by Karen Anders
“I don’t think he works for any one band and I’m not really sure which bands. I didn’t approve of his job and we didn’t talk much about what he actually does.”
“Has he done this in the past?”
“Well, yes, over the past year there have been times when he’s been gone a day or two, but he’s never been away this long without letting me know where he is.”
“Have you reported this to the police?”
“I’ve filled out a missing person’s report, but because of the nature of his job the police aren’t treating it as a priority. My brother also has a habit of disappearing and not contacting me.”
His gaze lingered on her profile. He was aware that the police couldn’t dedicate a large number of resources to track down each and every missing person without signs of a crime.
“You do realize that he could be partying, gone off with friends, or maybe a girlfriend?”
“Yes, I do realize those things, but it’s not like him to do this.”
“I’ll help you with this, Tally, but as a friend,” he said, realizing he made the offer for more reasons than just to find her brother.
Spending time with Tally was a huge incentive, but Christien had a brother and a sister of his own, so he understood her worries. Besides, if he sent her home with platitudes, it would bother his conscience. Based on what Tally had told him about her brother, his gut told him he wasn’t in mortal danger, but he’d never play Russian roulette with another person’s life.
“I can pay you.”
“But you don’t have to.”
She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and damned if he didn’t detect a hint of vulnerability beneath all that bravado. “I insist. I don’t need charity from you Christien. I’d rather pay my way.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll need as much information as you can give me on your brother.” He withdrew an application from a side drawer for her to fill out. “Any bank-account numbers you know of, statements, credit cards, social-security number, driver’s license. And I’ll need a recent photograph of him, too. Give me anything you think would be helpful in tracing him.”
“So how much do you usually charge for this kind of work?”
He named a price.
She winced. “How long do you think it’ll take you to find him?”
“I don’t know. For all we know, he could turn up tomorrow.”
“I could only hope. I really want to find him as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we give it a week? After a week, I’ll start charging you.”
Her lips thinned into a determined line. “Sounds suspiciously like charity, Christien. I don’t like to be indebted to anyone.”
“You’d be doing me a favor. Ever since I left the force, I’ve been going crazy with the jobs I’ve been getting. The money is good, but I’m afraid they’re not much of a challenge.”
“I insist on paying you your normal retainer.” She pulled out her checkbook and wrote an amount.
Christien moved away from the desk and squatted down in front of her chair. “You are a stubborn woman, but being the contrary guy that I am, I happen to like it.”
He didn’t take the check when she offered it to him, so she was forced to lean forward and put it on the edge of his desk.
Her perfume fit her with its sassy, flirty scent that made his gut clench with heat.
He rose when she moved back to her seat and, taking her hands in his, he brought her to a standing position. Her tongue darted out and dampened her bottom lip, bringing his attention back to her mouth and all the pleasure it could give a man.
Just having her in his sights triggered a hunger in him that ached to be fed.
“I want to work along with you, Christien. I’ll go crazy if I have to sit at home and worry.”
“Working with you only has one problem. I don’t know if I can keep my hands off you,” he said.
Tally smiled and Christien’s chest tightened at the seduction in those upturned lips eliciting an internal kind of heat. His pulse kicked into high gear and he managed, just barely, to remain outwardly composed.
She arched her lovely brows and said, “Who says I want you to keep your hands off me?”
“I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you that first time at Café Eros. I’ve gotten the impression that you weren’t interested.”
“It’s true. I tried to deny it, but I can’t anymore. I’m tired of fighting it, not with everything else going on.”
She slipped her arms around him and it was sheer heaven to finally have her willing.
“About your brother, do you know where he lives?”
“I can do better than that,” Tally said. “I have his key.”
“WHAT A MESS,” Tally said when she opened the door and saw the state of her brother’s apartment. “It smells like dirty socks in here.”
“Bachelor living,” Christien said, but she could see a change in him, subtle but noticeable. She’d never seen Christien as anything but charming, though this new facet of his personality caused her to rethink. Obviously, he couldn’t be as one-dimensional as she’d thought him to be.
This was strangely disappointing to her. A roll in the sheets with a shallow charmer was one thing, but a man with layers would involve Tally’s emotions. Could very well derail her plans for pursuit of what she considered the most important thing in her life: finding Dampier’s treasure.
“I hope your place doesn’t look like this,” Tally said.
“Nope. I’m a neatnik.”
Christien went over to the hall table where Mark had dumped his mail. He picked up an envelope. “This is dated five days ago.”
“So he hasn’t been back here, you think?” Tally said as she surreptitiously looked for any sign of the treasure map. She felt extremely guilty, but it would at least give them a clue as to whether or not her brother had been back to his apartment.
“Not necessarily. He could have come back. A lot of people don’t pick up their mail daily.”
Christien moved out of the living room and into the bedroom. “Can you tell if any of his clothes are gone? Suitcases?”
“No. I’m not sure. I don’t know what he uses to travel.”
“Okay. Let’s go talk to his neighbors.”
Unfortunately, when they knocked on the doors on either side of Mark’s apartment, no one answered.
“That’s okay. We’ll come back later,” Christien stated.
“I have to get home and get ready for my shift at Café Eros.”
“When do you get off?”
“Six, but I sing at The Blue Note tonight.”
“I can—”
“No, I want to be with you on every step of the investigation.” Tally needed to be there when he found her brother.
“Okay. When are you finished singing?”
“At ten.”
“We can start making the rounds to some of the band hangouts and see what we come up with,” Christien suggested. “Did you drive your car over to my office?”
“No, I walked.”
“I’ll drop you back to Court du Chaud.”
Back at the court, Tally leaned over and kissed Christien on the cheek. “Thanks so much for helping me.”
When he colored, Tally couldn’t help but laugh. The devilish man did have some endearing qualities.
CHRISTIEN WATCHED TALLY from the center table in a packed room. All conversation died as she walked out to the microphone and prepared to sing. It brought his attention to her graceful hands with the red-tipped fingernails, a spotlight refracting the various shades of warm coffee and chocolate richness in her upswept hair that left the long column of her elegant neck bare except for a ruby teardrop that nestled in her cleavage.
She opened her mouth and it seemed as if she sang about the very fever that had consumed him before he’d made his way over here. It was as if time hadn’t just stood still, it had slipped deliciously backward.
Her rendition
transported him to an era long before anyone had ever thought of SUVs or smart bombs, when people slow-danced and said ma’am, and electricity was something that sparkled between lovers. With a stand-up bass, light brushes on a snare drum and lilting acoustic guitar framing Tally’s candlelit jazzy vocals, she breathed new life into the ghosts of torch singers long since past.
The red dress she wore glittered under the bright lights, hugging dangerous curves. From the deep V-halter neckline that shaped her breasts and left her entire back bare to the flattering sheath that cupped her hips. A long sexy slit played peekaboo with her creamy thigh each time she moved.
Christien was charmed and smitten, tension and need coiling tight within him.
He wanted this woman who could transform herself from a hardworking waitress to this…siren.
She finished her set, speaking softly into the microphone in response to the vigorous clapping, “Thank you very much.”
She set the microphone on the stand and left the stage, making a direct beeline to his table.
“Just let me change and we can get going.”
She disappeared into the back of the restaurant and reemerged twenty minutes later dressed in jeans, a red T-shirt and a denim jacket.
They spent the rest of the evening moving from club to club and talking to anybody who might know where her brother was. A couple of people had seen him, but they couldn’t remember if it had been four days ago or when. Discouraged, Tally allowed Christien to take her home.
He insisted on walking her all the way across the court. As they passed the piazza, she noticed the Christmas tree had been taken down. She missed its glittering lights and beauty. At that moment, Christien settled his hand against her lower back. She wasn’t keen on men guiding her or hanging on to her, but when Christien touched her it was like those same multicolored fireworks went off underneath her skin.
At her door, she felt his presence with a keenness, the need for comfort strong. She was heartily disappointed that they couldn’t find Mark tonight. Time was ticking away and she was beginning to despair. The thought of spending time with a warm body to distract her from her anxieties seemed like shelter from the storm.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“Yes, I would.”
Once they were in the town house, Tally chose a bottle of pinot noir. She uncorked it and poured the liquid into glasses.
“Cheers,” she said as she toasted with him and drank the dark wine.
Christien didn’t drink. He stepped closer to her, the heat from his body mingling with hers.
“Don’t be discouraged, Tally. We’ll find him. I’m very good at my job.”
“I believe you. But I’ll feel better when I know he’s okay.”
“Chances are he’s just fine.”
“Can you stay a little while?”
“All night long.”
His dark eyes sparked with mischief as he stepped closer to her. Fingers fanned wide, he skimmed her jaw, her throat, the slope of her shoulders. Placing small kisses across her eyelids, along her jawline, his mouth explored her slowly.
Every sense was heightened. Every sense was filled. The hardness of his muscles. The sound of breath catching. His dark, thick lashes as they swept against his cheeks. The planes and angles of his beard-shadowed jaw. Tally soaked it up greedily, unaware that a man could make her feel so delicate, so beautiful with just his clever mouth.
Tally savored the strong feel of his arms around her, the sweetness of his kiss. Her skin alive with awareness, she tingled at the slightest brush of his fingertips, the sensations swirling through her like a trail of stardust.
He cradled her breast, his fingers hot and rough through the thin fabric as he pinched her nipple, causing her to gasp out loud. He caught the sound against his mouth. Their lips melded, moved with a pressure that could only be quenched by the taste of the other. His touch flowed downward, over her ribs to her waist, along the flare of her hips.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Tally said softly against his mouth.
The knock on the door was like cold water against hot skin. Christien sighed and settled his forehead against hers. His dark, slumberous eyes opened. “I’m beginning to believe in voodoo.”
“I think you’re right.”
Tally disengaged herself, already feeling the deprivation of his arms, his touch, his mouth. Yet, when she opened the door and saw her sister’s face, it all faded.
“What’s wrong, Bree?”
“I woke up from a terrible nightmare where Mark was in trouble.”
As soon as Bree saw Christien standing in Tally’s kitchen, his hair mussed, his eyes somnolent and filled with every wicked thing they’d just done, she covered her mouth and said, “Oh, my gosh, I’ve done it again.” She turned to Tally. “I’m so sorry. I came over to ask you if you’ve seen him lately.”
“No. As a matter of fact, I haven’t heard from him for five days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you, too. I guess I thought he’d show up.”
“Don’t worry, Bree,” Christien said, tucking in his shirt and shrugging back into his jacket. “I’m helping Tally find him.” He walked into the foyer and put a hand on Tally’s shoulder. Looking at her, he grinned and she felt the warmth shoot right through her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
When the door closed, Bree turned apologetic and worried eyes to her sister. “I swear, Tally. I don’t know why I came over here and didn’t wait until tomorrow. I just felt compelled.”
Tally looked around her town house and shivered. Was there some malevolent force at work here?
4
GABRIEL WATCHED TALLY with her sister. Dealing with one twin at a time would be enough for him. For now. He would deal with Bree later. Although, he couldn’t appear to Tally since he was having the devil’s own time becoming visible and remaining that way.
Bree kissed her sister’s cheek and said, “Good night, Tally. Sweet dreams. Let’s hope we hear from Mark soon.”
At the last minute, Tally called out, “Don’t forget about the krewe meeting tomorrow night.”
“We just had a krewe meeting,” Bree’s grumbled.
“That was last week,” Tally said, rolling her eyes. “We have them every week.” As soon as Bree left, Gabriel willed himself to move from the incorporeal to the corporeal world. But it was to no avail as Tally passed right through him.
“Tally,” he said, but she didn’t pause. This idea of materializing was probably one of the old crone’s many ways to trick him and watch him suffer.
“What is it you’re trying to do, Gabriel?” Her voice dripped with smug contempt.
“Go away, old woman, and leave me to my own misery.”
Tally dumped the wine out of the glasses and rinsed them under the faucet, oblivious to their conversation.
“You are trying to appear to her, are you not?”
“Aye, but I am finding it very difficult. Go ahead and gloat.”
“Whether you appear to her or not will not do you any good, but I guess I could give you a hint.”
“Why would you do that?”
“There is no sport in this paltry attempt of yours to win your redemption. If you neglect to even talk to the girl, how can you participate? Your misery will be even more delicious once you fail.”
“Give me the hint, old woman, and then begone. I have no patience for you this night.”
“Taking what you lack is the key.”
He stood there for a moment.
“Think about it, thick skull. It’s a wonder you ever found your way out of your house let alone plan the liberation of New Orleans.”
“Saving a city was child’s play compared to this…this manipulation of emotions.”
“There is no manipulation, Gabriel. When a woman’s heart is open, she will fall for the man who is destined for her.” She bit her lip.
Gabriel re
alized that she’d said more than she’d meant to. He had to take his triumphs where he found them. “Aha! Christien is her destined match?”
Pinching her face into a tight frown, she threw her shawl around her throat with a flourish. “I have given you enough ammunition, pirate. Work with that, if you can.”
Gabriel gave the crone a dismissive look and turned away, no longer able to tolerate her smug piercing eyes. Take what you lack? She would be a hag and make him muddle through riddles. If he could get a headache, one would be blooming behind his eyes right now.
So, take what he lacked. Well, that was easy. He lacked substance. Materialize meant substance. To become solid. But how?
He wanted to move on. He was sick of this purgatory, of seeing and hearing people and not being a part of life, reminding him constantly of the life he’d squandered and the cruel death that had taken away any chance he’d had of making amends. What he could not attain in life, he was determined to accomplish in death. Closure.
Tally was only half of his ticket. If he couldn’t figure out a way to materialize to Tally, he couldn’t hope to affect her life, make her see that her ambition was nothing but cold ash compared to the hot embers of love. Without Tally, he would forever be trapped in hell with that thrice-cursed old crone!
He scrutinized every inch of what stood before him. For over two hundred years since he’d been trapped in this limbo, caught between life and death, he’d seen this old house go from candlelight to electricity.
He looked at the lightbulb that was burning in the living room. With slow footsteps, he walked toward it. It had an aura as all things with power had—hair driers, electric shavers, television sets and microwave ovens. Could he tap into these sources? After all, the human body’s aura was made up of electromagnetic power.
Is that what the crone was talking about?
He reached out and just tried to absorb the energy pulsing from the bulb. He felt a strange sensation, like the tingles one got when leaning on a limb too long. He turned toward the stairs and said, “Tally!”
This time, she stopped and turned around, but, although his voice carried, she still could not see him. “Double blasted damn,” he swore as Tally stared into the gloom at the bottom of the stairs. He would have to work harder.
