by Nancy Gideon
“The girl you were with at the wedding,” Cale remarked. “Detective Caissie’s friend.”
“And mine,” he added before Cale could make more of it. “Do we want to talk about my sad love life or get down to business.”
“We can walk and talk.”
Tib scowled at that glib suggestion and shoved him toward the door.
*
The two story white house with its stately columns, lacy wrought iron railings, and haughty dormers sat back from the street behind a bristling iron fence. No lights were on.
“Are you sure?” Philo grasped Cale’s shoulder as he was about to vault to the top of the fence.
“I scouted it out earlier. The back yard and solarium are full of plants and herbs. I can smell their greedy stench.”
“They’re alone?”
“One or two guards. Nothing we can’t handle.” With a crouch and bunch of leg muscles, he was up, balancing between the menacing iron spears. He put down a hand, and Philo joined him. They jumped silently to the lawn.
“Our best bet is in back. Less chance of being spotted.”
When Tibideaux nodded, Cale started out at a brisk jog, ducking low and hugging the shrub line. His adrenalin rush suppressed the shakes for the moment, keeping his head clear and his thoughts focused. Or was that his thirst for retribution?
Martine had slowly poisoned his father in hopes of manipulating the crown. Her daughter Sylia had trapped him in a distasteful deal, herbs to grant him strength and sight for money and favors. But mostly for sex. The cost hadn’t mattered then, when being with Kendra wasn’t a possibility. But now it did, very much so. And thinking of it, thinking of her brought a fierce angry beat to his blood.
Cale slipped through an arbor of dormant vines to enter the back yard. The odor of peat and organic fertilizers from regimented raised planting beds momentarily disguised those of his surroundings.
He never sensed anything out of the ordinary until a strong arm hooked about his neck to yank him off balance. Instinct overcame surprise. Gripping that sturdy forearm, Cale kicked his feet up and over his assailant’s shoulder, twisting free as he landed lightly on the grass behind the taller Shifter. Even before he’d settled into a combative stance, the figure whirled, foot hooking behind his ankles, one hand clenching in his hair while the other covered his mouth.
“Shhh! Cale, it’s me.”
The instant he went slack with relief, Cale was freed, and he quickly threw his arms about his attacker, not to grapple but to hug tight.
“I see you’re still alive.”
Cale laughed softly at that mild claim. “I am.”
After a long moment, he stepped back, one arm still banded about the other’s shoulders as he turned to a wary Tibideaux.
“Philo, this is my brother Turow. Row, my . . . boss.”
Turow Terriot was a middle prince, as solid as their mountain top and as mysterious as its whispering pines. As a relentless hunter, he was unparalleled. No one had heard from him since Kendra had sent him to find James, Martine, and Sylvia while Cale lay bleeding. If he was here, so was his quarry.
“Can we do the meet and greet later?” Philo hissed. “Someone’s moving inside.”
“I’ve been following Sylvia,” Turow told them quietly. “She led me here earlier tonight. I was just about to look for you. Good timing.”
“James?”
“Just missed him last night.”
“Martine?” Cale asked, gesturing toward the house to confirm what he already knew. At Turow’s brief nod, Cale growled, “I want them alive.” Then a grim addendum. “For now.”
They breeched the rear of the house swiftly and silently, like smoke through a crack under the door. Two guards were taken down in the hallway, another at the top of the stairs, all without noise or bloodshed. Turow snatched Sylvia Terriot from her bed, a hand over her mouth to shut off her shriek as he tucked her squirming, kicking form under his arm and toted her back to the main floor.
Martine, who claimed she had shamanistic powers, wasn’t as easy to apprehend. She’d managed to slip down a rear flight of stairs into the glass solarium. Armed with pruning shears, she put one of the massive bedding tables between them, snarling defiantly even though she had nowhere to run.
“What have you done with my daughter, runt of the litter in an undeserved crown?”
Cale regarded her with equal animosity. Despite being on the run and now cornered, she retained her stunning beauty and regal disdain, even in her night dress. His father’s mistress. His would be murderess.
“Nothing. Yet. I guess that depends on you, scorcer-bitch. Where’s Jamie?”
“Taking care of business. Then he’ll take care of you and your insipid mate.”
Cale bristled at her threat, wise enough to be wary. “Is this where you make your poison for Casper Lee and Warren Brady?” At the flicker of alarm in her eyes, he bared his teeth. “Is this where you brew the destruction of our clan?”
She hoisted her head to glare down her thin nose at him.
“Where you spin your web and snare the innocent to destroy them for the amusement of the Guedrys and those cold monsters in the North?”
Realizing how much he already knew, a sudden caution seeped into her expression.
“What do they give you to mix in with your weeds? What do they give you in return for the betrayal of your kind?”
“My kind,” she sneered. “You are as beneath me as stale tobacco spit on the sidewalk, you and your pig father with your arrogance and your cruelties. You’re getting what you desired, what you deserve. A clan of unstoppable supermen, the ultimate warriors, until they self-destruct. How close are you to cutting your wrists, Cale? To throwing yourself into the fire for a chance to burn just a bit brighter for just a bit longer? To believing the lies your father told you and now tell yourself?”
Cale ignored her taunts. “You’ve tormented us with your diseases. Now, if you and your daughter want to live, you’ll give us the cure.”
A narrow smile. “What makes you think I have a cure?”
“You’re too smart and selfish to create a plague without a way to destroy it if the tides turn in a different direction.”
“Why would I share it with you?”
Cale lunged forward, eyes blazing as his fists pounded the tabletop between them, making the soil and Martine Terriot jump. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to shred your bitch daughter in front of you. Then, I’m going to do the same to you inch by inch until you beg for the chance!”
“You won’t! Wesley will damn you to hell.”
“I’m already damned by this curse you put inside me. There’s nothing I won’t do to save my people from your greedy manipulation.” When Martine remained unconvinced, Cale whirled to roar for Turow. “Bring her here.” Then to Martine, he said with a silky menace, “Let’s see how long you can keep your secrets while I’m tearing the flesh from her bones.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” But her voice trembled in uncertainty.
“The prince who became king’s conscience wouldn’t allow it. But the monster you made me will enjoy every fucking bite.” His arm swept the table clear of pots and planters. Panting, seething with rage, he commanded, “Lay her down and hold her.”
While Philo paled at the thought of such savagery, he didn’t interfere as Turow dragged a struggling Sylvia to the table. She wasn’t as frightened as she was furious. Not yet.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she spat. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Is that what you know?” A fearsome smile. “Prepare to be re-educated.”
When he grabbed her from his brother’s hands, she screamed and fought in earnest, realizing he was no longer her lover or even a powerful king. He was vengeance, and he was death.
“Stop!”
Martine’s cry brought everything to a halt. She stood straighter, composing her features into a lovely mask of superiority. “There’s no need for brutality.”
Cale calmed,
but was no less resolute. “Give me the cure, and I’ll spare her life.”
Her lips quivered slightly then firmed. “What of me?”
“You’ll spend the rest of your days in a room next to my father where you can do no further harm to anyone. Not because I’m merciful, but because I gave Wesley my word.”
“What you describe is hell,” she said flatly.
“Live in it there, or burn in it here.”
“You don’t give me any choice.” She took a resigned breath and smiled slightly at her daughter. “Don’t forget who and what you are, my dear. And what they made me do.”
She’d been ruffling the greenery of one of the plants on the table, subtly stripping off its leaves and crushing them between her fingers to release a pungent smell. Then, before anyone could guess what she planned, she quickly chewed and swallowed them down.
“Mother, no!” Sylvia wailed as foam appeared on Martine’s lips. She began to convulse then dropped dead to the floor.
Before a hysterical Sylvia could throw herself down upon her mother’s body, Cale seized her arms and pulled her close to demand, “Tell me you know about the cure or die with her.”
Features pale, her eyes huge with sorrow and defiance, she told him, “She took that secret with her.” A taunting smile unfurled. “Do your worst.”
“You haven’t seen my worst. Where are her papers, her books, her notes?”
“She never wrote anything down. She didn’t trust anyone with her knowledge, not even me.”
He released her, letting her fall beside her mother’s body to shed silent tears as he told Turow and Philo, “That bitch isn’t going to get the best of me by dying.” Then he met Sylvia’s mocking smile.
“Will you kill me now, after all we’ve been to one another?”
“You’re nothing to me,” he spat. To Turow, he ordered, “Take her.” To Philo, “Call in your Patrol. Question those men. Tear up every board, sift through every inch of soil. Take samples from everything. Then burn it down over her. All of it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Max Savoie returned to River Road with his new bride.
The Shifter king of New Orleans swept Oscar up in a fond embrace while Tina and Brigit crowded around Charlotte Caissie to exclaim over her healthy tan and gorgeous wardrobe, leaving Giles to bring in their luggage from the rental.
Kendra observed the excitement from a curious distance. She knew them only from Cale’s descriptions. Her mate admired Max, the tall, rather rangy leader with his unruly black hair, shrewd green eyes, and air of cool control, considering him a worthy opponent and cagy ally. She could sense that edge even as Max released a broad white smile and rather startlingly loud laugh over something Giles said. Then those wary eyes touched on her, a stranger in his home. Max Savoie wasn’t someone who trusted easily or accepted on face value.
His wife, Charlotte or Cee Cee as the others called her, she knew was a New Orleans detective. Tall, curvy, exotically attractive with her flashing dark eyes and aggressively styled short black hair, she had the same response to a new face. Guardedness, questions, and probably a quick background check for priors. Cale called her tough, smart and fiercely loyal to her friends. Kendra wasn’t among them at the moment. While Tina hurried Oscar up to get ready for school, Brigit caught Cee Cee’s arm, tugging her over to Kendra by the stairs.
“This is Kendra, my cousin and best friend forever.”
Cee Cee regarded her for a long, gauging moment then offered a small smile. “Cale’s queen.” She put out a hand. “Not quite what I pictured.”
She stood taller, eyes narrowing slightly. “You were expecting Xena? Or Mother Teresa?”
“A lion tamer, actually. Welcome to NOLA and my home.”
Kendra relaxed, taking the offered hand with its strong grip. Now here was a true queen worthy of her mate. An immediate presence exuding control, capability, and ultimate cool.
Then she saw the earring.
That huge gaudy diamond gleamed with spotlight intensity above a more modest and classy pearl stud. Surprise settled into a slow, smoldering ferocity.
Seeing the quick change of her mood and its cause, Cee Cee laughed and removed the diamond, extending it to her casually with no emotional strings attached, saying, “I was holding this for Cale so he wouldn’t give his cover away. I wanted it somewhere he could see it and know it was safe. I forgot I was wearing it when I left on my honeymoon. It was in good hands, and now I return it to yours. It must have a very special meaning since Nica had to practically wrestle him to the ground to take it from him.”
Kendra stared at the vibrant gem for a long moment then affixed it in her empty ear as a match to the other she wore. “Thank you. For protecting him in my absence.”
“Where is he?” She glanced about and up the stairs as if expecting the sight of him.
“Probably at work trying to save your city and our people.”
A knowing smile. “And you don’t like it a bit.” Before Kendra could explain, she added, “Join the club.”
“Kendra’s staying with us,” Brigit announced, adding more meaningfully, “Tina and Oscar, too.”
Cee Cee arched a brow at that but only said, “It’s good to have a full house to come home to. I’ll expect to be filled in after we get settled.”
Trouble arrived before they had that chance. Kendra’s pulse leapt even before she got a tight grip on her emotions. Cale.
He strode in with obvious familiarity of the home’s owners, greeting Savoie with a firm grip of his hand and elbow bump.
“You’re back. You looked rested.” A smirk froze on his face when he saw Kendra. She couldn’t measure his response through the dark glasses he wore.
“And you look like hell,” Max said, glancing intuitively between them. Then his attention was drawn to a newcomer who was obviously a Terriot, dragging a reluctant female wearing a nightdress under a man’s jacket. “More company?”
“My brother Turow. She’s not a guest. She’s a prisoner.”
Sylvia Terriot. Kendra had no time to glory in her reduced and bedraggled situation. But she did have plenty of questions for her mate who asked of their host, “Do you have someplace I can stow her that’s secure, and she can’t talk her way out of?”
“I do.” Max gestured to the pair of guards who’d arrived in the presence of strangers. “Take her to the Quonset. Carefully.”
The duo removed Sylvia from Turow’s care, leaving him free to cross to Kendra. He startled her by dropping to one knee with the respectful murmur of, “My queen. Two accounted for and one to go. I’d hoped to be more efficient.”
Then she surprised him by bending to hug him tight whispering, “Thank you,” against his ear.
“No. Thank me when I bring my brother to you in chains.”
Though distracted by the two of them and their intimate conversation, Cale’s focus was on the New Orleans leader.
“Rueben Guedry is in the city. We had an informal chat last night. He’s eager to discuss the current problems.”
“So am I,” Max agreed. He shared a speaking glance with Cee Cee. “I take it things have gone to hell in our absence.”
Cale smiled. “They were heading there all on their own.”
Max glanced at his bags and longingly toward the stairs then sighed. “Does Silas know all this?”
A slight stiffening of his features. “Not yet.”
Max looked to his mate, who shrugged off the unspoken question, saying, “Go ahead. I need to check in with the chief and Babs. I’m sure the NOPD has had a crisis or two of its own they need to share with me.”
Max nodded, then told Cale, “We’ll make it a breakfast meeting in my city office so you can bring us up to speed.”
“Turow has more information on James. I’d like my other brother Colin to sit in as well. He’ll be handling things here for our clan.”
That was news to Kendra. She wasn’t sure whether it was fantastic or dreadful.
Cale plucked
at his dirty clothes that smelled of fire and deadly doings. “Give me a minute to clean up first.”
As he started to turn away, Max caught his wrist. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Just filthy and tired. It’s been a long night.”
“Are you staying here?” A subtle nod toward Kendra.
Cale followed his gesture, muttering a vague, “For now.”
He had to pass Kendra to get to the stairs. She waited, hands gripped together so she wouldn’t reach out to him as he drew near to murmur carefully, “My queen. You’re still here.”
“For now.”
He digested that clipped response without any betraying reaction. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued up the stairs at a brisk trot. She didn’t dare turn to watch him go. Turow drew her away from the other two women.
“Is he all right?” Turow asked, echoing Savoie’s concern as his shrewd gaze followed after his brother.
“No,” was all she said before gripping Turow’s arm. “Stay close to him. He needs you to remind him of what’s important. And I need you to keep him safe.”
“From what, my queen?”
“Everything, including himself.”
He didn’t question and that’s what she loved about Turow, the nearly monastic Terriot prince in the House of rampant excess. He said little but saw much. He acted rarely, but while silent, those actions spoke of his incredible loyalty to his family and now, especially to his king and queen.
“You brought in Sylvia.”
Her comment earned a rare response. He blinked and drew a sudden breath before giving his impassive answer. “I did.”
Ah. Not so monastic after all.
Careful not to embarrass him with what she’d discovered, she added, “And Martine?”
“She took her own life rather than give away her secrets.”
There was more. Something that made him uncomfortable. But that’s all she’d get out of him for the moment. She let him change the subject.
“Colin brought you to New Orleans?”
“Rico and Kip are here, too.” She sketched out a brief outline of the game they’d been playing, and his intensity deepened into concern.
“Cale is a fool.” A shocking but not incorrect assumption. “He has no business endangering himself or his crown.”