by Jill Myles
It did sound pretty stupid. “You don’t understand. She’s rich. She’s a porn star.”
The officer just laughed at me. “Sure, lady. And I’m the Queen of England.”
I bit back a sarcastic remark and slumped on the bench. Frustrated to my core, I swung my foot in a rapid circle, trying to think. I couldn’t stay in jail. I’d be a wreck if it took twenty-four hours to get us out of here. I eyed the tall, grim policeman on the other side of the bars and shuddered. Nope. I still had a few hours before he started to look good.
“So how long am I going to be here?”
He looked over at me, squinting. “The police in Oklahoma have asked us to detain you for questioning.”
“Don’t I get a phone call? Or a lawyer, or something?”
The policeman glared at me for a long moment, then grudgingly said, “You get a phone call.”
I perked up and shot off the bench. “Really?”
I almost thought he was pulling my leg until he came over to my cell and started to unlock it. My hands nearly trembled with excitement and I folded them under my armpits lest I accidentally brush against him and steal his mind. Arms tight against my chest, I bowed my head, meek, when he opened the door to my cell and stepped out.
“One call,” he said, his voice gruff. “So make it a good one.”
I nodded, my thoughts racing as Officer Hawkins led me through the small police station and over to his desk. There was an old phone—the entire sheriff’s office was a dusty dump of a building—and he handed it to me, the cord wound into a messy knot.
Who to call? My partner in crime—literally—was on the other side of the jail. Remy would be no help. My boss? Heck, no—if Dr. Morgan found out I was in jail, I’d lose my coveted job in a heartbeat, no matter if he had the hots for me. It was still daytime, so Zane was out of the question. My thoughts turned to Noah, but I hesitated. If Noah was still in police custody from this morning and I called him, that would implicate me.
“Well?” The policeman stared at me.
I thought hard. “Can I see my purse for a minute? I need a phone number from a business card.” While I hated the thought of calling Luc for help, it was my only option.”
The cop got up and returned a few minutes later with my purse in a plastic bag. The inside was covered with a powdery substance, and I gave him a suspicious look. Either they were dusting for fingerprints or testing for drugs.
Within a few moments, I had the business card and I dialed.
Luc answered on the first ring.
“This is Luc.” The trace of French accent was there, even in his greeting. A wave of accompanying warmth rolled through my body, and my eyes closed involuntarily.
“It’s me,” I said, then felt a bit stupid. “Jackie.”
“I know your voice,” he said softly.
I squirmed in my seat even as warning bells went off in my mind. This man was very bad news for me. Very bad.
And I totally wanted him. Damn the Itch.
“What can I help you with, ma belle?” His voice jerked me back to reality.
“I have a bit of a problem,” I said. “A jail sort of problem.”
“I see,” he said, his voice smooth and tinged with a hint of laughter. “Perhaps this would be the Cherokee County Jail? Yes?”
How the heck did he know that? Was he stalking me?
I resisted the urge to hang up, though my senses tingled with fear. I needed this creepy asshole’s help, whether I liked it or not. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. “That’s the place. Can you help me?”
“I am but a stone’s throw away.”
What the hell did that mean? “So, uh, is that a yes or a no in mystery speak?”
“Oh, it’s definitely a yes.”
Goose bumps prickled through me. “So how soon can you get here?”
He only laughed, the sound throaty and seductive, and yet grating on my nerves.
A hand loomed in front of my face suddenly, reaching for the phone. “If all you’re going to do is flirt, you’re done with this phone call,” the officer said in a surly voice.
I flinched back, holding the phone against my neck to keep it away from Officer Hawkins. “Wait, I’m not done—”
But he was determined, and his fingers brushed mine. Even as I jerked away, I felt that slight snap, like a rubber band being pulled tight and released, as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.
Oh jeez. Not good. Not good at all.
I hung up the phone, forgetting all about Luc and his flirtatious nonhelp. I now had a much bigger crisis at hand. I stood over the fallen cop and hesitated for a moment.
His phone rang, and I jerked up, my heart pounding. The phone rang again, and I glanced around, a guilty look on my face.
Crap!
“Dammit, answer your phone, Jimmy,” called another man from a nearby cubicle.
It rang again, and I grabbed the receiver and then dropped it back down on the hook, hanging it up just as quickly. At my feet, Jimmy snored soundly, comatose. I stepped over him and grabbed my purse back off his desk, tucking it under my arm. I had to get out of here.
A quick shuffle of the desk did not reveal the keys to Remy’s cell. I checked his belt, and yanked the key chain off of it. Success. I clamped the keys against my palm so they wouldn’t jingle and trotted back to the holding area, ducking my head when I passed the rows of cubicles in the background.
The holding area had a passcoded door blocking my way in. Luckily, Officer Jimmy’s badge was on his key chain, so I swiped it and opened the door. Remy was inside one cell, seated across from an old homeless woman. In the next cell over, a man who stank of alcohol fingered his crotch as he watched Remy. Lovely.
Remy approached the bars with a relieved smile when she saw me. “Thank goodness. This place is more boring than your job. You here to spring me?”
I glanced at the door, uneasy. “I have a problem, Remy.” I leaned in and whispered to her. “I sort of mind-wiped the cop by accident. He’s lying under his desk right now.”
She flinched a little. “That’s not good.”
“Understatement,” I agreed, glancing warily back at the door. Someone was bound to see the downed police officer soon.
Remy waved a hand, dismissing my worry. “Calm down. I’m thinking.” She drummed her fingers on her chin as she pondered our problem.
I gave the other prisoners an anxious look. “Can you think a little faster, Remy?” The man was eyeing me with all the restraint of a bulldog and, well, the woman smelled. Bad. I pulled out the keys and began trying them on the door.
“What are you doing?” Remy wrinkled her brow.
What did it look like I was doing? Knitting her a sweater? “I’m busting you out of here.”
She reached through the bars and put her hand over mine. “Don’t do that, Jackie. We’re in enough trouble as it is—no need to add a jailbreak to things.”
I stared at her. “I can’t stay here, Remy.” I pointed at my eyes. “Bad news in a few hours, if you catch my drift.” At her blank look, I added, “Urse-cay? Uccubus-say?”
A look of comprehension dawned on her face. “I know you can’t stay.” Remy patted my hand. “Look, I’ll slip into their heads and work my mojo. I can make them think that you were released before coming into custody. And I’ll be out by the end of the day. No worries.” She seemed supremely confident of the fact.
“How do you know for sure?” I was skeptical of that. “What if they want you for murder?”
“Sweetie, no one can resist a succubus when she turns on her charms.” Remy gave a toss of her long hair and shifted her stance, at once becoming flirty and seductive. “I’ll have my record—and yours—clean as a whistle by the end of the day. By cleaning their whistles.” She winked at me and put her hands on her hips. “You can count on it.”
Hoo boy.
I glanced at the door again as someone walked past. They were going to notice me here soon enough,
and then I’d be in big trouble. “Do you want me to wait outside for you?”
“No, I’ve got some promo I should probably do in Dallas. I’ll head back there once I’m free, and then I’ll meet you in New Orleans tomorrow or the day after. Okay?”
Uncertainty washed through me. Now she was going to leave me alone, too? “I . . . I guess so. But how will I find Delilah? I don’t know my way around New Orleans.” I wasn’t sure that I was ready to fly solo.
“Just ask for the LaFleur house in the Garden District. You can’t miss it.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Or ask to see a voodoo priestess. That’ll get you to her, too.”
“LaFleur house,” I repeated, staring at her through the bars. No way was I getting involved with voodoo. Not with my bad luck. “Got it.”
“Now get out of here,” she said, shooing me. “Before you get caught again.”
“You’re a good friend, Remy. I don’t know if I say that often enough.” Hell, now I was getting all sappy. My eyes even watered.
She gave me a beaming smile. “Us Sucks have to look out for each other. Now scoot. I’ll be fine.”
I nodded. Heading for the door, I quietly went through into the main office. A couple of cops had their backs turned to me, so I held my breath and took a few steps backward, ducking in between the cubicle rows nearby.
A female cop turned the corner and glared at me. She reached for my arm. “There you are—”
Alarmed, I pushed her away.
Too late. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed against me. Aw, crap. Not again. I caught her sliding body on the way down and helped her to the floor so she wouldn’t break something, staggering under her dead weight. Well, that was one way—a most unfortunate one—to shut her up.
Remorse slamming through me, I stepped over her sleeping body. I couldn’t focus on that now. I’d focus instead on a way to reverse the mind-wipe. There had to be one; I refused to think otherwise.
I ran out the front door of the station into the gravel parking lot. The late afternoon heat was sweltering, and thick pine trees in the distance blocked even the slightest breeze. I took a few steps forward, my feet crunching on the gravel. What to do now?
As I stood between two police cars, frozen in indecision, a dark blue sedan pulled up alongside me. A rental, judging by the green sticker on the bumper. It drove past, then stopped, then backed up.
The passenger side window rolled down, and the driver looked over at me.
Luc. Just as sexy and mysterious as before. He smiled behind dark sunglasses. “Bonjour, ma belle.” Angling his chin, he gestured at the passenger door. “Won’t you join me?”
All my senses flared with warning, but I put my hand on the handle and opened the door anyway. It was either this or go back into jail and try to explain why those cops were unconscious. Like it or not, I had to pick Luc.
He smiled as I slid into the car. “Going my way?”
“To New Orleans, actually.” I buckled my seat belt and locked my door, glancing at the police station. “Can we get out of here?”
“But of course,” he murmured, putting the car in drive and flying out of the gravel parking lot.
I watched the sheriff’s office recede in the distance and felt a twinge of guilt for poor Remy. I hoped she’d be okay.
I hoped I’d be okay.
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at Luc. “So where are you taking me?”
“You are so untrusting,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice. His gaze never left the road. “Did you not say that you need to go to New Orleans?”
Of course, I was untrusting; the guy was stalking me, and it was desperation that made me use him. That, and I just really liked sitting close to his lovely body, damn the Itch. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t New Orleans about five hours from here?”
“You are wrong,” he said, and glanced over at me, taking off his sunglasses. His smile flashed, his white teeth blinding in his swarthy face. “Six and a half hours.”
“Picky, picky.” Darn it, but he was pretty.
Those amber eyes smiled at me again, and he casually ran a hand through his long hair. “You said to correct you if you were wrong. I did so. You seemed to want it.”
Boy, did I want it.
My legs throbbed with want, my loins throbbed with want, and I wanted so much that I was in danger of attacking him. I clamped my legs together tightly, shifting on my seat. My purse was biting into the flesh of my arm, I clutched it so hard. Need shot through me, thick and violent, and I eyed the car seat. No bucket seats, just one long bench. I could slide over and he could put his hand between my legs while he drove—
“Jackie?” He gave me a smooth, studied look. “Are you well?”
I blinked a few times, dragging my mind out of its wonderful fantasies. “Huh?” My nipples were hard against my T-shirt, and I clutched my purse against my chest to conceal them.
He studied me for a moment, the smile curling his mouth again, and giving me another hint of his perfect teeth. “You act as if you are scared of me.”
“Scared of what I might do to you,” I agreed, then flushed with embarrassment. “I mean, scared of what you might do to me.” Yeah, like the cat wasn’t out of the bag there.
He merely smiled. “You know I have no wish to harm you, ma belle.”
“Then why are you stalking me? How did you know to be here?” His mesmerizing hotness waned for a moment. “Why are you are following me?”
And oh God, did he know about Drake?
But Luc didn’t lose his cool. “You seemed like a woman who is in need of a friend. I had some time on my hands, so I followed you. That is all.” He flicked a glance back at the road and pulled his sunglasses out again, putting them back on and concealing his amber eyes. “We have a mutual friend, you know.”
“We do?” That would explain why he was following me, at least. “Noah? Zane?”
Luc chuckled. “If I told you, it would spoil the fun, cherie.”
“Go ahead. Spoil my fun. There’s not much of it to be had on this road trip.”
“No? I enjoyed our little rendezvous the other night.” His voice dropped low, and with it, my heart dropped into my thighs and began to pound there. “You did not seem to mind my attention then.”
Lord help me. “I was drunk,” I said, sounding feeble even to my own ears. “Don’t use that as a yardstick for our friendship, okay?”
The smile didn’t fade from his face. “Are we friends, then?”
I didn’t know what else to say to that. “Something like that.” I cleared my throat and looked out the window. “I’m trusting you to get me to New Orleans.”
“I am flattered that you have put your trust in me.”
“Don’t be too flattered just yet,” I said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Luc seemed content to drive in silence. The sun went down, the moon rose, and the stars came out. Headlights flashed as cars passed us, and still we drove on. Once we reached New Orleans, then I could rest.
Being in the car for so long with Luc was strange. The clock on the dashboard was broken, so I had no idea how long we’d been driving. I felt all tense and keyed up just being near him, but he didn’t try anything. Every once in a while, I’d catch him looking over at me, but he’d just smile and turn to stare back out the windshield. It was as if he was going out of his way to make me comfortable.
However, “comfortable” was nearly impossible, given my rising Itch.
At first, I thought I could ignore it long enough to get me to New Orleans. But as we drove further into the night and through the Louisiana woods, I began to have the sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t make it. My body ached with need, and even the air conditioner blowing full blast on my skin wasn’t helping.
I needed sex. Again. And boy, was I getting sick of this. It frightened me, too; Remy’s prediction was coming true.
Something vibrated in my lap, setting off a tidal wave of sensations. A moan
rose from my throat, even as I jerked my purse up and searched for my BlackBerry.
Luc glanced over at me, watching me with interested eyes as I shifted in my seat. “Are you well?”
“Fine,” I snapped, staring at the lit-up screen of my phone as it vibrated in my hand again. Zane was calling.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should answer, or be a bitch and let it go to voicemail. Need won out, though. I wanted to hear his voice. I hit the Receive button and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“It’s good to hear your voice, Princess.” Zane’s smooth voice sounded tired. “How’s the road trip going?”
“Why do you care?” Part of me wanted to unload my problems to him, but Luc was listening to every word I spoke.
“Because I care about you—”
“You sure have a strange way of showing it,” I said. “Where are you right now?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a heartbreaking moment. Then, “I can’t tell you, Princess.”
My mood went straight to Hell again. “What do you mean, you can’t tell me?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” He sounded so weary and sad. “I’m sorry I had to leave you. It’s . . . complicated.”
It figured that he’d automatically assume that I wouldn’t understand. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, trying to hide my hurt. “Nothing in my life is complicated at all.”
“Jackie, that’s not what I meant—”
“Just shut up, all right?” I refocused, pinching the bridge of my nose hard, determined not to cry. Screw crying. I shoved the depressingly lonely thoughts out of my mind and stared at the highway ahead. “So what were you calling for, Zane? Did you need something?”
There was a pause on the other end as he registered my defensive tone. “I guess I wanted to know that you were all right,” he said softly. “With the curse and all.”
The curse that had caused him to reject me like I was a piece of trash. “I’m just fine,” I said, my throat tight. “Since you’ve abandoned me, I’ve found other company to help me with my needs. All of my needs, if you catch my drift.”