by Linda Ladd
He definitely had a right to know, but she’d promised Gabe she wouldn’t tell anybody about him. On the other hand, some maniac had tried to kill them all. Black needed to know, for his own safety. She trusted him. Gabe would understand. He wasn’t going back with the Skulls, anyway.
“He trusted me to keep his cover. That’s why I didn’t tell you about him and why I had to go out there alone last night to meet him.”
“What is he? DEA or FBI?”
“DEA.”
“So what’s his connection to you? You work undercover together before? Or was it really a childhood thing?”
“It’s a childhood thing, just like I told you. We’ve never worked together.”
“That outfit he wears? It’s a dead giveaway.”
“Well, it worked well enough for him the last two years riding with the Skulls.”
“The biker gang out of Algiers? I’ve heard about them and none of it is good. They’re into drugs and prostitution and God knows what else.”
“He earned their trust, and they respect him. He’s tougher than you think.”
“Oh, I think he’s tough, all right. But why all this intrigue with you? Is Lafourche working with him?”
“No.” It went against Claire’s grain to betray a confidence, but this was different. Gabe owed Black his life. “We told you the truth. It’s just like I said. He’s an old friend of mine. His name is Gabe LeFevres, and I lived with his family when we were kids, for about a year. It was the only foster home where I ever felt like part of the family. He protected me back then. He was like the brother I never had.”
“Then I guess I owe him, too.”
“You’ll like him. He’s a great guy.”
“Was it a romantic thing?”
Claire laughed at that. “We were ten. He was nicer to me than anybody I could ever remember, and I adored him. He taught me to fish and shoot a BB gun.”
“What about now?”
“C’mon, Black. It happened years ago. We were just little kids.”
“What were you doing together last night? Was he bringing you in on his case?”
“No. He wanted to make sure I didn’t blow his cover. Zee and I ran into him the other day, just by a crazy coincidence. When we went into a bar named Voodoo River looking for our victim’s brother, he was in there. It was a little dicey for a minute, but Gabe managed to get those creeps out of there before anything bad went down.”
“How dicey?”
“No blows were thrown, if that’s what you mean.”
Black shifted slightly until they were lying on their sides and facing each other. He examined her face a moment, appeared to be thinking about what he was going to say. “And you think those bikers found Gabe out and tossed those grenades at him?”
“That makes the most sense to me. We know you’re not the target, and it’s unlikely anybody’s after me this early in the investigation. My face was on that doll, true, but I was out there alone several times, all night long. He could’ve gotten to me a lot easier than lobbing a damn grenade on the boat and risking killing other people.”
Black frowned. “What the hell were you doing out there alone at night?”
“I didn’t want to make the drive up here every night so I slept on the boat a few times. Who would’ve thought something like this would happen out there?”
“You told me that you were staying here with the Christos.”
“Anyway, so that leaves Gabriel. They must’ve made him and decided to get rid of him. He told me Madonna was his CI, and that she was shaky. She could’ve let it slip to one of the Skulls, for all we know. So they killed her and went after Gabe. He told me he’s been out at the houseboat looking for me.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Maybe they followed him out there before and were lying in wait to get him. But it could be me, I guess. The Christien case is getting weirder by the day. And I’m talking voodoo altars and skulls on sticks and mutilated women and spooky emblems drawn in cornmeal. We’re questioning a lot of people, including Jack Holliday. Maybe we’re getting a little too close and making somebody nervous.”
“What makes you think it couldn’t have been me?”
That brought Claire up short. She hadn’t been expecting him to say that. “What do you mean? Do you think this is about you?”
Black looked so intense that Claire knew that was exactly what he thought.
“Last night I realized that we need to get everything out in the open between us. I mean that. So, I’m telling you now that it could’ve been me. Actually, it probably was aimed at me.”
Astonished, Claire could only stare at him. Then she sat up cross-legged and looked down at the serious expression on his face. “What’s going on, Black? Tell me. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“I lied about going to London for a reason. I didn’t like doing it, and I haven’t liked doing it in the past.”
“You’ve lied to me before?”
“Not exactly. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
“Well, tell me the whole truth now. Are you in trouble?”
“Not exactly.” He sighed deeply. “You’re not going to like this, but I can’t tell you everything now, either. In fact I can tell you very little, and there’s a good reason for that. I will say that I’m doing some covert work and it’s made us some enemies.”
“Oh, my God. You’re not saying you’re a secret agent?”
“No, I’m not a spy.” He laughed a little at her expression, but cut off his amusement pretty quick. “I just help out certain people sometimes, with my areas of expertise. I can’t tell you more than that.”
“Oh, my God, you’re talking about psyops, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Are you a specialized interrogator?”
“No, definitely not that. Please quit asking me questions. Nobody knows about this, Claire. You understand that, don’t you? And nobody can know about it. So that’s why I didn’t tell you, and that’s why you can’t tell anybody, not ever. It’s imperative that you don’t. For your own safety and mine.”
“Is that all you do?”
Black actually squirmed a little, and Claire knew then that it wasn’t all he did. “You said us a minute ago. Who’s in this with you?”
“I can’t say.”
“I want to know. I have to know, Black. You’re not being fair.”
“There’s a group of us, trained in certain areas. We work together as a unit sometimes, but not so much since I met you. That’s it. No more, Claire.”
“Let me guess. Booker and Holliday. Anybody else?”
“I’m not saying they’re involved. I’m not saying they’re not. Good God, Claire, you don’t want to know this. Trust me.”
“Is that what you were talking about with Booker last summer at the lake? When I walked into your hospital room and you said he would look into somebody wanting you dead?”
Black just stared at her.
“Are you in danger on these little covert psychological operations?”
“Not really.”
Claire had a feeling that wasn’t true, but his startling revelations out of the blue gave her a lot to think about. She couldn’t say she was all that surprised, not after the first shock receded. She had observed how he handled weapons, how watchful and careful he was all the time. He knew what he was doing, and he had an arsenal of sorts in his private gun collection at the lake. She’d seen it. But Jason Bourne escapades? James Bond stuff? She never would have imagined that. Black was more the James Bond type, to be sure, every bit as suave and sophisticated as the fictional British spy, and he wasn’t an assassin like Bourne. Or was he? Lord have mercy. He had thrown her for a loop this time.
“Do you assassinate people?”
Again, Black laughed at her. “Oh, yeah, you should see all the notches on my gun.”
“That isn’t funny. You hit me with all this stuff and then laugh it off?”
He sobered instantly. “You wanted the truth so I gave it to you. I’m rarely in danger. You’re the one who’s always in danger, not me. But I’m glad to get this off my chest. I don’t like hiding things from you. I trust you. You’ve got to know that.”
Claire listened to him, but one phrase stuck out in her head. He was rarely in danger. That sounded good to her, kind of. “Wow, Black. I don’t know what to say. I’m going to have to get used to all this.”
As far as Black was concerned, she was pretty sure he felt the subject was now closed, and probably forever, too. Especially when he said, “Well, I think you’ve still got a lot you need to say to me. It’s your turn. So tell me about your case and don’t leave anything out this time.”
Claire eyed at him, still bowled over by what he’d told her about his little secret excursions. Man, Black was into covert operations? What the hell was going to come at her next? She took a deep breath and ran the Christien case for him. Halfway through, she realized there wasn’t much to tell. They hadn’t made a lot of progress on finding the killer. It also reminded her that she needed to put in a call to the office and let them know what happened out at the boat.
“I’ve got to call Zee. And Sheriff Friedewald needs to know that there’s a second crime scene out at the LeFevres place.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, not yet. Look, you owe me, Claire.” Black hugged her closer and pressed his lips against her temple. “Like I said, I missed you. Right now, I’m going to show you how much, and you’re going to let me.”
His hands were roaming under her clothes and over her naked flesh, in places Claire wanted him to go unhampered, oh, yes, she sure did. But she needed to tell him something else first, something she didn’t want to. She shivered a little as his hand slid up her spine and his fingers closed on the back of her neck under her hair, his mouth seeking hers, warm and gentle and eager. “Black, wait a minute.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Can I trust you, Black? Really, no matter what?”
That got through to him. He stopped kissing her and drew back where they could stare into each other’s eyes. “Oh, God. What now?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Of course, you can trust me, and if you don’t know that by now, you’re never going to. I just spilled my guts to you, for God’s sake.”
“Even if it concerns your brother?”
That took him aback, she could see it clearly inside his keen blue eyes, but then they turned wary—very, very wary. Black had changed his last name years ago in order to distance himself from the crime family run by his older brother, Jacques Montenegro, but very few people knew of their family relationship. And that’s the way Black wanted it, for obvious reasons.
“What about Jacques?”
“Gabe thinks the Skulls might deal drugs for your brother’s organization. If the blast wasn’t about you, the Montenegros might’ve been the ones who put the hit out on Gabe.”
Black shook his head, emphatically. “Jacques put a stop to all that kind of thing. He’s trying to go more legit. No Mob hits, either. And certainly not if they knew you were out there on that boat. Jacques and his wife are very fond of you. In fact, they’ve invited us over for dinner on Christmas Eve.”
Claire thought: No way, no way, nooooo way. But she said, “Nobody knew about my relationship with Gabe or that we’d even end up out there last night. You just guessed right, thank God. What if they didn’t know I was with him?”
Black frowned. “You’ve got to sit on this, Claire. Let me see what I can find out. I’ll inquire around, see if Jacques has any interest in Gabe. Is that his real name?”
“Yes. Gabriel LeFevres, just like I told you. What if Jacques did put out the hit?”
“Like I said, that’s not Jacques’s style anymore. He’s trying to tone down the violence. There are other crime families in the state—maybe they’re working with the Skulls. But I’ll protect Gabe, if I can. And I can, if Jacques does know anything about all this stuff. But Gabe’s got to go into hiding for a while until we can find out who’s behind the hit, if he even was the target last night. He runs with dangerous people. He’s got to lay low until we smoke them out.”
“They’ll find him. No matter where he goes. He’s not going to be safe anywhere.”
Black hesitated. “He’ll be safe, if he stays here. Or he can have one of the suites next door at the Hotel Crescent.” He frowned. “Damn it, here would probably be the safest place for him. Although I was looking for some downtime with you, and alone for a change. It’s been over a week. We have things to catch up on.”
Claire smiled, couldn’t help it. Yes, they did, indeed. Black did not want her old puppy love to hang around, either, but he was willing to let him. That told her a lot. She went back into his arms and pressed up against him. “It means a lot to me. He was good to me when I was alone and in trouble.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“I will, but I really do need to get down to the office. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Black only laughed, and yes, it sounded arrogant and very alpha male. “Get real, Claire. You just survived an explosion. If that’s not a reason to take a sick day, I don’t know what is. For God’s sake, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
Claire couldn’t argue with that so she didn’t argue. “Then I have to get on the phone with Russ Friedewald and Zee. I’ve got to get a new phone, too. Mine was sitting on the deck table.”
“You can have one of mine, a decent one. That phone you bought at Wal-Mart was pathetic.”
“You got some extras lying around?”
“You have a tendency to lose them as fast as you get them. I try to stay ahead of the game. I like to be able to get hold of you.”
All that happened to be true. “Okay, I’ll take it. We’ll call it my Christmas present.”
“Oh, I’ve got other things planned for that, which involve long airplane flights away from here. After last night, I want to get you as far away from the bayous as humanly possible.”
“Sorry, no can do, but it’s a nice thought.”
“Well, sorry right back to you. You’re not going in to work today. I’ve got a bad feeling, and I trust my gut.”
“Yeah? Me, too. But I’m in the middle of a case. Since I don’t have my car, I’m going to get hold of Zee in a little while and have him bring it back over here. And until he does, I want you to kiss me and never stop.”
Black apparently liked the sound of that. “No problem.”
The first one was very soft and tender, at least long enough to get her all worked up and considering they were both nursing recent injuries. But it didn’t take long for the fires to start burning inside them and the flames to start streaking along their nerve endings, and she was glad to surrender to him and let it happen for as long as he wanted it to happen. Maybe a day off was in good order. She had missed the hell out of him, too.
A Very Scary Man
For a long time after his little playmates escaped, Malice had to lie low and be very careful. The search for the two children was still going strong, so the fun and games inside the cellar with new kids ground to a halt. He had been forced to kill his true love’s little girl, even though he hadn’t really wanted to, so he didn’t have to worry about her bringing the law down on him anymore.
Unfortunately, and despite the fact that he’d tracked down the boy out in the swamp and practically beaten him to death and dumped him in the sluggish water for the gators, the kid had survived, thanks to some duck hunters who’d happened by and found him muddy and bleeding where he’d somehow crawled out and collapsed on the bank. That pretty much scared the hell out of Malice. As it turned out, however, the boy’s head injuries had affected his memory, and he couldn’t identify his kidnapper or lead the cops back to the house, so all was well. Finally, after months and months, the notorious case faded unsolved and forgotten and went cold. He felt safe to strike again.
He did
manage to obtain a couple of sanctioned hits when his assassin friend was tied up with his own out-of-town kills. One assignment he got was in Muncie, Indiana, where he just ran a guy off a deserted road and then shot him in the head and chest while he was slumped unconscious in the front seat of his truck. Then he doused the body and vehicle in gasoline and burned it unrecognizable. Malice got paid some big bucks for that one.
The other hit was down in south Florida around Naples, where he just shot the guy point blank right in his own backyard when the man went outside before bed to have a smoke. Both murders were quick and simple, which really wasn’t Malice’s style, but he guessed he couldn’t have everything he wanted all the time.
So, the years passed, with a steady stream of hit jobs assigned to him. The payments were large. It was a lucrative profession indeed, and gave him the ability to buy anything he wanted. Then, one day he got an assignment in his home state. After he murdered the parents in their bed with his silenced .45, he found two ten-year-old girls sleeping just down the hall, all alone and defenseless and ripe for the picking. He just couldn’t help himself. He really, really wanted them so he woke them roughly at gunpoint, and the two girls were so scared that they just fell on their knees at the side of the bed and waited, trembling and shaking and praying. He tied them up and taped their mouths and told them he would kill them if they made a single peep but would let them go if they cooperated and did exactly what he said.
That was a lie, of course. He had no intention of letting them go. They were going straight into his maze out in the swamp, as its very first victims. This time nobody was around to see him take them out to where he’d hidden his boat. He could make it to the maze quickly and easily with them bound and gagged and blindfolded in the bottom of his boat, an old moldy tarp spread over them.
But first, he decided to mark them as the property of Papa Damballah. So, he took them to the edge of the bayou and then he got out his battery-operated inker and climbed into the back of his van with them. He quickly drew his Veve on the inside of their wrists. They lay paralyzed the whole time, especially the smaller one. She was so scared that she wet her pants. The other girl moaned when the needle pierced her skin but did not move a muscle. After he was done and satisfied with his artwork, which was rather good, he carried one girl under each arm and dumped them into his boat.