by Nancy Gideon
Praise for Nancy Gideon’s “darkly compelling”* novels
Seeker Of Shadows
“This dark and seductive story is rife with the delicious possibility of a happily-ever-after for an unlikely pair. A bloody shapeshifter conflict keeps things exciting and plunging forward as the plot twists and turns. Don’t blink, the book will be over before you know it.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Gideon delivers a rich and complex romantic urban fantasy romance to follow Hunter of Shadows.”
—Publishers Weekly
Hunter Of Shadows
“The author has created a story full of intrigue and action with many plot twists that will keep readers on their toes. Compelling characters, a kick-a## heroine, and a hero torn by his loyalties make for an intense read.”
—Bookaholics
“An exciting addition to the inventive series.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Bound By Moonlight
“Bound by Moonlight has everything I want in a romance! Sizzling passion, a sexy hero, and a paranormal love to last the ages.”
—Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author
“Will keep you on the edge of your seat waiting to see what will happen.”
—Paranormal Haven
“An intriguing series filled with complex but fascinating characters.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Captured By Moonlight
“These lovers have much to overcome, including their own self-sabotaging character traits. Gideon adds new clues and layers to her world while placing her protagonists in terrible danger, both physically and emotionally. Terrific series!”
—RT Book Reviews*
“As good as if not better than its predecessors. . . . Gideon has written the perfect paranormal romances.”
—Romance Junkies
“A deliciously complex novel full of love and devotion, personal angst, and paranormal intrigue. I highly recommend it.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Chased By Moonlight
“Gideon does a terrific job with her world-building as her characters and readers discover dark and hidden secrets.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An outstanding romance overflowing with emotional issues and innovative supernatural elements.”
—Single Titles
“The boiling-hot duo of Max Savoie and Charlotte Caissie returns, and the thrill ride just keeps getting better. . . . This series is a must-read!”
—Bitten by Books
Masked By Moonlight
“A paranormal romance series with intriguing characters and zippy action. . . . Gideon masters the tension required to keep her complex and engaging story moving.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Sizzling . . . dark and compelling!”
—Susan Sizemore, New York Times bestselling author
“Vivid, dark and memorable . . . I couldn’t put it down.”
—Janet Chapman, New York Times bestselling author
“Brilliantly spellbinding with fascinating supernatural aspects, heated passions, and unanticipated dangers.”
—Single Titles
“An exceptional read. It will have the reader laughing one minute, crying the next. It’s a compelling story and a tremendous first book in Gideon’s new series.”
—NewandUsedBooks.com
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contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Excerpt from Prince of Shadows
For Patrish and Dr. E, who drop everything to give me that extra push (even when it feels like it’s off a cliff!) that makes things better.
prologue
“So, who do you want killed?”
It was just business to Jimmy Legere, but to the unexpected visitor balancing on that razor’s edge of no going back, it would change everything.
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have come to you.”
Balls and respect. Jimmy liked that. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tented, amused. “So why you here, fixin’ to make a deal with the devil, college boy?”
Giles St. Clair took a deciding breath. “I need to know who murdered my father.”
Legere waved a dismissing hand. “Tracking down murderers is the NOPD’s job.”
“Well, they didn’t do a very damn good one.” Heat sparked in St. Clair’s words. “They asked questions, filled out forms, then filed my father away in a drawer. They weren’t interested in justice when it pointed someplace they’re paid not to go.”
He didn’t have to specify where; his unwavering stare said it plainly enough. All avoided roads led to organized crime.
“So you came to me. You think I can do better?” Legere challenged, still indulgent.
“Considering the killer was employed by Vic Vantour, I’m certain of it.”
The mobster’s eyes narrowed with cunning interest. Vantour. His biggest competitor for the docks, an annoying roadblock to the full control he coveted. “Vantour? You sure of that, boy? What kind of business did he have with your daddy?”
“None. That’s what got him killed.” His lip’s curl of disgust showed that Giles St. Clair hated lowering himself to make this request of someone no better than the villain he was after.
Jimmy’s smile widened. “You think your daddy would approve of what you’re doing now?”
“No. But he’ll rest easier once it’s done. And so will I.”
“A man’s life is expensive,” Legere mused, tapping his fingertips together as he waited for the young man to squirm and plead. But the kid never broke a sweat. His intensity was almost unnerving. “So, how you planning to pay for this favor? With your college fund?”
The young man’s features tightened. “That’s my mama’s money.”
Jimmy shrugged, then baited his trap like the skilled predator he was. “So maybe you’re thinking of working it off. Whatchu going to school for?”
“Business.”
“I got me a slew a businessmen already, the best money can buy. And something tells me you knew the second you stepped into this room that you weren’t going back to college to finish that degree.”
That cold and bitter truth was met with a determined “What do you need?”
Jimmy took his time studying the young man who’d come so boldly into his home. Behind the Ivy League clothes was the stuff that gave starch to the boy’s spine and fire to his stare. Stuff Jimmy could use and mold.
Though the kid’s voice was unaccented, Jimmy caught the earthy patois of Cajun Country. Tough, no-nonsense folk, those bayou people; clannish by nature, suspicio
us of outsiders, but fiercely loyal once their word was given. Jimmy assessed him critically. A big fellow, broad shoulders, with an unmovable stance and a direct, unflinching stare. That could be valuable, once channeled into intimidation.
“Max,” Jimmy called quietly.
“Whatchu need, Jimmy?” came a low rumble from the shadows of the room.
“Find out about Vic Vantour’s interest in—” Jimmy broke off and asked his guest, “What’s your daddy’s name?”
“Clovis Robichaux,” the college boy said, hard resignation flatlining his gaze.
The kid wasn’t a fool. He knew what he was getting into, signing his name in Jimmy’s book of souls.
“Get a name for the trigger man, Max.”
“You want me to take care of him for you, Jimmy?”
Legere passed Max’s question along with a lift of his brow.
“No,” St. Giles replied quietly. “It’s family. I’ll take care of it myself.”
Jimmy believed he would.
And he believed he’d just acquired a damned fine asset.
one
“If anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Brigit MacCreedy stood in the back of the church, too stunned to find her voice.
Married? Why was this the first she’d heard of it?
As if he felt her stare piercing through his tux jacket, her brother glanced over his shoulder—and held her frozen expression. She could read his silent plea like a shout.
Don’t screw this up for me, Bree.
Noticing his distraction, the dark-haired bride turned as well. Her eyes narrowed; her thoughts were as direct as a bullet.
Speak and die.
The priest continued enthusiastically with his blessing, then the vows were sealed with an ardent kiss.
Married. The son of a bitch!
Brigit’s knees gave way, dropping her onto the hard pew. Numbly, she watched the small cluster of well-wishers gather to congratulate the bride and groom. The odd mix of Shape-shifters and humans were all strangers to her. Her brother’s friends, part of his new life here in New Orleans. A life he’d chosen over the two who knew and loved him best.
Her eyes closed, shutting out the sight of the exuberant hugs and hand-pumping. The sound of happy voices faded.
Now what was she going to do?
She didn’t respond when she felt his presence at her side, forcing him to make the first overture.
“This is a surprise,” he said.
Because his tone didn’t betray whether it was a good or bad one, her reply was brittle. “For both of us.”
Brigit looked up at her handsome, somber-souled brother, seeing his cautious smile, his wary gaze, and the hint of impatience as he asked, “What are you doing here, Brigit?”
She quickly blinked away the unwanted prickle of dampness in her eyes. “Thanks for the invitation.”
He had the decency to wince but softly asked, “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Hopeful words, spoken a little too late.
Wounded pride straightened her posture and chilled her sentiments like the snow on the mountain she’d left behind. “Don’t pretend my opinion matters to you in the least.” The fact that she wobbled as she tried to stand added extra vitriol to her words. “I hope you are very happy with your new family. I’ve wasted my time coming here.”
When she shoved at his shoulders to slip by him, his hands bound her wrists. Temper and hurt burning in her eyes, she tugged but couldn’t break free as he slowly brought one of her palms to press against his cheek, tenderness in his gaze.
“You’re my family,” he told her with soul-twisting sincerity. “And I’m so glad you’re here to make this day complete.”
Oh . . . hell. Emotions caving, Brigit leaned in to him, her arms circling to clutch him close. “You are such a shit, Silas,” she grumbled, the fierceness drained from her voice. “I don’t know why I love you so.”
She felt his smile. “I’m the only brother you have.”
For a moment it was just the two of them, and Brigit hung on tight, reluctant to surrender the solid, dependable security that had always anchored her. His hand moved affectionately over her hair, quieting fears, making her believe everything would be right in her world again.
Then he broke the mood. “Will you come up to greet my wife without trying to stab her?”
His wife. A squeeze of anguish forced Brigit to push from the comfort of his embrace. She managed a wry smile. “No promises.”
Silas laughed, his posture relaxing, his mood mellowing with obvious relief. “Fair enough.” Then he glanced about, frowning slightly. “Are you here alone?”
“Silas, I need to talk to you.”
His expression stiffened ever so slightly at the urgency her tone betrayed. “Are you all right? Has something happened to Kendra?”
Would her answer really matter now, on his wedding day?
“This isn’t exactly the appropriate place for a discussion.”
His frown deepened, but his attention returned to those at the front of the church and his obligations there. “Come back to Savoie’s with us. I can give you some time there. I’ll arrange for someone to take you.”
How very generous. She bit back her desire to tell him what he could do with his charity. She needed Silas’s help and couldn’t afford to antagonize him.
He tugged her arm gently. “Come up and say hello.”
Brigit glanced down at her rumpled clothing. She’d been on some fairly rough roads for the last two days and felt like every low dip in them. But for once, vanity was only a small part of her refusal. “I don’t want to intrude. I’m not exactly prepared for the occasion.”
Her brother wasn’t dense. He saw the prideful injury in the tilt of her chin and knew better than to push it. “All right. That’s your call. Sit down. Let me get things arranged. We won’t be long.”
Brigit watched him return to the joyous cluster, witnessed the tender way he enfolded his new bride in his arms, read the friendship and respect in the expressions of those he’d assembled to share the occasion.
And her heart splintered.
This was not the scene she’d pictured when she’d planned for the event in her mind’s social calendar since the time they were adolescents. She’d envisioned a different female at her noble brother’s side, a delicate, tender-hearted blonde who would complement him, not this ferocious warrior. She’d dreamed of family raising toasts, not this motley group of strangers, half-breeds and humans. She’d imagined wearing a gorgeous dress, clinging to the arm of an exquisitely handsome escort while blinking away joyful tears, instead of swallowing down the bitter taste of isolation in grimy, borrowed clothing. An unwanted beggar instead of a bridesmaid.
What had she done to deserve these horrible twists of fate except love her brother and their best friend and wish to see them happily wed while enviably dressed in a designer gown? Was that too much to ask of whatever cosmos directed their paths?
Apparently . . . yes.
Her spine stiffened as the new bride separated herself from the wedding party to stride down the aisle. She wore a long-sleeved, unadorned white dress that brushed her knees and skimmed her lean figure. Her heavy black hair was woven into a coronet of braids entwined with ropes of gold and pearls. She managed to look both elegant and deadly. Her unwavering stare was sharp as any blade, and Brigit parried it with an equally cold cut.
If the other woman thought to toss her out, she’d find a battle on her hands . . . hands now sporting a delicate gold band. Brigit squared her shoulders.
Try and move me, bitch. I won’t go so easily this time.
The change from Nica Frasier, assassin, to Mrs. Silas MacCreedy hadn’t softened the newlywed’s take-no-prisoners manner toward Brigit. They’d met under awkward circumstances, and the dislike was instantaneously mutual. Now, standing at a cautious arm’s length for a long tense moment, they silently
sized each other up as potential combatants.
The only thing that could draw them close enough to exchange a civil word was Silas. So had his new bride walked that long aisle for his benefit or her own?
Reduced by her awkward, unwanted position, Brigit waited to be banished from the one claim of family she had left. She refused to give quarter even though she had no chance of winning this particular battle. The other female had already taken everything of value from her. What was left to cling to except pride? To that, she clutched fiercely.
“It was a last-minute thing,” Nica said to break the impasse.
“What? You and my brother? Nothing better to do, so you thought what the hell?”
Nica’s expression didn’t flicker as she continued to explain. “It was something we planned to do privately. This”—she gestured to the small gathering—“was unexpected. It wasn’t our idea. It’s impossible to keep secrets from a bunch of cops.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I wasn’t. I’m just telling you how it was.”
It wasn’t an intentional slight; Brigit got that now. Her posture relaxed. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
Now that a truce was established, Nica unbent to ask, “Where are you staying?”
Brigit gestured to the single suitcase by the door. “I haven’t gotten a room yet.”
“Apparently, there’s some sort of reception out on River Road. Silas would—we would like you to join us. You can meet our friends and maybe change your mind about your brother consigning himself to a fate worse than death.”
“Perhaps not worse.”
A hint of a smile. “I’ll have Giles take you now so you’ll have a chance to freshen up before we get there.”
She’d started to turn away when Brigit impulsively touched a hand to her arm. “Thank you.”
Nica studied her for a moment as if searching for something more complex behind that simple statement. Then she nodded, accepting it at face value before returning to her husband’s side. There, she was greeted with a lingering kiss.
Brigit had begun to look away uncomfortably when Silas caught her eye. One brief exchange told her everything: of his love for her, how grateful he was for her presence, his relief that she hadn’t thrown his wife’s overture back in her face.