by Nancy Gideon
“It was part of an investigation, Max. I didn’t want to bring you into it.”
“Because you thought I was already a part of it?”
“No, because I didn’t want you to complicate it. What was your deal with Manny?”
“He wanted to use my ships to move his cargo up the Mississippi.”
“And you agreed to that?”
“I said I would.”
Cee Cee looked quickly at the two other detectives, realizing what he’d just admitted and to whom.
“Don’t look so distressed, cher. I wasn’t going to go through with it. We made a gentlemen’s agreement and as you well know, Carmen is no gentleman. He just couldn’t help trying to skew the deal in his favor. Then, of course, I became righteously indignant and walked away. MacCreedy can verify that for you. Jimmy was a shrewd businessman; he’d never work with Carmen. Why would you think I’d be that foolish?”
“I didn’t think that at all,” she replied indignantly. “What I’m wondering is why Francis Petitjohn thinks it’s safe to make a move on you in a bid for LEI?”
“I don’t know. Guess I’ll have to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and made a call. “Francis, we need to set up a time to talk tomorrow. What do you have available? This and that. Four works for me. My office. Oh, and, Francis, I heard there was some commotion down on the docks last night. Do you know what that was about? I see. It’s taken care of? Good. Four o’clock then.” He put the phone away. “Rumor is, some of the dockworkers were making money on the side with the black market and the deal went sour. They were killed by a trio pretending to be undercover cops. Sound familiar?”
“Sounds like a cover-up,” Silas murmured. “We need to find out what’s in that hold.”
“I’ll put LaRoche on it. If Francis is scheming, using the Clan is better than depending on business connections.”
“Max, be careful.” Cee Cee covered his hand with hers. “T-John is treacherous, but he’s a coward. He wouldn’t go to Manny unless he felt safe to do so. So watch your back.”
He brought her knuckles to his lips. “That’s what I have you for.”
MacCreedy strolled along the veranda under the pretext of having a cigarette. He rarely smoked but it provided a good excuse to use his tiny camera. The sudden loop of Nica’s arm through his almost made him jump out of his shoes.
“Hi,” she purred, nudging in close. “What did I miss?”
“When?”
“When talk turned to business the second I left the room.”
“Just cop business. Nothing that would interest you.”
“Anything that interests you, interests me. Like that motion detector over there. Did you catch that one?”
Silas followed her nod with a polite gaze and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Planning to come calling without an invitation?”
“That would be just plain rude, wouldn’t it?”
“And suicidal. There’s no way you could take Savoie. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’ve got nothing against Savoie.”
She chuckled. “Liar. You hide it well, but I know you rather intimately. I could help you, you know.”
“Help me what?”
“Keep from getting killed.”
“Why would you do that? Because you like me? Because you like having sex with me? I think your allegiance goes for a little higher than that.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, lover. I’m bored. I need something to do. What can I do to help you?”
“Quit trying to create intrigue where there is none.”
“Why do you want the boy?”
His hand was around her throat, shoving her hard against the shutters. Recovering from her surprise, she laughed at his ferociousness.
“Oooh, now I’m excited. I love it when you get all riled.”
“Stay out of my affairs, Nica,” came his warning growl.
“I thought I was one of your affairs.”
He released her and strode off at a furious pace. Chuckling, she caught up to him, hugging his arm again.
“Stop being so grumpy,” she chided. “We could be so good together.”
“We’re not together. Do you think I trust you, any more than I do him?”
“You’re going to have to pick a side, MacCreedy.”
“I pick my own side.”
“Then you’ll lose.” She stepped in front of him, placing her palms on his chest. Her features were grim, her tone flat. “He’ll kill you. He will rip out your heart, and then he’ll eat it.”
“Then I hope he chokes on it.”
“What is so damn important that you’re willing to throw your life away?”
He simply set her aside and continued his walk.
Let him go, she told herself. Let him rush headlong to his own doom. Any attempt on Savoie would be a perfect distraction, drawing attention from her and her job. But as she studied his arrogant, determined posture, something in her snapped.
She hurried to catch up to him again.
“You don’t have the cards for this game, MacCreedy. Fold while you can.”
“I can’t. It’s too late.”
“Silas, don’t be a fool.”
He stopped and turned to her, his expression fierce, stare intent. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
“Because I hate waste. And your dying for a lost cause would be a terrible one. Don’t be a hero.”
“Can’t help it. It’s the only hand I have to play, Nica. I have to see it through.”
She touched his face, letting her fingertips glide over his cheek and her thumb graze his lips. “I’m not happy about this.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.”
They stood for a moment, eyes locked. Then she dropped her hand and stepped back with a bittersweet smile, letting him walk away.
The storm rolled in with window-rattling intensity just after nine o’clock. Lightning strobed and sizzled, with booms of thunder on its heels as the air grew thick and tense.
By ten, the power was out.
The backup generator came on, but since they had no idea how long they’d be without electricity, only the necessities were kept running: the refrigerator, emergency lighting, the water, and the security system.
Without ceiling fans, the house grew oppressively hot and sticky. Tina announced she was going to run a cool bath for her son, then take one herself. Her husband had no comment from where he stood at one of the windows, staring out into the darkness.
Max had gone outside with Giles to check the perimeter of the house for storm damage. A huge limb had come down, crushing one of the porch roofs at the back of the house, breaking out the windows in one of the pantries. MacCreedy coaxed Babineau into helping to move the dry goods to a safer location.
As they left the parlor, Cee Cee glanced at Nica, who was seated on the sofa beside her. “So?”
“What?”
“MacCreedy.”
“What about him?”
Cee Cee made a fanning motion with her hand as if overheated.
Nica poked her index finger through a circle formed by her other hand, using the crude visual to trivialize what she had with the Shifter detective. “Isn’t this the question you’re asking?”
“So?” Cee Cee repeated.
“Yes, he’s hot and yes, I’ve slept with him.”
“Past tense?”
“I hope not.” Uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “You and Savoie serious?”
“As a heart attack. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other. How about you two?”
Nica gave a brittle smile. “Just having fun. He’s got other plans.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “You know me. Enjoy the ride. Roll with the punches.”
“No, I really don’t know you anymore.”
“I’m no different. No strings, no ties. But you—swaggering law-and-order tough girl keeping house wit
h a mobster shape-shifter? Who would have seen that coming?”
“Not me. A lot has changed, in ways I never could have imagined.” She pulled the neckline of her knit dress to the side.
Nica’s jaw dropped as she stared at the marks. “Holy shit! You are bonded to him.” She leaned forward to whisper, “What’s it like?”
“You’ve never mated with one of your males?”
Nica shook her head. “I was never that into any of them.”
Liar. From the first time he’d taken her on the floor of her apartment, Nica had fantasized about Silas MacCreedy crouching over her in his beast form. Of him claiming her in that animal state until she lost all control. Imagining it now brought a flush to her face and a restless heat to other areas.
“Are you religious?” Charlotte asked suddenly.
Nica shrugged, grateful for a change in topic. “Father Furness tried, but it didn’t really take. You?”
“It sneaks up on me at inconvenient moments.”
When she brooded for a moment in silence, Nica prompted, “What’s going on, Lottie?”
“I told you about the men who kidnapped me and Mary Kate, how we were abused before Max rescued us. It changed us, Nica. I followed in my father’s footsteps with a vengeance, determined to single-handedly become a scourge against crime, and Mary Kate turned to God. She became a nun, Sister Catherine.”
“Mary Kate?” Nica couldn’t imagine the energetic, free-spirited girl she’d known as a Bride of Christ. Then she understood. “Ah. What better way to avoid dating and marriage, if you’re terrified of men.”
“She wasn’t exactly hiding. She found a way to strike back at those who victimized the women and children who came to St. Bart’s for shelter. She used Max to avenge them.”
“And you knew about this?”
“No. I hadn’t a clue until after he and I got involved. When Jimmy found out, he threatened Mary Kate but she wouldn’t back down. And when the son of a bitch sent someone to teach her a lesson, she shot herself rather than go through that horror again.
“Max had her sent to a rehabilitation facility in California. That’s where we’ve been for the past couple of weeks. Mary Kate wanted to see me. She made them stop her pain meds long enough for her to tell me to let her go, to let her die. There’s no chance for recovery, Nica. The doctors all told me she can’t be conscious without incredible pain.”
She gripped the hand Nica pressed over hers. “I can’t let her go. Not like this. Even if you and I have flexible beliefs, she doesn’t. If she dies, she’ll be a suicide and she’ll spend eternity in hell. That’s what she believes. That’s what she’s asking me to condemn her to. I can’t do it, Nica. I won’t.”
“I wish there was some way I could help.”
Charlotte’s gaze drilled into hers. “I think there might be.”
Nica listened in shock and disbelief as her friend laid out her plan.
With the bond Charlotte and Max shared came other abilities that were unheard of amongst Shifter kind. They could communicate telepathically along a link so powerful, Max had actually been able to call her back from death. Cee Cee was able to heal herself, not as quickly but as completely as he himself could, repairing wounds both new and old. What if those strange and wonderful properties could be used to help heal Mary Kate’s burned and shattered body?
Nica shook her head in confusion, not sure why that involved her.
“It has something to do with a secret you and Max’s mother share. She could shape-change and, according to Max, so can you,” Cee Cee said.
Nica recoiled.
“What makes the two of you so different from the other females of your kind?” Cee Cee asked. “Do you see things? Can you read minds? What do you know about your family, Nica? What do you remember?”
“Nothing,” she whispered hoarsely. Then she sprang off the sofa, crying, “I don’t remember anything,” before she sprinted from the room, running from shadows and flames.
Nica paced as if caged.
The bedroom was stifling. She’d stripped down to a gauzy camisole and fluttery boy-cut panties, but sweat continued to bead on her skin, plastering strands of hair to her forehead and neck. She couldn’t seem to draw a breath that didn’t need to be wrung out first.
She hadn’t thought about her past for years, nor did she dwell on the future. She preferred to exist in the now, rather than be influenced by things she couldn’t change or control. She’d tunneled her focus into the immediate, keeping it narrow and crystal clear. When it expanded to the big picture, that’s when things got confusing. That’s when she began to question and doubt, and there was no place in her existence for those things. They’d kill her quicker than a dagger.
Things like what it would be like to have a life like Charlotte Caissie’s, to be mated to Silas MacCreedy, to remain in New Orleans and make it her home, where she could have friends, get involved in their lives and have them involved hers . . .
It was the heat and this damned waiting. She needed to move, to act, to do something. Anything.
She saw a shadow pass by her French doors, and all her senses began to quiver.
Walking out onto the balcony was like stepping into a damp towel.
Hearing her step, MacCreedy turned, taking in her flushed features and scanty attire. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” She gestured to his glass. “What do you have there?”
“Ice water. I was trying to decide whether I should pour it over my head or down the front of my shorts.” His gaze followed a trickle of perspiration as it trailed from collarbone to the valley between her breasts. “Definitely shorts.”
“Would you share, first?”
“Sure.”
He came toward her, his movements leisurely and sexy. He was wearing jeans and a white A-style undershirt that was glazed to his chest. His feet were bare and his eyes were smoky. Nica had been hot before; now she was on fire.
She took the glass from him, pressing it to her cheeks, then holding it against her chest with a sigh of pleasure. “That feels good.”
Silas watched as she fished out an ice cube and popped it into her mouth, crunching it while closing her eyes and leaning elbows back on the rail. Her soft, throaty moan of contentment tightened everything from his molars to his balls.
“Better?”
“Almost as good as air-conditioning.” Her eyes opened, as dark and depthless as the clearing night sky. She speared another cube between her fingers and glided it around her neck from ear to ear, from shoulder to shoulder, then down to the edge of her camisole.
“Heaven,” she murmured. “Want some?” She touched the dripping cube to the skin just below his ear. The effect was jolting.
Then she pushed the cube into his mouth, and rubbed her cool fingers across his lips as he crunched on the ice.
“I was thinking,” she began, dipping out another cube. “Since you’re going to be dead soon and future plans will be a moot point, it would be a shame to waste what might be our last chance to have sex.”
“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”
“So, what would you say to a proper send-off to Shifter Valhalla?”
His smile spread slowly. “It wouldn’t take much to send me off right here, right now.”
She glanced down at the hard ridge behind his zipper, then hooked her index finger into the waistband of his jeans and underwear to drop the ice cube down inside. “Chill out, lover. The night’s still young.”
He did some frantic adjusting, then shook his right leg until the remaining chip of ice fell onto the balcony floor. He grinned. “What do you have in mind?”
Tugging him toward her open doors, she said, “Let me cool you down before things get heated up again.”
Eleven
With MacCreedy stretched out on her bed, the heat became an inspiration.
Nica crouched beside him and ran her damp fingertips down the side of his face. “Close your eyes.”
She lightly massaged
his temples until the tension ebbed from his shoulders. Then she took a chip of ice and ran it over his closed lids, down his neck, lingering at his pulse points before putting it in her mouth.
She leaned over him, breathing a chilled exhalation against his lips, tracing their shape with her cold tongue. When he tried to kiss her she pulled away until he settled back with an understanding smile, placing himself completely in her hands.
And oh, what she wanted to do to him.
She licked the inviting curve of his mouth as she pushed up his undershirt, so she could run a cube around his nipples until they were temptingly tight. Then she shifted her mouth there, tugging with her lips, grazing with her teeth until his breaths were shaky and uneven.
“Is this your idea of foreplay or torture?” he whispered gruffly.
“You inspire me, lover. Before you, my idea of foreplay was turning out the light.”
As he chuckled she ran the ice down to his navel, circling there until he shivered.
“I want to get into your pants, MacCreedy.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
After his clothes hit the floor she ran the ice up the arch of his foot, making him jump. Then her mouth eased down his chest as the ice moved up the inside of his leg, both heading for the same destination.
Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Silas shuddered from the contrast.
Her mouth burned along his rigid shaft as the frigid shock below had his balls looking for a place to hide. The conflict of desperate desire and anxious denial scattered his self-control, and when she reversed directions the opposite polarity shorted out his circuits.
He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders to stop the exquisite torment, but she twisted away with a growl, gripping his wrists and pressing them hard into the mattress as she sat astride him. And then she began to move.
The narrow crotch of her panties was invitingly wet, taunting him, beckoning him as she slid up and down the length of him. His eyes rolled shut and his body trembled as need surged in a seething tide.
He tried to take control of the situation or at least participate, but he couldn’t break free. Her hands were like shackles about his wrists, binding him, restricting his movements, his freedom.