by Ali Vali
“To good fortune, then,” Jacques toasted as he tapped his glass against Tomas’s.
“Good fortune indeed. Perhaps I can pry some juicy tidbits from the reclusive marquis for my next editorial. I won’t be able to print enough copies for the ladies dying to know about you.” Jacques laughed at the gentle teasing, taking an instant liking to the somewhat flamboyant man. “What do you say, Marquis St. Louis, are you up for an interview? The reading public is dying to know what bait to use to lure so charming and successful a fish.”
“Please call me Jacques, and I’d be happy to give you one, but I don’t want to be responsible for driving away readers from boredom, since my life isn’t that interesting.” Jacques smiled at Angelina, who blushed. “I was glad to be of assistance to your niece, but I’ll have to ask your forgiveness for my hasty departure.” He finished his drink and stood, motioning for Tomas to keep his seat. “Thank you both for a delightful afternoon. I enjoyed meeting you, but I have to be getting on the road home before this weather gets worse.”
“Could I entice you with a dinner invitation once you’re settled again? Finding such good company to share equally good conversation with is difficult these days. I promise to stick to safe topics,” Tomas said.
“Thank you. I look forward to it.”
Angelina followed him to the door and watched as Lionel and Joseph tipped their hats and headed to the coach. “Thank you for humoring him. My uncle can be a handful when he sets his mind to it.”
“Believe me, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
“Then perhaps Uncle Tomas is right and you need to get out more, Marquis St. Louis.”
“Would it be forward of me to ask you to call me Jacques?”
“Only if I could convince you I prefer Angelina to Mademoiselle du’Pon.”
“Touché,” he said with a deep bow, making Angelina laugh.
“Shall we expect you soon?”
Tucking his gloves into his belt, he moved slowly to take Angelina’s hand. When she didn’t shy away, he bowed again and placed a chaste kiss along her fingers. “I shall count the hours and send word of when I can come.”
He might have preferred life in the country, but he knew enough about New Orleans’s social circles to realize Angelina du’Pon was considered a prize catch, especially for any young man wanting to make a name in the growing city. Her uncle Tomas had raised her from an early age after her parents were lost to malaria in one of the epidemics that had ravaged the city. Being a man of considerable means, Tomas du’Pon had given in to her every whim, and Angelina thrived under the attention. However, she hadn’t become insufferable, as had so many ladies of the same social status.
But Angelina hadn’t found love, or even some nice young man to spend time with. At least that was the gossip of the day. Asra wasn’t interested in becoming that young man because love wasn’t in her plans. It was the quickest way to expose all her secrets. She wasn’t ready for that since she had invested so much time and care into creating Jacques St. Louis, the plantation owner responsible for the lives of so many that he couldn’t take the chance of getting close to someone like Angelina.
One dinner in their company then he’d return to Oakgrove, leaving the curious journalist and Angelina to the party circuit.
New Orleans, present day
“Sleep well, my darling, and know I’ll never forget you.” Kendal stood and brushed the dirt off her knees.
“How sweet, but you’re talking to a woman who’s been dead for a long time, idiot.”
When she turned around she faced two punks, and the younger one was pointing a rusty 9mm at her head. They were trying to look like badasses, but she could see the slight tremor in the gunman’s hand. The older one did all the talking.
“I can’t really see that it’s bothering anyone,” she said, sweeping her arms around the deserted cemetery. Their expressions showed that it annoyed them that she didn’t look intimidated.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I’ve spent time in New Orleans, but it’s been a while.” She widened her stance and calmly put her hands in her coat pockets.
“You have to pay a fee now when you come in here. My friend and I own this place, and no one visits it for free. Get me?” The kid holding the gun laughed stupidly, at his friend’s clever words, she guessed.
“A toll of some sort, is that what you mean?”
“It means, bitch, that I’ll take whatever you got on you.” The unarmed punk stepped closer and twisted his face into a snarl. “Give me your money and your jewelry now, or my pal blows your head off.”
The only thing she was attached to was the signet ring on her right hand. It had been her father’s, and he had given it to her shortly before he died. The rest was replaceable, but Kendal thought of all the other visitors who had run into her new friends while they were paying respects to their loved ones. “Money and jewelry, right?”
“You got a hearing problem? Hand them over and we make this easy. Play hard to get, and me and Zeke here get to have a little fun too. We might do that anyway since it looks like you could use a good man in your life. You a big dyke?” He grabbed his crotch and smiled back at his friend.
“Can I make a counteroffer?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know, you told me what you want, now I get to tell you what I’m willing to do and what I want.”
“You see yourself as having choices here?”
She rocked on her heels and smiled like she was negotiating the purchase of a pair of pants. “You always have choices. Today yours was to walk in here and point a gun at me. No one forced you to do that, and no one’s forcing me to do anything I’m not willing to do. I was visiting someone who lost her life to someone just like you, but you’re still young. You have time to turn your life around.”
“You smokin’ something, bitch? If you are, we’ll take that too, along with the money and that nice watch and ring.”
Relaxed and smiling, she kept her right hand in the pocket of her coat and slipped the other one into the front pocket of her pants. When she pulled out the money clip, she laughed at the talker’s low whistle. She held probably more than the two had ever made in all their crime ventures. “This what you want?”
She knew his greed would make him move forward, into a web from which he couldn’t escape. Not that distance would’ve made the difference. When he reached to take his booty she pulled her right hand out of her coat pocket and snapped open a wicked-looking switchblade. Just as quickly the money was back in her pocket and the blade was pressed so hard against his throat it drew a line of blood. She liked to practice her fighting skills when she could, but this guy didn’t present much of a challenge.
“What’s your name?” She grabbed the top of his head, exposing more of his neck. “Never mind. You aren’t going to live long enough for me to care.”
“Please,” he said in a whisper as he stood on his toes, trying to get away from the blade.
“Please what? Please let me go, bitch. Is that the only inane thing you can think to say?” The gunman hadn’t lowered his weapon and looked like he was trying to decide if he could get a clean shot off without killing his buddy. “Zeke,” she said, glancing up at the armed thief. “You have one chance to put that down and run. Don’t make me have to deal with you.”
His hand shook but she could almost see him thinking that he had the gun, and all she had was a knife. “Let him go or I’ll shoot.”
“Another mental giant.” Tired of the game, she kicked the guy she was holding in the legs and threw the knife in one fluid motion. The thump of the air rushing out of the talker’s lungs came simultaneously with Zeke’s scream. The gun was now on the ground at his feet and Kendal’s knife was buried to the hilt in his palm.
“Who are you?” asked the one looking up at her.
“Someone you shouldn’t have fucked with.” Kendal stepped closer to Zeke and grabbed his injur
ed hand. With one quick pull she retrieved her blade and wiped it along his cheek. The effect was chilling enough to make him stop screaming. “Only a lowlife would rob someone in a place reserved for grief. Today’s going to be your chance to rethink your career path because, trust me, death doesn’t pass you by very often.”
“You’re some kind of demon,” Zeke said, looking like a macabre clown with his bloody cheeks.
“I’ve known a few of those in my time and I’m nowhere close, so get lost and think about what I said.” Zeke jumped to his feet and took off, not glancing back. She watched him go and moved to pick up the gun he’d left behind. With one quick check of the clip she saw that it was full and hadn’t been fired recently.
The talker was on his knees holding his throat over the spot with the slight cut. Despite the cool morning he’d started to sweat when she chambered a round and pressed the barrel to his forehead.
“You let Zeke go.”
“I have a feeling you talked Zeke into being here today, so you don’t get off so easily. Am I right?” When he didn’t respond, she pushed the barrel harder against his forehead, making him nod.
“I didn’t want to come by myself.”
“A wise-ass who needs someone else to do his dirty work for him will never truly be a man. In some cultures they would’ve cut your dick off and fed it to the real warriors long before now.” She moved the gun from his head and pointed at his crotch, and the growing wet spot made her smile. “Not so tough now, are you?”
Big tears loaded with fear ran down his face, but it was too late for remorse. “I didn’t mean nothing.”
She corrected him. “It’s ‘I didn’t mean anything.’ Tell me, did it move you to walk away from a victim when someone cried for you to stop? Tell the truth or I’ll blow that little pecker of yours right off.”
“No.” He stuttered on the short word.
“How about a nice dirt nap to reconsider your options next time, then?”
She didn’t give him the chance to ask what she meant. In an instant she used his gun to knock him out. When he woke up, anyone walking by the place would probably cross the street when they heard his screams since he would come to in a large mausoleum that the city used for paupers. He would be lying on a pile of bones he’d have to work hard to escape.
Chapter Six
“Where have you been?” Bruce asked, sitting dressed and ready in Kendal’s suite. “Not that you seem interested, but last night went well,” he said through the bathroom door.
“You didn’t set any time agenda, did you?”
“I was a good little soldier and followed orders, but it’ll only drag this out, and that’s not like you.”
“I’m multifaceted, Bruce, so don’t delude yourself into thinking you know everything about me.” He turned around when she came out with her shirt unbuttoned. She guessed he knew he had no chance at a relationship with her outside of work. She’d made that clear from the beginning of their business venture.
“Those guys appreciated the meeting, but they really wanted to hear from you. I covered for you, but are you going to disappear on me for hours on end in the future? My father told me your family has some weird connection to this place, but this is business. You don’t want to end up like your old man and mine, do you? Loading ships down on the docks isn’t my idea of a wise career move.”
“Wait for me in the other room.”
His mouth clicked closed, but she knew why he was pissed. The money was all Bruce thought about, making him totally different from his father.
With a shower and a fresh suit, she looked like she’d spent the evening sleeping in the comfortable-looking bed instead of roaming the streets. He jumped to his feet when she opened the door.
“I take it Mr. Marmande accepted my invitation?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“Macarthur Marmande wants to hang on to his family’s business more than anything. He’ll be there and I’m sure he’s bringing his granddaughter, Piper. She’s a Harvard Business School graduate he’s grooming to take over for him, so don’t try anything cute. I hear she’s a real ballbuster.”
Her low laugh made Bruce shiver. “Lucky for me, then,” she whispered in his ear. “And Piper not only graduated from Harvard, she was first in both her undergraduate and graduate classes. She’s not a ballbuster, Bruce. She’s just smarter than most people who have a pair. So maybe you should worry.”
“How do you know so much about her since you dropped this on us yesterday?”
“Every good strategist knows their opponent. You just heard about Marmande yesterday, but they’ve been on my radar.” She didn’t want to admit that she chose the company about twenty minutes before she informed him and the team. That was the beauty of her Kendal Richoux cover. Floundering companies all over the world helped her travel whenever necessary for the Elders.
The lunch crowd was starting to filter into the Palace Café on Canal Street when she and Bruce exited the limousine the hotel had provided for the ten-block drive. They stood back and let an older couple go through the revolving doors ahead of them, since they were a couple of minutes early. One of the attractive hostesses took their coats and asked for their names.
“We’re here to meet the Marmande party.” Kendal’s smile made the girl trip over her feet, and Bruce sighed behind her. He loved to tell her that when they were handing out the goodies before birth, Kendal had obviously stood in each line at least twice. That was the only way to explain her looks, charm, brains, and physique.
“Mr. Mac’s expecting you. Kendal Richoux, right?”
“The one and only,” she said, making the woman blush.
“Right this way.” They followed her to the staircase at the center of the restaurant; on the second floor at a table by the large windows overlooking Canal Street sat their adversaries.
“Mr. Mac, your party’s here.”
“More like the invading horde, darlin’, but we’ll let ’em join us anyway.” He stood and studied Kendal before offering his hand.
Mac Marmande was in his sixties, but from what she’d read about him, he still ran around like he did in his thirties. Thick white hair framed an intelligent face and a warm smile, which, judging from the laugh lines around his mouth, seemed to be a permanent fixture. Others often described him as a likable good old boy who’d give you his last dollar if you needed the help. He was also as ruthless as she was if the right business venture came along, so she didn’t let his friendly welcome fool her into thinking this would be easy.
Beside Mac sat a petite woman with a short shaggy haircut that Kendal thought stylish, though a slight frown marred her beautiful profile. For a second the woman’s obvious displeasure amused Kendal. It was as if they’d taken her away from something far more important, like watching her grass grow.
“Mr. Marmande, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Thank you for agreeing to this,” she said as she and Mac shook hands, but his granddaughter had yet to turn her attention from the window. “This is my associate, Bruce Babbage.”
“More like hired henchman,” Piper hissed.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Kendal. May I call you Kendal?” Mac asked, all of them ignoring Piper’s rude comment.
“Please do.”
“Good, this is my granddaughter, Piper Marmande.” When he made the introduction, Piper had to face forward. Kendal stumbled forward a step and her heart dropped.
Most people would have expressed concern at her reaction, but Piper’s anger drowned out any sympathy. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but I’d hate to lie, Ms. Richoux.”
Kendal wanted to run. Seeing Piper Marmande was like looking at a ghost. Though different in some ways, Piper’s face was almost identical to Angelina’s. Kendal’s heart and lungs felt like they were in a vise. “I—”
“Are you all right?” Mac asked. He placed his hand on her shoulder as if to steady her.
His question allowed Kendal to take her eyes off Piper an
d focus on something else. “I hate to be rude, but would you excuse me for a moment?”
“Do you need to reschedule? You don’t look well.”
“No, sir, please give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”
In the restroom she stripped off her jacket and splashed water on her face. She’d experienced something like a panic attack, and, as shocking as that was, she was almost excited. It had been years since she’d felt anything nearly this intense.
When she made it back to the table, Mac asked again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Just hungry, I guess.” Keeping her eyes on Mac’s face, Kendal sat, unfurled her napkin, and placed it on her lap. “Shall we order something before starting our talk?”
“I’d suggest the turtle soup. It’s the best in the city.”
“Please, Pops, she’s here to steal the company. I could give a rat’s ass what she wants to eat.” Piper didn’t bother to keep her voice down this time.
“Kendal, would you excuse us? I’d like a word with my granddaughter.”
“Call me crazy, but I’m guessing no amount of lecturing will change Miss Marmande’s mind, so why bother? She’s right, so save the trip to the woodshed. That’s why I’m here, but what she should realize is if it weren’t me, it’d be someone else. Since Miss Marmande is refreshingly blunt, let me be equally so. Marmande Shipyard is worth more in parts than as a whole, and no magic eraser on the horizon will eliminate the red tape that’s about to choke out its remaining life.”
“You are blunt,” Mac said, and laughed. “We’ve been trying to break into new markets since, unlike you, I believe we still have something to offer.”
“Please don’t think I’m judging you personally. This is no one’s fault. It’s just the way of the business world. Luckily, I’m sitting here instead of someone who wants to outright plunder what’s taken your family generations to build. I want to work with you so you’ll get fair market value.”
“What, pennies on the dollar? Should I kiss your ass now or wait until you hand us the big check?” Piper asked.
