by Nancy Gideon
“Neighbors heard the shot and called it in.”
Cee Cee held her game face as he relayed the time. The significance didn’t escape her. About fifteen minutes after DeShawn Collette walked into the 5th District to meet with her.
“Any other physical trauma?”
He shook his head. “Single tap to the forehead probably the second she opened the door. Clean and professional.”
“Anyone go inside?”
“No. Just one and done. Follow-up canvas is in the works, but our shooter didn’t want to be seen, so don’t get your hopes up.” He studied her furrowed expression. “Part of an ongoing?”
“She is now.” Someone was covering their tracks. Cee Cee needed to move fast to protect DeShawn Collette and Gloria Joublanc. “Thanks, Dev. Keep me posted.”
He wouldn’t be dismissed that easily, moving their convo from professional to personal. “When did you last have a meal and catch a few hours, Lottie?”
“Just had lunch at home.” She smiled, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine. You know me, on the scent.”
“Mmm. Yes, I do. How’s Savoie?”
How would I know? Cee Cee managed a tight fib. “Fine. Working on some stuff of his own.”
A nod to her belly. “You take care of that little one. I’m looking forward to becoming an honorary uncle.”
She grinned, the T-rail of tension in her shoulders relaxing. “Looking forward to an experienced babysitter
– – –
So, Leo had told a mysterious someone on the phone that he’d found “the one.” The one what? He could’ve meant anything, but a sick feeling in Cee Cee’s gut tied it to her case of murdered mothers and missing new- or soon-to-be borns . . . who had genetics like her own child’s case study planted in with the others.
Their snitch had known her identity. Had he unwisely shared that information in his hopes of a big payday, information that guaranteed his own death and placed her and her baby in his killer’s crosshairs?
From Dovion, she took her suspicions straight to her district commander who, as usual, was indulging his bad habit of staying late over too many cups of coffee and paperwork that would never run out. Habits they shared. She called him “Uncle Byron” when they were alone. But his question held no familial gentleness.
“Are you requesting permission to use yourself and your child as bait?” Immediately, her stance squared up. When she remained silent, he asked, “And would the child’s father be agreeable to this endangerment?”
Max? Would he approve of her dangling his heir to lure a killer? When a convenient lie would serve her purpose, she respectfully said, “No, sir. I can’t think that he would.”
Did she imagine the slight quirk of a smile at evidence of sterling character in the former mobster he wanted to despise? Carefully controlling his tone, Byron Atcliff countered, “And you propose what, Detective? That we don’t tell him?”
“Of course not, sir.” Such a thing could never be forgiven.
“So, where are you going with this?”
She took a breath and stepped out onto thin matrimonial ice. “My husband is not without talents and resources. If you’d allow him a sideline spot to ensure himself of my safety, he might be convinced to provide useful information.”
“Max Savoie is going to snitch on his former colleagues?” Brows soared incredulously.
“Oh, hell no! . . . sir,” she amended quickly. “And they were Jimmy Legere’s colleagues, not his, not by choice anyway. But he knows the rotten fruit that falls from these particular trees.”
Atcliff leaned back in his chair, fingertips steepled. “I thought the two of you stayed out of each other’s business. Has that changed?”
“No, sir. But in this case, I’m already compromised. He won’t allow me to go unprotected, even if it means aiding those I work for. You can hardly fault him for that.”
Lips thinned. Finally, he said with the crisp authority of the insignia on his knife-edged white shirt, “You will apprise me of everything first. You’ll take no actions on your own. I will not lose a valuable member of my team.” He hesitated before adding more quietly, “Or risk the wrath of my family if anything happens to you or that baby.”
She contained her smile behind a throat clearing. “Of course, sir.”
“And I want to hear from Savoie, personally, that he agrees. I don’t need him coming after my spleen in the dark.”
“If he wanted it, sir, he’d do it in broad daylight.”
Atcliff didn’t see the humor. “I don’t approve, but I won’t forbid you from following your instincts. Considering who might be involved,” meaning Brady since he’d read her report, “we’ll pursue every lead aggressively. I want detailed accounts of Savoie’s activities. This is the kind of thing that could slap back at us in a Karen Crawford scandal rant. We will not be embarrassed by that woman, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Now, to convince Max.
– – –
Down at the waterfront, Giles St. Clair and Rueben Guedry’s mohawked enforcer, T-Ray Roux exchanged scowling glances where they stood, bristling sentinels at the closed office door of Cheveux du Chien. Inside, the leaders of the New Orleans and Memphis clans relaxed on separate sections of the leather couch as if the best buds they pretended to be in front of Cale. Now alone, the kid gloves slipped off.
“Let’s say,” Max began, “that you’re not supporting this alliance between our clans.”
“That what you’re thinking?” Rueben flipped back on him with practiced ease. Everything about Rueben Guedrey was easy, from his casually styled black hair, steady dark stare and slight smile to the lazy drawl and languid posture of his long form. But none of that fooled Max.
“Let’s say you’re not thinking the same thing about me. We can agree that the Terriots are a moot point.” He let that smoothly posed misconception dangle, curious to see how the other would respond.
Rueben’s chuckle rolled out, as deceptively mellow as the whiskey in his glass. “A smart man would never count the likes of them out of a fight. They’re tough to grind down. Believe me, my family has tried. If the world ends tomorrow, three things can be counted on to survive—Cockroaches, Twinkies and Terriots. But for the moment, they don’t appear to be a threat.”
“How ’boutchu? You planning to be a bother to me and mine?”
“Thought we’d agreed to a truce.” The relaxed pose remained, but coal-black eyes narrowed.
“Agreeing and abiding are two very different animals. You’ve a history with the North as well-paid mercenaries to their cause. A smart man’d still be thinking with me and mine out of the way, the road to the Gulf and unlimited trade would be there for the taking.”
With a silky smile, Rueben allowed, “And that’d be true ’cept for one thing. You and me, we’ve both been on a leash for someone else’s gain. Can’t say I much liked it, how ’bout you?”
Though Max didn’t reply, the chafe of that constriction rubbed his mood raw.
“And you’d be wrong ’bout another thing,” Rueben continued. “It ain’t about you and yours and me and mine. ‘Ours’ started with that fella right there,” the Memphis leader hooked a thumb toward a startled Giles, “and the future his wife carries. That’s our next generation. And his sister and me, well that might lead to another reason for us to take care of each other’s interests.”
Giles took a menacing step away from the door, looking every dangerous inch the former leg breaker for Jimmy Legere as he growled, “You and Corriene?”
Another unconcerned chuckle. “I suggest you take that up with her. Think you’ll find she’s a woman with an independent mind. And happens I find your cousin Boyd a right handy fella to have around.”
A subtle wave from Max backed his bodyguard down to a simmer, allowing Rueben to continue.
“We’ve our differences, Savoie. Always will. But we both want the same future for our families. We’re not strong enough to hold onto it alone, but w
e put our resources together behind Terriot teeth we stand a chance of protecting what we have.”
“Holding on isn’t enough.” Giving time for that to sink in deep, Max added, “Even if we take out my aunt, another’ll replace her.”
Black brows soared. “You want to take it to them. To destroy them?”
“No. To join them for the good of all our kind.”
CHAPTER TEN
The five Terriot brothers gathered at Colin’s, overflowing the living space while a recovering Mia napped in the bedroom. After a still exhausted Colin assured that her strength was returning more rapidly than her memory, conversation centered on immediate issues.
“What’ve you found out, Row?” Kip asked, checking his watch for the dozenth time since arriving. Worry over leaving his new mate and younger siblings alone with their grandmother while Warren Brady was free on bail divided his attention.
Turow drew a breath and released it slowly, frustration evident in his weary tone. “No word on where Stephen and Lee have stashed our father. No suspicious activity around the casino from what Sylvia’s seen. She’s got the place locked down tight. Things are quiet in our compound. Apparently, the insurance investigation is complete.”
Silence met that grim finality.
“And a complete lie,” Rico muttered, his bitterness earning agreeing nods. “Have more of the family checked in?”
Kip sighed. “Not yet. Either they’re hiding deep, haven’t found someplace safe to set up, or . . . what we have is all that’s left. Or are loyal to our father.”
“How do we even know the old man is still in Nevada?” Realizing how sharp his words were, Colin amended, “It’s what we’re all thinking. Worrying we’ll turn around and he’ll be there waiting to take our heads. Lee and Stevie . . . I still can’t believe they’d be so damned stupid.”
“Stupid, greedy or just plain scared,” Rico muttered.
“Stupid,” Colin insisted, “not to realize they’ll be the first ones he turns on when everything goes to shit. And where will their families be then?”
Cale settled the matter. “They’ll still be our family. I need to know where they are so we can at least take in their mates and children if the worst happens.” Something in his heavy tone sharpened their attention, prefacing a heavy, “We need to talk. No, I need you to listen.”
Silence. They all looked to him. When he didn’t begin at once, Kip urged, “What is it, my king?”
Cale laid it out, voice flat and firm. “Our home is destroyed, our legacy in doubt, our people dead or scattered. We need a leader who’ll save what’s left so we can begin again.”
In a blink, Colin got up close and very personal, fury pounding through his words. “You expect us to bend a knee to that crazy tyrant again? No! Hell, no!”
Row looked between them, taking in their nuances before quietly voicing, “Col, that’s not what he’s doing.”
Hard eyes focused on him with sniper scope intensity. “You’re taking his side in this? Why am I surprised?” Colin snarled.
“Colin?”
He jerked around as if pulled by invisible ties, expression washed clean of anger. A rapidly filling stare took in the sight of his mate, and the significance of recognition in her dark eyes undid him. In quick strides, he reached her where she wobbled unsteadily at the opening to the hall.
“What’s happened? Why are you fighting?”
“Everything’s fine,” he insisted, tone gentle, smile calming as his big hands palmed her shoulders. “Let me get you back to bed.”
“No,” she argued with a wonderful snap of fire. “I’m staying. I have a part in this, too.”
Rico leapt up, offering his spot on the loveseat so Colin could settle with Mia curled against him, her head nestled upon his chest. Still, he tensed at Cale’s approach, not ready to let go of his argument.
“We will never return to our father’s leash.” When their king’s assurance drained the resistance from those broad shoulders, Cale addressed them all. “But there are those who will.” A stark truth none could argue. “I don’t blame them. They’re afraid. They’ve risked everything on promises I’ve broken. They’ll run toward the illusion he’ll offer, of what we had . . . and I lost. He’ll prey upon their fear, holding up the glories and strength of his reign to comfort them into forgetting what a monster he is. They’ll want to believe those days will return, and by the time they realize it’s a lie, it’ll be too late. We can’t save them from him if we can’t offer something better—stronger—to believe in.”
“We follow you,” Turow vowed, tone pitched low and steady.
After a long, silent moment, Colin nodded. “We stay together. In all things, or we all fall separately.” With a quiet humility, he whispered, “I’m a fool. Forgive me.”
Cale brushed his apology aside, growling, “Don’t be an ass,” as he took a seat at the breakfast bar and helped himself to an endless supply of coffee. “I’ve pledged us to Savoie, not out of the desperation we had when we first came to his door, but for combined power and resources.” He let that sink in, giving them time to push away the remembered shame of kneeling before the New Orleans leader on that hopeless night their world collapsed. Savoie had rescued their dignity then, their brother strengthened that pride now.
When no opposition arose, Cale continued. “We follow him until our enemy falls. When that’s done, we’ll all have an equal say in how we rebuild and stand together as family, regardless of name or clan. For our kind and our future. To live free.”
– – –
Finally, home. Steps weary, heart dragging, Charlotte thought she was alone as she traveled down the dimly lit hall toward the stairs, hoping to find Max waiting above. Time to have that conversation. But low voices pulled her attention toward the open doors of the parlor where Cale and Kendra Terriot faced one another on the sofa, hands laced together.
“I don’t understand, my king.”
“Katy, listen to me. Those dreams are gone. They went up in flames. The only thing I can offer you both is an uncertain future where at least we can be together. I’m sorry. I promised so much more.”
Kendra wouldn’t allow him to turn away from the hands she laid against his face, holding him within the cup of both as she argued passionately, “I don’t care about those promises or a legacy. I care about the man I love, the one I’ve loved since we were children, when who we were didn’t matter to us. It still doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you have a title. I don’t want our friends bending a knee. The future I dream of is one we’ll make together for this child.” A tender smile brightened her stark expression. “I wouldn’t love or respect you less if we lived in the second bedroom of your mom’s condo, and you worked on car engines for a living.”
A reluctant chuckle. “We’d starve if we had to depend on those talents.”
She continued, encouraged. “But we’d be together. Family. Family is you and me. Us. We have this child, my cousins, your brothers. Our friends, our clan, our kind. It doesn’t matter where if we’re together. You and I, Cale Terriot, together, can handle anything that comes our way. There’s nothing else I need or want except that trust and your love. Do I still have those things, Cale?”
A gruff rumble. “You know you do, baby.”
“Then I’m good. Don’t look back. Our future isn’t there.” She took one of his hands, pressing his palm to her belly. “It’s here. It’s whatever we make it, every day for the rest of our lives. Agreed?”
“I’m no kind of man without you,” he whispered. “I’m a lucky S.O.B. You’ll always be my queen, Kendra.”
“And you’ll always be that boy who gave me my first kiss and stole my heart forever.”
Cee Cee stepped back, unnoticed. Throat tight after witnessing that tender exchange, she slipped up the stairs, needing the arms of her own male to hold her. But instead, found her bedroom vacant and undisturbed, as empty as her spirit. Shoulders slumping, she blinked back the burn in her eyes. Just hormones. T
hat’s all. Not a huge black hole of despair slowly, silently devouring all her dreams.
Feeling out of balance with present as well as future events, refusing to admit she’d started sniffling, she started running a bath in the huge claw-footed tub. Just the thing when the only thing she needed wasn’t there. Until she reentered the bedroom and those strong arms she’d been missing like a vital part of her soul, surrounded her.
For a long moment, they stood wrapped about each other, absorbing heat and comfort. Finally, Max murmured, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s good to be home.”
“Especially when we’re in it together.”
“And it’s good to have a tub big enough for two.”
“Agreed.” She eased back far enough to begin unbuttoning his decadent Stefano Ricci dress shirt, focusing on the tempting mat of black hair gradually revealed as emotions ping, ping, ponged all over the place. “But I already put in some foo-foo smelling stuff.”
“I’m man enough to handle it.” His low chuckle might have been a growl.
Charlotte pushed the subtle tonal stripes off powerful shoulders so her fingers could comb through that very masculine furring. “And I like that about you, Savoie.”
With their purpose reconnection rather than cleanliness, once skin-to-skin contact had been achieved, Max climbed in first, stretching his long, deliciously defined body along the length of the mammoth tub so Cee Cee could layer atop him, back to front. Hot water soothing body and the tease of jasmine calming soul, they stared up through the skylight as heavens cleared and stars winked to life upon an inky canvas.
It would have been so easy to relax into the support of his familiar lines, to be seduced by the tempting stroke of large palms moving from shoulder down firmly muscled arms. So easy for weariness to slide into restless anticipation as caresses followed the curve of her hips to cap strong thighs and dip slowly between them. So easy.
“Max, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”