Dark Confessions

by Angie Sandro

  He stares into my eyes, watching as the orgasm rolls through my shuddering body.

  I fall back, panting. “My turn. Where’s that bottle?”

  Ferdinand passes it over with a laugh and rolls onto his back. I squirt the contents into my mouth, then lean in for a kiss. So sweet. I wrap my hand around the velvety soft length pressed against my stomach. His breath catches as I stroke him, eyes widening, but then he smiles. He slides a finger inside me, and I spasm around him. I crawl on top of him. His long arms easily maintain their rhythm. He’s hard in my hand. I lift up and insert him inside, then slide down his length as slowly as he entered me earlier. His hands wrap around my hips, holding me steady as I ride him.

  The door slams open. “Hey. Jasmine’s back.”

  With a yelp, I roll off Ferdinand and scramble beneath the blanket.

  “The hell!” Ferdinand yells, snatching his loaner gun from beneath a pillow and pointing it at the silhouette in the doorway. I didn’t even know he’d stashed it there.

  Landry freezes in the doorway. “Shit, sorry!” He raises his hands and turns around. “But I need you both. Jasmine’s here. She says Mala woke up. She’ll tell us everything she learned about where Victor is holding Mala and Eva.”

  “Get out!” Ferdinand roars.

  Landry doesn’t argue. The slamming door barely drowns out Ferdinand’s curses. My lips twitch. I try to hold in my laugh, but watching Ferdinand stomping around the bed, picking up our strewn clothing, about slays me. He glares in my direction and points his finger. “Bess—”

  The blanket drops to puddle around my waist as I shrug. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “He should’ve knocked. We’re grown-ass, consenting adults.”

  “I didn’t hear him dispute this factoid.” I try to slide from the bed, but the sheet sticks to a stray bit of honey Ferdinand missed. I peel it off. “I need another shower.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  I hold up my hand. “You heard him. We finally have a clue to Mala’s and Eva’s whereabouts,” I say grimly. “Playtime’s over.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Ferdinand

  Shield Tumbles Down

  Playtime’s over. Time to return to the real world. And it sucks. The interlude didn’t last long enough to suit me, and I could choke Landry for interrupting right as Bess hit her rhythm. Her breath had hitched, and her muscles were clenched around me. She’d been so close to coming…Now she won’t make eye contact, and she reconstructs her armor with each article of clothing she puts on. By the time she’s fully dressed in her uniform, she’s Lieutenant Caine again—hard-nosed, no-nonsense, closed off—almost as if my sweet and sensual Bess is nothing but a figment of my horn-dog imagination.

  I scoop her pale pink panties off the floor. “Forget something?” I dangle the tiny bit of fabric in the air, letting her scent waft back at me, until she stomps over to snatch it from my hands.

  “You’re such a child.” Her cheeks have a cherry stain. She stuffs the panties into her pocket, and I groan. Now every time I look at her, I’ll be thinking about her going bare-ass. And can those uniform pants be any tighter? They’re painted on, leaving nothing to my imagination. My brain has a short circuit. My wiring’s all faulty.

  Bess taps her foot, waving for me to precede her outside. As I pass, she whips her hand out to squeeze my butt cheek. I gasp, scandalized. No, not really. But I’m shocked as hell by her chuckle.

  She gives me a slant-eyed, come-hither look. “Yeah, gorgeous. Walk on in front so I can stare at that sweet, ripe ass.”

  “Mon Dieu, Bess. That’s awful. Smarmy and sexist,” I say. “Don’t tell me you watch those late-night triple-X shows?”

  She shrugs. “Nah, cher. I heard that line at a club once, back in my wild days. I always wondered if it’d sound as cheesy coming from me as it did from the tool who thought he was complimenting me.”

  “It does.” I scrub a hand over my head and scowl at the stubble. I need a shave. “Never use a pickup line from a random tool on me again.”

  “I’ll come up with something irresistible next time.” She slams the door behind us and slides her arm around my waist, like physical contact, in public, is no big deal. My shock leaves me rooted in place with my mouth hanging wide enough to sample a few dozen mosquitoes.

  Bess tugs on my waist. “I can’t bodily move you along, but we’ve got to hurry before Landry makes a reappearance.”

  Maybe I’m a selfish prick, but the meaning behind her words barely penetrate the cloud of euphoria filling my heart. Her actions warm me. It’s not over. She’s still by my side, still my sweet Bess. The surge of emotion has me clearing my throat and blinking at the stars. I hope she doesn’t notice because I couldn’t explain my previous fears if asked.

  My voice sounds husky as I say, “Yes. Best not to get even higher on Landry’s shit list. Besides, I’m curious what Jasmine discovered.”

  “What if it’s bad news?” Her voice has a slight wobble. It’s then that I realize why she holds on to me so tightly. Minute trembling racks her body. How long has she been hiding her fear, not letting me see how deeply she’s been affected by the kidnapping?

  “They’re fine. Landry wouldn’t have been so calm otherwise.”

  She receives my words in silence. We stride in sync toward the largest cabin. The music of the swamp surrounds us—the croaking of bullfrogs, the hoot of an owl, the creaking of crickets. Wind with a hint of muggy warmth brings the scent of rich earth, blooming tupelo flowers, and sweet grass. It would be idyllic without the crackle of tension running through my body.

  Dena and Anders are waiting in front of the cabin. When Dena sees us, she sighs. “It’s about time,” she says. “Go on in. Landry’s ready to go on the warpath. As Anders will attest, I tend to jump into things feet-first, with no concrete plan. We can’t do that in this situation, and sitting on this island babysitting the man responsible for kidnapping Mala is killing me.” She pauses long enough to take a deep breath, then sighs. “Sorry, but I can’t deal with any more right now without getting emotional.”

  Anders rubs his girlfriend’s shoulders. “What Dee means by emotional is she’ll freak out, which usually results in unintentional property damage and my credit card being drained for repairs. I’d like to spare us both the hassle.”

  “I appreciate your consideration,” Bess drawls.

  I choke back my laugh, pulling on a reproachful grimace. “Thank you both for taking first watch.”

  Dena shrugs. “No worries. Anders and I heal fast, so we don’t need as much rest to recover, but I’m dead girl walking now. The only uninterrupted sleep I got yesterday was after I got knocked unconscious.” She holds her flashlight in front of her face so we can see her dramatic wink. “Landry said he walked in on the two of you. Glad you made good use of your break. We’re going to try to get some shut-eye while we can.”

  Bess looks bored as she pats her reconstructed bun. “Ignore the dirty sheets in the corner. I didn’t have time to bag them. There are extras in the big cabinet, along with some MREs.”

  Anders tugs on her hand. “And on that note, I can’t handle any more girl talk. We’re out. Come get us once there’s a plan.”

  We walk into the cabin, and I pause in surprise. Ivy lies curled up at the end of the bed by George’s feet. When she catches the fact that Bess and I are holding hands, she whistles. “Looking good, Pops. Now I understand the slightly nauseated expression on Landry’s face when he returned. He walked in on the two of you in the middle of—”

  “Ivy—” Her name cracks out like a belt. The kind I should’ve whooped her with when she was a kid, but I didn’t believe in corporal punishment. Now I’m doomed to reap the results. My daughter knows no shame. I glare at the wall, unable to meet Bess’s eyes.

  Ivy falls back on the bed with a peel of laughter. “Oh, this is rich.” She hiccups. “Wait until I tell Mama and Bastian. They’re gonna die.”

  I draw myself up to full height and
cross my arms. “Don’t you dare, or you’re grounded for life.”

  Her black curls tumble over her shoulder as she shakes her head. “That threat didn’t even work when I was ten.”

  George pushes up onto an elbow. “Why don’t you leave the couple alone? They seem happy.”

  The glare she gives him could freeze ice. “Don’t order me around. Ever.”

  The shock on George’s face warms my heart. My girl’s bouncing back. And I don’t have to worry about her getting her heart broken. Or her breaking George’s in retaliation. She had me worried for a bit.

  The deputy sits up with a wince. He studies my daughter’s face. Ivy shivers and rubs her arms. She crawls toward him and lightly touches his leg. “What are you thinking right now? Why can’t…?” Her head cocks to the side. “How are you blocking your thoughts? I can’t sense your emotions. That’s never—”

  George leans toward her. “Read my mind. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

  Her nose scrunches. “I’m not a bitch.”

  George grunts. “Guess mind reading isn’t one of your talents.” He falls back against the pillow. “Don’t mistake my kindness as weakness or attack me because you’re pissed.”

  Pissed? Could Ivy be upset by my new relationship? I catch Bess staring at Ivy with narrowed eyes, but my daughter’s oblivious. Her heated retort to George is drowned out by a shout from the far corner of the cabin.

  Landry paces in front of an empty chair, full of frenetic energy. With a final jab of his finger, he runs a hand through his shaggy black hair and throws himself into a chair at the table. His body quivers with suppressed emotion, like an overloaded washer about to fly apart. Whatever his soon-to-be ghost mother-in-law said did not go over well.

  He glares at us. “Enough dicking around, pun intended. This situation is serious. So get your heads on straight and help me.”

  Bess tries to pull her hand away. “Regardless of how upset you are, there’s no reason to take out your frustration on us. I’m sorry if you feel like we’re not contributing—”

  “Don’t apologize. We’re here, putting our lives at risk, willing to help.” I pull Bess in for a quick yet thorough kiss. She doesn’t fight it, and her skin glows when I’m done. The slight upturn of her lips hardens into a firm line as she walks over to Landry. He stares at her from a single red-rimmed eye, shimmering silver with unshed tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Landry mutters to her. His shoulders shake, and he leans his head against her side. Bess pats him on the back, comforting him the way only she can.

  My chest clenches, echoing the intensity of his emotional broadcast. Poor Ivy groans and buries her slightly green-tinted face in a blanket. It’s a testament to Landry’s strength of will that he managed to suppress his grief this long. If anything happened to Bess, I don’t think I’d handle it so well. This, after holding full company with her for only a day. Six months of longing for a dream shouldn’t count, but in my case I think it does.

  I go sit on the bed next to Ivy and George. Bess soothes the ravaging beast inside Landry, lulling it back to sleep. The tightness in my chest releases.

  Ivy sits up, crossing her legs beneath her. “Wow, intense.” She massages her temples. “He really loves her, doesn’t he?”

  “More than his own life,” I say. “He tried to sacrifice himself in Mala’s place.”

  “What makes her so special?” Ivy asks.

  George’s eyes narrow on Landry’s hunched shoulders. “My stepsister will throw herself in the line of fire to save someone she loves. Her loyalty to family and friends inspires love in others.” He nods to me. “Your father understands. It’s why he’s here now.”

  I shrug. “Mala and Dena both have a piece of my heart.”

  Ivy’s blue-green eyes narrow on my face, and I’m reminded she’s more her mother’s child than mine. An icy trickle of sweat slides down my spine. Did I make a mistake showing my hand? This situation must be handled carefully, or everything I’ve done will be for nothing.

  The darkness that circled and filled my daughter’s eyes earlier has faded. The older she gets, the faster she bounces back after using her gifts. Someday she’ll be the powerhouse her mother and Magnolia trained her to be. I don’t want to imagine what she would be like if Mala dies and the LaCroix power jumps to her branch of the ancestral tree.

  Mala is the last in a single line of matrilineal descendants. The combined power of all the female descendants gets passed down from generation to generation. Since Mala hasn’t had a daughter yet, consensus says, if she dies, her power would pass to the closest kin. That would be Ivy’s mother, Permelia, the daughter of Sophia and Gaston LaCroix and the last woman on earth who should hold that much power and influence in her hands.

  Guilt curdles my stomach. Mala doesn’t know about her cousins. A large part of the blood bond forces me not to speak or do anything that might endanger the bloodline.

  My attention shifts to Bess, and our eyes lock. She points at a spot on the parish map spread across the table. “Jasmine didn’t see much to help us pinpoint the location where the girls are being kept, but we’re trying to narrow the clues down.”

  “Are they okay?” I ask.

  Landry leans back in the chair with a sigh. “Mala’s groggy, but conscious. She and Eva are being held in an old farmhouse. They’re locked in a room, tied up, but Victor hasn’t done anything to harm them.”

  “I don’t think he’ll do anything,” I say. “He seems to have his orders. If he wanted to harm them, he could’ve already, and there’s nothing we could have done about it.”

  Bess stalks over to the cot holding Estrada and kicks the leg. “Stop faking. We know you’re not asleep.”

  Estrada rubs his eyes. “I suppose I need to live up to my end of the bargain now?”

  “The tissue samples you took from Dena, where did you stash them? You didn’t leave the hospital, so they have to be hidden there.”

  Estrada taps the end of his nose. “Of course. I’m not foolish enough to leave my security policy unsecured. I’ll take you to retrieve them when we haul young Deputy Dubois to the hospital. That is, if we have a way off this island. So far your plan hasn’t inspired me with confidence, Lieutenant Caine.” He pats his lips as he yawns and lies back down. “Wake me when it’s time to leave.”

  Bess and Landry pore over the map. What Jasmine saw was minimal. The women were being held in an abandoned farmhouse set in the cane fields. The lights of Paradise Pointe were north of their location.

  Bess points at a section on the map and circles it with her fingertip. “This new housing development used to be a cane field. The original farm still stands.”

  “The Antoine place,” George says. “It’s on my patrol route. It’s only five miles from the hospital. Close enough for Victor to travel there without crossing any of the roadblocks we set up, but far enough off the grid that nobody would think to check there.”

  Ivy lays her head on my shoulder. “I don’t feel well.”

  I press the back of my hand against her forehead. “You’re a bit warm.”

  “My head’s pounding. It’s like the mother of all sinus headaches.” Her face blanches a shade lighter. “Oh God, I’m gonna be sick.” She bolts for the bathroom.

  “Ivy?” George throws his legs over the side of the bed.

  I rise, pushing him back against the pillow, then tuck the blanket around him. “Worry about yourself.”

  “But—”

  The growl rumbles through my chest. I’ve put up with how close they’ve been acting, but this is my daughter. I go to the bathroom door and knock. “Ivy? Ivy, answer me.”

  My heart stutters in my chest, then flashes into warp speed. I twist the knob and shove, only to see my daughter lying on the ground. Ivy’s eyelids flicker, then close. I scoop her up and rush to the bed. George scoots over to make room. His hand hovers inches above her skin, but he doesn’t dare touch. Maybe he can tell I’ll rip his arm from its socket if he messes with her i
n this state.

  I brush Ivy’s curls from her sweat-soaked face. She’s panting hard. Her body quivers. Without warning, she arches upright, screaming, “No! Don’t you dare—bitch!”

  She jumps to her feet, staring with glazed eyes into another realm. I exhale. As the air passes across my lips, I release energy, creating my own personal mental shield. Malevolent energy snaps, and a tentacle of power tries to latch on to my mind. A familiar flavor, like burnt coffee, flows across my tongue. I gag as it slithers down my throat, choking me. Arms wrap around my waist as I double over.

  Panting, I meet Bess’s worried brown eyes. “The island is under assault. The witch punched a hole in the cloaking shield and is sucking the energy powering it like she’s drinking from a straw in a juice box. We’ve got to go, Bess.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “Not much. We need to be gone before she and the rest of her band of murderous men step foot on the island.”

  Bess squeezes my arm. “I’ll get Dena and Anders. Get the troops moving and meet me outside in five.” She sprints for the door.

  I turn to find George cradling Ivy against his chest. When did that happen? “What about Ivy?” he asks, wiping sweat from her brow with the sheet.

  My vision blurs, and I shake my head. “What about her?”

  George waves his hand over my daughter. “Help her. Throw a spell at the witch doing this. Aren’t you some sort of powerful hoodoo priest?”

  Hot fury whips through my body. “Boy, don’t get smart with me!” I rise to my full height, panting as I reach for control. The shield’s linked to Ivy and me. The witch drains our reserves as well. He doesn’t deserve my anger merely for noting how helpless I am against the woman. I lose badassery points every time we tango. “Heave your injured ass out of the bed. We’ve got to get moving.”