He had no doubts which one he was.
“You are staring,” Mai said with another small smile.
“Ah, yes—the motion. Well, you do look very good, Mai.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She did, too. She was in a dark red dress cut to make one think of a kimono without actually being one. It hung off one shoulder and revealed a lovely expanse of skin. One side was split nearly to the hip, letting her shapely leg slip into the light now and again.
“It’s been a long time,” Flynn said.
“Yes, it has. Shall I say it first, or should you say it?” asked Mai, smile sliding from demure and starting to resemble a smirk.
“Together, I think,” Flynn said.
“On three.”
“One,” said Flynn.
“Two,” said Mai.
“Three. What is your interest in Griffen McCandles?” they said together, in perfect unison.
Flynn laughed, a rich, honest laugh. Mai pretended to blush, but her eyes glinted. He knew she was enjoying this as much as he. She walked over to the little table in the room and sat down, crossing her legs and letting her skirt slide loose to the thigh.
“I asked you first,” she said, and stuck out her tongue like a child.
“Of course you did.”
Flynn shook his head and took the other chair. He steepled his fingers, and the two watched each other, silence stretching into minutes. They both knew the game very well, and old rules stated that whoever talked first, lost.
“Of course,” Mai said, as if reading his thoughts, “I have made a career out of breaking old rules.”
“Yes, you have. Whereas I have made them work for me. To answer the question that you did not ask first”—Flynn paused to stick his tongue out at her, then winked—“the boy shows potential. I would like to harness that potential.”
“Of course you would. And I would like to see him harness his potential,” Mai said.
“What, with nothing in return?” Flynn asked.
“Well, he is fun in bed.”
“Marry me, Mai,” Flynn said.
For the first time Mai’s expression dipped to a frown. Flynn smiled, knowing he had scored a point; it paid to deviate from the script now and again.
“We have been down that road. Not a chance, Earl.”
“You know I hate to be called that,” he said.
“Of course,” she said.
“We would have been absolutely terrible for each other.”
“Perhaps. You will never find out now will you? That is what you get for courting my father, when you should have been courting me.”
She stood and smoothed her skirt into place. Flynn remained seated, though he knew he could prolong the meeting if he stood. If he would meet her halfway.
“I thought you should know—now that I know you’re in the game, I will undo whatever it is you have set in motion,” Mai said.
“If you can. I always could check your moves in the past.” Flynn nodded to her.
“But, as you said, it has been a long time.”
Mai began to move to the door, then paused. When she turned, her smile was back on her face. She reached down her décolletage, and drew out a small envelope.
“Oh yes, this was taped to your door. Sorry if I peeked.” She handed it to him, smiled once more, and left before he could open it. He shook his head, looking at the door. Well, the game was now worth staying around for at least. He opened the envelope.
The contents were even more surprising than Mai’s presence.
A Knight of Swords tarot card.
He half growled to himself and chucked it in the wastepaper basket. He wasn’t irritated by the card so much, but by the puzzle. Had the minx really found it? Or worse, had she brought it herself?
Could Mai know he’d hired George?
Twenty-one
Val didn’t know what to do.
It had taken a day for the cuts on her face to heal to thin pink lines. It had been a day where she had avoided everyone. A day when she looked inside, tried to figure out what she should do. What she could do.
Her first reaction was to protect her brother. The thoughts that followed that were more convoluted. Which protected Griffen more? Telling him about the threat of Lizzy or heeding her warning? And somewhere in the darker parts of Val’s mind, she wondered if she was really protecting him at all or if she was just afraid.
That thought she pushed quickly away. What filled her wasn’t fear, it was anger. Every time she thought about that fight, brief though it might have been, her hands tightened into fists and her jaw clenched. If only she knew where Lizzy was. If only she had reason to believe that this time there was a chance that things would be different.
She had spent a lot of time in the last day staring into her mirror. Watching the cuts on her face. It seemed that they almost healed as she watched, the speed of her flesh knitting just slightly slower than the eye could follow. As if she could watch for just a second more and actually see the change. But she always blinked eventually, and when she looked back . . . well, who could be sure?
So much for not believing in being a dragon. As if a brawl with a shape-changing psycho bitch hadn’t been enough for her. Something inside Val shifted suddenly. Her worldview, and self-image, changing ever so slightly.
They looked little more than scratches now, those cuts from those odd claws. She was tired of hiding. She needed to move, to walk, to center herself. Valerie hit the streets.
She didn’t think about where she was walking. She just walked, still sorting through her own thoughts and emotions. However, unlike her jog a few days ago, when she had tuned the world out, she only let part of herself sink inside now. She seemed almost hyperaware of the people she passed, instincts judging each for level of threat, and rational mind backing up the judgments with a second glance.
She was just so angry. Furious. On the brink of true rage, and the sad thing was that her anger wasn’t aimed toward Lizzy. She was angry at herself. Valerie always thought of herself as so strong, so confident. She had devoted a good chunk of her life to being as fit and competent as she could be. It wasn’t the fact that she lost that bothered her. It was how badly she lost, how little she had fazed Lizzy. She should have done something more, hurt her more.
Valerie needed to recenter.
She realized just where she was a few doors away from her destination. She hesitated for only a moment, then decided to trust her feet, trust her instincts. She walked up to one of the security doors that marked the entrances to the French Quarter apartment buildings and rang the top buzzer.
It was a few minutes before Gris-gris opened the door and looked at Valerie in surprise. She hadn’t even thought of what time it was, and didn’t now. She had her hands on his collar and her mouth against his before he could even say hello.
He still hadn’t had a chance to speak as they moved inside, the security door closing behind them.
Uncounted hours later, Valerie lay atop Gris-gris. She idly nuzzled at the hinge of his jaw and shifted her weight subtly, back and forth. Testing his . . . stamina.
Gris-gris moaned softly and ran his fingers down her long spine, tips of them playing against her tailbone.
“You don’t quit, do ya?” he said
“Mnn, probably not,” she said, and bit lightly into his shoulder.
Other small marks, from harder bites, decorated his dark skin. Still moving idly, languorous, she slipped to his side, one leg curled around his. She couldn’t help gently licking at one of the half-moon-shaped marks.
Gris-gris reached down and gently cupped her chin, drawing her face to his. She was taller than him, but curled against him as she was, her eyes were level with his. Both pairs were slightly unfocused, heavy, but his also held a touch of concern.
“So, ready to tell me what was wrong?”
“You saying something was wrong for you?” she all but growled, surprised at her own tone.
“Meant befor
e,” Gris-gris said. “When you came to my door.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
She took her chin out of his hand firmly and rested her cheek on his chest. She didn’t feel like looking into his eyes anymore.
“Come on, Val. You never been like this before. All the times we’ve been together, you’ve been together. This is the first time I’ve seen you so . . . needful. Not just hungry. You needed to feel good, and you needed to get and keep control.”
“Are you complaining?” Val said.
“You know I’m not.”
“Then, hush. Just like a guy to ruin things with the wrong kind of pillow talk.”
She really didn’t want to go there. Especially since he was right. As soon as they were in his apartment, she had taken control and kept it. Not just control of the situation, but control of herself. She had almost hurt him with her strength when they first began.
What he’d missed was how much good it had done her. Controlling herself while abandoning herself, it had been a difficult balance, but it had given her what she needed. She felt herself again. Despite never having used quite these means to “center” herself before.
Gris-gris smiled.
“Well, damn, never heard that one before,” he said.
His hands slid to her hips, and, with gentle pressure, he rolled her over. She felt the line of his body press against her back, and craned her neck to look back at him. A gentle but firm bite on the back of her neck stopped her, and his arms wrapped around her, hands beginning to wander.
“Nnn . . . what do you think you are doing?” Valerie said, shifting against him.
“Shut’n up, ma’am,” he said. “But if you can’t talk with me, you might want to figure out who you can.”
Valerie started to answer, and it turned to a gasp. Gris-gris chuckled a satisfied, masculine chuckle. Then it was quite some time later before either was in a mood for thinking again.
Still, he had raised an interesting thought.
Twenty-two
More and more Valerie had been living off her own money. Ever since she started her bartending, she had paid for her own food and drinks and clothing and entertainment. She was actually damn proud of that. Before New Orleans, her lifestyle had been mostly supported by her uncle, just as Griffen’s had been.
Now the only thing she wasn’t paying for was the rent, which she could have managed if she switched from part-time to full-time. Of course it was nice not to have to worry about it, and she might end up working more anyway just to fill the time. Still, it was a good feeling to be self-sufficient.
It also meant she often lost track of just how much money Mose’s gambling operation had to be bringing in. Walking up to his home again, a private residence tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the Quarter streets, Val found herself wondering if Griffen had bothered to check into the figures of his new “business” partners.
Especially since Mose owned his place, the place they were staying, and who knows how many others. Not to mention seeming to employ Jerome full-time, and the shills, dealers, and others in the gambling ring to whom these were essentially part-time jobs. For an operation on the gray side of legal, or worse, it was amazing how profitable it all had to be.
Val pushed that thought aside. It wasn’t why she was here. In fact, she had been very careful to mostly stay out of the gambling side of Griffen’s new life. To her, Mose was a source of information on what it was to be a dragon. That was more than complicated enough for her tastes.
She had Gris-gris to thank for the idea. Mose was someone she could talk to. Not about everything, maybe. She didn’t trust anyone fully. Even her brother couldn’t be trusted sometimes. Like when it came to his not making a fool of himself. But when it came to dragon business, Mose was the top contact on a very short list. She had only waited for the last of the marks on her face to fade before approaching him.
She used the key she had been provided to open the street-level gate and started to Mose’s front entrance. Inside, she could hear the murmur of voices. The closer she got, the more she recognized Mose’s calm, quiet voice. The second voice was Jerome’s, and he was anything but calm.
“Damn it, Mose! I deserve some answers. I’ve earned that much,” Jerome said.
“That you have, son; that you have. But you don’t need them.”
“The hell I don’t. Oh, maybe I can do my job without ’em, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need them.”
“Jerome, I’m not ready to . . .”
Mose drifted off and Val, who was still several feet from the door, could hear him sigh.
“You might as well come in, Valerie. It’s not locked,” Mose said.
She realized sheepishly that if she could hear him sigh, he could hear her walk. Though how he knew just who it was she couldn’t be sure. She walked the rest of the way to his door and let herself in.
“I’m sorry, Mose, I didn’t mean to—” she started.
“Didn’t think you meant to eavesdrop, Valerie. Way we were talking, it would have been hard not to overhear. Though I’d take it as a courtesy if you’d give a shout at the front gate if you aren’t expected,” Mose said.
“Fair enough.”
Valerie took one of the vacant chairs, which left Mose, Jerome, and her all looking at each other. Mose seemed a bit tired to her, but it was Jerome who really caught her eye. His face was drawn, darkened rings under his eyes, and his posture was wire tight. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought she was looking at a man right on the edge of his resources.
She gave serious thought to excusing herself, not really wanting to intrude. Still, anything that would affect these two would affect her and her brother. She couldn’t just up and leave without knowing what it was. Not to mention the things she wanted to talk over.
“So, is this about Griffen?” Val asked bluntly.
It was Jerome who answered her.
“Yes . . . no . . . damn it, I don’t really know. That was what I was trying to figure out,” he said.
“Jerome has some questions about my stepping back from the management of our affairs,” Mose said.
“I thought you had already talked to Griffen about that,” Valerie said.
Jerome focused more on her. His eyes filled with questions. Valerie latched on to the most obvious one and shrugged.
“There isn’t much we don’t share when we talk, Jerome. It’s part of being brother and sister,” she said.
She tried very hard not to think of what a hypocrite that made her. Hiding not only her scuffle with Lizzy, but, more important, her pregnancy.
“My sisters and me don’t talk like that. Still, no big deal. Yeah, we did talk, and he’s gotten better at switching his interests between the games and this conclave of his. I got no gripe with him,” Jerome said.
Valerie hadn’t even known that Jerome had siblings. She hadn’t asked much about his family. Or Mose’s for that matter. She did ponder for a minute on just how little she knew about people she had to trust.
“So what’s the problem?” she asked.
“I got no gripe with him, except he’s put off talking to Mose for too long.” Jerome turned his attention back to Mose. “I need to know, Mose, why you are backing off now of all times. I thought when we brought Griffen down here, you’d still be doing the job till he’s really learned the ropes. Five, ten years at least.”
“Are you saying my brother can’t handle the job?” Val said.
The other two jumped a little at her tone. Well, Jerome jumped, and he was already a little twitchy today. As far as Mose, the wrinkles around his eyes tightened a bit, and that was enough of a cue for Val. She had learned a while ago how male dragons seemed to react to a good dose of ire from a female.
“No, he isn’t saying that,” Mose said. “In fact, we have both been surprised by just how quick Griffen has picked things up. But Jerome, he thinks like a dragon, and dragons think in long spans. Griffen hasn�
��t been at the job long enough to have experienced all of the surprises that can pop up.”
“Like a meeting of supernatural crazies hitting town just when the balance of power is being shifted from an older dragon to a younger,” Jerome said.
“Jerome!” Mose said sharply. “I make my decisions for my own reasons, and I don’t have to explain them. I’ve earned that much. The only person I might owe an explanation to is Griffen, when he asks for it. It will be up to him, as your new boss, to decide if he should share.”
“But—” Jerome said.
“You’re tired, you shouldn’t have come here after a long, hard night. Come on back later when we can talk about it calmly,” Mose said.
Jerome slumped in his chair, holding his head in his hands. For a long moment, Valerie was afraid he would break down, but she wasn’t sure in what fashion. He seemed to shudder, and when he looked up, he seemed much calmer. Much more like the Jerome she was used to.
He got up and left without another word. Mose tracked his every movement, and Valerie thought she saw a glisten in his eye. He blinked, and it was gone, but he let his posture slip as he eased back in his chair.
“Damn, I hates bein’ so hard on the boy.”
“Then why were you?” Valerie asked.
“Because he is stubborn as a mule sometimes, Ms. Valerie. And as the joke goes, you got to be kind, you got to be gentle, but first . . . you have got to get their attention,” Mose said.
Mose reached out for a decanter and glass set on a side table, but his hands were shaking. It was the first time those hands had looked old to Valerie. Old, callused, hard worked. Without a thought, she rose and went over to the table to pour him a drink. Mose took it.
“Thank you kindly. Now, our little melodrama aside, what can I do for you today?” Mose said.
Valerie sighed and poured herself a drink as well. She went back and folded herself into the chair, pulling her legs up under her. Well, it was now or never.
“Mose, do dragons get . . . feelings?” Val started.
“Like what sort?” he said, and she caught the bit of wariness to his tone.
Dragons Luck Page 11