Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  CODE REDHEAD

  A SERIAL NOVEL

  Written by

  Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Chris Karlsen,

  Angela Ford, Tammy Tate, Tina Donahue,

  Carol Ann Kauffman, J.R. Wirth,

  N.D. Jones, Laura Strickland, Sibelle Stone,

  Kim Knight, Ella Medler

  Code Redhead – A Serial Novel

  A Books to Go Now Publication

  Copyright © Sharon Kleve-Jennifer Conner-Chris Karlsen-Angela Ford-Tammy Tate-Carol Ann Kauffman-J.R. Wirth-Sibelle Stone-N.D. Jones-Tina Donahue-Laura Strickland-Ella Medler-Kim Knight 2017

  Cover Design by Romance Novel Covers Now

  http://www.romancenovelcoversnow.com/

  For information on the cover illustration and design, contact bookstogonow@gmail.com

  First Paperback Edition –February 2017

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please stop by www.bookstogonow.com

  Thirteen of your favorite Best-Selling authors have come together to be part of a fundraising project called Code Redhead – A Serial Novel.

  Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Chris Karlsen, Angela Ford, Tammy Tate, Carol Ann Kauffman, J.R. Wirth, Sibelle Stone, N.D. Jones, Tina Donahue, Laura Strickland, Ella Medler, Kim Knight.

  Each writer has their own interpretation of the title ‘Code Redhead’. There’s a story to satisfy and entertain most every reader in Code Redhead. Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, Historical Romance, Mystery, Suspense/Thriller, Victorian Romance, Science Fiction Romance, Erotic Romance, Time Travel Romance, and Dystopian.

  Books To Go Now http://bookstogonow.com/ will donate the proceeds from the sale of the Novel to The Children’s Cancer Research Fund. http://www.childrenscancer.org/.

  When children are affected by cancer it is heart wrenching for them and their loved ones. You can make a difference in their young lives by purchasing a copy of the Code Redhead Project.

  Contents

  Redheads Have More Fun by Sharon Kleve

  Redhead Dead by Jennifer Conner

  Moonlight Serenade by Chris Karlsen

  Revealed by Angela Ford

  Reunited by Tammy Tate

  Red-HOT by Tina Donahue

  Red Sarah by Carol Ann Kauffman

  Day of the Dead by J.R. Wirth

  Rituals by N.D. Jones

  The Clue of the Red Tresses by Laura Strickland

  Starlight Kisses by Sibelle Stone

  One Night in London by Kim Knight

  The Freedom Gene by Ella Medler

  Redheads Have More Fun by Sharon Kleve

  Contemporary Romance

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

  and therefore is wing’d cupid painted blind

  By William Shakespeare

  CHAPTER ONE

  An hour before closing Who Do Voodoo, my voodoo shop on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, a man erupted into the shop like a cyclone. He swore up a storm about some idiotic poacher trying to trap his gators. He was speaking French Creole and unfortunately, I understood every curse word. I was restocking the ever popular crystal balls, and when he got to where I stood, he stopped swearing and thoroughly looked me over. The corners of his mouth turned up in a sexy, seductive smile.

  “You must be Ms. Ambrosine Dubreauil,” the man said with a slight Louisiana drawl. He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and rocked forward and then back on the balls of his feet. His teeth were white and straight, his face tan and littered with day old stubble. “You have your late grandmother’s amazing long, curly red hair and crystal blue eyes...” This time he drew the sentence out, really accentuating the drawl.

  Women had been falling for that lazy Louisiana charm for decades. I grew up around it and was somewhat immune now. When I didn’t melt into a puddle of lust around his ankles, he just smiled and continued to rock on his heels.

  The springy curls on my head had a mind of their own. Most days, I pulled the bulk of my hair up, twisted it, and then stuck wooden sticks, shaped like human bones, into the mass to hold it in place. As if my hair knew we were talking about it, a rogue curl sprung loose and flopped into my eye. He removed his hands from his pockets, reached out and tucked it back under a leg bone.

  “Thanks for trying, but my hair won’t stay that way for long.” As if to prove my point, one more curl popped free, and I slid it behind my ear. His chuckle was a warm rumble I felt to my toes, but like his drawl, I ignored it.

  “I’m Remy LaCroix. I’ve been coming to see your grandmother, Priestess Lorelei, ever since I moved back to New Orleans, four years ago. Your grandmother talked about you all the time and was real happy you were moving back home to be close to her at the end.”

  “Home.” I nodded to myself and looked around the shop. “Yes. I’m home. It’s been way too long and I wish I’d come sooner and spent more time with her.” I expected sadness but the rose scent that followed her everywhere washed over me and I felt her endless joy seep through me as if she was still here.

  “Ti cheri. Your grandmother cherished every moment she had with you.”

  He stepped forward, lifted my fingertips to his kissable, full-bodied lips and brushed my skin slowly back and forth. Still holding my hand, his chest lifted and then he exhaled, his breath tickled across my cheek with the lingering scent of sugar and chicory, as he lowered my hand.

  Iʼd bet the half-eaten apple I had for lunch, he just ate a beignet—fresh fried dough served with a healthy dusting of confectioners’ sugar—and coffee with lots of sugar and cream. He was intoxicating—for a brief moment I couldn’t look way from his dazzling silver eyes and jet black hair tied back with a thin leather strap.

  The bell above the door jingled and we stepped apart. “You mentioned poachers and gators when you arrived. Can I help you with something?” I asked.

  “Sorry about the foul language.” He paused and shuffled his feet like he was embarrassed. “Your grandmother didn’t mention you knew Creole. I should have expected that from the granddaughter of Priestess Lorelei.”

  I shrugged. “I lived here most of my life and spent many afternoons sitting at my grandmother’s feet while my mother worked.”

  When my grandmother—the psychic, voodoo priestess, holistic healer, and medium—passed away from congestive heart failure, I inherited her legacy.

  “I knew your grandmother well. She did me a huge favor and whipped up a special potion for me last year when the poachers came around my property. My granddaddy passed on his two hundred acres of swampland and his gator farm when he died. The farm takes in injured animals, rehabilitates them, and then releases them back into the swamp. I also have a fleet of high-speed fan boats that take tourists for an up-close and personal experience with ga
tors and the exotic wildlife from endangered birds to flora and fauna not found anywhere else in the country. It’s hard to keep the animals safe with poachers sneaking in under cover of darkness. The potion seemed to work, so I was hoping you could put another bottle of it together for me.” His wide, boyish grin on that rugged masculine face took me by surprise.

  “You protect your gators? That’s admirable.” I hated poachers.

  “What can I say? I love animals.” His grin widened.

  “Me too.” I returned his smile. “I inherited the shop and everything she created and accumulated over the years.”

  “How about her special gift? Did you inherit that?” He leaned forward and whispered.

  I never talked about my grandmother’s special talents and I surely wouldn’t talk about whether I had them, with a stranger. “It will take a minute to look up the potion.” I stepped behind the counter while Delia, my assistant helped the tourist who had wandered in.

  LaCroix took off his navy blue, cotton jacket, folded it and laid it on the counter. Power bristled around him like little microwaves. The guy had biceps up to his ears, and nipples that seemed to wink at me through the skin-tight T-shirt. Was that even possible? Nipples that winked? Lack of sleep, must have me seeing things. It was all the long hours I’d been putting in at the shop was all.

  “You know…a gris-gris bag, to ward off evil, might be a good idea. I could make one up for you too.”

  “Ya kiddin,’“ Remy drawled heavily, leaned over and rested his forearms on the old wood counter and smiled. “My gators don’t like necklaces.”

  My blood pressure spiked. I didn’t like to be teased about my magic. In my eyes, my last relationship had been dying a slow death back in Washington D.C. when I found out about my grandmothers failing health. It was a relief to be leaving D.C. and Richard Thornton III. He, on the other hand, acted devastated until I told him I’d be taking over my family’s voodoo shop. Then my ex-boyfriends stuffy, boring, and prudish side surfaced and he said it was best to end our relationship. He couldn’t be associated with a charlatan. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Me?” He feigned innocent by putting his hand over his heart. “Never.”

  When I didn’t return his smile, he straightened. “Hey. I was just teasing.”

  “Okay…” I forgave his teasing because it was hard not to like him. “Some people think we’re all charlatans. I’m just a little sensitive about it.”

  “I can understand, but I’ve always had a hefty respect for the unknown.” He grinned.

  I returned his grin and mixed up the potion my grandmother had entered into the computer. It was an interesting mix of pagan black salt to get rid of unwanted guests and sage to ward off evil. I ground them together in my grandmother’s ancient basalt rock mortar and pestle. “I’ll be right back.”

  Remy nodded.

  I mixed the potions in front of the customers, to entertain them, but the spells I cast in private. After I had completed the ritual, I screwed the top on an apothecary jar.

  Remy was still waiting at the counter when I parted the velvet curtain that divided the front area where I sold dolls, ritual kits, gris-gris, potion oils, herbal blends and oils and crystal balls, from the back area where I performed private readings. The tourists bought the off-the-shelf items, but the locals came to me for customized spells, potions, and readings.

  I slid the jar across the counter but held onto it. “How do you plan to use this?”

  He scratched his chin and grinned. “I know where the poachers fill their thirst and my Uncle Buford happens to own the place. He’ll make sure they get a good dose of this stuff, and I won’t see this group of yahoos again anytime soon. It won’t stop the next group of idiots that think trapping gators will make them a fortune, but for now, the gators on my land will be safe.”

  “If he doesn’t want their business, have your uncle sprinkle the potion on their footprints as they’re leaving. They won’t ever come back.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.” He rocked on his heels again.

  “I am.” Was rocking on his heels supposed to make him seem harmless? I was born, but not yesterday. “That will be ten dollars.”

  Remy raised an eyebrow. I guess his charm had never failed him before.

  “Everyone wondered if you’d raise the prices when you took over. I’m glad you didn’t. A lot of the locals wouldn’t have been able to afford your services then.” He removed a ten dollar bill from his wallet but didn’t hand it over.

  I mimicked him by raising my own eyebrow. “My grandmother was always fair in her pricing, so there isn’t any reason to change now.”

  He handed me the money, slipped on his jacket, and picked up his potion. “I’ll spread the word, Priestess Ambrosine is doing her grandmother proud.”

  “Thank you. That means the world to me.”

  Remy headed toward the front door. “I’ll be seeing you around, Ms. Dubreauil.” Then he was gone.

  Was that a flirtatious warning? I lightly banged my forehead on the counter. Remy LaCroix was not what I needed right now—maybe wanted a little bit, but definitely didn’t need.

  Minutes later, a woman swung through the door wearing spike heels that clicked ominously on the old floor as she chugged up to the counter table like a diesel-powered tugboat. Her bright pink lips dominated her plump face, and her long fake eyelashes sat atop her light blue and slightly bloodshot eyes. Her short blonde hair swung forward as she bent over and rested her arms on the counter.

  “I need to see Priestess Lorelei.”

  “I’m sorry, but Priestess Lorelei passed away several months ago. I’m her granddaughter, Priestess Ambrosine. I’d be happy to help.”

  “Help is what I need, for sure…” The woman smiled and seemed to relax.

  “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Well…every year my three best friends and I...” She stopped, leaned forward, and whispered. “What I’m about to tell you has to remain between us. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Now, I was intrigued.

  She nodded. “We stay at the Hollywood Casino in Baton Rouge. It’s a floating casino that replicates an old-time paddle-wheeler. We gamble, drink, and eat to our hearts content at the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  That wasn’t news. Most everyone did that. I hoped there was more to her story.

  “Priestess Lorelei mixed up a lucky potion for me. I spritzed it behind my ears before I hit the roulette table and that sucker landed on red every time. I’m a widow on a fixed income, so I only bet five dollars at a time, but oh, I have great fun. If it wasnʼt for Priestess Lorelei’s lucky potion, I’d come home with just the clothes on my back.”

  She was a lovely woman. “I be happy to make up the potion for you. We make all of our potions to fit the individual’s needs and file them by name. What’s yours?”

  “Ines Abellard.” She extended her hand, and I was engulfed in her soft, warm touch.

  “Nice to meet you, Ines. I’ll be right back.”

  Delia walked up and smiled at Ines. “Can I get you a cup of tea while you wait for Priestess Ambrosine?”

  Ines covered her heart with her hand. “That would be wonderful, just wonderful. You both are dears.”

  The potion my grandmother created for Ines was very complex. It took me until closing time to mix it together and cast the spell.

  Delia poked her head around the corner to the backroom. “Ines is quite the character and absolutely adorable. Is it too late to add a little something extra to the potion?”

  I rubbed my hands together in delight. “What did you have in mind?”

  Delia giggled. “How about a love potion? She’s lonely and says men are hard to meet at her age.”

  “Honestly, I’ve never wanted to mess with people’s love lives. I can’t even handle my own.”

  “Oh, come on. Add a little love sprinkle. What could it hurt?”

  That should have stopped me in my tracks. Inst
ead, I searched my grandmother’s records and found a simple enough spell and added it. Then I said a little prayer.

  Ines stood when I approached her. “I hope you have the time of your life.”

  She clapped her hands. “Thank you so much. I have a really good feeling about you and this potion.”

  “Please stop by when you get back. We’d love to hear about your trip.” And your love life.

  “Oh, I will. What do I owe you?” She opened her purse and got out her wallet.

  “Nothing. This one is on me.”

  She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Your grandmother would be so proud of you.” And then she bustled out the front door.

  That was the second time I’d been told that today.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Code red, code red.” My cell phone screeched, announcing an incoming text. I quickly grabbed my phone from my purse, silenced it and tucked the device back in my purse. Half the people in the posh New Orleans restaurant gave me the evil eye for the loud disturbance. I would have done the same thing if I was in their shoes. It seemed to me, nobody could detach from their cell phones anymore.

  It was all Remy LaCroix’s fault—he had me distracted and unnerved ever since he walked into Who Do Voodoo. Even now, without my permission, my mouth watered at the thought of him.

  “Why do you have ‘code red, code red’ programmed as the ringtone on your phone?” CeCe Clement, my best friend, leaned forward and whispered across the table.

  “This guy came into my shop. Let’s just say he made an impression and Delia thought it would be funny if she programmed my phone to ring that way when she sent me a text if he showed up again. He must be at my shop now.”

  CeCe clapped her hands. “Oh. How fun. Call Delia back now! You need someone exciting in your life.”