by Nancy Gideon
The deeper question, the one that scared him to the marrow was why she didn’t trust him with the truth?
They’d just started along the high wall surrounding Legere’s property when Cee Cee’s cell buzzed. Immediate alarm surged. Bad news on the Terriot front would have rung through his phone. Her business was calling.
Terse words stirred a different worry.
“When? How? Wasn’t he under surveillance? What the hell were they doing instead of their jobs?” A tense pause then the words he dreaded. “On my way.”
As agitation twisted those expressive lips, Max waited for her to speak. Finally, she put it plain. “I’m gonna drop you off. I’ve got to go back into the Quarter.”
Concerns writhed through him as he pictured the strong, vital female they’d just left in a hospital bed, her features mentally altering to those of his beloved as he’d once sat waiting for her inevitable death. It hadn’t come, not that day.
Heavy gates opened automatically. Cee Cee tore down the drive, screeching up to the porch without putting the vehicle into park. Her words gave no comfort. “Don’t wait up. Not sure how long I’ll be.”
The vehicle was moving before he had both feet on the ground. Forward momentum slammed the door shut for him. As Max watched taillights disappear out the gate, he offered words she hadn’t waited to hear.
“Be careful.” Then, more softly, “Come back to me.”
– – –
“How the hell did this happen?”
Alain Babineau had no answer for her.
Cee Cee stared dispassionately at Leo Pomarelli who’d sat down to a platter of Gulf shrimp at Pour Boys Bar & Grille. His fingers were still curled about his place setting in anticipation of that first bite denied by the small-caliber bullet to his forehead.
“Shoulda played ball, Leo,” Charlotte muttered, “then we would have had your back.”
He’d managed a high-ticket lawyer who rattled off all the usual outrage to get the little weasel sprung before they could leverage a deal. Someone with a lot of muscle had wanted him out. Their request for surveillance had stalled, opening this window of deadly opportunity.
First responders had cleared the private dining room, corralling witnesses in the bar area where they diligently gathered information. Cee Cee saw no point in interfering with the routine process of the scene. Not until one of the staff ducked into the kitchen after first making anxious eye contact.
She pressed Babineau’s forearm, inclining her head in that direction, muttering, “Be right back,” before slipping away.
The kitchen stood empty, it’s stations unattended. Abandoned orders stretched along steel counters in various stages of prep. Fragrant gumbo simmered on a burner, wringing a plaintive rumble from her stomach as a side door clicked shut.
Hand on her service piece, Cee Cee stepped out into the dim alley running between restaurant and a closed-for-the-night NOLA souvenir boutique. The sound of drunken merrymakers drifted down from the street on booze and refuse-laden air. A unit blocked that exit, flashers briefly highlighting a shadow ducking behind one of the dumpsters. She followed, caution tempering curiosity.
A male server sagged against the still-wet from the earlier downpour brick of the building, his trembling hand tucking a cigarette between his lips. When he couldn’t coax a steady flame from his lighter, Cee Cee took it from him, holding it still so he could lean in. An inhale and a quiet, “Thanks,” released in a jet of smoke.
“You working the dining room tonight?”
He sucked another drag. “Yeah.” Dark eyes darted nervously. “Can’t lose this job. Folks spent their savings for school so I can run my own place someday. I’m paying ‘em back best I can. Can’t let ’em down.”
Cee Cee sized him up. Young, good looking, complexion not much deeper than her own. He wasn’t anxious, just determined.
“They want you to be a man who speaks up or stays silent?”
After mulling it over, he said, “They knew each other.”
Alerted, she took out her small notebook. “Did you hear what they were saying?”
“Naw. They stopped when I come in.”
“Would you recognize the other man if you saw him again?”
A long pause before one crisp nod.
“Could you give me a description?”
Wide eyes jumped in the direction of the door. “Not here. Still on the clock. Gotta go back ’fore I be missed.”
Cee Cee fished out her card. “Come down to the station in the morning to give a statement and look at some pictures. Ask for me. Don’t talk to anyone else or make me regret not taking you in now.”
He drew a pull, hissing smoke shakily through his teeth. “Have to be early. Got class at nine. Can’t miss it.”
“Eight?”
“Sure. Okay.”
She gave him another card and plucked a ballpoint from his apron pocket. “Jot down your name, address and number.”
He snubbed the cigarette on the side of the dumpster before complying. Cee Cee glanced at the card then tucked it into her pocket before nodding toward the door, “You’d better get back. I’ll see you at eight, DeShawn. Don’t make me come looking.”
“No, ma’am.” He darted away, leaving her to wistfully breathe in forbidden smoke and hope he was good for his word.
After a minute or so passed, she returned to the scene of Leo’s abrupt exit from her list of potentials. Noting her reappearance, Babineau tucked in beside her.
“Got something?”
A nanosecond of hesitation. “No. Thought I might have had a witness, but it was nothing.”
With that intentional omission, Charlotte Caissie unofficially added her partner as a person of interest.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Preoccupied by his brooding, it took the nudge of an elbow to alert Max to the Terriot king’s presence.
In worn jeans and faded oversized Reno Aces minor league baseball team sweatshirt, feet clad in heavy work boots, Cale didn’t resemble a clan leader as he took a seat on the steps beside his host to look out over a weakly trickling fountain and recovering rose garden in the once dollar-weed-choked side yard. Early morning mist draped the distant tree line, shrouding it as thickly as Max’s contemplations.
“Good thing I wasn’t after your hair, or I’d be wearing it on my belt.”
Max offered a faint smile. “You’re welcome to it.”
“So, it’s that kinda day already.” Cale left it at that. “Didn’t hear the Missus come in last night.” So much for minding his own business. “She workin’?”
“Assume so.” Max should have known better than to hope a curt reply would end Cale’s curiosity.
“And that’s got you worried.” Not a question. “’Cuz of the baby?” After a long silence, Cale answered for himself, “’Course it is. Kendra being here purely scares the hell outta me.” A long pause was followed by a sighed truth. “But damned if I don’t need her. She was right about that. Usually is.” Encouraged by Max’s faint smile, he summed it up for them both. “All we can do is worry and try best we can to keep ’em safe, sometimes in spite of themselves.”
After a long awkward silence, Max ventured, “Heard from your brother?”
“Which one?”
“Colin.”
A slow tension seeped through his guest. “There a reason I should have?”
“Might want to make a casual call.”
Alerted by Max’s tone, Cale jumped up and limped down the length of the covered porch. He pulled out his cell, voice trailing behind him. “Hey. How’s it going? When?” With that sharp question, he went still for a long moment. “On my way. Don’t be stupid. Where else would I be?”
Max stood as the anxious Terriot strode toward him with news that at first didn’t surprise then plainly shocked.
“Mia’s in the hospital. They were in an accident, but it looks like everyone’s gonna be okay.” He drew up to study Max’s expression, his own guarded. “You look damned surprised.
What do you know that I don’t?”
What didn’t he know? That’s not the situation Max left behind to return to his regrettably empty bed. So how had it changed from its tragic course?
To fill the pointed silence, Max mentioned, “Your brother was waiting for Rueben Guedry and didn’t want me to say anything until they’d spoken.”
“About?”
“Letting her go naturally.”
A tremendous shock flashed through quickly narrowed eyes. “And you didn’t think I needed to know that?”
“Wasn’t my call to make.”
Cale let that settle in before asking, “Wanna make a trip into town with me?”
Just the excuse Max needed to go after his own answers.
– – –
With a stoic St. Clair at the wheel, Max’s big town car sliced through fog ribbons teasing across the road. In back, Cale continued to explore his worries.
“Accident?”
“No.”
A low curse. “I shouldn’t have let them stay in the city. It’s not like either of them are under the radar. At least Rico has some sense.” A rather amazed snort at that anomaly. “Ideas on who’s behind it?”
“Too many. Silas is narrowing it down.”
“MacCreedy knows? My brother called him?”
“From the scene. He was closest,” Max added to soothe the poorly-hidden injury.
“I thought they were safe.” That tore like a bandage off a raw wound. “They looked to me, and I can’t protect them.”
A humbling admission Max could relate to. And suddenly it became all too clear, like the road ahead as they entered the city. “Protect them by attacking what’s put them in danger.”
Cale’s quick side glance was followed by a wretched truth. “I don’t have the numbers or the resources.”
“But you have friends who do.”
Cale considered that then said simply, “Help me.”
Max had been two-stepping around this moment since Jacques LaRoche had proclaimed their kind had found its king. He hadn’t asked to be, hadn’t wanted that role. He’d done everything he could think of to diminish his part by bringing Nevada and Memphis into talks of solidarity. He wasn’t a leader, he was a follower, always seeking the background, the anonymity of the shadows where he couldn’t be seen or recognized as their Promised One. Now, he had his own small family to care for. What Cale asked of him would put them in jeopardy.
But would any of them be safe if even one was threatened?
With a heavy sigh, Max turned Cale’s request. “Help me protect all of us.”
– – –
Colin Terriot still slumped in the same waiting area chair with a freshly garbed but no less weary Rueben Guedry at his side. He blinked up at his brother in surprise before guilt crowded his stitched brow.
“My king, I’m sorry. I should have—”
“Stop.” Cale brushed aside the apology and placed hands upon broad shoulders to keep him from struggling to stand. “It’s fine. I’m here now.” As he awkwardly crouched to put them on the same level, Cale palmed the back of his brother’s head to pull him close. “I’m here for you both.”
With a tremendous exhalation, Colin leaned into that security to whisper, “I thought I’d lost them. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I know. Been there. It’s okay. We got you.” After a long moment, Cale rumpled his brother’s hair. “They said she’s doing good, the baby, too. We’re gonna move her to Dr. LaRoche’s clinic as soon as paperwork’s signed. She’ll be safer there. They’re fixing up a place so you can stay with her.”
Those shoulders shook as Colin choked out a barely audible, “Thanks.”
“And while you’re there, Rico’s getting your stuff moved into a suite next to his in Savoie’s high-rise, just for now, ’til things are settled.”
Cale expected objections, but when his brother leaned back, it was to ask, “Will they ever be? Does it matter where we go?”
His king glanced up at Max then over at the Guedry leader before answering, “Me, Savoie and Rueben are gonna work on that while you take care of you and yours. Okay?”
One of the staff interrupted with papers for Colin to sign. When finished, he looked from his king to the far doorway, knees bouncing. Cale cupped his elbows to help him stand, urging, “Go, be with her. We got this. We’ll talk soon, brother.” Then he murmured something privately.
Whatever Cale whispered brought a bolstering strength rushing through the weary figure.
“What did you tell him?” the Guedry leader asked after his cousin’s mate limped down the hall.
“The truth. Time for us to strike back.”
– – –
Father Michael Furness regarded the trio of visitors with undisguised surprise, and just a hint of wariness. He’d never met the new leader of the Memphis clan but greeted him with a respect due his reputation. The three clan heads hadn’t come to his humble church to ask for salvation of their souls. It was for the resurrection of their kind. He didn’t bother with pleasantries as he gestured for them to follow him to his unpretentious office.
“What can I do?”
“This needs to end.” Max spoke for them all.
“I agree. Have you a plan in mind?”
“Bring her here,” Cale growled as he perched on the edge of one worn chair. Aggression couldn’t quite cover his dread as he subconsciously rubbed at the bite marks she’d scored deeply into his hand. His introduction to the Chosen leader. It was his father, Bram the Beast’s attack on her family that nearly decimated Genevieve Savorie’s line. Destroying the Terriots had become an obsession with the coldly driven ruler of the North. None of them would be safe as long as she lived. “She’ll come for me. I’m bait she can’t resist.”
Tall, still powerfully framed despite the silver threading through dark hair, Michael Furness was more than a man of God. He’d come to power at Genevieve’s side and had been sent to New Orleans in the unassuming guise to begin searching for those of their kind who’d slipped through their genetic net. Those like Charlotte Caissie and Nica Fraser. The charitable school St. Bartholomew had run for orphans was their vetting ground until those he’d fostered confronted him with the true evil of his intentions. Metaphorically speaking, he’d seen the Light.
With his calm, competent manner, Furness considered the Terriot king’s suggestion, well-knowing his former compatriot’s weaknesses. But also, her desire for self-preservation now that she had her own artificially produced daughter, Olivia Brady, at her side. He phrased his belief carefully. “She wouldn’t risk herself. She’d send her men for you, to take you to her so she could exact her revenge, which would not be quick or kind and won’t serve our purpose.”
Seeing his friend pale, Max asked, “What would tempt her into our city?”
The pseudo-priest regarded him directly. “You. She’d come for you and some secret she thinks you have that’s a danger to her rule. And no, I don’t know what it is, but it has to do with your father. She’s obsessed with something he held over her.”
Max considered that puzzle carefully. He knew little of the man who’d given him life, a taste of knowledge, but little else before his own treachery had taken his life and his secrets with it. What hold could Rollo Moytes have over his aunt? He knew they’d reunited briefly in Baton Rouge after Rollo took money from him in exchange for a promise to disappear. What the two of them discussed was the unknown Max feared. But for the moment, fact didn’t matter as much as opportunity.
“Tell her Brady is about to expose something damaging to her to save his own skin and you’re worried about your position here. That, she’ll believe. No honor amongst thieves and all.” Max smiled thinly at Furness. “If you sound a bit disillusioned with the new direction here in New Orleans, she’ll snap that up, wanting to drag you back under her control.”
“Tell her to come alone,” Rueben suggested, tone soft and silky. His clan had dealt with the North directly, successfully sellin
g them personal protection. He knew how to work their suspicion and greed . . . and survive. “Hint that what you have isn’t something she’d want known.”
“That she’d want to see to it personally and privately.” Cale’s smile flashed, wide and white with malevolence.
Furness nodded, musing, “No wonder the three of you are so successful in leading others.”
“She’ll believe the worst if she thinks we’re at odds and running scared,” Cale spat out like a bad taste.
From his well-worn desk, in a thrift store chair he’d had for a decade, Furness studied the Terriot king with non-judgmental insight. The profession he’d practiced for decades imbued him with the ability to see beneath surface bravado to the disfiguring marks of fear and doubt. He phrased himself carefully. “Would she be correct thinking that?”
Surprised, Cale hesitated. After glancing at his fellow clan leaders, he responded with a firm, “No. And that’ll be our advantage. She doesn’t think we’re smart enough or selfless enough to put the needs of all ahead of our own. Big mistake. One she’s not gonna recover from.”
The collar he wore didn’t insulate Michael Furness from the harsh truth in that summation. What he’d learned in the North had been reinforced by things heard in his confessional about the pride and vanity of both human and shifter psyche. Genevieve suffered from an abundance of both. But she wasn’t careless. Or a fool.
“We keep this between us,” he suggested. “Trust expands no farther than this room. If we can agree on that, I’ll reach out to her. I have as much at stake here as you, maybe more.” Before they could question that, he added, “And while we put this plan into play, it might be wise to consider what the next step will be after disposing of her. The North won’t remain without a leader for long, and it’s in our interest to be in on that choice of successor.”
“You think we can trust them to make any lasting compromise?” Cale scoffed.
“About as much reason as they have to trust you.”
Considering that, the trio fell silent. After a moment, Cale and Rueben looked to Max, willing to follow his lead.