Hidden Conduit- The Complete Series

by J. N. Colon

  “I’m not even sure…” Deep lines formed over Dumarsais’ face. “It didn’t feel like voodoo surrounding her.”

  Etie’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He didn’t seem surprised by this. “I think the baron has been dabbling in things beyond voodoo.”

  My lungs constricted, and ice coated my veins. “What else is there besides voodoo?”

  Those mysterious, mismatched eyes traced over me as if searching for something beneath the surface. “Witchcraft.”

  Chapter 11

  Another bolt of lightning slashed the sky, spreading glowing veins across the dark, heavy clouds. The boom of thunder followed, rumbling through the atmosphere. Steam rolled across the pavement, fat raindrops giving it a reprieve from the baking Louisiana sun.

  A droplet of condensation fell from my sweating water bottle, splattering against the faded front porch of the Leroux house. My mind was buzzing with thoughts and images of the voodoo spell Dumarsais cast last night. Or tried anyways. Something inside of me had stopped him.

  I swallowed the acrid taste coating my tongue. The voodoo king’s claws were sunk deep inside. Why was he so determined to get my soul? I was just a girl. Nothing special.

  Witchcraft.

  I hadn’t even known it existed until last night. It made sense though. If voodoo was real, why not witchcraft? It had me wondering what else was out there.

  But there was one glaring question embedded in my mind. Why did Baron Samedi, the voodoo king, need to use a spell of witchcraft to put a barrier around me?

  The scuff of a shoe echoed behind me as Etie walked onto the porch. We were the only two left this late in the afternoon. After last night’s events ripped straight from a horror flick, I felt safer with him around. It didn’t matter he’d ignored me most of the day. It was just one side of his personality. Another one would probably pop out soon to say hello.

  “Here, cher.” He handed me a lollipop.

  A peace offering for the cold shoulder?

  I took it, twirling it between my fingers while he unwrapped his.

  I’d never seen a guy look so damn sexy with a lollipop hanging out of his mouth. Etie’s deep brown hair was extra tousled today, as if he’d been running his fingers through the untamed strands. The sun glinted on the scar beneath his lip. How had he gotten it?

  My gaze roamed his thick frame roped by iron muscles. Probably in a fight.

  I licked my lips, entranced by his hard physique.

  Etie’s brow arched while humor danced in his eyes.

  Damn it.

  I spun around to hide my blushing cheeks. “So, uh…” I cleared my throat, my fingers gripping the railing. “Do you know a lot of witches?”

  My mind crapped up images of beautiful women dancing naked around a fire in the middle of the woods.

  Ugh. If it was like that, I hoped he didn’t know any.

  “A few,” he said evasively.

  “Are they all women?” Did my voice sound as jealous out loud as it did in my head?

  Etie leaned against the railing next to me, his gaze cast toward the sheets of rain pelting the gravel driveway. “Men are witches, too.”

  “Are they called warlocks?” I’d read that in a couple of books before.

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “In some covens.”

  The three crescent moon symbol from that website I stumbled on flashed through my mind. Could that have been real?

  “Remember that thing you’re supposed to help me with?” Etie asked, breaking me from my wandering thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I slowly drawled. What did he want? My first born?

  He shot me an incredulous expression. “Relax, cher. I’m not asking for your kidney or anything.”

  A humorless laugh escaped me. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were voodoo spells that required fresh organs.

  “I’m looking for this object with mystical qualities.” He spun around and shifted closer, making it impossible to avoid that intense stare. “I used a spell to pinpoint a location.” A crease formed between his brows. “It wouldn’t work properly for the longest time, but last night, it hit the mark.”

  “What’s the object?” A twisting in my gut told me there was more to it than Etie was letting on.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s for another spell.” His gaze flicked away from mine. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip and fiddled with the lollipop. “For someone who said they didn’t like to practice voodoo, you sure are doing a lot of spells.”

  Shadows crossed his face, and the rumble of thunder seemed to come straight from him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me or my situation.” Danger riddled every word, every syllable, he spoke.

  I swallowed hard and stepped back, unsettled by the deep, icy tone of his voice. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve.

  He didn’t have to be a dick about it.

  “Whatever.” I shoved the lollipop back at him. “I’m out of here.”

  Iron fingers gripped my arm as I stomped away, hauling me back. A pop of electricity traveled between us, and Etie’s eyes smoldered. “Don’t leave, Angeline.” This time, his voice dripped with honey.

  My pulse spiked, and I fought to keep my gaze off his lips. “Tell me more about this object I’m supposed to help you find. Where is it?’’

  Crap. Why did I sound so breathless?

  Etie released my arm, but he didn’t move away. His feet shifted anxiously. “Fate must like me right now because, as it turns out, there isn’t a better person to help me than you.”

  My head drew back. “And why’s that?” It wasn’t because of my stellar sleuthing skills.

  He hesitated for a moment. “It’s somewhere in your house.”

  I scoffed. “Why would this magical object be in my house?” No one in my family was the least bit magical. Even my ancestor Ferdinand with his hard, unrelenting stare looked more likely to hang a witch than be one.

  Those mismatched eyes bored into me, once again searching for something beyond the surface. He quickly blinked. “I don’t know. Maybe it was left behind by the previous owners.”

  According to my father, the owners had moved overseas decades ago and left the house to a caretaker before finally selling it. He scolded me once for going through a bunch of old, worn boxes tucked away in the attic. He said not to touch what wasn’t mine. “I guess that’s possible. We moved here when I was eight, and there was some stuff left behind. It’s probably still there.”

  Even so, my stomach clenched at the whole situation. It was pretty coincidental the thing Etie needed was in my house.

  “Let’s get out of here.” The idea of going anywhere with him was enough to zap the suspicious thoughts from my mind. “We’ll get something to eat and relax.”

  Was this one of his abrupt mood swings? “Uh, okay.”

  “Come on. Get your stuff.” Etie motioned me inside. “We go to Chickarees, no?”

  “No.” Heat crawled up my throat. “I mean, yeah.”

  He chuckled and began putting the tools away. His shirt drifted up as he bent, showing a peek of the snake tattoo. The sight of it—even just a hint—reminded me of how dangerous Étienne Benoit was, and I wasn’t just talking about voodoo.

  By the time we pulled into Chickarees, the rain had passed, leaving the air sticky and hot. My skin itched to be free of the jeans, t-shirt, and work boots. I’d give anything for some flip flops right about now.

  “Come on, you,” Etie said as he sauntered around the truck, leaning his arms into the passenger side window. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Just give me a second.” I twisted my hair up into a high, messy knot on the crown of my head. A dribble of sweat ran down into my shirt. Without second-guessing myself, I whipped that off, too.

  I was wearing a teal tank top beneath.

  Etie’s eyes were on me, tracing the newly bared skin. “If I’d known you were going to start stripping, I’d have stayed in the truck.” He winked the for
est green eye.

  My scoff sounded too breathless. “It’s hot. I wish I had a pair of shorts,” I grumbled, trying to ignore what his playful gaze was doing to me as I slid out of the cab.

  “We’ll get cool inside.”

  Somehow, I doubted that.

  He opened the door to Chickarees for me, and we entered a large room with booths along the walls and square tables in the center. My nose wrinkled at the scent of beer and cigarettes.

  It could be worse. It could be cigars and rum.

  I quickly shut the images of the voodoo king out before Etie noticed.

  A long bar stretched across one wall, bottles of liquor gleaming from the lights above. The hard crash of pool balls echoed from the left where a few tables were stationed.

  Unlike the other night, the place was packed. Happy hour.

  As my gaze continued to peruse the bar, the eyes of every single female patron were locked on Etie. They ate him up and drooled over the bits still left to be devoured. And then, they shifted to the enemy female next to him.

  Me.

  I wanted to cower behind him as they shot laser beams in my direction, every hateful slur on the tip of their tongue. Heat enveloped me, blood rushing to my ears. I’d been right. There was no cooling off in Chickarees. Instead, I’d been tossed into hell’s frying pan.

  Etie motioned me toward the bar without noticing the attention. “Come on, cher. We get a drink.”

  I followed him, staying close without touching. He leaned against the bar and held two fingers out to the bartender. The twenty-something man gave a quick nod.

  “Want a burger?” Etie asked, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapping it.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll get one, too.” His cheeks bunched as he tried to hold back a smile. “This time, try not to lick my bun.”

  “W-What?” I choked.

  His deep chuckle sent goosebumps over my skin. “Bastien told me what you did.” He sucked on the lollipop. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had an evil bone in your body.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I deserved it though. I was an asshole that day.”

  “Oh, so you admit that?”

  He scooted closer, his body brushing mine. “Sorry. You forgive me, Angeline?” His arm went around my waist, his thumb sliding against my hip and burning a hole through the fabric of my shirt.

  Heat engulfed my body while my insides went haywire. “I’ll think about it.” I ignored the breathiness of my voice.

  The bartender deposited two chilled beer bottles in front of us.

  Etie jerked his chin toward the other side of the room. “Let’s sit down and order.” He grabbed our beers.

  I followed him, watching every female head turn in our direction.

  After we ate, Etie dragged me over to a pool table against my will. I was terrible, worse than he could have imagined.

  Laughter spilled from his mouth after my third failed attempt. “You couldn’t hit a ball if it was an inch away. You are bad.”

  A scowl crossed my face, and I popped my free hand on my hip. “No shit. I warned you. You just didn’t believe me.”

  He shook his head, a smirk still curling those kissable lips and stretching the scar beneath. “I guess it’s the kind of thing you have to see to believe.”

  I rolled my eyes and laid the pool stick on the table. “If you’re just going to make fun of me, I’ll leave. I’ll get a ride home.”

  “Ah, now.” He came around to my side of the table. “I was only kidding.” He picked up the pool stick and pushed it into my hands. “I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

  My expression was skeptical. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  He winked the green eye. “Of course it is. Anything’s possible in this world, even teaching someone as bad as you to play pool.”

  I bit my bottom lip to stop the grin from forming. Etie’s eyes lowered, lingering over my mouth and making my pulse jump beneath my heated skin.

  “Turn around, cher,” he commanded, his voice riddled with a husky edge. “I’ll show you how to hold the stick.”

  Um…yeah. No mistaking the sexual innuendo there.

  I did as he said without a word because I was afraid of what might come out. Etie’s body brushed mine, shooting tiny shivers of electricity between us. His arms reached around me and positioned the pool stick.

  “Go for that red ball over there.” He pointed it out before his hands curled around my hips, moving me over a few inches. “Like that. Now lean over.”

  How the hell was I supposed to freaking concentrate with the Cajun Casanova breathing down my neck? Literally. And then he made things so much worse by bending over until our bodies were flush.

  Heat sweltered between us and stirred in deep, low places. Sawdust mixed with that dark and spicy herbal flavor swirled around him. It made me want to bury my face in his chest and drown in it.

  Without thinking, my head turned, my lips a hair’s breadth from his.

  The green lamp above the table flickered, drawing his eyes up. When they returned to mine, something unreadable shimmered in them. And then a slow, crooked grin worked its way over his face.

  “Angeline, are you going to shoot the ball, or are we going to stare at each other all night? I don’t mind either one.” His hands gave my hips a squeeze.

  My head snapped back around, unable to speak through the fiery storm he was causing in my body. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I’d never been this affected by a guy, by anything, before.

  I shook off the sensations and took my shot.

  When a guy teaches a girl to play pool in the movies, she nails her first shot. My life was not a movie. I barely even hit the white ball much less the red one.

  Etie’s chuckle was deep and husky in my ear. “You need a few more lessons, yeah?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  He finally released my hips and took a step back, but when I turned around, Etie was still too close. Those thick, dangerous arms were planted by my sides on the rim of the pool table, boxing me in. “You smell like gardenia flowers, you know that?”

  “Oh.” My voice was breathless. I absentmindedly ran a hand over my hair. “It’s my shampoo. I think.”

  “It’s nice.” He leaned forward, his nose turning into my hair. “Very nice.” His lips brushed across my temple as he spoke.

  The urge to jump on him and wrap my legs around his waist while my mouth devoured his slammed through me. The hand clutching the pool stick squeezed so hard it shook. Hell, my whole body might have been shaking at this point with the effort it took not to attack him.

  The lights above us flashed again, and Etie finally backed away, those wild dark locks framing his smoldering eyes.

  “Hey, Etie.” A sugary sweet female voice interrupted the intense moment between us.

  Etie reluctantly shifted away. Trisha was back.

  Bright scarlet lips matched her tight shirt showing off her cleavage. She was currently shooting him a sultry smile while her blue eyes rolled over him in a predatory way.

  “Hello, Trisha.” His tone was flat, and the muscles in his jaw ticked.

  She ran her red fingernails down his arm, the arm still boxing me in. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute. It’s about some repairs my daddy needs at his shop.”

  His eyes flickered toward me. “I’m here with Angeline.”

  Trisha’s smile turned sour. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I borrow Etie for a moment.”

  Actually, I did. “I guess not.”

  Ugh. Why couldn’t I have said what I meant?

  Etie sighed and angled his body toward mine. “You’ll be okay for a minute alone, cher?”

  No. “Sure.”

  Etie brushed a hand down my arm, shooting sparks of electricity between us. He smiled as if he could feel it, too. “Don’t go anywhere, Angeline. I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded and watched him walk away, Trisha’s arm curling around his and making
my stomach churn.

  Now that Etie wasn’t in my personal space, I could breathe. My body slumped against the table, my weight resting on the edge while my hands clutched the pool stick.

  What was I doing with him? What was he doing with me?

  Etie was hot. In fact, the guy oozed sexiness, and he knew it. Every female in the place knew it, too. And they were all still wondering why Etie had brought someone like me here. I clearly wasn’t his type. Someone like Trisha was more his type with big boobs, glossy lipstick, and a come-hither smile. My sister was more of Etie’s type than I was.

  The image of Marisol and Etie had my burger threatening to reappear.

  I shook the thoughts off as my eyes cast around Chickarees. The waitresses were all pretty girls in jean shorts and tight black t-shirts outlining their perky boobs.

  I would look like a twelve-year-old in that uniform.

  “Here you go, hon.” A feminine voice with a deep southern twang pulled me from my mind.

  “Etie asked me to get this for you.” Kara, the waitress we’d had the other night, held out a beer.

  “Thanks.” I took it and offered her a smile.

  She twisted the end of her long brown ponytail as a dreamy look crossed her face. “He sure is something, isn’t he?”

  A wry laugh tumbled out of my mouth. “Yeah, he’s something all right.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.” A man sidled up to the waitress, his dark eyes roaming over me in a slow, languid way that turned my stomach sour. “What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Now, Wayland, don’t you go starting trouble.” Her eyes narrowed, and she planted a hand on her hip. “This here’s Etie’s girl.”

  I started to correct her, but the way Wayland licked his lips had my mouth snapping shut.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Kara.” He shuffled over and leaned against the pool table next to me. “I’m just saying hello.” A wide, crocodile smile spread over his harsh features. “Besides, I don’t see Etie anywhere around, and she looks all lonely.”