by Angie Sandro
Ferdinand reacts like he swallowed a fly. He chokes on his words. “I never said—”
Ivy tosses her curly ponytail off her shoulder. “Semantics. So what if you never said it out loud? Words are unimportant compared to feelings. You can’t stop thinking about her.” She gives me a confiding shake of the head. “Please take pity on my father. It’s sad, really. He’s never been in love before.”
Love? She’s messing with us. Then the implication of what she’s admitting to sinks in, washing aside the tingle of hope brought on by hearing Ferdinand loves me. “Are you implying you can read minds?”
“Yes. Some.” She glances around the circle, her eyes briefly meeting each of ours, before pausing on George long enough to wink. Her voice grows husky. “It’s easier if I’m familiar with the mind or the person’s broadcasting strong emotions.”
“Ivy!” Ferdinand snaps.
Her aqua eyes shine with inner fire as she glares down the tip of her nose at her father. “What? The rule about not talking about my gifts in front of normals doesn’t apply in this situation. I can tell everyone here knows about magic.”
George steps closer as if drawn to her heat. “You’ve got powers, too?”
“It runs in my family.” Ivy gives him a smile that leaves Ferdinand ready to commit murder. Time to put the brakes on this budding lovefest before someone, namely George, gets hurt.
“Speaking of family,” I say, “you mentioned your mother sent you after Ferdinand.”
“They’re not married. They haven’t been together since before my brother and I were born.”
My hands settle on my hips instead of my gun. “Brother?” I glare at Ferdinand. “Someone else you’ve forgotten to mention?”
“They’re twins.” He shoves his daughter into the SUV. “I’ll explain everything later. We’ll take her vehicle. It’s bulletproof.”
“Only top-of-the-line for your baby girl, I imagine.”
He gives me a long, drawn-out look. “Of course. Don’t you do the same for yours?”
“Yes.” He knows me too well. I sent Maggie away to college with everything she needed. Now she’s married to her childhood sweetheart and living up north.
I tear my gaze from his and force myself to stop thinking about the magic word Ivy dropped like it was no big deal. Only it is. A huge deal, which keeps floating though my head in bright crimson: love, love, love.
This is not the time to lose focus. We’re being watched.
My gaze drifts to the road again. Ever since they mentioned our hidden spies, I’ve felt the hair-raising awareness of their eyes on us. The fact that we can’t spot them shows their professionalism. They’re the reason why we need to get to the safe house as quickly and safely as possible.
I open the SUV’s door, licking my lips in excitement at the state-of-the-art system inside. Ferdinand chose well for his daughter. This is the perfect getaway vehicle for traversing the swamp.
Those observers may be professional hitmen or something more mundane. Whatever the case, they didn’t grow up in Paradise Pointe. They don’t stand a chance.
I have a plan.
* * *
After briefing the dispatcher about what I need, we hit the road. I insist on driving the SUV, and I don’t get much resistance. George and Anders take the lead in the transport van. I want the bulletproof off-road vehicle to provide a barrier between the van and whomever might follow until we can ditch our tail.
The safe house resides deep in the bayou. The property belonged to my deceased husband. It consists of three pre-Civil War slave cabins, which once housed my husband’s ancestors. His father had begun the restorations, and my husband continued it. The main house had been destroyed over time, its foundation eroded from beneath by the rising swamp, and the tangled growth of the forest destroyed its walls from within. If any land houses ghosts, it would be this property. Once a year, I restock the place with emergency supplies. I also pay a caretaker to keep it in good condition, figuring I’d sell it one day. The day has never arrived.
Landry stretches out in the backseat, cradling his injured arm against his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to nod off as his pain medication finally kicks in. Dena and Ivy sit in the seats behind us. The tension between Ferdinand and me grows with each mile. In my heightened state, I sense his every breath. His scent tickles my nose. My eyes continually flick from the road to the hand resting on the seat next to my thigh. When I take a corner a little too fast, his pinky brushes against my leg. It’s like an iron of searing heat though my pants.
My breath catches, and I glance in his direction only to find him staring. Ivy’s words float through my mind, He’s never been in love before. Love. What a terrifying word. It makes my skin itch. I’ve no idea what it means for us—for me—if I believe it’s the truth. And I can’t go there right now. I ignore the question reflected in his dark eyes and ask my own. “Do you see anyone following?”
He shifts his gaze from mine and stares through the rearview mirror. “Three vehicles back. The black Escalade.”
I snort. “They’re not even trying to be inconspicuous. They might as well have painted, ‘Bad Guys “R” Us’ on the side.”
Ferdinand’s laugh sends a spurt of warmth through my chest. As usual, he gets my sense of humor. “Makes them easy to track. Better the enemy you see than the one who stays in shadows.”
Sobering, I nod. “True. Wish I knew their objective.”
Ferdinand turns sideways in his seat. “Ivy, can you pick up anything from their thoughts?”
His daughter’s eyes, reflected in the rearview mirror, lose focus as if a mist blows across them, muting their vibrant sea-green hue. It’s disturbing. “There are five of them,” she whispers. “Only two broadcast loudly enough to catch their thoughts. The youngest, it’s like he’s shouting everything he feels. He’s got no control over his emotions. His thinking’s irrationally…a jumbled mess. No words, just a rush of”—she shudders, swallowing hard—“bloodlust. He’s wants to fight. To kill.”
“You’re doing fine, baby girl,” Ferdinand says. “Block him out now and narrow your focus on the mind of the other guy. What’s he thinking?”
The corners of her eyes narrow, and her breath quickens. Her hand darts out, swatting at the air as if she shoos away a swarm of bees. “Her. It’s a woman. She’s shielding. Fighting me.” A furrow etches between her lowered brows, and a dot of blood stains the corner of her nose. She lets out a low moan. “Dad, she sees—”
Ferdinand grabs Ivy’s hand. “I’m here. Use me.”
“Her mind is strong.”
“You’re stronger,” Ferdinand says. The air in the SUV grows thick, cloying like the miasma rolling off the swamp. An acrid odor, like burnt popcorn, stings my nose and burns the back of my throat. Coughing, I rub my watering eyes. Focus on the road, Bess. I send another darting look toward Ferdinand, unable to help the worry tightening my gut. He sits so still, barely drawing a breath, but his eyes roll behind his closed eyelids. Their movements match those of his daughter’s in the mirror. Dena has her knees drawn up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, a tiny, shivering ball huddled as far from Ivy as she can get in her seat.
“Dena, I don’t care if you’re already dead. Seat belt,” I snap. ’Cause Lord only knows how I’m managing to stay on the road, much less drive in a straight line. The driver of the black Escalade seems incapable of doing even that much. He weaves across the white line, almost sideswiping the Jeep passing him.
I let out a startled yelp. “Ferdinand, stop.”
His lips move, a barely audible whisper. The Escalade swerves into the opposite lane again, edging a little Honda against the guardrail. The car spins in a half circle. Luckily, it comes to a halt in the emergency lane, rather than passing traffic.
“Ferdinand!” I grab his arm, digging my nails into his muscled biceps. “Snap out of it. This isn’t safe. You’ll cause an accident.”
Dena glances between Ferdinand and Ivy
, then grabs their linked hands and yanks them apart. All three let out screams that raise the hairs on the back of my neck. Ivy begins to convulse, bucking against the safety restraint. My eyes shift from Ferdinand back to the road just in time to see I’m about to rear-end the transport van. I slam on the brakes. I fly forward, my forehead smacking the steering wheel and for a moment red spots blur my vision.
My breath wheezes as I shake my head to clear my fuzzy thoughts. I’d lost control—almost caused an accident and killed us all. “I’m sorry. I…”
Ferdinand slumps in his seat and cradles his head in his hands. A quick glimpse in the mirror shows Landry leaning across the middle seat. His good hand cups the back of Ivy’s lolling head, and he slowly shifts the unconscious woman into Dena’s arms.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
Dena shakes her head. “She’s breathing, but I-I don’t know.”
“Ferdinand?”
“Dena severed the psychic connection when she broke our link.” He studies his daughter with bloodshot eyes, then reaches out to brush a sweaty curl from her cheek. “It’s painful, but she’ll survive.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I grimace. My hand inches over of its own volition. Before I can stop it, I’ve threaded my fingers through his. I give his hand a quick squeeze, then pull away. My palm prickles as I clutch the steering wheel. “What about the people following us?”
“They aren’t Ivanov’s men.”
“Victor didn’t send them?”
“No. Worse. Victor needs us alive to get Estrada. These men have termination orders. I don’t think they’ll try anything until we’re outside of the town limits.”
“They’ll want to avoid witnesses.” We’ve fallen too far behind the transport van. The driver of the Escalade had used my distraction to close the distance and now travels only one car behind. This doesn’t bode well for my plan. If the timing is off, even by the smallest margin, we’re screwed. Problem is, the town limits are five miles ahead. And this is the only road to anywhere. If I can’t get off the freeway, it’ll be twenty miles before the next exit ramp. Either that or we keep on going until we reach New Orleans. Neither option fits my plan.
“Hold tight. I’ve got to close the gap.” I slam my foot down on the gas pedal, pushing our speed upward. The driver of the Escalade tries to swerve around the car in front of it, but they’re boxed in by a semitruck. A FedEx truck drives in front of the semi. And a station wagon, driven by a man older than Moses, separates us from the transport van. Somehow, I have to fit between the semi and FedEx truck, pass Moses, and merge back to the right lane before we hit the town limits, but the space…I’m not sure the SUV will fit.
Got to try. The exit for the back roads into the bayou is only a mile away. This will be our last opportunity to stop them from following us. Here’s hoping Dixie had a chance to notify my deputies and my plan’s in play.
I inhale, then let out a slow breath. A quick look in the side mirror shows my opening. I swerve left, edging in front of the semi. I tap the brakes and narrowly avoid slamming into the tail of the FedEx truck. Another hit on the accelerator whips the SUV between the transport van and the station wagon. “Yes,” I hiss.
“Nice, Bessie,” Landry says, lying down. “Wake me when we get there.”
How anticlimactic.
Traffic jams up, moving at a slow crawl. Commuters to Lafayette will be late today. “We’re almost to the roadblock.” Sweat makes my hand slick on the steering wheel. Ahead I see flashing blue and red lights from two patrol cars blocking the far left lane and one in front of our exit ramp. Vehicles follow the bread crumbs made by orange traffic cones and merge into the single open lane, funneling through the bottleneck. Two deputies approach each car, comparing the driver and passengers with a photo of Victor.
The Escalade gets locked up in traffic. I can’t even see it behind the two trucks that merged between us. If we’re lucky, they won’t see us exit the freeway and will continue on their merry way without causing us any further trouble. The corners of my lips quirk in a grin. It’s always nice when a hastily drawn-up plan works.
Anders signals right, turning the transport van toward the blocked off-ramp, and the patrol car rolls from its path. My heart races as I idle beside it and let down my window. “Sergeant Ross, thanks for arranging the trap so fast.”
“I’ve got it covered. If the perp tries to leave town with the girls, we’ll catch him. What about the car tailing you?”
“It’s a black Escalade. Five inside. Best to assume they’re armed.”
He goes over the radio with the information. “Do you want them detained for questioning?”
“Only if you find probable cause. Use your best judgment in this matter.”
He nods, but remains focused on the cars edging forward. “If they try to follow, we’ll stop them.”
The tension in my shoulders and neck releases. Everything will be okay. “It’s a relief to know this investigation is in good hands. Thank you.”
His eyes shift in my direction. “No thanks necessary, LT. Bring Eva and Mala home.”
As I drive down the off-ramp, Sergeant Ross blocks the exit again, trapping the Escalade on the freeway. I hold my breath as it inches closer and closer to the exit. Will they try to force their way off?
The Escalade comes to a full halt in front of the exit. The last thing I hear is Sergeant Ross broadcasting over the loudspeaker, ordering the driver to roll down his window. They’d be fools to take on five armed deputies. By the time they turn around and come back, we’ll be long gone.
The transport van waits at the end of the exit ramp. As I pass, it falls in behind. We’re one step closer to safety. For now.
CHAPTER 6
Ferdinand
The Mind at Rest
My head pounds like an ice pick is lodged in the back of my skull. A buzz sounds in my ears—the malignant whisper of thoughts dripping with venom—poisoning my system. Even though Dena broke the mind-bridge that linked Ivy and me to the witch in the Escalade, this residual connection remains. I can sense the malevolence blackening the woman’s soul.
She’d been an unwelcome surprise. I thought we only had to contend with Ivanov. Now I know the war between Magnolia’s First and Second for leadership of her business has spilled over from New Orleans into the bayou. What I don’t know is which side the assassins in the Escalade work for.
I do know they won’t give up. The witch resonates strength of will. Magic flows through her veins. Even before Dena broke the link, she’d almost fought free.
I scrub my forehead with my fingers, trying to scour my mind clean of taint, but she’s stuck in my head and grows stronger with each mile. Why can’t I dislodge her?
Fingers snap in front of my eyes. “Lafitte!” Elizabeth sends a worried glance in my direction before her eyes dart back to the road. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My mouth twitches as I try to give her a reassuring smile. It must not be too convincing because she scowls back.
“Liar,” she whispers. Her pinky brushes against mine, like subconsciously she needs the touch for reassurance. As much as I would love for her to willingly give in to the tension humming between us, I doubt she can let go without a fight. Too many perceived betrayals form a wall between us. No matter how hard I hammer at it, she remains impenetrable.
With a deep sigh, I lean against the headrest. “Give me ten minutes to rest, and I’ll be back to normal.”
Tires hum on the dirt road leading us deeper into untamed forest. Exhaustion drags my eyes closed. The dull ache of strained muscles increases to a steady throb. I focus on controlling the groan tickling the back of my throat, and my shield slips. Cottonmouth quick, the woman from the Escalade strikes. Fire burns my will to ash as she grabs my consciousness in a mental fist and drags me back across the telepathic bridge.
Her mind holds a familiar flavor, like bitter coffee on the tongue. I know her. And she knows me. Intimately. My strengths and we
aknesses. I fight, throwing up block after block, but she smashes them with a sledgehammer of power, leaving me no time to rebuild my mental wall. She rifles through my memories, not stopping until she learns everything she needs to accomplish her goals. Including where we are and where we’re going.
I’m exposed—trapped in a sticky web that I can’t break.
Oh God, I’ve betrayed us all.
* * *
A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I jerk awake. My thoughts churn, thick and sluggish. I stare unseeing through the car window, focusing on green and brown blobs, which slowly form into forest. My attention shifts to the woman driving. My Bess. She’s driving us to the safe house.
My tongue feels scratchy on the roof of my mouth. I swallow a few times, working up enough saliva to wet my dry throat. “How long was I asleep?”
“Everyone drifted off about forty minutes ago. I’m not sure how the others stayed asleep. The sound of your moaning…scared me.” She wipes her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist, then aims the air-conditioner vent in her direction. “Were you having a nightmare?”
I frown, examine my fisted hands and uncurl them. My nails leave red, crescent-moon-shaped cuts on my palms. I sift through my memories, but they’re hazy. It feels like I’m forgetting something important, but damned if I know what it is. “If so, I can’t remember the details.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?” Her hands grip the steering wheel. “Do you dream the truth? Know the future?”
“No. My dreams are normal by-products of my subconscious. After everything that’s happened, I’m only surprised I didn’t scream in my sleep.”
She flashes a tight grin. “And call for your mommy to save you.”
“Chérie doux, I have not called out for my maman since she fell off the boat bringing us to America.”
She gasps. “Oh!” Her eyes close for a second. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me.”
