by Nancy Gideon
MacCreedy was waiting on the front steps, sipping from a hot cup of instant brew when Babineau pulled up. He climbed into the car, offering the bag of pastries before buckling up.
Babineau picked from the remaining selection. “I expected you to look like shit this morning.”
Freshly shaven, in clean white shirt with jeans, suit jacket, and loosely knotted tie, Silas showed no sign of having been sliced and diced the night before.
“If it’s any consolation, I feel like hell on the inside.”
Babineau still stared, making Silas edgy.
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Babineau shook it off with a slight laugh. “I expected to see you differently this morning, is all.”
“Like a werewolf in a suit instead of as a partner?”
Alain grinned. “Something like that.”
“You should see me before I shave.”
With a chuckle, Babineau put the car in gear. While he negotiated the narrow street, waiting for a group of picture-taking tourists in front of Reverend Zombie’s Voodoo Shop to step back on the curb so he could pass, Silas pulled out his cell phone to make a call.
“Morning,” he said.
“What do you want, MacCreedy?” Nica sounded as raw as he felt.
“I was wondering if you needed a ride tonight. Babineau and I can pick you up.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’s no problem. You’re on the way. See you at six thirty.” He snapped the phone shut before she could respond.
Nine
A tropical storm barreled across the gulf, sending sheets of rain across the streets like a power washer.
Nica waited inside the front door as MacCreedy stepped out of Babineau’s car, popping a big umbrella as an ineffective shield. Her stomach tensed at the sight of him, so tall and lean and lethally handsome with his raincoat flaring open in the wind to reveal jeans that seemed shrink-wrapped to his muscular thighs. When she opened the door, the roar of pounding rain greeted her along with his smile.
He angled the umbrella over her. “Hold this for a second.” When she took the handle, he whipped off his long coat to whisk it about her shoulders, overwhelming her with his heat and scent. He opened the back door for her. When she didn’t scoot over for him to join her, he rejoined his partner in front.
“Nica Fraser, Alain Babineau.”
“Nice to meet you,” Babineau murmured. “Not a fit night for man nor beast.”
“I think we’ve got that covered,” she muttered. Nica settled into her seat, shaking the rain off Silas’s coat and trying to keep her stare from his broad shoulders. Traffic and the pounding rain on the roof prevented conversation, giving her thoughts too much leeway during the drive.
One of the reasons she was so successful was her ability to remain disconnected from those around her, never letting them touch her or make an impact upon her. As in a chess game, they were pieces to be moved to gain an advantage. Their lives before or after she passed through weren’t her concern. Her goal was to make no impression, leave no memories.
Not this time.
She’d stayed too long in this place that still had distant ties to her soul. She’d been forced to integrate into the community, to deal with its members one-on-one, to interact as employee, friend . . . lover. She’d become caught up in the problems and passions of those around her. Even worse, she was beginning to like them.
LaRoche, Amber, Lottie, MacCreedy. They were far more than potential collateral damage. No longer pawns to play in order to win her deadly game, they’d pulled her in, involving her, making personal bonds that weren’t going to be easy to sever. Making her recall things she hadn’t experienced since she was a child: loyalty, belonging, trust, happiness, affection. Love. All things she’d thrust away as symptoms of weakness, as stepping stones to betrayal. If you didn’t care, you couldn’t be abandoned. A lesson learned so young, it marked her like that brand on MacCreedy’s wrist.
She turned to look out the window, disgusted with her treacherous desires and with herself. Because she was looking forward to this evening—not to gathering strategic information, but to enjoying the company, as if she had any business mingling socially amongst them. Professional suicide, that’s what it was. Foolish, reckless, and so dangerous.
Yet she longed for the chance to laugh and reminisce. To respond naturally to what stirred within her heart as if she were their equal and not their prospective slayer. Didn’t she deserve one such evening, one opportunity to know what it might have been like if she’d been born to other circumstances? Where she could be worthy of friendship, where she could explore the fascinating twists and turns of a relationship with a man like Silas MacCreedy?
But if she did, when the time came, would she be able to walk away with the blood of one of their lives on her hands?
It wasn’t wise to tempt fate. Even when it was packaged as temptingly as the man sitting in front of her.
Max Savoie’s home was surrounded by high walls and security cameras, as impressive as it was intimidating. When Babineau pulled up to the sturdy gates they immediately swung open, welcoming them inside the compound just as the rain gave way to steamy late-day sunshine.
The long, oak-shaded drive led to a sprawling antebellum plantation home, haloed by shafts of light that glittered with tiara-like brilliance upon the faded head of a grand dame. A wide veranda with a wraparound upper balcony, floor-to-ceiling shuttered French doors, and vine-covered pillars added to the aging elegance of Southern charm . . . if you didn’t notice the subtly positioned well-armed guards.
Savoie came out to greet them, accompanied by a huge wall of a man. He waited on the porch, a dark, elegant shadow of hospitality.
MacCreedy opened the rear door and extended a helping hand, his gaze dipping briefly as Nica unfolded long bare legs ending in wicked stilettos. After one look between those precarious shoes and the water-saturated drive, he whisked her up from the backseat into his arms. Since struggling would have increased her embarrassment, she allowed him to carry her from the vehicle to the front steps.
He eased her down until she found a steady perch, then Nica took MacCreedy’s hand, establishing a bond between them in Savoie’s assessing gaze. She could feel Silas’s startlement, but he quickly engulfed her hand in a firm claim.
“Good evening, Detectives, Ms. Fraser. Sorry for the soggy welcome. Charlotte’s spiking the coffee with brandy, so you should warm up rather quickly. Giles will take your coats and your sidearms. No need to bring them to a civilized table.”
“Guess that depends on your definition of civilized, doesn’t it?” Babineau drawled, surrendering up his police issue.
Silas held his suit coat open for Giles’s inspection, then told Max, “It won’t be necessary to pat us down. We come bearing no weapons—unless you count Nica’s rather sharp tongue.”
She smiled at the suspicious Giles and then at an equally distrustful Max, who said, “I find lovely women are rarely unarmed in that regard. Please come in.”
Silas helped Nica out of his coat and passed it to Giles, easing his hands along her sides and hips in a casual search before settling his arm about her waist.
“It’s not like this dress was made to conceal anything,” she grumbled. She was gratified by his quick survey of the silky red fabric held up by thin straps and ending in flirty swirl just above her knees. “If I had a weapon, it would be taped to my inner thigh. Would you like to warn Savoie’s hulking bodyguard, so he can search there?”
“I think I’ll keep your inner thighs to myself. They can be fairly lethal without a weapon, too.”
The area in question grew as damp and steamy as their surroundings.
Cee Cee met them in the parlor with an unexpected flutter of nervousness that got Nica studying the group dynamics with an outsider’s gift for clarity. Her childhood friend was hiding something from Max that was about to come to light. Savoie and Babineau circled one another like wary animals readying for combat. Silas was the on
ly one who seemed relaxed, until two newcomers entered the room, a mother and child.
She heard his raspy inhalation and felt it shudder from him.
Nica’s gaze flashed up, but his expression revealed nothing. No way had she imagined his reaction. She knew he had some secret agenda. She’d thought it had something to do with Max, but now she knew different.
She watched his tension gather until he practically vibrated with it, and a strained smile stretched his lips as Cee Cee brought them over.
“I’d like you to meet Nica Fraser, who’s just returned to New Orleans. She and I knew each other as children when we were at St. Bart’s. And Silas MacCreedy. He joined the team during our last case and is partnered with Alain until I’m back in the field. This is Tina Babineau and her son, Oscar.”
Babineau?
Nica scrutinized the delicate female with her soft brown hair and doe eyes and her coltish son, knowing instantly that they were shape-shifters. She and Babineau were married, yet she was living here under Savoie’s roof?
Silas put out his hand, taking Tina’s as if it were made of glass. “I’ve enjoyed working with your husband. He talks about you all the time. I feel like we’re almost family.”
Tina looked flustered as she drew her hand away.
When MacCreedy turned to Oscar, Nica saw something bright and glittery in his eyes, turning cool slate to gleaming quicksilver.
“Hello, Oscar. I’m Silas and I’m very happy to finally meet you,” he said in a deep, measured tone as he pressed the small hand between both of his.
It was the boy he was after.
Dinner was a mix of superficial conversation and fabulous food served up in a massive dining room that could have easily seated two dozen. While her mother, Helen, was busy in the kitchen, a pretty dark-haired girl Max called Jasmine delivered the courses. The girl was uncomfortable enough with the serving process for Nica to guess that entertaining wasn’t regularly done under the trio of chandeliers.
Cups of corn-and-sweet-potato bisque were a hearty accompaniment to a light salad of melon and crabmeat over mixed greens. A savory main course followed; tender beef brisket served with a Creole remoulade, spicy shrimp, flavorful vegetables, and plenty of warm bread to absorb the heat. The wine was excellent, and Alain Babineau imbibed freely, refusing to relinquish his glass in favor of a coffee when dishes of bread pudding were brought out.
“So, Oscar, how do you like living here?” he began with a slightly aggressive slur. “Is Savoie teaching you the tricks of the trade?”
Oscar looked nervously to Max, who was silent at Cee Cee’s side. Then he smiled tentatively at his stepfather. “I’m learning how to box.”
“My father taught me when I was your age,” Silas said, earning the boy’s grateful glance. “I used to have a pretty good jab to go along with a lot of bruises.”
“Max lets me go to the gym at his office with him sometimes. He says it’s never too early to start building stamina and strength. He’s going to start teaching me martial arts in the fall.”
“You’re never too young to become an effective killer, right, Savoie? Is that what you’re teaching my boy?”
Max returned Babineau’s belligerent glare with one of ice. “There’s nothing wrong with being able to take care of yourself if danger presents itself.”
Then he looked at MacCreedy, his expression contemplative. “Do you like to run, as well as box?”
Silas laughed. “No. All that sweating to go nowhere? I prefer public transportation and a destination.”
“I like to run,” Nica said. “There’s a path along the St. Charles streetcar line where you can really stretch your legs. But I’m competitive. It’s no fun if there isn’t a challenge.”
She held Max’s gaze with a smile, letting him know that she, not MacCreedy, had led him on an invigorating chase some weeks ago.
Babineau spoke up again. “How about hunting? With all this property, it seems like you’d take advantage of that, Savoie. You teaching the boy how to hunt, how to stalk game, how to bring down a kill?” A pause, then right for the throat. “Or do you take him down to the docks to learn that, the way you did under Legere?”
Silas pushed back his chair, reaching for his partner’s arm and jerking it up behind his back to bring him to his feet. “Excuse us for a minute. I think we need to get some air.”
He marched the truculent Babineau out of the room and out the front door, giving him a shove so that he stumbled against the porch rail, where he clung for balance.
“You are just full of amusing table conversation tonight.”
Babineau turned on him with a fierce cry. “You don’t know what he is, what he’s done.”
“I know he’s taken that boy in when you decided not to be a father to him anymore. If you don’t give a damn about them, why should it bother you who puts a roof over their heads? You don’t seem to want them under yours.”
“It’s because they’re—” He choked off the rest.
Silas’s eyes narrowed. “What? Animals? Monsters? Like me?”
“Because they’re not human.”
“Humanity isn’t all that great, from what I’ve seen.” MacCreedy crossed to the rail to lean next to Babineau. “I hadn’t figured you for narrow-minded. Is it all our kind you object to, or just Savoie?”
That set Alain back and got him thinking. “I don’t have any problem with you.”
“Good to know. I’m a damned nice guy and a helluva partner. So it’s Savoie who’s got your shorts in a twist.”
“The smug bastard. He’s a criminal. A killer. And he’s the boy’s family.”
“Does Oscar have other family? Would you rather he live with them while you get your shit together?”
“Tina’s adopted parents are dead. She doesn’t have anyone else to go to.”
“And you can’t make yourself take them back?”
“Not yet.” He scrubbed shaking hands over his face. “I’m screwing everything up. If Savoie wasn’t in the picture, maybe I could see things more clearly.”
“Maybe you could,” Silas agreed. “Go do a couple of laps around the porch, then head for the coffee instead of the liquor. You’re acting like a real asshole, and you’re embarrassing me in front of my date.” He slapped Alain on the back with enough force to get him started on that walk, then he returned inside, where he was surprised by the sight of Oscar Babineau. Hopefully he hadn’t heard the entire conversation.
Oscar nodded toward the door. “Is he okay?”
“Your dad?”
“He’s . . . he’s not my dad.”
Silas placed a supportive hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed. “He’s pissed off and confused and not sure who he’s mad at. Probably himself.”
“It’s because we’re different, isn’t it?”
Smart kid. Intuitive. Not many adult Shifters could read him as easily when he was trying to blend. “Yeah. It’s kinda tough on ’em at first, accepting what we are, but he’ll get over it.”
“He likes you.”
“What’s not to like?”
That coaxed a reluctant grin.
“Oscar, if you could choose, would you leave here to go back with him?”
“If we could be a family again, sure. This is a great place and Max and Detective Caissie and everyone here are awesome, but it’s not home. You know what I mean?”
The thin shoulders slumped, and Silas’s emotions gave a worrisome plummet. He removed his hand to take a physical and mental step away.
He wasn’t here to put this broken family back together.
He was here to kidnap a prince.
Ten
The others were still at the table when MacCreedy returned. The big guy, Giles, was speaking to Savoie, who looked somber.
“Giles tells me a tour bus went into a culvert up the road, causing a chain reaction involving half a dozen cars,” Savoie announced. “The rescue workers won’t have the area cleared for at least a couple of hours, about t
he time we get the whip end of that storm that just went through. Looks to be a long, ugly night, so I suggest you ride it out here. We’ve got plenty of room and a backup generator in case the power goes. Roads will be a lot safer in the morning.”
“Sounds like the smart thing to do. I’m sure Alain will agree,” Silas said.
Cee Cee gave a snort. “He’s not all that reasonable when it comes to our hospitality, but I’ll make sure he sees it’s the best of two evils.”
Tina pushed back from the table, looking fluttery and anxious. “I’ll let Helen know we’ll need extra rooms made up.”
Giles saw Oscar lingering uncomfortably in the doorway and called, “C’mon, sport. You can help me batten down the hatches.”
The boy was instantly at his heels.
After Nica excused herself to visit the restroom, Max leaned back in his chair to regard the detectives. “Now we’ll have plenty of time to get certain things out in the open. How ’bout you start, sha?”
Cee Cee’s gaze flashed to his. “With what?”
“With that question you’ve been dying to ask me since yesterday. Ask away.”
She looked nervously toward their guest. “Max, I don’t think this is the time.”
“It’s the perfect time. Ask.”
She cursed softly under her breath, then squared her shoulders. Before she could form the question, Babineau asked it for her from the doorway.
“Are you running human cargo for Blutafino?”
Max regarded him unblinkingly. “Why would you think I am?”
“Is that the deal you made with him to get us undercover in his place?” Cee Cee asked in her hard-edged cop voice.
Babineau growled, “Manny met with your boy T-John on one of LEI’s ships last night. I don’t think he was there to discuss taking a cruise.”
“He had Shifters on guard,” Silas added. “They gave us a rather unpleasant time. It didn’t seem like the type of greeting you would have ordered, considering it involved your housemate.”
Max’s gaze settled on Cee Cee. “And you were going to tell me this when? About the same time you planned to mention those four who jumped you outside Cheveux du Chien?”
