Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  Does he actually see the power radiating off the deck, too? She picked it up carefully. “It’s a Russian deck. Dates to around 1900 if I had to guess.”

  “Is it a special deck, then?”

  “Umm, no. Yes,” she mumbled, mesmerized by the magic of the cards.

  “Which is it?”

  She tore her gaze away from the cards and lifted it to him. “It’s not a particularly valuable deck, especially given its worn condition. But the magic in it... I’ve never felt the like...” She trailed off, lost again in the power emanating from the deck. A folding chair was nearby, and she sank into it, completely immersed in the cards. “I have to do a reading. Right now.”

  Max glanced around in alarm. “Now’s not a good time—”

  “Distract them, then. I have to do this.”

  Max swore under his breath.

  A wave of violent intent washed over her, followed by the now familiar opening of the floodgates of power. Yet again she choked on the volume of power washing over her, filling her lungs and clogging her throat. Lord, there was so much of it.

  She vaguely registered Max muttering, “I’m going to have to draw them off, then. You stay here and do whatever you have to do—fast. I may text you in a few minutes, and if I do, I’ll need you to do exactly what I tell you to when I tell you to do it. Will you do that for me?”

  “Umm, sure.”

  “Promise?”

  The urgency in his voice made her look up. “Yes, Max. I’ll follow your instructions to the letter. I promise.”

  He nodded tersely and then startled her by taking off quickly toward the very exit one of their tails had been guarding a few minutes earlier. In the presence of her multiplied awareness, the deck of cards in her hand vibrated so sharply that she could barely hold on to them. Her powers extended outward to encompass the entire auction house, and she clearly felt three spirits detaching from the crowd and racing after Max.

  Quickly, she shuffled the deck, handling it carefully in deference to its advanced age and generally worn state. There. The deck was charged. Whatever it wanted to say to her was ready to emerge. She flipped the cards over and commenced laying them out in an old-fashioned spread that seemed appropriate to the cards.

  But then the deck took over, demanding she place cards in no pattern she’d ever seen before. She could no more have stopped the odd spread of the cards than she could have held back a rushing river in full flood. The power of the deck overtook her and swept her away in its massive force.

  She hardly had to look at the cards to know what she would see. The four princes of each suit lay stacked neatly, one on top of another in the center of a circle of surrounding cards.

  If she read the spread from past to future, she saw her aunt’s death clearly. Her own break with an unhappy past. The move to New Orleans. And then that pesky stack of princes bursting into her life. And in the future?

  Hesitantly, she read the remaining half of the spread. Danger. Death very close to her. Loss. Her past returned to threaten her. And a very small possibility at the end of it all of a happy outcome.

  Well, that sucked.

  Impatiently, she asked the deck how to improve her odds of reaching the happy outcome. She flipped over three cards, and the message was as clear as a bell. Her fate was directly tied to the princes. If they succeeded, all would be well.

  And who, exactly, were these mysterious princes who held her fate in their hands? She flipped one last card and stared down at the card in shock.

  It was the Lovers. A pair of naked people embraced passionately on the card, but that was not what shocked her. The woman had curly, dark red hair, the man was tall and strong with short blond hair. The pair looked exactly like her and Max. The faces, the height difference, the body shapes, everything. Identical.

  A chill chattered down her spine, and goose bumps raised on her arms. Which was saying something for her. She’d spent her whole life around inexplicable magic, but this freaked even her out.

  Somehow, Max was the link to all four of the princes.

  Furthermore, their relationship was the key to achieving a happily ever after. Duh. It didn’t take a tarot deck to tell her that. Although she was surprised at how adamant the deck was that she and Max had a destiny—for better or worse—together. That was reassuring to know, sort of.

  Her cell phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Max had texted her, telling her to go outside and meet him in front of the auction house in exactly sixty seconds. She hit the stopwatch function of her phone, scooped all the decks of cards back into their chest and picked up the whole thing awkwardly in both arms.

  She had to hustle to make it to the front of the huge auction house in one minute, but she made it with about three seconds to spare. She took a deep breath and stepped outside.

  Max’s truck screeched up in front of her, all but running over her toes. He leaned over to throw open the passenger door, and she scrambled inside as a dark SUV careened around the corner. Max accelerated away from the auction house before she even had her door properly closed.

  Then he surprised her by pulling out into traffic sedately. “They’ll totally be able to follow us if you drive like this,” she declared, confused.

  “Oh, I don’t want to lose them. We don’t know we’re being followed, remember?”

  “How will they explain away you sprinting all over the place, then?”

  Max grinned. “I know the entire staff at the auction house. I raced out back, grabbed the first female staffer I found and shocked the hell out of her by laying a big kiss on her. I made it look like I’m cheating on you. Then I ran around front and got the truck to meet you out front. Our tails will think I’m a two-timing bastard, but they’ll be none the wiser about us knowing they’re tailing us.”

  “What about the woman?” Lissa demanded.

  “I’ve known Margie for years. I told her it was a bet and thanked her for helping me win.”

  Lissa snorted. She would bet the woman would have let Max kiss her without the existence of a supposed wager. Men didn’t come much better looking than him.

  “Now what?” she asked him as he drove with purpose toward some destination.

  “Now we pick you out new kitchen cabinets, appliances and fixtures. And we see how fast they can be delivered to your apartment.”

  Her adrenaline still pumping hard, she had trouble concentrating as he led her into a contractor supply store. Finally Max suggested a vintage-look cabinet style in an antiqued wash. A big farmhouse sink, black quartz countertops and a subway tile backsplash completed an updated retro look that was going to make the apartment look better than it had when it was new.

  When Max dragged her over to look at flooring, though, her brain refused to function. “Whatever you think best,” she mumbled as she stared at a dizzying array of hardwoods, tiles and carpets.

  Max quickly pointed out a scraped cypress flooring that managed to look both modern and vintage. She nodded numbly.

  “Are you okay, Lissa?” he asked quietly as a salesman rang up their order.

  That deck of cards had made a bigger impression on her than she’d realized. It still held her in the throes of its magic, its dire predictions swirling in her mind. A lover. A trickster. A villain. And a hero. Which one was Max?

  “I beg your pardon?” Max asked beside her.

  She blinked up at him. Had she asked her question out loud? “Umm, the tarot deck spoke of four men coming into my life. I was wondering which one you are.”

  “What are my choices?” he asked drolly.

  She answered seriously. “The prince of each suit turned up last week, and today they revealed themselves again. They represent the lover, the trickster, the villain and the hero.”

  Max stared at her, his expression troubled. “What if I’m all
four of them?”

  She stared back at him. Was that why the cards had insisted on being stacked, one on top of another? Bemused, she followed him out of the store.

  Max took her to a few more wholesale places—antique dealers and local artisans mostly—introduced her to the owners and helped her set up accounts. Along the way, she picked up a selection of magic wands, various crystals and cheap jewelry, and she found a decent homemade candle supplier. All in all, it was a great purchasing trip. But she couldn’t get Max’s comment out of her mind. What if he was all four of the cards?

  She could readily see how he was the lover and the hero. And maybe the trickster referred to his using an assumed name. But how was he the villain? Was he destined to double-cross her in some way?

  CHAPTER 10

  Max sat on the sofa at Lissa’s insistence to relax and have a drink while she made dinner. The moment of domestic bliss was almost too much for him to stand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this stress free. He’d had no idea how heavy a burden he’d been carrying around until he finally set it down. And he had Lissa to thank for it. The woman was good for his soul on so many levels.

  Not only was she attractive as hell but she was smart. Kind. Compassionate. She saw him more clearly than anyone he’d ever known with the possible exception of his father. Hell, she made him see himself more clearly.

  God knew, the timing of finding her in the middle of executing his personal vendetta wasn’t ideal. But he was just glad she had come into his life. She brought light he hadn’t even known he’d needed into the darkness of his heart.

  He kicked off his shoes and took pleasure in watching her fuss over the hot plate, seasoning a pot of clam chowder she claimed would make him forget jambalaya altogether. If he were the superstitious type, he’d say she looked like a witch stirring her cauldron.

  There was no way around it: her psychic abilities were disturbing. She was so bloody accurate. It would be an easy baby step to cross the boundaries of logic and believe in all her mumbo jumbo.

  If only she would try to convince him she was legitimate. Then he would have something to push back against. But she stubbornly insisted on letting him form his own opinions. And his observations kept telling him she was the real deal. Which was, of course, insane.

  His phone rang, and he fished it out of his back pocket. It was Bastien. “Hey, buddy. What can I do for you?”

  “What do you know about Callista Clearmont?” the cop replied grimly.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Her body was stolen from the Tulane anatomy lab. Who the hell was she that someone would steal her corpse?”

  He sat bolt upright. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish, bro. She’s gone.”

  Max’s mind raced with possibilities. “Did they do what they said they were planning to, at least?” Aware of the surveillance, he avoided asking outright if the autopsy had been completed before the woman’s body had been stolen.

  “Nope. They hadn’t started the autopsy yet. She was on ice. Literally.”

  He winced. This was going to upset Lissa something fierce. Not to mention, it wasn’t something he cared to talk about on camera. “Huh. That’s bizarre. I don’t know anything I haven’t already told you.”

  “Do me a favor, Max. Find out what your girlfriend knows about her dear, departed aunt and what the hell the woman was up to before she died.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. And thanks for the call.”

  He hung up only to see Lissa standing over her chowder pot and wielding a wooden spoon like a magic wand. “Spill,” she demanded.

  He reviewed quickly what he’d said aloud and formulated a lie to fit. “That was a client. He thought he’d found a piece he wanted, but it got sold out from under him. He wants me to contact the new owner and see if the guy’s willing to sell or not.”

  “People do that? They buy stuff and then turn around and sell it?”

  He grinned. “Anything can be had if the price is right, darlin’.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d like to think that at least a few things in this world are not for sale. Like friendship and loyalty and—”

  She’d been about to say love before she stopped speaking so abruptly. He knew it. The word was hanging right there in the air between them, practically visible to the naked eye—

  He broke off that train of thought sharply, swearing under his breath. Apparently, all Lissa’s woo-woo stuff was rubbing off on him now.

  Lissa went back to stirring and seasoning, and he let a couple of minutes pass before he obliquely broached the subject Bass had asked him to. “So, tell me more about your shop. How long has this building been around?”

  “Well, Callista took it over in the early 1970s, but it had been around for a long time before that, apparently. The building was originally a bank. Sometime shortly after the Great Depression it failed. I think the place has been some sort of store ever since.”

  Aha. That explained the vaultlike basement. It probably was originally a vault. Which meant steel walls. Which meant electronic signals wouldn’t be able to get in or out. Which meant he and Lissa could talk down there in safety. Perfect.

  But first it was time to turn the conversation to innocent topics. “So, chère, you got any big plans for Mardi Gras?”

  She looked up at him eagerly, her eyes shining. “This will be my first one. I’m so excited to see all the parades and pageants. I understand it’s quite a spectacle.”

  He laughed. “The way people act is the real spectacle. There will, indeed, be topless women running around in the streets and drunk guys throwing plastic necklaces at them. It’s some party.”

  “You sound less than thrilled at the prospect.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not really my speed. When I was sixteen, I enjoyed the education in the variations of the female form.”

  Lissa laughed gaily. “Is that fancy talk for ‘I like boobs’?”

  He grinned reluctantly. “Well, yeah.”

  “Duly noted. Why don’t you bring your lecherous self on over to the table and let me show you what real chowder’s supposed to taste like.”

  “You do realize I’m going to have to cook my world-famous jambalaya for you now, right?”

  “Done.”

  He moved over to the card table, which had been made imminently romantic by the addition of a linen tablecloth and drippy candles. He pulled out Lissa’s chair and held it for her before moving around to his seat. “It smells delicious.”

  He sipped a cautious spoonful. “And it tastes even better.” He dug in with enthusiasm, and the conversation lagged as he savored the creamy chowder. The crusty sourdough bread she’d paired with the stew was perfect, and the bitter greens in the salad completed a perfect meal.

  Lissa looked at the empty plates regretfully a little while later. “All that’s missing is a really full-bodied red wine to finish off the meal.”

  “Ha. I may know just the thing. Stay here.” He jumped up and headed down the stairs and into the dark basement. Carefully, he lifted one of the dusty wine bottles out of the crate he’d found the first time he was down there. He blew off the dust and sneezed as he read the label. Oh, yes. This will do nicely.

  He carried the bottle back upstairs and deposited it in front of Lissa. “Is that the stuff from the basement? I’d forgotten it was there,” she said.

  “Shall we see if it’s any good?” he asked.

  “Sure. But I don’t have a corkscrew.”

  “You say that like a proper gentleman wouldn’t have one on him at all times,” he quipped.

  “You open the bottle and I’ll get some wineglasses. I think they’re still packed in this box over here.”

  She rummaged through cardboard and wrapping paper while he carefully re
moved the cork from the bottle. It came out cleanly, and he sniffed it appreciatively. They decanted the wine, let it breathe a bit and then he raised his glass in a toast.

  “To luck, love and happy endings.”

  “Hear, hear,” Lissa replied stoutly.

  He sipped the wine and sighed in pleasure. Give Callista credit for great taste in wine. “Do you have any idea where your aunt got this stuff from? It’s hard to come by in the States.”

  “No idea. But I imagine she had a fairly eclectic clientele. I remember her saying once when I was a little girl that some of her customers paid her in gifts instead of cash.”

  “Did you visit here often as a child?”

  “Not really. My mother hated New Orleans. I didn’t get to come down here at all until I could fly on a plane by myself.”

  “Why did your mother hate this city?”

  “She grew up here. I suppose everyone’s childhoods have memories we’d rather forget.”

  “How old was she when she left?” he asked.

  Lissa frowned. “I don’t actually know. That’s a good question. I’ll have to ask her the next time I talk with her.”

  “Tell me more about Callista. Is she your mother’s sister, then?”

  “Yes. Callista was the oldest of seven kids and my mother is the youngest.”

  “So there was quite an age difference.”

  “Yes. Close to twenty years. Callista was the odd duck in the family. She always claimed to hear voices and see things, but it got worse as she got older. She creeped everyone out around her. Most of the family thought she lost what few marbles she had when she did too many drugs in the sixties.”

  “And you? What did you think of her abilities?” He sent her a warning glance, reminding her of the cameras listening and watching. This was a perfect moment to debunk the idea of her having special powers.

  Lissa laughed. “Well, it’s not like any of that stuff is real, now is it?”

  Perfect. He smiled approvingly at her.

  “Did your aunt ever marry? I gathered she didn’t have any kids, since she left her shop to you.”