by Nancy Gideon
“It’s not magic,” Genevieve insisted. “It’s science, and that requires proper conditions and materials.”
“And if we can provide those things here?”
“I doubt that, even with the help of the highly respected and clever Dr. Duchamps. She’s body mechanics. I’m brain function. Not the same tools or talent pool.”
“He’s already remembered quite a bit on his own.”
Genevieve met Cee Cee’s claim with a pleased smile. “Really? I knew he was extraordinary. I’m not surprised.”
“There’s that he as if I’m not standing three feet away.” Max’s drawl did little to mask his annoyance. Or his impatience. “I want my life back. What do I need to do to get it?”
“Trust me.” So simple. So incredibly complex.
His gaze cooled to one of wariness, not ready to believe all the answers to his troubles had suddenly appeared with no strings attached. “I believe you said that to me once before.”
“And here you are, safe and sound.”
“No thanks to you.” His hand brushed down Cee Cee’s spine to rest at the curve of her low back, reinforcing their connection with that touch. Drawing a grounding strength. “What were your plans for me, Aunt Genny? May I call you that?” Suspicion edged his request, as if doubting her claim of fondness. “Servitude to those of your kind? Until when?”
“Until it was safe.” Her gaze narrowed, obviously peeved at having her motives questioned. “My plan was to hide you in plain sight until their attention turned elsewhere and you were no longer considered a danger. Thanks to your friends, they still believe you to be an unknown variable and a threat. Especially now.” That last held a whisper of threat.
“Why now?” he asked, alerted but not yet alarmed.
“I don’t know. A sudden flurry of interest stirred up yesterday morning. I only heard speculation.”
“So you came here, why, exactly?” Cee Cee’s voice leveled into her best interrogative tenor. “To warn him? Of what?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration hardened her voice. A woman used to being in charge stumbling over plans spinning outside her control clearly sat ill with her. “I have people trying to discover that even as we speak. I only know the focus on your clan here in New Orleans is extreme. And that’s never good.”
“So you,” Max continued in his and Cee Cee’s tag-team cross examination, “a highly respected and clever scientist, decided to rush to our rescue?”
Genevieve sighed. She circled to sit on one of the stylish sofas. The slight slump of her shoulders betrayed weariness and a sudden fragility. “I can’t believe someone sent those two watchdogs you so effectively silenced. They were loyal to me, perhaps so much so they took my safety into their own hands without my order. No one else has any idea I’m here. My colleagues believe I’m attending a conference in San Diego for the weekend. My assistant is there to make sure they’re none the wiser. To endanger myself is to risk your recovery.”
“What if those two watchdogs phoned in your position?” Cee Cee asked.
“They wouldn’t. That’s not their job. They reported only to me. They broke protocol to follow me here, probably thinking, not their strong suit, that I might be in danger. Fools. Blindly devoted fools.” Again the heave of a regretful sigh. She looked to Cee Cee with a wavering smile. “Could I trouble you for some water?” Her hands shook when she accepted the glass and drank deeply.
Cee Cee didn’t want to feel sympathy. Not if it meant lowering her guard. She resumed her place at Max’s side and continued her questions. “So you came to warn us that they’re coming?”
“If they are, you’ll be no more prepared than you were when they came for Dr. Duchamps.”
“We might surprise them this time.”
Max’s thinly-veiled warning had his aunt lifting a doubtful brow. “Really? I hope that won’t be put to the test. That’s why I’m here, before push comes to a very final shove. My time is limited, especially now. I don’t want to put you in any further danger. I’ll need an answer soon. Will you come with me, or do you prefer things remain as they are, a mystery?”
“What guarantee would we have of his safety?” Cee Cee skewered the other woman with her misgivings. “How do we know he’ll be returned to us back to normal, if at all?”
“You know I can’t provide certainties. I can only assure you that I’m not without influence or resources in the North. This business of Dr. Duchamps’ defection, though prettily veiled as non-political, as well as her mate’s supposed sabotage of her research, created quite the stir. Analyticals don’t care to have their boat of absolutes rocked by questions. It makes them uncomfortable. And dangerous. But many would welcome an alliance over a war.” She let that offer of peace dangle temptingly, but Cee Cee wasn’t taken in.
“And just as many would love to have our leader under their control.”
Genevieve shrugged. “As I said, no guarantees. It depends upon how badly Max wants what he lost returned to him. And if he’ll trust me.” She looked to her nephew, her pale features showing signs of hope as well as empathy. “But if you decide it’s not worth the risk, I’ll settle for this time to get to know you, my boy. You’re the only family I have left.”
Cee Cee cut in ruthlessly. “I didn’t think your kind held any respect for family.”
Genuine tears shimmered crystal bright. “You know nothing about me, Detective Caissie. I am not like those frigid drones who toil away in their cubicles. I know what it is to experience love and loss. I mourn my sister’s passing every day and question the choice I made to stay away when I had the chance to find her. The loss of those potential moments together torments me. Max, can you honestly say that you don’t want to remember her? She gave her life for you.”
The emotional snag in her voice nearly undid Max’s composure. He braced up an impenetrable wall to protect his heart, and guarded his response in a manner Cee Cee recognized all too well. Genevieve’s arrowed barb had wounded him to the quick, but his answer was deceivingly cool.
“Don’t pretend to understand what I shared with my mother. You weren’t there. Neither was my father.”
Genevieve rose and came to him, not in a rush of contrition but with a careful offer Cee Cee could respect. She didn’t reach out with a touch, only with the intensity of her gaze.
“I want to know. I want to understand. That’s why I’m here, Max. Not to cry over what I’ve foolishly missed, but to build on what we might share. Memories, hopes, dreams. I want to share those things with you. If you’ll let me.”
That soft petition hit upon every lonesome chord of Max’s life. Cee Cee could feel his incredible strength of will falter in the trembling of his fingertips upon her spine. But his expression remained dispassionate, his tone distant, as if to push his aunt’s wishes as firmly away as his own desires.
“I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”
Genevieve quickly disguised her vulnerabilities behind a faint smile. “That would be a shame. For both of us.” She took a step back, her poise admirable. “I’ll leave you to consider it. I’m checked in at the Mariott. Michael is joining me there for lunch, and I should like to be more presentable. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have a car pick me up downstairs.” She held up a hand to quiet Cee Cee’s protest. “I’d prefer if you discussed your options and let me know of your decision as soon as possible.”
And with that, she exited the apartment.
As Max’s breath shivered out softly, Cee Cee held herself back from offering more than he’d accept from her. Waiting in an ache of compassion for him to react.
He turned into her as if it was the most natural place in the world to go. His arms curled about her strong body, not to cling but simply to enfold her close. His head dipped to rest upon her shoulder. She held him, her cheek pressed to the black silk of his hair, as he murmured heavily, “I don’t know what to think or feel, Charlotte.”
“We’ll figure that out, the two of us. Okay?”
After a moment, his slight nod.
They stood together for timeless minutes, giving without asking, accepting without questioning, then slowly, Max drew back but not out of their embrace. Their gazes met and held.
“I couldn’t do this without you,” came the quiet confession she’d been yearning to hear.
“You don’t have to.”
She leaned into his kiss, into the inviting warmth of his mouth, letting it move over hers with a tender, reacquainting certainty. No hurry. No flash of passion. Just a deliciously thorough journey of rediscovery. She breathed in the comfort of his scent and tasted the sweetness of his trust on her tongue.
His hand nocked beneath her chin to keep her parted lips available, whispering against them, “I feel as though I’ve loved you forever.”
Her soul trembled. “I feel the same, Savoie.”
“Good.”
He settled in for another kiss, this one long and deep and drenched with a desire that had her toes curling within her Jimmy Cho’s. Not because she was crazy with lust for him. Though she was. But because he’d spoken that one word that was sexier than anything he could do to her body. That L word that came from the heart instead of the heat rising between them.
When Max finally lifted away, she hung limp and emotionally melted within the support of his arm. His slight smile reduced her to a total puddle of bliss.
“This seems very familiar to me, Detective.”
“Not in a boring way, I hope.”
His smile took on a sly bend. “Far from it, cher.” When his thumb stroked the moisture from her lips, she nipped at it, kindling that blaze of heat and promise in his eyes. “I need something from you.”
“Oh, baby, I don’t believe there’s anything you couldn’t have for the asking.”
His rumbling chuckle had her thighs clenching tight in anticipation.
“Go talk to Susanna.”
“What?” She blinked, confused. “Now?”
“Right now. Do as I ask. No questions. We can continue this later. If you’re still of a mind, that is?”
“I think in that regard I am fairly single minded.”
“And I like that about you.”
“And you?” she asked.
“I have some meetings I can’t get out of. No rest for the formerly wicked. And I think it would be for the best if I cozy up to dear Aunt Genny for a little more conversation later this afternoon.”
The cynical way he spoke the familiar title had Cee Cee conflicted. It implied his distrust of a woman who’d given them no reason—yet—to suspect deceit. For all intents, Genevieve had done her best to save him during his capture, and was here to set him truly free. But ever the sceptic, she preferred he’d choose caution over blanket acceptance of all his aunt proclaimed to be.
“Would you like me to be there?”
He smiled and pinched her chin. “I think I can handle one dowager aunt.”
Cee Cee snorted at that description of the elegant Genevieve and eased out of his arms, her palms smoothing down the impeccable line of his jacket. “Then I guess I’ll see you later.”
“You can count on that the way you do the stars, Detective.”
Cee Cee drove to the Institute, a shameless quiver of raw emotions. Max’s assurance teased her body like the caress of his mouth and hands. She wriggled in her bucket seat, as anxious as a teenager, surprised the windows weren’t fogged by her unrelenting lust. Her thoughts spun ahead to what she’d wear, to what she’d say, to how she’d get them naked as quickly as possible on that big under-utilized mattress. And then, after a long bout of wild, sweaty sex, or two, or three, when they both were burned down to low embers of satisfaction, she’d tell him about their child.
At that point, they’d decide what to do about Genevieve Savorie’s request. And their future together would be on its unstoppable forward roll.
She was smiling as she entered Susanna’s gleaming lab. The doctor glanced up from her computer, where she’d been intently studying data.
“Max said we need to talk.”
And the subtle change in the other’s expression blew Cee Cee’s hopes to hell.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Over harsh brewed coffee and vending machine pastries, detective and doctor compared notes.
“So his bravado about invading the North was to get a rise out of whoever was remote viewing through his head?” Cee Cee summed up after taking in her friend’s rehash of her conversation with Max. She suppressed a shiver at Susanna’s nod. No wonder he’d kept her at arm’s length. They had no idea who listened on the other end. No talk about baby tonight. She’d never willingly place that vulnerable knowledge into their enemy’s hands.
“He wanted to keep them off balance so they’d hesitate before making a move. And as a bonus, I got to throw my lying mentor under the bus a second time. I hope their new suspicions have him stretched out on the same table he planned for my daughter.”
Cee Cee raised a brow. Who would have expected such viciousness from the reserved, intelligent doctor? But then Cee Cee hadn’t fully understood the nature of motherhood. Until now.
“It might delay a full scale attack,” Cee Cee mused, “but will certainly encourage them to send feelers down to check the information.” Another shiver, this time of dread. More Trackers. Or maybe something worse, if there was such a thing. “So it’s no coincidence that Genevieve Savorie is here.”
“Her kind don’t believe in coincidences. Or in taking chances.”
“But is she here on her own behalf, as she says, or on theirs?” Max would be devastated if it proved to be the latter. Despite his hard shell of caution, she knew he’d erected it to protect himself from his yearning to believe. “What do you know about her, Susanna?”
“Not much beyond her reputation. I’ve never met her, but she casts a big shadow over all of our implanting and control programs. She’s a pioneer in psychic exploration.”
“So she could easily be manipulating Max?” That notion sent a cold tremor to her bones.
“Not easily, but she’s clever and he’s susceptible.”
“But he can resist. He knows when they’re . . . inside.”
A slight smile. “Oh, yes. They’re not as clever or careful as they think they are. There are always signs to look for.”
More worry quickly overcame a moment of relief. “What does she want? Is she after him? Or you?”
Susanna smiled tightly, obviously more shaken than she betrayed upon learning that Genevieve knew she resided in New Orleans. “Or both. I wish I knew. I warned him that he played a reckless game with creatures who know no mercy.”
But a worthwhile game, Cee Cee concluded. “They don’t know that we know. We can be the manipulators.”
Susanna fidgeted uncomfortably, obviously weighing the risk to her own family.
“We’ll increase the security here and at the Towers.”
The doctor nodded. “Jacques’ already seen to that. He refuses to let Pearl out of his sight. I had a difficult enough time convincing him to let me come to work.”
“Listen to him. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“If we don’t take chances, we can’t learn anything. I refuse to live like a lab rat in a cage for the rest of my life. I will not be terrorized in my own home.”
Though Cee Cee cheered her bravery, she quickly cautioned, “Better a cage than a coffin.”
“No,” Susanna replied flatly, her dark eyes fierce. “I’ve been in the cage. I’ll never return there, and neither will my child. I’ll sacrifice our lives before our freedom.”
Cee Cee squeezed her cold fingers beneath her own. “It won’t come to that. They underestimate us. That’s their weakness. They see Max and his clan as simple, easily spooked animals who’ll scatter at the first sign of threat.”
Susanna’s lips twisted bitterly, thinking just as Cee Cee was, of Jacques’s friends’ cowardly retreat when the doctor and Max had been taken. “Are they wrong?”
“Yes.” Cee Cee refused to believe otherwise. She didn’t dare. They had too much at stake. “Silas thinks it’s more than a plan to undermine our community by stealing its leader.”
Susanna quickly followed. “The drug.”
Cee Cee relayed what Cale had told her about Kick, then asked, “What have you found out? Are they right to be worried?”
Just how bad could it get?
Apparently very bad.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
While Pearl did schoolwork at the empty bar, ever in her father’s view, Cee Cee relayed all she’d learned to Jacques, Silas and Nica.
The herbal remedy Martine Terriot had concocted to heal their clan’s leader had been harmless in and of itself. Until she began supplementing the formula with strong chemical components to fuel rage and crippling dependency. But that didn’t alarm Susanna Duchamps. The scenario she suggested terrified.
Take an addictive drug that altered physical and mental faculties. Market it attractively using a popular figure, say a dynamic and wealthy clan prince, to endorse its enviable effectiveness in a bloody cage match to the death in Reno. Distribute it by casting a wide net over a susceptible populace as a means to artificially increase confidence and prowess where there’d been only subjugating fear. Then use that doorway as a means to slip in any number of additives to toy with brain chemistry, enslaving and controlling the unsuspecting.
“They don’t have to send an army,” Silas murmured with a soft fatalism. “They’re making one right in the middle of our territory out of our own people.”
“That’s the worst case, yes,” Cee Cee agreed. “In theory, they’d be able to tune the drug to deliver any number of surprises. Sterilization. Death. Or just mindless compliance.”
“So who is James Terriot’s supplier? Martine may know her way around the herb garden, but she’s no chemist. I can’t see the two of them on the run setting up a Kick lab in a Winnebago out on the bayou. Where are they getting the chemicals to lace the Kick? They couldn’t be foolish enough to deal directly with the Chosen and think they’d have any control over the situation.”
