She arched an eyebrow. “Nothing pressing.”
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I ran into your sister the other day. Have you talked to her lately?”
She picked up a bunch of papers and tapped them on the desk, evening the stack. “Not in about a week. Where’d you see her?”
Crap. He should’ve figured out a story before he brought it up. “Convenience store. Stopped to get gas. Where’s she staying now?”
Macey sighed. “I have no idea. She comes and goes. I’m trying to give her space…you know, time to warm up to the whole family thing again. She’s been on her own so long, I don’t think she knows how to stay in one place.”
“That’s hard, having family you can’t be close to.” He knew that better than anyone.
“It is. But it’s been twenty years. It’s going to take time for us to have a real sisterly relationship again.”
He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and flashed her a grin. “You wouldn’t happen to have her phone number, would you?”
She crossed her arms. “Seriously? How many women live in New Orleans? And you have to crush on my sister?”
“She’s pretty.” He shrugged and cringed inwardly. Alexis was so much more than a pretty face.
“So are ten thousand other women in this city.”
“Please?” He couldn’t explain it to her. The possessiveness he felt in his heart. The overwhelming need to keep Alexis safe. It didn’t make sense for him to feel this strongly about a woman he hardly knew, but he couldn’t deny it.
She let out her breath in a huff. “Bryce.”
“C’mon, Mace. It’s just a phone number. I’m not asking for a blood sample. Let me ask her out. If she says ‘no,’ then no harm done.”
She licked her lips and narrowed her gaze. “I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”
He raised his hands in a show of innocence. “I’m not going to hurt her.” He wouldn’t dream of it.
“I’m more worried about you.”
Really? He scoffed. “Have I ever let a woman hurt me?”
“Have you ever dated one long enough to give her the chance?”
He leaned forward, resting his forearm on her desk. “If my memory serves right, a year ago you were scared to get that close to a man.” He winked.
She sat up straight. “People can change.”
“I know that’s right.”
Tugging on her bottom lip, she furrowed her brow as she considered his request. “Alexis can be…flaky. I don’t know what her life was like for the past twenty years, but from what’s she told me, it’s been rough.” She punched some numbers on her phone. “Be careful.”
His phone chimed with the incoming message. Alexis’s number lit up his screen, and the fist gripping his heart released its hold. “Thanks, Mace. I will.”
Macey’s phone beeped. “Lovely. Just fished a body out of the Mississippi.” She grinned at him. “I haven’t been assigned a new partner yet. Want to ride along for old time’s sake?”
“I’d love to.”
Bryce rode shotgun as Macey maneuvered the black SUV up Chartres Street in the French Quarter. This part of the city was built in the 1800s, and the narrow streets weren’t made for cars this size…or any size for that matter. Two and three-story buildings in varying shades of red, beige, yellow, and blue lined the street. Wrought-iron railings wrapped around the balconies, and wooden shutters covered the windows, blocking the winter chill from creeping inside. Elaborate wreaths and twinkling lights decorated the terraces, giving the city a festive aura.
Everyone would be celebrating the holidays with their families soon, while he sat at home with his dog. He looked at Macey. She knew him better than anyone, and he trusted her with his life. Most of what she knew was the mask, but her comment about Alexis hurting him made him wonder if she didn’t see a little more deeply into him than he’d thought.
She glanced at him. “What?”
“What makes you think Alexis is going to hurt me? Aside from what you said before?”
The corner of her mouth tugged into an almost-grin. “What is it that you see in her? And don’t just say she’s pretty.”
“She’s independent, capable, smart.” He shrugged. “I know she doesn’t stick around, but she seems to be there for you when you need her most. Like that time you were in the hospital.”
Macey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And she left as soon as I recovered.”
“She came back though. She was here for your wedding. She loves you.” He smiled. “I admire her tenacity. I don’t see why you think she’s going to hurt me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a lot more sensitive than you lead people to believe, but you can’t fool me. I’m psychic, remember?”
They hung a right on St. Philip and another on Decatur to pass Café Du Monde. Macey pulled onto the curb, got out of the car, and started up the steps toward the riverbank.
Bryce followed, mulling over what she’d said. “I thought you could only talk to dead people?”
She laughed and continued her climb.
He stopped on the sidewalk. “Go ahead without me. I’ll be there in a second.”
Macey turned around when she reached the top of the stairs and put her hands on her hips. “Tell my sister I said, ‘hi.’” She shook her head and continued to the river.
He clicked Alexis’s number and held his breath as it rang. Voicemail. Of course.
“Hey, Alexis. It’s Bryce. I wanted to make sure you’re okay…after what happened yesterday. And to remind you that you have my house key. I hope you’ll use it.” His stomach soured as he pressed end and jogged up the stairs to the scene.
The moon reflected off the river, causing the muddy water to sparkle like the stars, and lights from the Crescent City Connection bridge illuminated the water with a reddish glow. A massive white steamboat docked down to the right, and a crowd of uniforms stood in a semicircle around the body. Bryce caught up to Macey as she began to ask questions.
“What have we got?” she asked a man in blue.
“Male. Mid-forties. A couple found him floating face down a few feet out. Hasn’t been in the water long, but it looks like something tried to eat him.”
Bryce followed the man’s gaze to the mangled body lying in the grass. Jagged tears covered the dead man’s flesh from head to legs, and obvious teeth marks punctured his arms. Bryce’s skin crawled. After seven years of working cases like this, he was happy to be saving lives rather than investigating deaths.
“What do you think, boss?” he said to Macey.
She slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves, snapping them at the wrists, and bent to examine the body. “Looks like an animal attack to me. Maybe a wolf or rabid dog.” She gestured to his arms. “See the teeth marks here?”
“I don’t know. The neck’s clean. Seems like a wolf would go for the throat on instinct to kill its prey before eating it.”
She yanked off her gloves and tossed them in a trash bag. “Then it was a dog.”
“A dog dumped the body in the river?” Was she serious?
“Maybe he fell in while trying to run away. Anyway, I don’t think a person did this, but we’ll see what the autopsy says.”
He followed her while she investigated the scene, though he hesitated to call what she did an investigation. A half-ass glance, maybe. She shined a flashlight on the ground in a few spots and walked along the bank where they’d dragged the body from the water for a total of two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Then she nodded to a uniform. “I’ve seen enough. Pack it up.”
“What about your spirit sensors?” Bryce asked as she made her way toward the street.
She shrugged. “No objects to touch. Let’s go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bryce may not have had psychic abilities, but his cop sensors screamed murder. Macey had never been one to overlook evidence, but the way she dismissed this as nothing more than an animal attack seemed downright strang
e. It was her case, though, so he’d let it go. For now. “Hey, can I buy you a cup of coffee or a beignet? It’s been a while.” He slid into the passenger seat and clicked his seatbelt.
“I would love that, but I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” She turned onto Decatur and headed back to the station. “Besides, your shift ended an hour ago. Don’t you want to go home and get some rest? Leave the night shift to us lowly detectives?” She playfully punched him on the arm.
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“Rain check. I promise. Hey, maybe you can come to dinner with me and Luke sometime. I cook a mean pot of gumbo.”
“Sure. That sounds great.” He stared out the window.
She stopped in a parking space and shut off the engine. “I guess Alexis didn’t answer?”
“Voicemail.”
“That’s not surprising.”
He got out of the car and walked around to Macey’s side. “Need any help with your paperwork? I remember how to investigate a murder.”
She cast him a sideways glance and shook her head. “This wasn’t a murder, but no thanks. I’ve got it.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. Her answers didn’t sit right with him. She was hiding something, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t share it until she was ready.
“Go home, Bryce. Tell Sam I said, ‘hi.’”
“Will do, Mace. Take care.” He got in his car and headed out of the French Quarter, through the Central Business District, and into the grandness of the Garden District. The “American” part of New Orleans. Massive Victorian, Greek Revival, and Italianate homes built on generous lots populated the neighborhood along St. Charles. A streetcar chugged along the track as he made a left into the neighborhood and pulled into his driveway.
Karen sat on her front porch, sipping a mug of coffee. Light from the television flickered in the window behind her, and she waved as Bryce trekked up the sidewalk.
“Evening, ma’am.” He stopped and rested a hand on the railing. “How’s he doing?”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Shaky, but better. Sam’s a good stress reliever.”
“That he is.” He nodded to her mug. “Careful. That stuff’ll keep you up all night.”
“It’s decaf.”
“Good deal.” He tipped an imaginary hat and started toward the stairs.
“I made you dinner,” she called after him.
He stopped and turned around. “You didn’t need to do that. A man can be sustained on candy bars and potato chips.”
“It’s just to say thank you. Again. I can’t say it enough.”
“You don’t have to say it at all.” Rules be damned. Seeing Michael safe at home with his mom trumped any kind of reprimand Bryce could have received, verbal or not.
She folded her right leg beneath her left and gripped the mug with both hands. “You worked late, so I left it in your fridge. I hope you don’t mind.”
He smiled. “I would never be opposed to finding a home-cooked meal in my fridge. Thank you.”
Once inside, he gave Sam a good scratch behind the ears and headed straight for the refrigerator. A large plastic container occupied an empty shelf. A handwritten note on pink stationary sat atop the blue lid.
Thank you for saving Michael’s life. You’re a hero. –Karen.
He set the note on the counter and scooped out a generous helping of jambalaya. Covering the rice and sausage dish with a paper towel, he popped it in the microwave while he poured himself a glass of whiskey. The smooth liquid warmed his insides as he settled onto the sofa and flipped on the TV.
When the microwave beeped, he retrieved his dinner and found Star Trek: The Next Generation—the best TV series ever created—on Netflix. The herbs and spices of Karen’s jambalaya danced on his tongue as he savored the tangy sausage. Sam sat on the floor, his snout resting on the edge of the sofa, his sorrowful puppy-dog eyes pleading.
“Sorry, buddy. You know the rules.”
Sam let out a pitiful whine. Bryce took another bite as his front door swung open.
Chapter Eight
Alexis hesitated in the doorway as Bryce’s eyes widened. He fumbled with the remote, dropping it in his lap twice before he mashed the power button and turned off the TV.
She rested her hand on the knob. “I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked.”
“No, no.” He stood and wiped his palms on his pants. “I gave you a key. I wanted you to use it.”
As she stepped into the living room, she slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. She immediately missed its warmth and woodsy scent. It had been like a permanent hug from Bryce over the last couple of days. “I got your message.”
His Adam’s apple rose and dipped as he swallowed. “Good.”
Sam bounded toward her, his tail wagging like a tornado, and she bent down to pet him. “What were you watching?”
He ran a hand through his hair and cast his gaze to the TV. “Oh, uh…football.”
She suppressed a grin and ran both hands over the dog’s shoulders, giving him a good scratch as his left leg thumped the floor. “Who’s playing?”
Bryce chuckled. “The Saints, of course.”
“The Saints?” She straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Didn’t they play last night?”
He scratched his head and looked at his dog. “I DVR’d it.”
“Right.” What was he up to, and why didn’t he want her to know what he was watching?
He picked up a plate from the coffee table and rushed into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Karen made some amazing jambalaya. Want some?”
Her heart dipped into her stomach to swim through the jealousy boiling there. He had a woman cooking for him? “Sure. Who’s Karen?” She shuffled into the kitchen and picked up the pink stationary lying on his counter. It would be her luck if he had a girlfriend he’d neglected to tell her about. “She have the hots for you?”
He stopped and looked at her, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked, kissable grin. “She lives downstairs. Read it.” He gestured to the paper.
She scanned the note. “Who’s Michael?”
“Her son. I talked him down from an eleventh-story window ledge. That’s why I was in the hospital that day. When I found you.” He locked eyes with hers, and her stomach fluttered. When he’d found her…like she’d been lost.
Maybe she had.
“You…Wow.” Her chest warmed as if her wolf were saying I told you so.
He shrugged. “It’s my job.”
“You act like it’s no big deal.” Of all the things for him to be proud of himself for, saving lives should have topped the list. She set the stationery on the counter.
He took a deep breath and twisted the ring on his finger. “I know it is a big deal, but I have to play it down. Ultimately, it was his decision to let me grab him and pull him to safety, like it would have been his decision if he jumped. If I go around saying I saved his life, then what will I have to say if I lose someone?” His hazel eyes held a deep sadness, as if the safety of the world rested on his shoulders.
Having that kind of responsibility was unimaginable. She sank into a dining chair as he put a plate of food in front of her. What a stressful job that must have been. “I never thought of it that way. Have you ever lost anyone?”
He hesitated, his gaze growing distant before he blinked and shook his head. “No, but I’ve only been doing this for a few months. I know people who have.” He settled into the chair next to her.
“Still, it’s amazing what you do.”
“Thanks.” He held her gaze, the look in his eyes somewhere between a smolder and curiosity. He was either going to drill her with questions or pull her into his arms and kiss her, and she couldn’t handle either at the moment.
Focusing on the food, she took a bite of jambalaya. The overwhelming heat of the spices burned her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to stop eating. She shoveled it in and had cleaned her plate before she realized it.<
br />
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Hungry?”
She took a sip of whiskey. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Tell Karen I said it was delicious.”
Bryce cleared the dishes from the table and washed them in the sink. Alexis watched his backside as he dried the plates and returned them to the cabinet. He was meticulous in his ways, putting each dish in its proper place before wiping down the counters and the table and pouring two more glasses of Jameson.
He was a walking, talking contradiction. Cool and cocky on the surface, but inside he was so much more. He saved lives for a living, dedicated his life to helping others. Her initial perception of Bryce had been all wrong, and her wolf was gloating in her soul.
“Shall we?” He gestured to the living room.
She followed him to the sofa and sat next to him, shifting her knees toward his so she faced him. The intensity in his gaze held her as he pressed the glass to his lips and took a sip. A tiny drop of alcohol dripped onto his lower lip, and his tongue slipped out to retrieve it, sending a warm shiver cascading down her spine.
He set the glass on the table, never taking his gaze off hers. “What made you decide to come back?”
She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “It’s pretty cold out tonight. Didn’t want to sleep in my car again.”
“I see.” His eyes searched hers, penetrating her soul, making her want to open up to someone for the first time in her life. Could he really be the one? Was she ready to listen to her wolf?
“That’s a lie.” Her body involuntarily drifted toward him.
“I know.” He didn’t move away.
“I came to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She reached behind his head and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met, and warmth spread through her body like a wildfire consuming a forest. She closed her eyes as her tongue brushed his, and he slid a hand to her hip. She wanted him. To feel his hands on her body, his bare skin pressed to hers. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him harder, trailing her lips across his jaw and down his neck.
Bound by Blood (Crescent City Wolf Pack Book 3) Page 9
