “The three of us will make decisions for all our people. Together. That’s why we have no time for pettiness and politics, even though I enjoy both as much as the next guy.” He quirked a smile at Colin. “I know we’re talking generations of bad blood and ugly deeds here, but we’ve got to learn to trust each other before we find our families on the bottom of their sensible shoes.”

  Colin lifted his coffee cup in a sober toast. “Kumbaya.”

  “Mom, hey, it’s Colin. I’ll be staying here in New Orleans for a while. Our king asked me to head up negotiations with the other clans. A diplomat. Who’d a thought. If you or the girls need anything, just call. Anything. Any time. Okay?” A long, poignant pause. “Bye.”

  He disconnected knowing he wouldn’t hear from them. She wouldn’t call if they were on fire and he held the only water bucket. But he left the message anyway, guilt and longing forcing him keep that painful door open, just a crack. Just in case.

  “Our king,” Rico Terriot mocked. “That makes you sound so important. You could have said Cale. It’s not like she doesn’t know his name.”

  Or that she’d care.

  Those truths sobered Colin enough not to flick off his brother who joined him for lunch at the respectable morning-after hour of one-thirty. Instead, he drawled, “Surprised you remember your own name the way you kicked ’em back last night.”

  Rico dropped into the opposite chair and immediately went for Colin’s fries, using the grease to sop up his alcohol fog. “When in New Orleans, one let’s those good times roll.”

  He’d rolled in at about four a.m. where the three Terriot brothers, Colin, Frederick and their youngest sibling, Kip, were staying out in Max Savoie’s big plantation home. Imagining where Rico might have spent the better part of the night . . . and with whom, kept Colin from sleep, and spurred his early morning decision to find other lodgings away from more nights of plotting ways to murder his brother. Because he wasn’t the only one Mia Guedry had invited into her bed.

  “I’m moving into a place here in town.”

  Rico’s hand hovered above the fries before diving in for more. “Yeah? Where we going?”

  “We’re not going anywhere.”

  It took a minute for the message to sink in. “Oh.”

  “Figured since I’ll be working here, might as well settle in. It’s not like you’re staying.” That dangled longer than it should, compelling him to prompt, “When are you going home?”

  Rico leaned back in his chair, studying Colin’s impassive features, searching for a weakness to attack. Finally, he shrugged. “I’ve got nothing waiting for me. Thought I’d do a little more exploring. You know, sample the local fare.”

  Yeah, Colin knew exactly what he meant and, today, it annoyed the hell out of him.

  Though less than a year separated them in age, they were eons apart in their outlook. Rico, “Prince of Fools” as Colin had dubbed him when they were teens, meandered through life in search of that perennial good time―careless, thoughtless and indifferent to consequence―Colin, the opposite. Methodically, he weighed every variable then chose with care. Except in one very frustrating instance. He’d forgotten his own stern rules where Mia was concerned, allowing her to slip in under his wary radar. Then she’d left his still-warm sheets for his younger brother’s.

  Watching Colin’s expression like the predator he was for signs that he’d struck a nerve, Rico smiled. “A move sounds like a good idea. Not so far to navigate in the wee hours. Where are you rooming?”

  “One bedroom. No vacancies.”

  The quick answer brought a slow grin. “Guess I’ll just hunt something out. Might check and see what’s close to where I’m spending most of my time anyway.”

  Colin refused the bait. If Rico was shacking up with Mia, he sure as shit didn’t need to know about it.

  “So, how’s the family?”

  Cursing Frederick’s ability to get under his skin like a persistent tick, Colin offered a vague, “Fine.”

  “When was the last time you saw them?”

  Years. It had been long, agonizing years since they’d closed their doors to him. Colin’s tone tightened. “A while now.”

  “If I had family, I wouldn’t lose track of them so easily.”

  “We’re family, and I can’t seem to get away from you no matter how hard I try.”

  For an instant, Colin thought he saw something move behind Rico’s self-indulgent mood. Something similar to his own lonely sadness. Regretting the harshness of his words, especially knowing his brother’s circumstances, he sighed and forced contentiousness away. “How ’bout I help you find someplace to settle in? Something short term. Right?”

  Rico’s shadows scattered. “Right. You know me. I get bored so quickly.”

  That’s what Colin counted on. Because, unlike the mercurial Frederick Terriot, once he committed to something, Colin was in it for the long haul, no matter how difficult. Or unwise.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Colin stood in the center of the small pri
vate home he’d rented on Royal, just a block from the Bourbon Street action. He looked about in satisfaction. He’d never had his own place to return to with the feeling of welcome. After considering luxury apartments he could easily afford, something about these old renovated rooms wrapped him up in a sense of belonging and permanence. As if here to stay. The notion surprised him. Though he kept close council, he was a pack animal, especially since Cale had assumed the title of their clan’s king and a new hope had arisen. That energy and binding kinship pulled him and his brothers together for the first time in a bond other than war.

  Being separated out in this rival city should have left him uneasy without the protection and comfort of his own. But when Cale asked if he’d be willing to represent the House of Terriot in these tentative talks, an unexpected swell of pride and purpose overcame those of connection. This was something he could do, something he could excel in. His cause, his contribution. It had him waking up eager to embrace each new day with an enthusiasm lost when he’d slipped his step-father’s ring onto his own finger.

  Silas he could deal with. They understood each other on a basic, territorial-male-of-the-species level as well as on a more intellectual plane. He and MacCreedy wanted the same things—peace, strength and prosperity without outside threat looming in the shadows. Accepting that hadn’t been easy. Still wasn’t easy. Being isolated within their Terriot microcosm bred suspicion and fear of those outside it. And MacCreedy had ample reason to despise Colin’s clan after what they’d done to his family, murdering them almost to a one. Still, a wary truce was possible, except for one thing. Colin opened a bottled beer from the carrier sitting out on his breakfast bar, pondering as he took a long swallow.

  What was Mia Guedry’s interest? The same as his and MacCreedy’s? Doubtful. He’d always heard the corporate-minded Guedrys catered nefarious deeds for those in the North, their slick business exterior covering a multitude of ugly, violent sins, from kidnaping to assassination for hire. Though they sneered down at his clan, they were just a more prettily wrapped brand of killer. At least the Terriots didn’t pretend not to be what everyone knew they were. Dangerous. Deadly. Remorseless hunters, fighters, warriors.

  What did Mia want from this alliance? Not peace. Not equality between their clans. Not him. No matter how he might wish it so, she didn’t want him any more than she wanted his brother. So, what was her game, and what was it going to cost him to find out?

  Refusing to fret over it, he got busy settling into his new digs, picking up groceries at the corner market and happily toting them back like a native through the throng of early-evening revelers, packing his refrigerator, an honest to God full-size refrigerator, in an organized fashion before stowing away his odd mix of attire, his Terriot designer duds next to more comfortable casual clothes, in wall-length closets. Man, he loved the closet space.

  After testing the mattress on his new king bed, trying not to imagine a certain someone rolling around in it with him, he felt the silence seep in, reminding him for the first time just how alone he was. Rustic brick walls pressed in.

  To stave off the sense of seclusion, he opened his wallet and removed a tattered photo he’d carried with him for as long as he could remember. A big, handsome man knelt on the ground struggling not to laugh in his futile effort to contain three wiggly little girls in his arms. A stern-faced woman stood behind him, flanked by a pair of strapping boys who were every inch their father’s sons. Colin was behind the camera instead of in the picture, so he wasn’t surrounded by the family he loved on this last day they’d all been together. Just one of the regrets he carried along with that treasured remembrance.

  Very carefully, he propped the photo against the base of his bedside lamp, squaring it up where it would be the first thing he saw each morning and the last each night.

  His cell buzzed. Colin frowned at the unfamiliar number, but the voice was instantly recognizable as Silas MacCreedy’s other cop partner, Alain Babineau. The very human detective was married to Colin and Silas’s half-sister, Tina, another complicated branch in the family tree pairing his father, who’d never met an influential female he didn’t want to mate with, and MacCreedy’s mother. The detective didn’t mince words.

  “Cale said I could call you if I needed anything.”

  “Nice of him to make that offer for me.”

  “Can you bring your other brother, too?”

  “Which one? You may have noticed I have a lot of them.”

  “The pretty, smartass one.”

  “That narrows it down, but not by much. What’s this about?”

  “Tell you when I see you.”

  After getting the location, Colin placed a quick call, leaving a voice message for Rico at the prompt.

  Grateful for a reason to escape his first evening of solitude, he’d just changed when his bell rang. Company? Who knew to look for him behind the double set of turquoise shutters bumping up against the sidewalk? Banquette, not sidewalk. He’d have to remember that.

  Colin peered through the peephole. It took a minute to conquer a sudden flurry of foolish heartbeats before opening his door to his first unlikely visitor.

  Mia Guedry stood in the side courtyard. She smiled at him, not a particularly inviting expression. Nor was his greeting.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Do you think we’d have a Terriot loose in the city without knowing exactly where he was?”

  “You’re spying on me?”

  “Not me, personally. Can I come in?” She stood there, challenging him with a purse of full red lips, her petite form wrapped in black leather and lace under a cloud of thick ebony hair. The toe of one ridiculously high-heeled shoe tapped an impatient tattoo on the stones. Because he wanted to come in her in the worst possible way, his reply was an unfriendly growl.

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought we could talk about what happened this morning.”

  Reluctantly, palms already damp, he stepped back so she could cross the threshold. Her scent swirled around him, teasing with heavy, right-for-the-crotch notes. “Did I miss something? What happened this morning?”

  She didn’t answer right away, taking in the surroundings with a curious attention to detail. He tensed for her distain of his accommodations. Far from grand, the long, narrow space had a see-through central fireplace separating living from re-modeled kitchen and cozy dining area. A comfy leather sofa and huge flat screen mingled with tapestry rug and heavy antiques, with a glimpse of high-end bathroom and brick-walled, and multi-closeted bedroom beyond.

  “This is different. Quite subdued after The Saint.” The sinfully extravagant hotel rooms where they’d gotten to know each other Biblically but not yet genealogically. He’d had no idea he was sleeping with an enemy. “Playing a new role now?”

  “No. This is me. The other was Cale’s.”

  “It’s inviting. I like it.” Her velvety dark gaze slid from half-closed bedroom pocket door to him, then over him in a very thorough caress. “Very much.”

  Not sure where she was going with the conversation or the look, he asked, “What game are you playing now, Mia? It’s you and me against the world? Or just against MacCreedy? Is that what Rueben asked you to do? To cozy up to me to secure my devotion and loyalty with a twitch of that very tight skirt?”

  “I’d never get into bed with the Terriots.”

  He released a booming laugh at that haughty claim and countered, “You didn’t seem to have any problem when it came to me and my brother.”

  A hot red infused her face, but her tone remained ice cold. “That was business. Nothing personal.”

  His smile torqued unpleasantly. “Next you’ll tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your work. You and your brother were just a job, the means to get me the information I needed. I won’t apologize for that.”

  With careful neutrality, he drawled, “I see nothing wrong with a mutually satisfying working relationship. As long as
you don’t pretend it’s something else.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think we should have?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? Or do you find the suggestion distasteful? It’s your call.”

  Mia studied him for a long moment, as if trying to see beyond his casual near-indifference. Her arrogant words could have been bluster. Or very dangerous invitation. Too dangerous considering the way his skin heated just thinking about her hands on him. Testing that weakness, she reached up to trace the shape of his mouth. “I liked the way everything tasted on you.”

  He sucked in her fingertips, his tongue swirling about them with a slow deliberation, waking a fire in her eyes that had nothing to do with anger. She withdrew her touch, humming like a rough engine, “I think it’s time we got to work, don’t you?”

  He cupped the side of her heart-shaped face, letting her rub into his palm like a demanding cat, eyelids lowering over hungry dark eyes. His hand dropped away then he stunned her by taking a step back. “Maybe later. I’ve got someone waiting.”

  Insult and suspicion chased across her lovely features. But in her eyes, Colin caught a hint of disappointment before pride squared up her shoulders. “Let them wait.”

  He shook his head. “It’s business. Ours is finished here.”

  “Is that what you think?” came her challenging reply.

  She yanked his head down. Her kiss nearly swallowed him whole. How could he not respond in kind, fencing, pursuing, savoring, then straightening out of her reach before things spiraled out of his control. He smiled, ever so slightly.

  “I’ll have to get back to you. Business is business.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. “If you’re expecting me to make an appointment, don’t hold your breath.” She shoved away and swept out the door like a frigid winter gale.

  Leaving Colin savoring the sweetness of her lingering wetly on his mouth, hoping his calendar would fill up quickly.

  Damn him!

  Mia slammed the wrought-iron gate behind her, the sound as discordant as her emotions. Who did the arrogant bastard think he was? Something special? Someone who could play with her casually whenever the mood struck him? She’d strike him dead before she’d let him get away with . . .