by Nancy Gideon
“I know what they’re capable of, Max. How they get inside your head and twist your thoughts up into something evil and dark. Sometimes you don’t even know they’re there. You think the thoughts are your own until . . . until it’s too late.”
Now she had his complete attention. Time to learn about his enemy, about the intellectually elite Chosen who tried to control the future of their kind through ruthless manipulation. “Tell me.”
“They turn you into a weapon against those who trust you, against those you love. They make you an extension of their reach. They see through your eyes, act through your hands.”
“But you resisted. You broke free.”
“Yes. I did. But not before I almost killed—” She ended the remembrance abruptly, taking a deep breath to reestablish her unfaltering cool. “It wasn’t something I could have stopped on my own. Silas fought to save me. So did you. I’d return that favor if I could.”
His gut tightened. “You think I’m a danger to you all?”
“If I knew it for certain, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this pleasant conversation. But I do think it’s possible. We don’t know what they did while you were in their hands. We might never know until the moment you turn on us.”
A terrible foreboding shook through Max. They’ll hurt you. They’ll use you. Who was they? Those who had taken him or those who had him now? “So how can we stop that from happening?”
“What do you remember from your time in the North? Anything? Any experiences, sensations, no matter how minute?”
Pain, sharp and unrelenting. Struggling against fatigue and weakness to keep the doors to his mind closed and them out. Them, who? “I was hooked up to machines, to IVs.”
“What did they want to know?”
“They didn’t ask any questions. I wouldn’t let them in.”
She nodded, needing no further explanations. “Did they speak to you at all?”
If you want to save them, you must trust me.
He shook his head.
They’ll be safe. Isn’t that what you want?
“Did you see them?” Nica pressed.
When it’s safe, I’ll find you.
“No. No one.”
You are the one who will save us all, Max. A woman’s voice, familiar but unknown.
You are special. Blessed. His mother’s insistent claim.
The same, yet different. Different females of the same blood. His blood.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.”
“You can fight it, Max,” Nica insisted, drawing him out of his tumultuous thoughts. “It starts with a headache. You’ll feel sick, disoriented, cold. Then full of conviction and direction. You’ll feel compelled to act. The urge just gets bigger and bigger.” Her words shook slightly as if at a tremendous cost.
“And if you resist it?”
“You’re punished. And believe me, that’s not pleasant or easily survived.”
Max regarded her for a long moment, seeing what she was capable of. A survivor, a fighter, who would take any necessary means to protect what mattered to her. At the moment, he was outside that circle. “So your solution is to lock me up in that cage again.” The back of his neck bristled with objection.
“No. My solution is to warn you. If you suspect any of these symptoms, call me. I can help. Anytime. Anywhere. I owe you all that I have and I take that debt very seriously. You don’t need to trust me, only to believe me.”
“I do.”
“So, you’ll call me?”
“I will.”
After she left, Max considered her words and the impact they would have on his situation. And as he did, he absently rubbed at the mild throb in his temple.
CHAPTER FIVE
The instant he stepped into the vast space of Jacques LaRoche’s club, Max experienced a rush of attention far different than he’d felt at the Cummings’ fund raiser.
Beneath a crooning wave of Robert Cray blues, the warmth of his clan’s devotion surrounded him in a surging tide that lifted and emotionally carried him. Everything about the Shifter night spot was familiar, at least on a subconscious level. These were his kind. He knew them by the signature scents they exuded, by the tentative Glimmers of greeting that touched him on a psychic level. He didn’t have to know their individual faces to realize that he was amongst friends.
“Savoie!” came the big, booming voice of the club’s massive owner. “About damned time.” LaRoche came around the bar to pull him into a rib-bruising embrace, then kept a meaty arm about his shoulders as he turned to his patrons to proclaim, “What did I tell you? He’s back. Now go about your business and let the man drink in peace.”
Jacques towed him to his seat of honor and plopped into an adjoining chair, from which he regarded his friend with a welcoming grin. “Good to have you back. Good for business, too. Nothing like a Second Coming to get folks in a celebratory mood. You here by yourself?”
He followed Max’s targeting stare to a figure on the far side of the small dance floor. And his grin got impossibly wider. “Ah. I see you brought your better half.”
Max rose from his seat to appreciate her approach.
Charlotte Caissie wasn’t easily ignored, her movements strong and confident, her body, on this night, tightly wrapped for sin. Her short black dress had one three-quarter length sleeve and a neck line that dramatically curved to leave the other arm and shoulder temptingly bare of all but bronzed skin and sexy muscle tone. Long legs went to even greater lengths atop killer heels, also black. She wore no jewelry. Her darkly outlined eyes gleamed like onyx, her red lips shiny as satin sheets. The scent of Voodoo Love went right to his groin.
Beautiful, fierce.
His.
“You might want to wipe that drool off your chin.”
LaRoche’s wry observation jerked him from the moment, giving him the presence of mind to offer a small smile and pull out the chair next to his as she joined them. Her stare fixed onto his like a laser site, creating an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, in his inseam.
“You look good enough to eat, Detective.”
Her fingertips brushed over his where they rested on the back of the chair, the effect heat lightning.
“I’m sure you’re not the only one here who thinks fondly of making a meal of me and picking their teeth with my bones.”
“I don’t think they’d dare.”
She continued to smile at that arrogance and teased him with her bold glance as she sank onto the seat. Then she crossed those gorgeous legs and his attention was riveted to the bold red underside of her shoes, that same man-hunting red as her lipstick and nails. A devouring urgency growled through him as he finally remembered to sit down.
“I hope I’m not overdressed.”
“Not now,” Max assured her. Then his eyelids lowered to a simmering half-mast. “But perhaps later you will be.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, never looking away.
Jacques cleared his throat. “Since I’m invisible here anyway, I might as well get back to work.”
Neither of them noticed him leave.
This morning and now again, Cee Cee wanted to fall right into that smoldering heat she saw in Max’s stare. Sitting with him, trading innuendos and incendiary touches, almost wiped away the past months of panic. Almost. She remained cautious because she knew Max. He was a chameleon when it came to changing colors, to adapting to his surroundings. Was he only giving her a reflection of what she wanted so desperately to see, or was there more behind his sudden warming mood?
She couldn’t afford to be drawn in by an illusion of what had been. Her battered spirit couldn’t take the disappointment.
So she turned down the flame to a light flicker and took an emotional step away.
“Are you starting to remember things?” she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
If he noticed her cooling temperature, Max didn’t betray it. “I know this place,” he told her, glancing about the crowded room wh
ere covert interest lingered on them. “I don’t actually have any memories of it, but I know I’ve been here. That’s a start, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“I don’t remember that dress or those shoes. I’d like to think I would.”
He’d bought both and had enjoyed taking them off her. Cee Cee’s expression never altered. “There’s no reason you should. They’re new.”
That reassured him. His fingertips traced lightly down her arm where it rested upon the tabletop. He couldn’t miss her shiver of response or the way she eased out of his reach as he asked, “How was your day, Detective?”
“SOP. Same ole, same ole. Pushing papers and looking for leads. Alain stopped in for a minute.”
“Babineau,” Max supplied readily. “How’s your old partner?”
His question came easily, reminding Cee Cee again of how adept he was. He was filling in the details of his world at a remarkable speed, but was it just a shell over empty space?
“He sends you his regards.”
One of Max’s big, blow-your-hair-back laughs burst out and trickled down to a husky chuckle. “I’ll just bet he did.”
Did he know how Alain Babineau felt about him, or had he simply heard something? His spontaneous comments seemed to come from genuine knowledge. From some vault of his past he’d managed to preserve when all the rest was stolen away.
Or was she just seeing what she wanted to see?
“Ah,” he announced abruptly. “The rest of our party.”
Cee Cee twisted to see Silas and Nica MacCreedy. Strange to think of them as married as well as mated, but Silas had insisted upon making that human bond as permanent as the one he’d claimed in the way of their kind. He enjoyed straddling the line between both Upright and Shifter worlds so he could move with equal freedom in both. Nica didn’t care because she was carrying the eternal proof of their union that wouldn’t be hidden for long under the snug white tank top and tight black jeans she wore in the club where she’d taken over as manager.
Tonight, she was off the clock, with her thick black hair loose about those sinewy shoulders, giving a softer femininity to her look, her lean figure draped in a soft knit dress as deep a blue as her twilight colored eyes. In her heels, she was almost as tall as her husband who was never off the clock in his cheap suit coat over jeans, buttoned up shirt and boring tie. They looked good together, a pairing that had surprised but now pleased Cee Cee. Nica had been an enigma from her childhood days at St. Bart’s and Silas was a very solid part of her day-to-day present. And she saw in both of them, with their special gifts, the means to make her future complete.
If they could help her reach Max.
Their first attempt had been difficult and disappointing. They’d only managed to pull one name from the fractured remnants of Max’s mind. Genevieve Savorie. Savorie—Max’s true family name. His mother had changed it to Savoie to help hide them.
Genevieve was an unknown variable. The priest, Furness, hinted at a past with her. Evidence suggested she was part of the enemy faction in the North. So why was her name the only one Max remembered?
True to his promise to see her fed, Max had asked Silas to provide a carry out meal for them to share since Cheveux du Chien had no kitchen. And Cee Cee couldn’t resist a fully dressed po’boy. Pushing away the darker musings, she smiled her thanks and tore into the substantial sandwich as their waitress Amber came for drink orders. Without hesitation, Max ordered beer for the couple and himself and a Jack-and-Water for her. She paused in her chewing, startled by his recall of her preference and disheartened that he didn’t know why she waved it off in favor of a diet soda just as Nica did.
To keep the mood light while they enjoyed their meal, Cee Cee asked the newlyweds to share some PG highlights from their honeymoon abroad. As she listened to them reminisce with tantalizing anecdotes of sandy beaches, vineyard tours, and restful moonlit walks, Max’s hand slipped over hers. For appearances, she told herself. Everyone in the club knew they were involved, and these tiny gestures were expected. Was that what Max was thinking as his thumb caressed her knuckles? Or on some subconscious level was he reliving their brief escape to the ocean in California where Sex on the Beach became more than just a fruity drink?
They were laughing over a work-related story Silas was telling, everyone relaxed and comfortable, including Max, when Jacques came to lean down to Cee Cee.
“My ear on the dock heard something interesting.”
She stood, drawing her partner’s attention. Mumbling a quick apology, she and Silas followed LaRoche to the quiet hallway by his office.
“What have you heard,” Cee Cee coaxed.
“There’s an unofficial underground event tonight you might find interesting. High stakes, posh crowd, hush hush.”
“Related to our case?” MacCreedy shared an intrigued glance with Charlotte.
“Possibly. Invitation only.” And with a flourish, Jacques provided a business card containing a square digital QR code. “Consider yourselves invited. Take your wallet. Cover charge is $200.00. Each.”
“Looks like I’ll be stopping at the ATM,” Silas murmured as he read the card with his cell phone app. He shared the screen with Cee Cee. A map and a time, nothing else.
They had less than an hour.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Max didn’t need to hear the apology to know their night out was over. When his date and friend returned to the table, they fairly hummed with the edgy excitement that came with their job. That made it more difficult not to betray his frustration. He’d been enjoying himself, feeling safe in the surround of people he was beginning to trust.
Cee Cee hung back and let Silas make the excuses. He bent down to press a quick kiss to his mate’s cheek.
“Something came up. Gotta go. I need to take about a grand of flash money out of our account.”
Nica caught him by the tie before he could straighten, holding him at eye-to-eye level. “Will we be getting a reimbursement from the department?”
Since it was her money he’d be withdrawing, the our account just for dignity’s sake, he didn’t hold back on the explanation. “I don’t know. Depends on what we find. May not want to go mainstream with it.” If it turned out to be strictly Shifter business. She got that and let him go. But not far and not without conditions.
“I didn’t get dressed up to work behind the bar for the rest of the evening. I was expecting a good time.”
“I can promise you one later.”
“Hmm. Tempting, lover, but that would depend on what shape you’re in when you come home. I think I’ll just go along with you to protect my investment in both the financial and pleasurable returns.” Her cool gaze moved to Cee Cee. “Problem with that?”
Her husband’s partner shrugged, hiding a smile. “None. Would help with our cover and with our escape if we have to make a quick one.” Cee Cee jumped as Max caught her wrist.
“Perhaps I could go along, too. I like a good time.”
Max watched those clever cop eyes narrow as she processed the pros and cons, and closed him out. He wasn’t pleased with her decision.
“You’d be too recognizable, Savoie. Sorry.”
A liability. A risk she wasn’t willing to take. Unnecessary baggage when once he’d been a benefit. He got that, but knowing didn’t soften the cruel blow to an ego he was trying to reconstruct.
He released her arm, making his reply carefully neutral. “I’m sorry, too. I guess this is goodnight then. Don’t worry. I can find my way home.”
Jacques stepped in to ease the immediate worry tightening her features. “He can hitch a ride with me. I’m cutting out in just few. Susanna’s got a late shift, so I’m on daddy duty. He’s just a floor up, so I don’t think he’ll get lost.”
Hard not to resent her hesitation, that of caregiver toward unreliable charge. Max smiled thinly. “I’ll be fine, Detective. I promise not to wander off or watch any of the adult channels.”
Catc
hing his annoyance, she paused, but instead of offering an apology that might have soothed his pride, she gave a brisk nod and was ready to follow Silas and Nica toward the door. Not good enough. Again, he gripped her wrist, holding tight this time. He wouldn’t let her walk away that easily from all the evening had promised.
“Is that how you’d usually say good-bye to me in front of all these curious eyes?”
Again, the indecision before her dependable common sense won out.
“No, it’s not,” she admitted. Placing her palm to his cheek, she bent to bestow a rather conservative kiss, thinking that would satisfy the onlookers. Perhaps it would.
But it didn’t satisfy him.
He heard her quick inhale as he sucked her lush lower lip in between his for a gentle worrying of his teeth. When he released it, her breath rushed out noisily.
Her eyes were still closed as she levered back just slightly, her brow touching his, her hand soft upon his face, as she whispered, “I’ll see you later, Savoie.”
Her gaze came up to search his, so dark and filled with confusion. He smiled rather wolfishly.
“Yes, you will, Detective.”
An unmistakable flash of desire awoke in her eyes. But before he could grab on and explore it further, she straightened and strode away from the table without looking back. Leaving their audience content but him, much less so.
LaRoche dropped into the chair she’d occupied, expression sympathetic. “I was about to suggest you take advantage of my office.”
“I might have accepted. But you know there’s nothing but the job when duty calls.”
“Yeah, I do. Though I’m kinda wondering how you do.”
Max sat back in his seat, pondering that question, coming up with, “She’s easy to read.”
“No, she’s not. She’s a Sphinx to everyone but you. You’re the only one she’s ever let see behind Door Number One. Or Number Two and Three.”
“Because we’re bonded?”
“Even before that.”
Now that Jacques opened the way to where Max wanted to go, Max didn’t waste any time.
“How did you know Susanna was your mate?”
