Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10)

by Nancy Gideon

  Because the thought of spending another minute with only his own company had him climbing out of his skin, Cale nodded and walked a weaving path to T-Ray’s pickup. Its body was red, the driver’s door black, and hood green, as awkwardly pieced together as Cale felt at that moment. He climbed in, leaned back. And faded out.

  When the vehicle rocked to a halt, Cale forced his eyes open, looking about through the heavy tint of his sunglasses, not knowing where he was. A truck stop? His mind couldn’t grasp anything but the pain twisting inside him like a thick snake impaled on a sharp stick. He couldn’t put together the mechanics to get out of the cab until T-ray came around for him, easing him out, letting him lean.

  His boisterous co-worker waved to the teenage girl at the counter, steering Cale toward a booth by the bathrooms. The strong odors of disinfectant, grease, and stale humanity made his situation even more precarious as T-Ray shoved him onto the torn vinyl bench and took the one opposite.

  “Hey there, Alma. What’s the special?”

  “You knows that menu so good, you coulda writ it yourself. Grits with biscuits and gravy. That’s what you’ll be having. How ’boutchur pal? He ain’t looking so good.” Cale heard her crepe soles squeak on the linoleum as she backpeddled. “He ain’t gonna toss, is he?”

  “He’s fine, Alma. Fetch us some coffee. Don’t forget my half-and-half.”

  “Coming right up, sugar pie.”

  The scent of her floral perfume laced with cleaning solvent lingered, teasing up Cale’s nose to pound between his temples. While his thoughts and movements dragged, every sense remained razor sharp, each smell more intense, each murmur a roar, the heat coming from the kitchen cooking his brain and parching his skin. Each ragged breath sounded like a scream.

  “I think I’m gonna toss,” he mumbled.

  “You don’t want to do it in there. Here, sip on this.”

  The plastic water glass the waitress had set before him screeched across the table, setting his teeth on edge. He fumbled for the straw and sucked up cool bliss.

  “Go easy ‘til it hits bottom.”

  Cale forced himself to take tiny drinks, the liquid a balm to his dehydrated body. He closed aching eyes and listened to the man chat endlessly about the work week ahead until the coffee arrived. Squinting, he watched in mild horror as so much sugar dumped into his cup, the spoon could hardly cut through.

  “Here. This’ll perk you up.”

  They both knew that’s not what it was going to take to perk him up, but Cale nodded his thanks anyway. He clutched the cup with both hands, leaning down to it to avoid spilling. The ceramic bottom rattled through the earthquake rocking his world.

  “Got some news if you’re interested and up for it.”

  Cale risked a glance, wincing at the brightness haloing T-Ray’s partially shaven head. “Maybe.”

  A thick forefinger tapped the ink on the back of his hand. ”Ready to put that to the test?”

  Alerted by his tone, Cale scooped up his waning attention in both fists and held tight. “Sure.”

  “Got rumors of some outside boys from up Memphis way doing a meet and greet tonight. Feel like crashing a party?”

  The way his system was crashing? Insanity. But he nodded.

  Would his brother James be stupid enough to hook up with the Guedrys right under his nose? Only one way to find out. And he couldn’t do it shivering in his shoes like a Jell-O shot.

  “You said you could set me up so I could get even.” The gruff urgency in his voice combined with the way T-Ray looked at him knocked his self-respect to hell.

  “Sure. Whatever you need, Mick.”

  Three days of sleep beside the woman he loved, an entire buffet he could keep down, and one clear thought was what he needed. Those things impossible, Cale settled for finishing his cloyingly sweet coffee and one of T-Ray’s biscuits, an achievement that at least eased the cramping in his belly.

  Roux let him stay in his rented room while he went to find the cure for what ailed him. A cure for the Black-eyed Shakes that only dug the grave deeper. Cale curled into a tight ball on the spring-infested couch, writhing through the waves of withdrawal shredding his insides, running with sweat while freezing at the same time. Sick in body and soul, he was so weak he could barely open his eyes when T-ray knelt beside him to offer a Styrofoam cup.

  “Drink this.”

  He couldn’t hold the cup so T-Ray tipped it for him. Then he lay back, eyes closed, panting helplessly as he waited for relief. And incredibly, he slept, just brief patches of calm between dark, tumbling nightmares, but enough so that when his eyes opened to find vision clear, he could sit up and be appalled at his own situation.

  T-Ray, watching a way too loud basketball game, glancing away from the screen long enough to declare, “Shower’s through there,” pointing the way down a narrow hall.

  The wildly misdirected spray got him clean, but his only option was a return to his filthy clothes. He stank. They’d smell him coming a mile away. As much as he didn’t like it, that meant returning to Silas’s.

  He got T-Ray to take him to his bike on the docks and promised to meet him back there at seven. He snuck into the condo using Silas’s borrowed key, hearing sounds of industry from the living area as he slipped into his temporary room. To find it empty.

  “Where’s my stuff?” he growled at the couple seated to a really great looking dinner.

  “Downwind please.” Nica waved a hand in front of her wrinkled nose. When he’d taken a few steps back so as not to offend their palates, she said, “Kendra took them this morning.”

  “What? Took them where?”

  “How should I know? Back to Nevada if she’s smart.”

  Cale blinked, unable to process what had happened. His emotions roiled, tumbling over one another. Anger, loss, confusion. Rage.

  “Sit down,” Silas coaxed, expression betraying his concern. “Eat something. Call her.”

  And say what? How dare you? Please save me? He settled for a brusque, “Wouldn’t want to spoil your meal.” And he turned, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” MacCreedy started after him. “Cale, we need to talk!”

  About what? How he was dying inside even as he moved through the mechanics of living?

  “You got nothing to say that I want to hear.”

  *

  By the time he followed Roux through the noisy kitchen of an upscale Creole restaurant, Cale’s nerves hummed like high power lines, snapping dangerously, sizzling with an overload of sensation. Wearing clothes from the first store he’d come to, his skin chafed beneath the fabric sizing. The clattering of pans and utensils had him hyper-jumpy, his gaze flashing about in a frenzied pattern of watchfulness, muscles so tense and trembling he feared any unexpected move would have him clinging to the ceiling. A bomb about to blow. Input kept crowding in closer and closer until he could barely breathe.

  “Through here,” T-Ray whispered. They entered a dark hallway where he reached for the knob of an unmarked door. Alarm shivered all up and down Cale’s spine.

  “T, stop. Where are the others? Shouldn’t we wait?”

  A confident smile. “It’s okay. Stick close and be quiet. Just follow my lead.” And he pushed the door open.

  The room, an office he guessed, dazzled with the glare of fluorescent lights. For a moment, Cale stood blinded, his pupils letting in too much brightness for him to see. He blinked quickly, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand until critically aware that they weren’t alone in the room. He sensed at least three other males and a familiar female. The first thing he could make out was a utilitarian steel desk. And on it, a nicely blocked dove grey Stetson hat.

  Then a voice he recognized for its low, lazy drawl.

  “Hello, Cale. You’ve looked better.”

  Rueben Guedry.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  In a flash, T-Ray got between him and the door, huge hand flat against his chest to detain him. “It’s okay. Don’t do anythin
g I’m going to regret.” All Cale could do was gape up at his co-worker, shock naked on his face.

  “No dramatics, Mr. Terriot,” the Guedry clan leader sighed wearily. “You wanted a sit down. Here I am. So, sit down.”

  Cautiously, Cale slid into the hard backed chair under Guedry’s harder black stare. T-Ray stood behind him, hands resting easy on his tight shoulders. When he needed his arrogant Terriot cool, it deserted him. Instead, he froze like a coyote caught red-handed beneath the flare of a Halogen slinking around garbage cans at midnight—skittish, anxious, and totally vulnerable without the strength of its pack’s numbers. Still trying to process the fact that T-Ray betrayed him to his enemy, his circumstances slowly surfaced. What came next? Ransom? Torture? Disgrace? Death?

  He’d only met Rueben once, long ago, while standing at Bram’s side as his snarling, vicious attack dog. What did the other leader see now? A shivering, crouching Chihuahua, baked out of his brain on the very drugs he’d vowed to destroy?

  He was a Terriot king. He’d act like one.

  Cale sat up straighter, gripping the arms of the chair so his hands wouldn’t shake, adopting an aggressive forward lean as he rumbled, “What are you doing sneaking into the city without notifying Savoie’s people? That’s an act of war!”

  Rueben crooked a careless smile. “I didn’t sneak. I walked right in. Somebody must have forgotten to lock the door.”

  “Or there were traitors guarding it.” His glare slashed from an uncomfortable Roux to the unapologetic female standing at Rueben’s side. Mia, the sultry heartbreaker who’d had her gorgeous legs wrapped around both his brothers.

  “I thought we’d talk a bit before Savoie arrives, since we’re both outsiders here looking to stake our claims. I don’t want to tangle with your pit bulls but if I have to, I’ll put every one of you down, starting with you, right now.”

  Cale returned a ferocious smile. “My people don’t need me to show them how to kill Guedrys. We’ve been doing it since we were children.”

  “Not if they’re all wallowing around in that same shit you’re doing right now.”

  Shame cutting like a blade across the throat, he counter-attacked with a fierce, “Are you sure you’re talking to the right Terriot? Shouldn’t you be meeting with James?”

  “Is that his name?” Rueben slouched back in his chair, crossing long, lean legs. “All you redheaded stepbrothers look alike to me. Don’t misunderstand me, Terriot. I’m here on behalf of my clan, and I don’t much care if you all tear yourselves to pieces over this cesspool. But I like things to progress in an orderly fashion, and what’s being stirred up down here don’t bode well for any of us. We got our differences, and I’m proud to own up to ’em. We’ll never see eye-to-eye without the need to gouge the other’s out. But, what we do amongst ourselves ain’t the business of them in the North, and I don’t mean to let them have any tighter stranglehold on our kind than they already do.”

  “On that, we agree.”

  “It’s about more than just waterways and commerce, but I don’t expect you to understand that,” Rueben began.

  Cale cut him off. “It’s about family and the part of yours that will be living here.”

  The fact that he knew Brigit MacCreedy St. Clair was carrying Rueben’s dead cousin’s child took Guedry by obvious surprise. But he recovered quickly. “Indeed. We protect our own then decide how the pie gets divided. First, we need to identify our enemies. Can you shed any light in that area?”

  Cale saw the dark siren Mia stiffen. Interesting. Hadn’t she told her leader about Lee and Brady? Or was she, like T-Ray Roux, playing one side against the other? Did that mean she hadn’t yet told Casper who he really was?

  “You need to talk to Silas MacCreedy. He can fill you in until Savoie gets back.”

  “MacCreedy?” the lanky Tennessean sneered. “That mixed breed manipulator? Why should I trust him?”

  “You shouldn’t. But you should respect him. He’s your best shot at making a profitable peace. He’s motivated, just like you are, to keep the lid on things here.”

  “And what about you, Cale? What motivates you, other than feeding that addiction that’s cooking you from the inside out?”

  “I’m here to deal with the brother who’d destroy his own clan when he should be trying to save it.”

  “How do you plan to do that when you can’t save yourself?”

  The knife of disgrace twisted beneath his ribs. “That’s not your problem, is it?”

  “It is when I have to rely on you to get things done.” His dark gaze did a slow assessing trip from dyed head to anxiously tapping toes and obviously found everything in-between lacking. “I’m not willing to do that. I won’t deal with you. No offense.”

  “None taken. My brother will be my clan’s voice here in New Orleans. He carries my full authority.”

  Cale couldn’t miss how that news displeased his brothers’ faithless lover. Especially when Rueben added, “My cousin Mia will speak for me. Don’t be fooled by the fact that she’s female.”

  “No chance of that,” Cale answered, his sarcasm making her eyes narrow dangerously. “I’m sure she and Colin will deal well together.” That it was Colin, rather than Rico, she’d have to face made her stiffen.

  “Set things up,” Rueben concluded, now impatient. “If I’m still here, I’ll meet with your representative, MacCreedy, and Savoie. If not, Mia will take my place.” He hesitated then spoke plainly. “Word of advice. Step down, Cale. A leader can’t afford weakness, and you’ve allowed yourself to be compromised. It’s embarrassing for both you and your clan.”

  Prideful fury stabilizing him, Cale pushed up out of his chair, the movement crisp, strong, and combative. “I haven’t allowed anything. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m not in control. Those who have in the past regret that error. Those few who are still alive. I am a Terriot king. I am never weak when strength is demanded, and you’d be a fool to believe otherwise.”

  Rueben leaned back in his chair, a small, reluctantly impressed smile on his lean face. “There’s that sharp-toothed prince I remember.”

  “Be careful you don’t feel my bite.”

  *

  In the narrow hall, Cale threw T-Ray up against the wall and held him with a forearm to his throat. “How long have you been a spy for Guedry? I ought to peel that ink right off your arm before Tibideaux has the chance. You brought me here—”

  “I brought you here to help you. To help all of us!”

  “Liar!”

  “No. Listen to me, Mick.” A pause to correct that. “Cale. I don’t know Savoie. But I know and trust you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought Rueben down here. Someone’s trying to undercut his control, and that someone won’t be interested in talking peace.”

  Cale studied his earnest features, relaxing his hold. “Do you trust me enough to go to Philo with what you know?”

  “He knows who you are?”

  “Yeah. And I trust him.”

  Hesitation then a nod.

  “Tomorrow morning. No more secrets.”

  And that left those he still kept from the one who meant the most to him.

  *

  Sitting at a table before a warming fire, Brigit was raising the pot in liar’s poker when Kendra glanced toward the parlor door. The soft sound caught in her throat had her cousin, Giles, and Oscar following to where her attention riveted. On the sofa, Tina dropped the magazine she was reading and sat up.

  “Hey.” A low, rough rumble.

  Cale stood in the hall, helmet and jacket in hand, looking no farther than the woman who rose shakily to her feet.

  “Good Lord!” Brigit cried. “Did you buy those clothes at a gas station?”

  A faint smile. “Maybe. I don’t remember.”

  Kendra stood still and stiff. “Is that why you’re here? To change your clothes?”

  His gaze never left hers. “I’m here because you’re here.”

  She placed her cards face down on th
e table and said quietly, “Tina, would you finish this hand for me?”

  Brigit sniffed. “Just fold. You’re losing anyway.”

  “Not everything,” she replied. “Not yet.”

  Kendra walked to the door when every instinct inside her urged her to run. Instead of throwing her arms around her king, she angled past him and started, not for the stairs, but into the study across the hall, not daring to breathe until she heard his light tread on floorboards as he followed her in and closed the door. The room steeped in twilight, echoing their mood.

  “It’s awful late for Tina and Ozzy to be here,” he began a bit awkwardly. “Is Alain working a night shift?”

  “No. They’re working on other more important things.” She turned to face him. “Like we need to do.”

  “Oh.”

  After spending a nerve-wracked day waiting to hear from Silas or the Terriot brothers that he’d be found, she hungered over the sight of him, pretending not to be devastated by an appearance so pale, gaunt, and unkempt. And those huge-centered, bottomless black eyes . . . “You look awful.”

  A twitch of a smile. He chose to misunderstand. “Someone stole my clothes so I had to buy these at one of those tractor supply places.” He plucked distastefully at the checked cotton shirt and heavy work pants. His hands shook.

  “I’m not talking about on the outside.”

  “Oh.” He looked everywhere but at her until her palm touched his cheek. Those great haunted eyes rose and fixed upon hers. “Katy, there’re some things I need to tell you. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Silas told me most of it.”

  That took him aback. “I’ll have to remember to tell him thanks a helluva lot,” he grumbled, more uncertain than ever.

  “Just before I told him to stay the hell out of our lives.”

  He went very still. “You did?”

  A small smile. “He looked just as surprised as you do.” Her expression softened into one of incredible care. “How could you let him do this to you?”

  “He didn’t do anything, baby. I did. I made my own choices.” His hand covered hers, achingly gentle.