by Mallory Kane
Residents paid according to their means, with many of the residents impoverished. She probably paid more for her mother's care than all the other residents combined. Adrienne had picked St. Cecilia's not only because it was Catholic, but because it was remote, gated and on the grounds of a convent, which she felt added an extra layer of protection.
Each time she saw her mother sitting slumped in the wheelchair with Velcro straps around her torso to hold her upright, it broke Adrienne's heart anew. Her mother's once vivacious energy was gone and her brilliant blue eyes were dull. Her hair, of which she'd always been so proud, was thin and straggly, faded from bright gold to dishwater blond.
Retrieving a comb from the bedside table, Adrienne ran it through her mother's hair, trying to give her some comfort.
"Hi, Mother," she said softly, neither expecting nor receiving a response. "You look pretty today."
Adrienne put down the comb and sank down into a chair near her mother and took her mother's limp, blue-veined hand in hers.
"Mama, I've met someone," she whispered. "He's so handsome, and fun. He makes me laugh. I forget everything except him when we're together. He's not like anybody I've ever known before." She patted her mother's hand.
"But he's also keeping something from me. He's lying about who he is. It's so confusing. I really like him but I don't trust him. He seems completely sincere even though I know he's not telling me the whole truth."
She laid her mother's hand back down into her lap. "You know you never talked to me about love and men. All the information I got, which was precious little by the way, came from Tante Louise and Jolie." She looked at the thin cheeks and pale blue eyes of the woman who had always been affectionate but distant. "I wish I'd known you better. I don't know if you were happy, or if Father was good to you. I hardly even remember you, except as my beautiful, elegant mother, who would come into my bedroom every night to say good night. You were always kind of unreachable. Father was the one who told me what to do and made sure 1 followed his instructions."
Adrienne's memories of her childhood were memories of servants, of hotel staff. Adrienne's personal maid had ensured she did her homework. The head of housekeeping for the flagship Caldwell Hotel, Tante Louise, had given her a snack after school each day. When Tante Louise died, Adrienne had felt as though she'd lost her closest friend.
Adrienne realized tears were running down her cheeks. She swiped at them and took a deep shaky breath. "I don't know anything about Seth. If I judged him by the other men in my life, I'd have to conclude that he's using me to get in with Jerome and his mob. I want to trust him. When he looks at me, when he holds me, I believe he won't let me down." Adrienne pushed a stray lock of hair back from her mother's forehead and peered into the vacant blue eyes. "And I feel safe when I'm with him. Do you know how long it's been since I've felt safe?"
The door opened behind her and Adrienne glanced up to see the petite, elderly director of St. Cecilia's in her starched white habit.
"Good morning, Sister," she said, quickly wiping her cheeks.
"Good morning to you, Adrienne. And how is Mrs. Caldwell today?"
"The nurse told me she had a good night." Adrienne smiled. "But, of course, there's no change."
Sister Ignatius's wrinkled face was grim. "Someone came by to see your mother yesterday."
"What?" Adrienne jumped to her feet. Her chair scraped across the wooden floor. "Who?"
"It was a youngish man, maybe in his thirties, rather rough-looking. He had a thin scar on the side of his face." Sister Ignatius looked up at Adrienne. "He was respectful, but he appeared dangerous."
Tony Pure fear burned through her with the breathtaking fire of two-hundred proof alcohol. "Wh-what did he say?"
The nun folded her hands together. "He asked to see your mother, indicating that he was a friend of the family. Naturally, since you had requested that we allow no one to see her without your express permission, we declined his request." Her lined face set in a disapproving frown, and her lips pursed. "He was not happy. He left a message for you."
The fear churned in Adrienne's veins, whooshed in her ears, louder than Sister's voice.
The thought of what Tony could do to her mother with no more than a flick of his finger horrified Adrienne. Suddenly, her problems with Seth seemed trivial and her plan to escape the Cajun mob sounded ineffectual. A hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars was nothing. Not against people like Tony Arsenault and Jerome Senegal.
"Adrienne?" Sister Ignatius placed a hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry, Sister," Adrienne said. "What was the message?"
"He said to tell you how much you and your mother mean to him and that he wants to assure you he's always thinking of Kathryn."
Adrienne nodded carefully, afraid if she moved her head too quickly she might faint. The pleasant words coming from the saintly mouth of Sister Ignatius were terrifying. Tony had referred to her mother by name. It was the subtlest of threats, but his meaning was unmistakable.
"Is he a special friend, dear?"
"No." Time was running out. What could she do? She needed to move her mother soon. Every moment brought them both closer to danger.
"I didn't think so."
"I apologize if he bothered you, and thank you for not letting him in. I don't want Mother disturbed. By anyone."
"Adrienne, I'm sure you are aware that there have been rumors about your husband and his—business dealings."
Adrienne stared at Sister Ignatius. "Rumors?" Her heart pounded in dreadful anticipation.
"Yes, dear. I won't repeat them, but this has been a source of concern to me for quite some time. I understand that you are not responsible for what your husband may have done. Still, the sisters and the residents here are not accustomed to the sort of man who came here yesterday. His words were threatening."
Her throat constricted with uneasiness. She swallowed hard. "Sister, I don't want you to think—"
The tiny nun held up a gnarled hand. "This has not been an easy decision. I cannot deny that your generous contributions have been of great benefit to St. Cecilia's."
Adrienne shook her head. "Sister, please don't do this."
"My dear, you have your mother to care for, but I have over a hundred residents and my sisters in God to protect. I prayed all night for God's guidance."
Adrienne heard the nun's words, yet her brain still tried to deny it. Her worst nightmare had come true. She had counted so much on St. Cecilia's. She closed her eyes and waited to hear the words that would doom her mother and herself to a life in hiding.
"It would be best if you found other accommodations for your mother."
♥ Scanned by Coral ♥
Chapter Six
As soon as he could, Seth went by his sister's salon. She spent several evenings a week, and sometimes the weekends, working in the office after the staff went home. He saw her car parked behind the building and used his key to let himself in through the delivery entrance.
Mignon was closest to him in age, being only two years younger. She had inherited all the best features of their parents—the lustrous dark brown hair, unsettlingly green eyes and perfect features. She was the perfect advertisement for her spa salon.
When she saw him standing in the doorway of her office, she jumped up and ran barefoot across the sisal carpet to give him a hug.
"Seth! Why haven't you called? We've been wor-ried sick."
The tight hug and familiar voice wanned his heart. "Hey, Min. I can't stay but a minute. Tell the brats I'll see them soon," he said, referring to his twin baby sisters. "We'll go to Commander's Palace for lunch."
Mignon stood back and looked at him. "Wow. You've taken the role of big spender seriously. You even sound different. You've got that arrogant I-can-rule-the-world attitude you had in the army. I'm glad. It fits you much better than the beard and the self-pity. How's the big secret job?"
"It's big and secret. Listen, kid. What do you know about Adrienne DeBlanc?"
Mignon tilted her head. "Adrienne DeBlanc? She was one of my first customers. She's brought me a lot of business. I'm sure I've mentioned her before."
Seth knew he'd blown it even before Mignon finished her question. He should have called so Mignon couldn't see his face. She'd always been able to read him like a book.
She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Seth! Are you dating Adrienne DeBlanc?"
He shook his head, but with sisterly instinct, Mignon knew the truth.
"You are!" She grabbed his arm. "You'd better be careful. She is a lovely woman, but her husband was connected with the Cajun mob."
"What do you know about her?"
Mignon sat down and drummed her perfect nails on her desk. "Okay, so you're not talking. This is part of the big secret job I guess."
"Don't even ask, Min. If you can't answer my question, that's fine. But I can't tell you anything."
"Well, promise me that as soon as all this is over you'll tell me everything."
"Mignon—"
"Okay. Adrienne DeBlanc. Most of this is gossip, you understand. She's one of the richest women in New Orleans. Horrible marriage. Her husband ran around on her. He died in flagrante delicto, as they say, with a prostitute. Adrienne has always been one of my best customers. I suggested a lotion for her mother, who's in a nursing home, I believe. She makes a point of thanking me personally every time she comes in."
"I know all that. Well, except for the lotion. Anything else? Did she ever talk about men, or the mob? Did anyone talk about her?"
"No." Mignon's gaze was relentless. "I've never heard a harsh word about her. The way she acts though, you'd think she was still married."
"What do you mean?"
"You've probably never noticed, but there's a way some women act when their husbands are control freaks who never let their wives out of their sight. She's always wary, always careful. Like she's afraid she'll make a wrong move and someone will punish her."
Seth nodded. Mignon was one of the most perceptive people he knew, and she'd just confirmed his suspicion about Adrienne. "That helps. I'll see you later."
"Wait. You can't just leave. Tell me about you and Adrienne. Are you dating?"
He shot her a warning look.
She sighed. "Well, at least tell me how long it will be until you're home? We miss you."
He leaned over and kissed his sister on the forehead. "I miss y'all, too. I don't know how much longer it will be. And I still can't talk about it." He tugged on her hair.
"Ow. Stop that." Mignon stood. "Seth? Please tell me this doesn't involve the Cajun mob."
He didn't look at her as he turned toward the back door.
"Oh, God. It does. How do you always end up in the middle of the most dangerous situation you can find? Please be careful."
"Hey, don't worry about me. But you can't talk about this to anyone, understand? Especially the brats."
"You know I always keep your secrets."
"I know. I'll talk to you soon."
"Seth?"
He frowned at the uncharacteristically serious- note in her voice. She walked over and kissed his cheek, then rubbed off the lipstick.
"Stay away from Adrienne DeBlanc. Being too close to her could get you killed."
As much as she tried to hide it, Seth knew that Adrienne was upset with him. She obviously knew he was lying to her. When he'd called her after talking to Mi-gnon, she'd sounded worse than he'd ever heard her. Her manner was subdued, her voice dull and lifeless.
He'd suggested going out, but when she hesitated before agreeing, there was such a polite distance in her tone that he felt rebuffed.
Mignon's words echoed in his ears. If Adrienne was an unwilling pawn of the Cajun mob, spending her life under the watchful eye of Tony Arsenault, she had every right to be suspicious of Seth. And it killed him that her suspicion was justified.
But as much as he wanted to hold her, to reassure her, to bury himself in her and forget for a while what his purpose was, he didn't try to persuade her to see him. He hoped that a few days apart from his princess might cool his desire to be with her every second of every day. He needed a clear head to do his job.
Right now, his emotions were in enough turmoil. He was stretched taut as a guy wire. Visiting Senegal's house, the very house where he had watched his father betray his mother and throw away his family, had been a shock.
Not only had it reminded Seth of that dark time when his father had left them, it also placed him at risk of being unmasked by Jerome Senegal. If Senegal happened to put two and two together and realize that Seth was Robert Lewis's son, Seth's life would be forfeit and Confidential's operation might be exposed.
He'd apparently done a first rate job of burying his resentment toward his dad because he was experiencing residual feelings he hadn't acknowledged in years. The shock of discovering that his father, whom he'd admired and loved, had feet of clay. The sense of betrayal and abandonment when he left them. Seth didn't like the idea that his emotions might overrule his logic and training.
Burke had advised him to spend more time at Crescent City Transports to keep up his pretense of being second in command, helping oversee the startup of the new trucking business.
For the last few days, he'd driven the Mercedes to the Crescent City Transports building on Tchoupitoulas Road and parked it there all day while he met with Burke, discussed strategies with McMullin and spent time listening in on Jones's surveillance of the Cajun Perk coffeehouses.
Today, he was going out in the altered delivery truck with Jones and his crew to watch the flagship coffeehouse he and Adrienne had visited only a few days before.
Riding in the truck with Philip Jones wasn't Seth's idea of a good time. Jones was newly married to a pretty young police dispatcher and had the good-natured arrogance of a man who had taken that brave step and therefore believed all men should be converted to marriage.
Seth could take Phil's constant praise of married life. What he found much harder to stomach was the ex-private investigator's ribbing about Adrienne.
They had been parked across Julia Street from the original Cajun Perk for three hours now, and Seth had made a pact with himself. If Jones came up with one more subtly insulting reference to Adrienne, he'd go to go home to his bride tonight with a cut lip and maybe even a black eye.
Seth might be the only one of the Confidential agents who believed that his princess was innocent, but he was also the one who knew her. The only one who'd seen the fear that marred her perfect features when she thought no one was looking. He was the one who had lain awake and held her when she'd cried in her sleep. He was the only one who really—
His cell phone rang. It was Burke.
"Your bug paid off. We taped a phone call in which Senegal alluded to 'the goods' and to 'special shipments' from his 'very southern friends.' He also said something about a Category Five hurricane on its way. Good work, Seth."
"Thank you, sir. That doesn't sound like much to go on."
"It's nothing we could use in court, but combined with other information, it's pretty solid proof that Senegal is involved with the drugs. We're putting a tail on Senegal. He won't make a move we don't know about."
Seth hung up just as Jones elbowed him. "Hey, take a look." He handed Seth the binoculars.
Seth trained them on the entrance to Cajun Perk. He saw a girl of about nineteen, dressed in short shorts and platform heels, taking the last couple of drags on the stub of a cigarette.
"That's the prostitute who gave us the intel that led to the raid on the bordello."
She was younger than his sisters. Where was her family? How had she gotten to this point?
Seth felt an echo of the panic that had grown inside him after his mother died and left him with the entire responsibility for his three sisters. Thank God he'd been able to take care of them. "She's already back out on the street?"
Taking the binoculars back, Jones shot Seth an odd look. "1 keep forgetting your background is not in law enf
orcement. She's actually in less danger on the street. If she hadn't been arraigned and returned to her pimp along with the others, she'd have been made as an informer. She'd be dead now."
Seth studied the red neon sign, the innocuous front of the coffeehouse that looked like any of a dozen trendy franchises. His stomach turned over as a group of students jostled each other on the way through the arched doors. The idea that a lethal and dangerous drug was being distributed behind that art nouveau facade was a difficult one to believe. Seth needed to see for himself how the operation ran. He needed to prove to himself that Adrienne wasn't involved.
"What did the girl tell the police about how they move the stuff?"
"They hide packets in the cardboard coffee sleeves. Each specially made sleeve apparently holds three packets of Category Five."
Seth whistled softly. "Has anybody been inside?"
"Sure. But nobody's been able to see anything definitive."
"Adrienne and I had coffee here a few days ago, around six-thirty or so. Most of the customers were people dressed for work and the post-party breakfast crowd. I didn't notice any prostitutes."
Jones cackled. "The prostitutes come here to pick up the Category Five. At the hour of the morning that you were there you can bet they're still sleeping. Why do you think they call 'em ladies of the night?"
Seth acknowledged Jones's joke with a smile. He couldn't stay cooped up in the truck any longer. He was itchy, restless. He felt like he'd been crouching in a foxhole all night. "I'm going in. Maybe I can spot something."
"You better check with Burke."
Seth shook his head. "It'll be okay. All I'm going to do is order a coffee and drink it."
"Well, at least let us fix you up a camera. Maybe you can get a shot of one of the coffee sleeves. Here's one embedded in a Palm Pilot."
"I don't use a Palm Pilot. I'd be uncomfortable and look like an idiot."
