by R. M. Sotera
She scooted up. “Can’t, candy man. I told Mia I’d be available if she needed me, so I need to make sure that call isn’t from her.”
By the time the phone rang a third time, Cindi answered.
When it came to Mia, Cindi’s best friend, she’d stop heaven and earth to protect her. She’d shown that to the entire Stiletto House when Jordan, the second-in-command of the house, had set his sights on Mia, and continued to show them even after their wedding, Mia, Paige, and Cindi’s kidnapping, and then the breakup and makeup. Yeah, Tristan never had the type of friendship with any dude that Cindi had with Mia, and he knew he couldn’t stop her from answering the phone if there was a possibility of Mia’s voice on the other end.
Cindi, in all her beautiful nakedness, stood perfectly still listening with severe intensity to the caller on the other end of the phone.
Her beautiful, pale shoulders squared as the conversation on the other end of the line progressed. Although she wasn’t saying much, Tristan could assume from her body language that a situation was the culprit.
“What the fuck!” Cindi yelled the words. Anger slid across her facial landscape. “You sent her to Victoria? Right? Yes, you’re right. She’ll be safe there. Tristan and I will be in Florida as soon as we can. We’re leaving now.” She hung up the phone.
“That was Jordan. I can’t believe this shit! There’s a copycat killer on the loose.” She sucked in a breath as her complexion went from golden tan to blotched shades of red. “He’s targeting Mia.” She shook her head. “Here we go again, another of Jordan’s enemies targeting my best friend. We’re going to Florida.”
As soon as the word Mia left her lips, Tristan was at her side.
And then he was running after her as she struck the room like a whirlwind, packing everything back into her suitcases.
“Calm down, baby.” He slid his hands around her waist and tried to pull her against him even with her body restraint. From the conversation he’d overhead, he knew Mia was headed to New Orleans. It was common knowledge within their group that Mia and Jordan had been enjoying an extended vacation and opted not to attend the Vegas coven party. “Let me call Jordan back.”
“No.” Cindi stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Jordan is waiting for us in Florida. He said he’s on his way to the Cassadaga Police Station. We don’t want to detain him from getting information. Time is of major importance.”
Obviously Tristan’s inner confusion at her mention of the cops showed on his face, because Cindi added, “The copycat killer started sending letters to Mia the day she and Jordan left for their extended trip, but they didn’t receive the letters until last week because even with the mail forwarded they’d been all over Europe, so the mail hadn’t reached them until yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“Tristan, the first letter was postmarked the day after they’d left for that trip. It’s been a few months.” She grabbed a Slipknot T-shirt and black jeans from her suitcase, and started quickly dressing. She missed the pant leg each time she attempted to stick her foot into the material. “Shit!”
Tristan buttoned his jeans and dropped to his knees in front of her. “Here, baby, let me help.”
He held the jeans steady as she stepped into them. “Call a cab,” she insisted.
“We don’t need a cab. I have a rental car,” he added.
“Good. Then grab your shoes, keys, and let’s burn rubber.” Cindi was already out the door with her last word. Tristan grabbed what he needed and followed. She was already in the car by the time he’d reached her.
The drive to the airport was harrowing. Tristan made the mistake of letting Cindi drive, not a mistake he’d make again. The way she’d weaved in and out of traffic he’d surely aged ten years. Hell, she’d probably like that, then he’d be closer to her age and perhaps they could finally move past the age block. When they’d finally pulled into McCarran International Airport, he was relieved. They hadn’t died, received a ticket, or totaled the rental car.
So far so good.
By the time they were snug in their seats in the 747, Tristan let out a much-needed, long sigh.
“Baby, we will be there soon. Try to relax.” He unscrewed the lid of the Pepsi bottle he’d pulled from his backpack and then stowed the pack under the seat.
Cindi turned tired and concerned eyes on him. “I’ll try. It’s just, if anything happens to Mia, I’ll never forgive myself for advising her that it was okay to marry Jordan.”
These words halted Tristan. What was she saying? Stop Mia from marrying Jordan?
“You don’t mean that. You’re just worried, baby.”
“I do mean it. I knew what type of man Jordan was before she’d agreed to marry him. But I thought he’d changed. Perhaps people can’t really change at all.”
Yes, people could change. He’d known Jordan a lot longer than Cindi or Mia, and he’d seen the evolution of change that attacked Jordan when he’d met Mia. Hell, Tristan knew the change he’d personally gone through when Cindi stepped into his world.
He needed to set his woman straight. “Baby, you’re being unfair. Give Jordan a break. His checkered past isn’t going to disappear overnight. You know as well as I do how much he loves Mia. Don’t give up on him.” He stopped talking and just studied her. By the softening of her expression he knew she was thinking seriously about his words. “Don’t give up on the power of love. You know, when a man loves a woman the way Jordan loves Mia, nobody or nothing can sever the bond.”
“I want to believe you, Tristan. I really do. I pray you’re right.”
“I am, baby. Now try to catch a few winks before we land at JFK.”
Hours later the plane had landed at its final destination the Orlando International Airport. It was actually good time, figuring in the layover at JFK. Cindi and Tristan hadn’t wasted any time gathering the luggage or hailing a cab. They’d made it to Stiletto House at the same time Jamison and Jordan showed up. Cindi had just hung up the phone with Mia when Tristan, Jordan, and Jamison came into the living room.
“Victoria picked Mia up at the airport, and they’re on the way to her place.” Relief laced Cindi’s voice.
Jamison placed a hand on her back. “No one will mess with Mia. Victoria won’t allow it.” He hesitated briefly and shot a glance at Jordan. “I won’t allow it.”
Those four words silenced the room. Tristan waited for the bickering between Jamison and Jordan to start. With the history between Jordan and Jamison, the look Jordan shot at Jamison was understandable.
Two men in love with the same woman.
Being the upstanding dude that Jamison was, he stepped aside and didn’t pursue Mia when he knew Jordan loved her, too. They’ve remained friends even after Jordan broke Mia’s heart. At the time Mia took him back, Tristan thought she was a moron, but now, with the way he felt about Cindi, it was understandable.
The dead silence from Jamison’s remark lingered in the room until Jordan finally broke through the quiet. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Jamison. Do what it takes to protect my wife.” Jordan raked his fingers through his hair. “You mean a lot to her.”
Dang if that didn’t take Jordan some big cojones to admit. Sometimes it was hard for Tristan to believe that even after Jamison tried to win Mia’s heart away from Jordan during their brief breakup, that they’d still remained the best of friends.
Jamison would take a bullet for Jordan and vice versa.
Tristan piped in, “She means a lot to all of us, Jordan. We’ll do what it takes to keep her safe.” Of course he had to get his sentiments in and he was glad he did when he saw the loving way Cindi glanced at him. Cindi made him want to be a better man. He may be young, as Cindi reminded him of every moment she could, but he was determined to win her love forever.
He just needed to persuade her that she deserved a forever kind of love.
Just like Mia and Jordan shared.
And possibly Victoria and Jamison. The jury was still out on that o
ne.
Jordan acknowledged his response with a nod and took a seat in one of the red chairs near the fireplace. Tristan placed a hand on the small of Cindi’s back. He waited for her to pull away from him, a defense mechanism she used when her nerves spiked or he showed any type of concern for her well-being in public, but she didn’t pull away this time. Instead she laced her arm around him and placed her head against his chest.
And practically stopped his beating heart.
PDA in public?
A warm rush of emotion plummeted through his veins as he reached down and kissed the top of her head. And she didn’t slap him. Things were looking really good for the two of them right about now. Why not push his luck a little further? A big squeeze came next.
Once again she didn’t pull away from him, snuggling closer against him.
This woman was burrowing deep into his heart and soul.
Jamison sucked down a shot of Jack Daniel’s and poured a second. “Chief Jasperillo is on his way over here to see if we have any useful information.”
“You mean he’s coming over to see if I have any more men that want me dead.” The sharpness in Jordan’s words silenced the room. Tristan could honestly admit that he felt sorry for his mentor right now. Yeah, Jordan had the type of relationships with women that all men dreamt about but few enjoyed. But it must really suck to know that so many people may want you dead.
Cindi let out a sigh. “Jordan, he isn’t coming over here to personally accuse you of anything.”
“Sure he is. You know as well as I do that another irate spouse or boyfriend is coming after me because I’d fucked their girlfriend or wife at some point in my life.” Jordan’s six foot frame had already moved from the chair to the minibar. A shot of whiskey later and Jordan added, “I will kill anyone who tries to hurt a hair on my wife’s head. I won’t stop myself this time.”
Memories of the kidnapping flashed through Tristan’s mind. He swallowed hard against the stark reality that Jordan definitely wasn’t talking smack. Ennisbrooke left Mia in bad shape when the police found her, and yes, she did almost die. She flatlined and came back. And that moment in time changed Jordan forever.
He really wasn’t the same man that he was before the kidnapping. God forgive the man who looked at Mia in the wrong way. If Jordan could hold Mia up in a room for the rest of her life, and not have to deal with the backlash from her best friend and the rest of the Stiletto Sanction, he probably would lock her behind closed doors.
Frustrated, Jamison sighed. “No one is going to kill anyone. Victoria will protect Mia until this situation is dealt with. Stop talking bullshit, Jordan. For once control your fly-off-the-handle mentality.”
Those were fighting words, so Tristan wasn’t surprised when Cindi let go of him and crossed the room. She put her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried about her. But please, don’t do anything stupid. You know that it would devastate Mia if you went to jail or…died. And I am not putting up with her baking and singing and all that stuff she does when you’re away. Trust me, if that happens, I’ll personally stab you.”
Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle. It was true when Jordan and Jamison had traveled for speaking engagements, Mia drove Cindi crazy with her planned fun nights. Tristan chuckled when he thought of the many strange dishes he’d tried in the name of Cindi and Mia’s friendship.
Cindi had always made sure to invite Tristan over for those “oh so special” nights.
Jamison poured another shot of Jack and then downed it. “Victoria has a coven of voodoo priestesses camped out at her place. And you know as well as I do how frightening their magic is. So quit worrying and let’s see if we can help our old friend Jasperillo find Mia’s stalker.”
Victoria and her connection to the voodoo goddess of New Orleans, Marie Levoux, was a story in itself, a direct descendent of one of the scariest women in history. Tristan silently chuckled. Damn Jamison went to extremes when it came to women. First the virginal Catholic girl, Mia, and then the voodoo priestess, Victoria.
Tristan was just about to agree with Jamison when the doorbell rang.
Jamison escorted a tired-looking Chief Jasperillo into the living room. “Would you like a drink?”
Jasperillo nodded, and took a seat on the sofa. “Yeah, I could use one. This has been one hell of a day.” He removed his blue cop hat and placed it next to him. “Is Mrs. De’L Croix in New Orleans?”
Jordan downed the shot he’d poured, and then took a seat next to the chief. “Yes. She’s with Victoria. Safe in voodoo haven.” He smirked an obvious reaction to his feelings at the moment.
The chief arched a surveying brow. “You’re not a believer?”
“Didn’t say that. Hell, at this point I’ll believe in anything if it will keep my wife safe. Am I a believer, well yeah, I believe in all kinds of stuff, but right now, I just want to believe that you are going to catch this lunatic before the woman I love is hurt yet again.” His cynical tone lingered. “So, what do you have for us, Chief?”
Back to his businesslike manner, the chief pulled a bundle of letters from the inside of his uniform jacket and handed them to Jordan. “These were confiscated from the post office. A concerned employee phoned us because of the verbiage written on the outside of the letters.”
Jordan fanned the letters on the coffee table in front of them.
Holy shit. There had to be two hundred letters. And the death threats he could read from a distance written on the envelopes was enough to make a grown man squirm. Tristan shot a concerned glance at Cindi. Her expression remained stoic as the police chief continued.
“As you can see, the sender tried sending these to the address in Florida, and then the address in Vegas. Of course the red flag in all of this is that the sender started scribbling profanities and death threats on the letters over the area stamped Return to sender.”
Tristan moved closer for a better look, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. What a sick fuck.
The creative ways that the sender wanted to maim Mia were written all over the envelopes, graphic details that made Tristan cringe. Images that he’d just as soon not imagine whirled in his head.
Cindi swooped down like a hawk and took a seat beside Jasperillo. “Let me see those.” Before the chief could open his mouth in acceptance or protest, Cindi had one of the envelopes in her hand. “What the fuck.” All of the blood drained from her face. “This is so fucked up.”
She shot a frustrated and then angry glance at Jordan.
“Don’t.” His hand shot up in front of him, a sign for her to stay at bay. “Don’t say something you’re going to regret. I damned well am aware what my previous life is doing to my present life. You should know by now that I won’t let anyone or anything hurt Mia,” Jordan promised, the words mingled with anger and love, a deadly combination when it came to Jordan.
Obviously embarrassed by her outburst, Cindi lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love her. I know you won’t let anything happen to her. I’m–I’m just angry.”
“Chief, may I open an envelope and look at one of the letters?” Cindi waited patiently. Honestly, Tristan was surprised she didn’t just tear open the envelope and deal with the consequences later. That was more of her style. And he loved that about her. Her spunk and tenacity was what wrapped her so tightly around his heart. The way she loved those close to her, like her love for Mia, was one of the many qualities Tristan admired in her.
“No problem. Our department has been through the letters more times than we’d like to count. Perhaps fresh eyes will see something we don’t.” Jasperillo handed her one of the envelopes.
Carefully Cindi opened the evidence seal and removed the paper.
All eyes in the room stayed glued on her every move.
“Interesting.” She mumbled the words of the letter and then flipped the paper over to the other side. “Very flowery language.”
Jasperillo’s eyes lit with awareness.
“Yes, our department thought the same. The language is very…sappy.”
Cindi nodded. “Sappy yes, but very brutal. Very, very harsh.”
“There is something else,” the chief added. “The writer seems to know a lot about Mia and Jordan’s wedding. Right down to the style of lingerie that Mia wore under her wedding dress.”
“What?” Jordan, who’d left his seat beside Jasperillo earlier and had been standing at the far corner of the room, moved from his space in the opposite side of the room in a minute flat. “What does it say?”
Shock swept across Cindi’s face followed by apprehension. “Um…”
“What. Does. It. Say. Cindi?” Jordan’s tone held a hint of aggravation a sign that somebody better start talking soon.
Cindi sucked in a breath, the sound of the wind whizzing through her teeth not at all comforting.
Tristan slid into the open space next to her on the couch and cupped her hand that held the letter. “Here, baby, I can read it.”
Cindi didn’t say a word only nodded her head in agreement and released the paper.
“Jordan.” Tristan cleared his throat and glanced at Jordan. Stress lines were etched deeply in his face. Tristan continued, “Your wife will look so lovely buried in her wedding lingerie drenched in her blood. After I’ve bled her out, I will soak the clothes for a bit, and then dress her. She will resemble a beautiful Stargazer lily at her burial. A human replica—dead replica—of your wedding flower. Just remember when you’re inside me completely, body and soul—this angel of death—it’s magical.”
Tristan’s gaze met Cindi’s shocked one. Both of them looked at Jordan, who stood like a marble statue, the fear in his face palpable. “I need to get to New Orleans as soon as possible. I don’t want my wife out of my sight with this lunatic running free.”
“Jordan. Victoria will keep her safe,” Jamison promised.
“Just the same. I’m going to New Orleans.” With that declaration, he turned on his heel and left the room.
“I don’t blame him. I’d go, too, if it were you.” The words left Tristan’s mouth before he could stop them. Silence loomed heavy in the room. Perhaps he overstepped his bounds with Cindi. But damnit it was the truth. If the tables were turned, he would be catching a plane to New Orleans ASAP.