He stepped into his jeans and tugged a shirt over his head, then grabbed his jacket and gun and silently made his way down to the Barracuda. Before he fired it up, he pulled the magazine from his Sig and emptied the bullets into his palm, then snapped the magazine back in and tossed the bullets in his glove box. The Colony may be a cult of crazies, but they were basically harmless crazies. And he wasn’t going to risk shooting anyone, not even for Claire.
His only hesitation was whether to call the cops. There was no crime to report. And if he told them he was going to try to force a woman to leave a cult at gunpoint, he’d be the one they arrested. Even if the gun wasn’t loaded.
Grim but determined, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the Delacroix Asylum. Shutting off his lights and parking a couple blocks away, he quietly shut his door and began with a reconnaissance outside the house, scouting for alternate escape routes.
When he came upon the only window with a light flickering, he peered inside and, through an opening in the curtains, caught glimpses of people in black hooded robes standing in a circle. There were only about six or seven, so crowd control shouldn’t be too tough.
Armand’s white-blond hair stood out in the center of the ring. He’d pulled his hood back and was holding up an ornate golden chalice above his head with both hands. Rafe couldn’t see Julia at all. Not good.
He returned to the broken window he’d found on the other side of the house and cautiously climbed through, landing awkwardly on broken floorboards. He lost his balance and fell, knocking against a pile of old, smashed chairs. They toppled over with a loud crash and Rafe froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. He could only hope the chanting he heard in the distance had covered up the sound.
After a few tension-filled moments, he took a cautious step and the creaking wood made his pulse jump. From then on, he took every step painstakingly slowly until he finally made his way to the ceremony room.
Not knowing what to expect, he pulled his Sig before stepping through the door. For a moment he wished he’d kept it loaded. But no one even noticed him. He made his way inside the room and aimed the gun at the circle of robes. “Everyone stay calm and do what I say and no one gets hurt.”
The chanting stopped. The circle broke and one of the female cult members screamed and scattered for the door. A couple more spun toward him in surprise and then backed away from him with their hands raised. The rest merely turned to stare.
As they moved he saw Julia on her knees before Armand. She wore the same black robe, but it was open down the front and she was nude underneath. A trickle of blood ran from two cuts down the side of her neck onto her collarbone. She was holding the chalice and it was almost to her lips.
Armand’s face contorted with rage. “How dare you interrupt our sacred ceremony?”
Rafe aimed the Sig at him. “Yeah, it’s a crying shame. Julia, get up and come with me or your boyfriend gets it.” He sure hoped she believed he would actually shoot someone. Otherwise he was out of options.
Julia’s gaze darted back and forth between Rafe and Armand, fear and confusion apparent in her expression. She rose to her feet and started toward Rafe. Armand grabbed her arms and held her in front of him. “My blood bride and I are immortal. Your bullets cannot hurt us.” Still with the fake French accent.
Julia frowned. “But my love, I haven’t drunk your blood yet.”
“He will not shoot you, beloved. You must trust me.”
“You willing to risk your life for this guy, Julia?” Rafe cocked the gun.
Julia blinked. Rafe could see the cogs turning in her mind. Would she figure out the flaw in this con man’s logic? Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “But...if you’re immortal, then you should be guarding me, right?”
Armand smiled and bent over to speak softly in her ear. “Julia, my life’s blood. This is a test. You must be willing to die for me. And then I will make you immortal.”
Rafe laughed. And if she believed that one... Julia frowned, obviously torn. She turned to face Rafe. “Why are you doing this?”
The circle of followers turned from Armand to Rafe also, watching events as if this was a stage play and they were the audience.
Rafe shrugged, still aiming the gun at Armand, his left hand supporting his right. “Claire refuses to leave New Orleans without you.”
She frowned. “She’s still here? But why?”
“She told me all about how you saved her when you were kids, and how she would never have had the courage to go on to become who she is without you. She’ll never give up on you, Julia.”
Tears welled up in Julia’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “She told you all that? That I gave her courage?”
“Julia, don’t listen to him, my beloved.” Armand put his arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off.
Her gaze moved past Rafe, her eyes widened and she pointed above his shoulder. “Look out!”
Rafe dodged right and the two-by-four meant for his head hit his shoulders. The force of the blow knocked him to his knees and he dropped the gun. It spun across the floor somewhere to his right. He didn’t have time to look. He was too busy fending off another blow from the wooden beam.
When his attacker swung again, Rafe rolled to his back and caught the blow with his forearm. He thought he heard a bone crack and excruciating pain shot up his left arm. With a grunt, he kicked out and caught Shadow in the shin, kicked again and the guy dropped to his knees.
Rafe jumped him, knocking him onto his back and then planted his fist in the guy’s face. While he was still stunned from the first punch, Rafe pulled back and hit him again. Rafe felt the satisfying crunch of broken cartilage and blood splattered from Shadow’s nose.
But Shadow grabbed Rafe’s broken left arm and wrenched it behind him. Rafe yelled out in pain and Shadow scrambled away.
Rafe tried to chase him, but Shadow got to the gun first.
Shadow grabbed it and pointed it at Rafe, then swung it around to aim at Armand. “Nobody move!”
The other cult followers let out a collective gasp.
Armand held tight to Julia.
Shadow’s body twitched. He was sweating and sniffing and wiping his temple on his shoulder. He waved the Sig around wildly. “I want the money!”
Rafe’s arm throbbed. He held it to his side, waiting to see what Shadow would do.
Nobody else responded. But Rafe noticed Armand’s gaze darted to a crumbling fireplace on the wall to his left.
“I said I want the money and I want it now!” Shadow staggered over to Armand and held the gun to his head. “And I want Julia back. You stole her from me!”
“Here, take her!” Armand’s French accent had disappeared as he shoved Julia into Shadow.
“Armand!” Julia looked repulsed and disillusioned at the same time. But Shadow had his arm tight around her neck as he turned the gun on her. “You gotta help me find the money, baby. I need it, okay?
“Sweetie, I don’t know about any money. Armand? What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know, I swear. He’s crazy.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You lost your accent, beloved.”
Rafe had to give her credit. Julia was playing it pretty cool.
Shadow spat. “He drugs you, see? A-and then he gets you to sign over your money to him.”
Julia gasped. “You bastard!” She struggled against Shadow, trying to get to Armand, presumably to claw his eyes out, and Shadow used the hand holding the gun to restrain her arm.
Rafe wouldn’t get a better chance. He charged him, punched him in the temple.
The gun went flying as Shadow staggered back. But he recovered quickly and charged Rafe, knocking him down. Shadow fought like a crazed man, rolling on top of Rafe and wrapping his hands around his neck, choking him. Rafe punched his jaw and reared back for another shot when the light was blocked by a figure and a two-by-four came smashing down on the back of Shadow
’s head.
Shadow dropped on top of Rafe, out cold. Rafe shoved him off and sat up.
She stood over him wielding the piece of wood like an avenging angel come to save the innocent. “Claire?”
* * *
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU think you’re doing?” Rafe snarled at her.
She blinked behind her thick glasses. “Saving you.”
“I didn’t need saving.” He gingerly got to his feet, ignoring the hand she offered. “I had it under control.”
Fists on hips, she raised her brows. “I’ll remember that next time.”
Favoring his left arm, he found his Sig and bent to retrieve it, and she caught him wincing.
“You’re hurt!” She marched over to him and tried to examine his arm. It was swollen and already turning purple.
He pulled away from her. “I’m fine.”
Yeah, right. Blood ran from a cut lip. His cheek was reddened and his right eye was swollen. Of all the stubborn, prideful, male ego—
“Claire?” Julia rushed to her and hugged her.
“Julia!” Claire slowly lifted her arms around Claire and returned the hug.
Julia started sobbing. “I’m so sorry. You were right. Armand was nothing but a fake and a liar. Why do I always get mixed up with these losers?”
“Shh, it’s all right.” Claire patted her back awkwardly.
“I want to go home,” Julia wailed. “Can we just go home now?”
“Yes. We will. It’s all over now. Let’s get out of this strange city and go home.” Why did that sound like the very last thing she wanted to do? But she couldn’t stay in New Orleans. Her life was in Boston. Her job. Her...coworkers.
Julia pulled away and gripped the front of her robe together. “I don’t ever want to do Mardi Gras again.”
Claire examined the cuts on Julia’s neck. “These might need stitches. We need to get you to the hospital.”
Julia gave her a wobbly smile. “Okay.” Then she scowled. “Wait a minute.” She twisted around to scan the room. “Where’s Armand?”
The few followers left standing around looked around the room also. No Armand.
And Rafe was missing, too.
Then a high-pitched wail came from the front part of the house.
Claire rushed out, followed by Julia and the rest of The Colony.
By the time they reached the entryway, Rafe was holding the gun on Armand with a satisfied smirk on his face. Armand was on his knees holding up a black duffle bag bulging at the seams.
“Take it,” Armand cried. “Just don’t shoot me.”
“Toss it over to the ladies,” Rafe ordered, gesturing to Claire with the gun.
Armand pitched it toward them, and then stuck his hands above his head.
Julia dove for the bag and unzipped it, the other followers gathering around her.
Julia shrieked. “He must have hundreds of thousands in here.” She started pulling out wads of cash. The other followers swarmed the bag, demanding their money back. “Just hold on.” Julia held the bag against her chest. “If he got to all our bank accounts, we’ll all have to check our statements online and see who is owed what. I say we give the bag to the police as evidence so they can arrest this scumbag and put him away for a long time. Deal?”
The others grumbled and a few complained as Julia stood and handed the bag to Claire.
“What’s your real name?” Rafe asked Armand.
“I-it’s Jed. Jed Banks.” No trace of a French accent now.
“Claire, call the cops and tell them we have a thief they might want to come arrest named Jed Banks. He’s probably got priors.”
Jed whined. “Come on. Everybody got their money back, didn’t they?”
Claire ignored the thieving coward and called Sergeant Mulroney. Again, though it was after midnight, he answered. She explained the whole situation and gave him their location. He told her he’d send several squad cars out and then hung up.
She moved to stand beside Rafe, even though his right arm never wavered holding the gun, his left arm hung useless at his side. Pain etched lines around his mouth. She’d never admired a man more. “What now?”
Rafe called to The Colony people. “You think you can keep your fake guru from getting away until the cops get here?”
Several of the black-robed figures came forward and took hold of Jed by his arms. Jed began pleading with them to let him go. That he hadn’t harmed anyone.
Rafe dropped his right arm, turned and headed for the front door.
Claire followed him and caught up. “I’m taking you and Julia to the hospital.” She held out her palm. “Give me your keys.”
Rafe halted on the front porch. “Like hell,” he ground between his teeth.
Claire stopped abruptly. “Rafe. Be reasonable. You can’t drive with a broken arm.”
“Can you drive a stick?”
“Uh...I understand the basic mechanics involved.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I can drive a manual transmission.” Julia piped up from behind them. “My car’s a five-speed.”
“You should both wait here for the police.”
Claire shook her head. “So should you.”
He grimaced. “Cops and I don’t generally see eye to eye on things. They might not appreciate the fact that I used this.” He held up the gun.
“About that.” Julia folded her arms. “Would you really
have shot me?”
“Hold out your hand,” he ordered Julia.
She did and he pressed something on the gun and a long black metal piece fell out and into her palm.
“Check inside the magazine,” he said.
Julia looked surprised. “It’s empty.”
“What?” Claire wanted to throttle him. “You came here and faced a cult with an unloaded gun? Of all the stupid, dangerous stunts! What if—”
“Claire?” Julia cut her off.
“What?” she snapped.
“We should probably get him to the hospital.”
Claire frowned. “Fine.” She turned to Rafe. “Julia drives.”
For a moment he looked as if he might argue, but he finally gave a disgusted sigh and pulled his keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. “I can’t believe I’m letting the cracked chick drive my car.”
Julia grinned and took the keys and they fell into step together down the porch steps. Claire stopped and watched them head down the circular drive.
“You realize this is a classic car, right?” she heard Rafe telling Julia. “It’s irreplaceable.”
“What kind is it?”
“A seventy-three Barracuda.”
“Oooh, I love those big strong muscle cars. 340? Four speed?”
Rafe’s jaw dropped.
Claire blinked back tears. It was over. Julia was going to be all right. And Rafe. He’d risked his life for her. How did you repay someone for that? Just saying thank you seemed embarrassingly inadequate.
But saying goodbye was going to be even harder.
15
CLAIRE WORRIED HER thumbnail and tried to stay calm as she sat in the emergency room. She hated feeling so useless. She could tell Rafe was in pain, yet he sat stoically, refusing even an aspirin.
Cell generation was all about the future of human health. But working in a lab all day, looking into microscopes and running tests was nothing like the chaos and the suffering of life in the trenches of emergency health care. This trip had certainly yanked the blinders from her eyes and made her see how insulated she was in her own safe little world.
Rafe was finally taken back to a treatment room. And after waiting another hour amid the groans and whispers of the sick and injured, Julia was finally called to a room. Claire went with her.
The physician’s assistant examining Julia stated she didn’t need stitches. She applied butterfly bandages, asked her about a tetanus shot and then discharged her. The P.A. didn’t act surprised to see someone come in wearing nothing but a black
hooded robe and sporting two puncture wounds on her neck.
That was somehow more disturbing than Julia’s nonchalance about her wounds.
“Really, Claire, they’re no big deal.” Julia flashed her winning smile. “The scars will only make the story better when I tell it at work.” She signed the papers the nurse brought her for discharge and then hopped off the examination table and peeked through the privacy curtain. “Honestly, have you seen all the hot doctors in this place? Mmm, maybe I should get hurt more often.”
Claire took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was either that or smack Julia upside the head. She was already looking for another man.
The only man Claire could think about right now was Rafe. He’d gone off with a different nurse to a separate treatment room and she hadn’t seen him since. That had been two hours ago.
Was his arm broken? Had they set it? Was he in pain? She slipped her glasses back on and then chewed on her thumbnail.
What if she never saw him again? A sharp ache stabbed her chest. Never see that roguish grin or those steel-gray eyes? Never feel his rough hands on her skin or hear that soft southern voice? She took off her glasses again, wiped her eyes and then put them back on.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Julia hunkered down in front of her and held her shoulders.
“Nothing.” She straightened her spine and managed to meet Julia’s gaze and smile. “I’m just tired.”
“Guess you can’t wait to get back to your normal routine, huh? I’m so sorry I’ve caused you all this trouble. I don’t know what I was thinking!” She curled her hand into the shape of a gun and pretended to shoot herself in the head. “I’ve learned my lesson, though, I swear.” She leaned forward and wrapped Claire in a big hug. “I’m really sorry I said those things. I didn’t mean them.”
“I know you didn’t. But in all fairness, I think some of it is true. I do tend to be...rigid in my routine.”
Julia sat back on her heels. “But that’s just who you are, Claire. I shouldn’t try to change you. Believe me, I could learn a lesson from you about responsibility.”
Claire smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll try to be more spontaneous. And you try to be more responsible.”
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