by Nancy Gideon
But even before the embarrassed fellow scurried away, Colin released her, moving back to a safe distance, all closed down tight again. And it made her mad as hell. Her foot lashed out, catching him in the side, bowling him over. He rolled to his feet, braced and wary, guard up.
Mia had had enough dancing around. She didn’t want to fight with him. She just plain wanted him. Frustration fueled her attacks, enabling her to land several hard blows to drive him back on the defensive. Then, ever the proud male, he got tired of retreating.
She saw it coming, a quick swing of his forearm meant to connect with her shoulder. Instead, she sucked a breath and stepped into it. Pain exploded through her face. Fireworks went off. She went down and out so fast she never felt the mat.
“Mia! Mia? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Mia?”
She squinted her eyes open to see Colin haloed above her, looking so rattled she almost laughed. But all she could do was groan. “Holy crap, you pack a wallop.”
“I didn’t mean that to happen. You dropped your guard. You okay?”
“No!” She was stretched out on the mat with him kneeling at her side holding a wet towel to the volcano erupting on her cheekbone. He lifted her hand to replace his on the towel.
“Hold this while I call Rico.” He’d started to rise when her single word stopped him.
“Why?”
“I thought you’d want me to, since you’re with him.”
“No. I’m with you.”
Through watery eyes, she watched that fact settle in without reaction. He simply stood, dressed, and gathered his things.
“Can you sit up?” he asked bending down again.
She tried and fell back with a moan. “Too much spinning.”
“I wanted you head over heels, but not like this.” Smiling faintly, he scooped her up, tucking her pounding head to his shoulder, and carried her out to his car. After settling her in the passenger side, he jogged around to climb in, fiddling with the mirror for a moment, a puzzled frown on his face. After putting the car in gear, he glanced her way, his gaze intense as he reached for her hand. Just holding it during the short drive to her hotel. By the time he parked, she was able to stand on her own. Colin kept his arm around her, encouraging her to lean into him for support. Like that was a chore. Her head started to clear, but his closeness created a different kind of confusion.
Her room was quiet and dark. The Terriot beside her instantly filled the space with his deliciously sweaty scent.
“Couch?”
“Bed,” she corrected.
As they moved through the main room, she noticed the two wine glasses still sitting on the coffee table. So did he. Her bed was unmade, its pillows on the floor. That he noted, too, his nostrils flaring slightly to sniff out the competition.
“So now you know,” she began in a regretful tone. “I’m a slob. My one flaw. Probably why I prefer to sleep alone.”
He didn’t comment as he eased her down onto the edge of the mattress. “Meds?”
“Bathroom cabinet.”
Mia toed off her shoes, shoulders slumping. He returned with two pills and water so quickly he couldn’t have been snooping around.
“These should help.”
While she obligingly swallowed, he targeted the ice bucket on the floor where the empty wine bottle floated in room-temp water. “I’ll get you some ice.”
While waiting, she plumped the two retrieved pillows and reclined carefully into their embrace, closing her eyes with a soft groan as misery pulsed through the side of her face. Worth it, she decided, listening to him move through her room, hearing the rattling of cubes as he filled a hand towel. Her breath hissed in as he touched it carefully to her cheek.
“That’ll ease the swelling. Keep it there.” A long, silent pause. “I’m sorry, Mia. That never should have happened.”
Wondering what that statement encompassed, she squinted up at him, already feeling the puffiness of her cheek pushing against her lower lashes. A lopsided smile. “I seem to have trouble keeping my guard up around you.”
A slight smile in return. “I know how you feel. You gonna be okay?”
He was leaving.
“Sure. Thanks for the TLC.”
“You’re not going to thank me when you look in the mirror.”
She chuckled and closed her eyes. “Go away.”
His fingertips grazed her uninjured cheek, but before she could lean into his palm, he was gone.
“I’m with you.”
What the hell did that mean?
Angry, agitated, and so stupidly hopeful he could have slapped himself, Colin nursed his third mug of coffee out on his quiet patio. Was it some new game? Some way to toy with him and his brother? To tease them up into the self-destructive frenzy that had blown through his quiet rooms like a hurricane the night before?
What had happened to him here in the Big Easy? Nothing had been easy, that’s for damned sure! He’d refused to let anyone get close to him after those he’d loved were torn away, unwilling to suffer that again. But then he’d fallen hard for Cale’s grand ideals. He’d let Turow’s new mate cuddle up to a warm fuzzy part of him that made him uncomfortable as all hell. He’d looked forward to the often irritating company of his siblings. And he’d drunk the Kool-Aid in the whole “Unite the Clans” crusade. Fine. Okay. He could accept those things with a shrug and reluctant smile. But Mia. She didn’t demand small concessions. She’d set fire to his world!
Was it passion or arson?
Maybe she was playing him the same way she was using Rico, and he was so out there he didn’t know the difference. What he needed wasn’t this pathetic moping and hoping. He needed to get busy with the business he’d come here to do.
“Uncle Colin!”
The sheer delight in Oscar Babineau’s face loosened the tension making square knots in his belly.
“Hey, little dude. Your dad home?”
“He’s doing paperwork in his office.” Oscar stepped back so the big Terriot prince could enter their tiny kitchen. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Me, Rico and Kip.” Though Kip had yet to return, and that bothered him no little bit. Was it because of his request? “I’m thinking of getting a house in the Quarter, so you might be seeing a lot of me. That be cool with you?”
“Way cool!”
His half-sister Tina was clearing the supper dishes from their dining-nook table. Petite and dark, she looked more like MacCreedy’s side of the family than his own. Something not quite as welcoming as her son’s reception passed through her expressive eyes when she saw him, but her smile quickly pushed that hesitation away.
“Colin. You just missed dinner. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks. Here to talk to the mister for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
For an instant he thought he saw objection, but as she passed by him, her hand rubbed his arm. “Go on back.”
The detective’s home office was an episode of Hoarders. File boxes and folders covered every available surface, from the top of his gun safe to what Colin assumed might be a couch from the shape of it. The All American guy himself was seated at a desk buried in papers. Crime scene photos spilled from his lap as he stood to offer his hand and a cautious, mega-wide smile. In a moment of drunken misery, he’d told Colin Terriot, a near stranger, more about himself than any human knew, and things like that didn’t sit well between men like them.
“Colin. What can I do for you?”
“You keeping your promise to see to your family?”
Babineau stiffened. “I am.”
“Then that’s the biggest part of it.”
Relieved, Alain bent to clear a spot on the couch with his forearm. “What do you need?” Because someone like Colin didn’t show up to make small talk. “This about your brother?” When Colin arched a brow, he clarified, “The youngest. Have you talked to him?”
“Yeah. That went well.” Colin dropped onto the stiff leather sofa. “He’s th
inking it over. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Babineau’s shoulders fell, but he let it go without comment. “How’s Cale doing? This about him?”
“He’s fine.” The corner of Colin’s mouth gave a betraying tug. “No. It’s personal. That place we went to with him—”
“Maisy J’s?”
“Could I borrow you for some backup?”
“Me? I’d think you’d want someone a little more substantial, like your other brother, the pretty one.”
“What part of personal don’t you get? If you don’t want to, hey, that’s fine.” Colin started to rise, but Babineau stayed him with a lift of his hand.
“Whatever you need. Family, remember?”
“I’m on a tight schedule.”
Babineau turned off his desktop. “Ready when you are. You want me to sleaze up a bit first, or is this okay?” He gestured to his squeaky-clean navy blue polo, jeans and Dockers.
“They cater to all kinds. You might want a backup piece with you, something packing the right kind of rounds.” Silver.
Colin could see What the hell are we walking into? in his brother-in-law’s eyes.
Wordlessly, Alain opened his safe and took out a revolver, tucking it into the holster at the small of his back, covering it with his suede-and-leather varsity jacket.
Tina eyed them worriedly as her husband leaned down to kiss her quickly, murmuring, “Going out for a bit. Giving your brother a hand with something. Won’t be late.”
Tina looked to Colin, her casual façade not quite covering a deeper concern. “Bring him back safely.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Colin sensed she wanted to say more, just like he knew there was more to her anxious stare. She didn’t trust him. With good reason. It was getting to be an epidemic.
Maisy J’s didn’t try to pretend it was other than a classless place for a cheap sexual encounter. Maybe not so cheap, depending on what was chosen off the menu. The women were passably good-looking, even with their high miles, and the drinks held enough alcohol to get a man drunk enough to think he’d found true love. Across the river from New Orleans, it was a popular place for naughty fun without fear of consequences, if one was careful. The rowdy group enjoying the ladies and the liquor that night didn’t look to be cautious types. And that played well into Colin’s purpose. If they were busy minding their own pleasures, they’d pay no mind to someone seeing to business.
By agreement, he and Babineau split at the door, the detective heading for the bar and Colin finding a table within his sight. Even if he hadn’t been attractive and well-dressed, with an irresistible air of danger about him, the diamonds in his ears drew attention like a flashing Blue Light Special. Colin discouraged those who approached with a thin smile and a flat, “No, thanks. Just like to watch.”
The things offered for his viewing pleasure shocked someone of even his experience.
He scowled at the mixed-species fellow who dropped into the chair opposite, growling, “What you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“You haven’t heard my pitch yet.”
“I don’t play ball on that field, but thanks for asking.”
“I’m not asking for myself, Mr. Terriot.”
Colin straightened, alert in all his senses. None detected James nearby. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
“He asked me to give his regrets.”
Colin studied the messenger. He exuded a faint Shifter signature, that tingling of awareness they picked up from another of their kind, someone who worked outside at heavy labor from the shading in his mixed-race skin and bulge of muscles beneath a faded tee shirt. And he was tagged with that same bold red-and-black wolf’s head trailing flames that Cale had tattooed on his forearm to blend in at the docks. One of Savoie’s people?
“Who asked you to give me that message?” His low tone carried an unmistakable threat.
“You’re the one who called. I came to answer.”
James sent him? Someone from inside the New Orleans Security Patrol? “Why couldn’t he come himself?”
“Something about a family matter in Nevada. A runaway bride. Said you’d understand.”
Sylvia. She’d left Turow and was meeting up with Jamie, going back to the dark side after all the bull she’d shoveled onto him about happily-ever-afters.
“Did he give you a message for me?”
“I’ll give it word for word. He wanted you to know that he values everything you stand for, and that he needs your calm reason to speak for him and your clan,” he recited. “He’s made mistakes, and you can help him make sure no one else pays for them. And that there’s no place for him or the bride or what you want in your king’s plans, because Cale’s your father’s son.”
Imagining another Bram Terriot ruling from their mountain sank a cold spear into Colin’s gut. That wasn’t a monarchy he wanted to follow. Was Cale lying to them all about his intentions, same as he was lying about other more personal things?
“He don’t ask you take sides, jus’ make the right choices.”
The right choices. For whom?
“Anything you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him I’ll keep an open mind until we speak face to face.” Then he added, low and fierce, “And that if anything happens to that runaway bride, I’ll be very unforgiving.”
The second the furtive fellow slid out of his chair and headed for the door, Colin stood, signaling to Babineau with a slight tip of his head. The detective followed and climbed in where the T-bird idled and Colin’s thoughts raced.
“That went peaceably enough,” Alain remarked, settling into the passenger bucket.
“I’m not one for stirring up unnecessary shit.”
“I appreciate that.”
Colin glanced over. Something in the detective’s expression caught his attention. Usually, he’d let it go as none of his concern. But Babineau was under his family umbrella now.
“What?”
Defensiveness made a wall between them as the detective hedged, “What do you mean?”
“You tell me. Or don’t.” He put the car in gear and eased carefully out of the crowded lot, adding softly, “You know we can read minds.” He heard Babineau’s quick intake of breath and held to his smile.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He slid a glance over and winked. “Maybe.”
Alain let his tension go on a quiet laugh directed at himself. “It’s that place. When I started the job, I told you I had this Save the World ideal. It lasted long enough for me to think I could save someone who worked there from that life.” He put up a hand and vowed, “Long before I met your sister.”
“And? You thinking along those lines again? ’Cause I’d have to kill you just for thinking it.”
Babineau’s laugh reassured him. “Nothing like that. Just been thinking about that girl lately. Don’t know why. The past has a funny way of playing tricks, making you remember mistakes when it’s too late to do anything about them.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
CHAPTER NINE
Colin dropped his brother-in-law off at his small home, noting the FOR SALE sign in the yard for the first time as he backed out. Moving up or out? He’d have to ask later. Not tonight when his mind wrestled with more immediate concerns. Things he couldn’t talk about with Babineau or any of his brothers. Things that would consume him if he didn’t get another perspective before he tried to sleep.
So, he knocked on a door he’d never thought he’d go to, having it jerked open by a very annoyed, obviously pregnant female who studied him as if contemplating ways to kill him painfully. Her long, lean figure was clad in silky nightclothes.
“Oh. Sorry. Bad timing.”
Before she could verbally fillet him, a call came from down the hall. “Who is it?”
“One of those Terriots,” she called back, spitting out their name like a foul taste.
“Which one?”
“The soon to
be dead one!”
Colin took a step back. “I’ll be going. My mistake.”
“Is it Colin? Have him wait.”
Colin stood in the hall, holding to an impassive expression, pinned by her Ginsu glare while the rustle of rapid dressing reached them. Silas MacCreedy appeared, flushed and mussed and eager to placate the snarling guard dog at his door. His hands capped her tense shoulders, rubbing gently as he murmured, “I’ll be just a minute. We’ll take it outside.”
“Take your time. No reason to hurry now.” She took a step back so her husband could pass, lip curling disagreeably as Colin offered a bland smile.
“Have a nice evening, Miz MacCreedy.”
“I was,” she growled, shutting the door on them. Silas waited, relieved when he didn’t hear the click of the lock. He met Colin’s smirky look as if considering whether or not to knock it off his face then started down the hall without comment. They took the elevator to the main floor and stepped out into an open-air courtyard filled with old bricks, tropical plants, wrought-iron café tables and a trickling fountain.
“Is that a hot tub?”
Silas glanced at the small, separated portion of the fountain that steamed invitingly. “I’m in enough hot water already, but if you want to hop in, knock yourself out.”
Colin tried to ignore it, but his gaze kept sliding back to the rising steam. He started levering out of his boots and coat.
“If you strip to bare skin, I’m going to arrest you.”
Grinning, Colin neatly piled everything but his briefs on the nearest chair and stepped down . . . into heaven.
“Oooooh,” he moaned, sinking in up to his chin, big body filling almost every inch of the space. “This is awesome.”
Silas waited as Colin closed his eyes, letting hot bubbling water soothe sore muscles and aching conscience. His sigh prompted a dry, “Can I get you a cold beverage and a towel?”
Colin rolled his head along the bricked edge and smiled up at the tall Shifter. “Gosh, that would be nice.”
MacCreedy’s raised finger broke the mood. “What do you want, Colin, other than to wreak havoc on my marital bliss?”
