Remembered by Moonlight

by Nancy Gideon

  “You’ve won nothing from me except time,” she spat, lurid gaze touching upon each of them in turn. “Use it to feel safe and to grow careless.”

  A fitting exit would have had her disappearing in a villainous puff of smoke. But Genevieve had no magic other than intimidation. She ran, fleeing the building, leaving only threats behind.

  His strength slowly returning, Max blinked up as his mate approached him. She was fierce and glorious, even without the fangs and claws.

  “What the hell did the priest say to you?”

  She laughed, breathless, scarcely believing the change that had taken hold of her. “He said underneath we’re all the same.”

  Silas stared up from where he sat on the floor. Nica knelt beside him, binding a gash in his arm. “The same what?”

  “The same being,” Furness told them. “That’s what Dr. Duchamps discovered. All the differences between us after generations of genetic separation only mask our similarities. We’ve never lost our abilities. They’re still there to be channeled, to be honed. We’ve simply forgotten what we are. At least, that’s my theory.”

  “One helluva theory,” Silas murmured.

  “One we need to explore if we’re going to protect our people,” Max concluded. He reached up to draw Cee Cee down beside him. His other palm covered the hand she pressed to her abdomen. He stared into her eyes, adding, “And our future.”

  “What did she mean, what we hold dear?” Silas mused. “Our freedom?”

  Cee Cee felt the first movement of life stir with a vigorous flutter, and she wasn’t certain that’s what Genevieve meant at all. She took a stabilizing breath and looked to the disheveled priest. “First things first. I need to get married while I can still fit into a decent dress. Can you do that for me, Father?”

  A tremulous smile spread upon his face. “I would be honored.”

  “Is now the right time?” Max brought her attention back to him with his quiet question.

  “Are you trying to back out, Savoie?”

  His smile spread slow and sizzled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Detective. This is New Orleans, sha. How long could it take to throw a party?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Two days.

  Brigit was horrified to think Cee Cee would be walking down the aisle in something off the rack, but reluctantly admitted the choice was stunningly elegant. In between conferences behind the closed doors of Jimmy’s office while the city’s preternatural citizens battened down against possible outside threat, bride-to-be placed herself in the fashionista’s hands to be waxed and plucked and cut and curled and gel-nailed in a whirlwind of visits to the finest salons. Helen had the kitchen in a round-the-clock frenzy of preparations for the reception, and Silas and Nica had a private plane all gassed up and ready to take the newlyweds to that dream destination.

  To Cee Cee, it felt like a dream, a dizzying, delightful dream anchored by glorious bouts of reality under the sheets each night with her soon-to-be husband. He was taking everything in stride, arranging for his two-week absence from Legere Enterprises International, attending wild debaucheries planned by Jacques and Giles, and steady, dependable and totally kissable whenever Cee Cee could steal a moment of his time. But Genevieve Savorie’s threats troubled her thoughts. She learned how it felt to live under the shadow of fear and found it intolerable.

  Cee Cee expected to be nervous as the seconds ticked down, but her mind was clear and her heart full. She spent a weepy moment thinking of how she’d always planned to have Mary Kate Malone there to support her, and of how much her father would have loved leading her up St. Bartholomew’s aisle. Chief Byron Atcliff stood proudly in his stead, ramrod straight and handsome in his dress uniform.

  She’d never taken a longer walk in her life. The church was as packed as an Easter Sunday. Her nerves gave a tiny leap when the crowd stood and turned her way. A blur of faces passed by. The grinning members of her NOPD team. With wife and daughters at his side, Dev Dovian leaned out to kiss her cheek. Noreen Cummings and her unsmiling State Representative husband were across the aisle from detained but never convicted criminal elements, and shape-shifting laborers from the docks.

  Wedged between Alain and Oscar Babineau stood Cale Terriot sporting a new black and red flame tattoo on the back of his hand. He nodded to her with no betraying expression.

  And then she stumbled.

  In front of the Babineaus stood Philo Tibideaux looking dapper in a new suit. And next to him, Mary Kate Malone. Their eyes met. Her friend’s soft gaze filled with glad tears and happier memories. The moment passed too quickly from what had been to what awaited.

  Tina Babineau and Nica MacCreedy stood gorgeous and sophisticated in slim sheathes of icy blue on one side of Father Furness, Jacques LaRoche and Silas MacCreedy on the other, stalwart and fine in dramatic black. Brigit and Giles were in the front row, both a little shiny-eyed.

  And then there was Max, standing tall, motionless, flawless in his tailored tux. Reaching out to her with his unblinking gaze.

  Every dream she’d ever had come true.

  His slow smile set her world ablaze.

  Max watched her approach, so beautiful his throat tightened with emotion. She carried a small bouquet of gardenias and lily of the valley. The wink of Cale’s diamond in her ear wasn’t quite as bright as the one he’d slipped on her hand. Neither matched the sheen in her dark eyes as they met his.

  She’d been adamant about him not seeing her dress in advance. Against her rich skin tone, an ivory lace overlay glistened like ice crystals on a figure-hugging, full-length gown of pale silk. From the front, it appeared traditionally modest, but when she turned to hand her bouquet to Tina, sweet became slightly sinful. A deep plunge left sculpted shoulder blades and the curve of her back bare. Long ropes of creamy pearls looped down to swing gently above fabric that gathered snugly about her shapely backside before falling in elegant folds into a small, pooling train. Magnificent. His stunning, sleekly sexy bride.

  But beneath the glamor, despite the circumstance and the prestigious company, in his eyes she remained his warrior woman of the tribal face paint and bold stride, wrapped in leather and danger, on ice-pick high heels.

  Her perfume caressed his senses. Voodoo Love.

  When she smiled up at him, he could almost hear her sultry whisper in his ear, “I want you, Savoie.” Could see her blood stained from battle, dark eyes flashing ferociously as she vowed, “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”

  Just as he had her.

  I need you, Charlotte. I need you like air, like light.

  Byron Atcliff passed her to him with a growling, “Take care of her or you won’t live to regret it.”

  “Yes, sir,” he vowed, taking her hand, feeling her fingers curl warm and tight about his without hesitation.

  I’ve got you, baby.

  And nothing else existed. Not the words they repeated to one another, not the rings they exchanged, not the long, rather hungry kiss they shared at Father Furness’s invitation. Then he turned them to the overflowing room to present Mr. and Mrs. Max Savoie and Charlotte Caissie.

  For Cee Cee, there was only the promise in Max’s eyes, the heat where his fingertips touched to her spine, the feel of those hard pearl buttons on the tuxedo shirt that she couldn’t wait to tear open. They’d been bound to one another on the most primitive level, and now blessed on the highest. Man and wife as well as bonded mates.

  At last.

  The doors to the church opened to blinding flashes. An ocean of news media stood between them and the gaily-decorated carriage that would tote them around the Quarter. Instead of walking out into that seething mass, Cee Cee grabbed Max’s hand, tugging him off to one side and through an unmarked doorway. Arm in arm, they raced down a narrow hall that led to the rear of the church to make an unnoticed escape from the parking lot in back.

  They consummated their marriage like impatient teenagers, in the front seat of her bright orange Camaro, behind a closed
for business crab shack. With her bouquet dangling from the rearview, her gown rucked up to her waist like swirls of whipping cream, Cee Cee straddled her new husband’s lap as Max clutched the curve of her delectable rear, working her up and down frantically until her head fell back as she laughed and gasped. And finally sighed, cheek cushioned against his chest.

  “You rock my world, Savoie.”

  “You are my world, Detective.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  With Cee Cee behind the wheel, they arrived at the house long before their guests, scrambling to freshen up and dress down. Cee Cee slipped on a short, sassy version of her suspiciously wrinkled bridal gown and into sparkly heels that made her feel like Cinderella. Max shrugged out of his jacket and laced on his comfortable red shoes. They stood flushed and smiling on the wide front porch to greet their guests, issuing them to dining room tables groaning with Helen’s delicacies and the backyard beyond where clusters of seating awaited. Only Philo and Mary Kate were noticeably missing.

  They went about the business of newlyweds—shaking hands, brushing cheeks, toasting, cutting cake—all for the benefit of their guests. But when the music started, the moment became all about them.

  “I believe they’re playing our song, Mrs. Savoie. You can keep the Caissie professionally, but when it’s just me and you, you’re my missus. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Cee Cee placed her hand in his, letting him draw her out to share their bridal dance on the lawn as the first night stars lit the heavenly canopy overhead. Just the two of them, Mister and Missus, moving to the crooning sentiments of Ben Harper’s “By My Side” the way they once had for their first slow dance as a couple.

  Instead of snuggling close, Cee Cee leaned back so she could gaze up into her husband’s eyes and delight in the promising future she saw shining there. He gave her the small, secret smile that always made her heart flip-flop.

  “Happy?” he asked unnecessarily.

  “More than I ever thought possible.”

  “I believe it’s now my duty to see you remain that way. I plan to enjoy my work.”

  “And I plan to enjoy the fruits of your labor. So far, you’ve done an admirable job.” A naughty grin. “Such an impatient overachiever. I like that about you.”

  He pulled her in closer so they were hip to hip and could feel the sensual poetry of their bodies’ movements, in sync and becoming incendiary. “If it’s a job worth doing, it’s worth doing well and as often as possible has always been my motto.”

  “Good answer, Savoie.”

  He moved her through a few quick turns that left her even more breathless than their conversation. Everything was suddenly so sharp and clear, from the blades of grass tickling the bottoms of her now bare feet to the kiss of the breeze on her upturned face. Her skin burned where Max’s palms rested, high and very low, upon her bared back. The music, the sounds of conversation and laughter, fell away until all she could hear were the sounds of their breaths mingling, their hearts beating as one. And the need to get this unbearably hot man into bed became a priority.

  He felt it, too.

  “Think anyone would notice if we just snuck off?”

  “I like the way you think, Savoie. They’ve got plenty of food and drink. Why would they miss us?”

  He bent down to nibble at her lips, whispering, “Start planning our escape. We need a diversion.”

  Her fingers laced behind his neck, thumbs playing with the sexy curl of black hair behind his ears. “Let’s see, a couple a dozen cops and as many criminals rubbing elbows. I’m sure there’s a bench warrant out on someone.”

  “I’d hate to leave a good fight if one broke out,” Max sighed. “I always welcome a chance to get in a good jab at the fellas in Vice.”

  “You know I’d have your back. We could spend our wedding night in adjoining cells. Max?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “How do you know the guys from Vice?”

  “From that ballgame. When we beat the crap outta each other. That was fun.” He grinned, wide and wolfishly.

  Smiling, blinking tears from starry eyes, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh yeah. Now I remember.” And so had he. “Good times.”

  “They all are when I’m with you.”

  Inside the house, business of a different nature unfolded. Silas snagged his cousin’s arm, hissing, “Where the hell have you been?”

  Cale cut him with a glare. “Get your hands off me.” He brushed down his sleeve when released but not before Silas got a look at his new ink.

  “What’s that?”

  “You told me to blend, I’m blending. If I got any more on the inside, they’d be puking me out tomorrow morning along with our host’s fine bourbon.”

  “The fight’s tonight. Have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything. Smile, flirt, bust heads, don’t get killed,” he recited in a sing-song voice. “That about it?”

  “Follow my lead. Don’t go off on your own.”

  “Put me on a leash, why don’t you?”

  “It’s important, Cale. This gets us closer to that bitch’s supplier in the North and closer to your brother’s connection.”

  “I know. All I have to do is the easy part. Stay alive. And I’m fine, by the way.” He flexed his hand where the scarring of teeth marks remained very evident. “Your concern’s heartwarming.” Ignoring Silas’s scowl, he snatched a beer off the bar and headed outside onto the porch where Alain Babineau watched his pretty wife dance with her son.

  “Did you tell him what you found out from your friends on the docks?” Babineau nodded toward his new tat. “I’m guessing that’s what that’s about. Your initiation.”

  Cale took a long drink, shooting a resentful glance toward the house before growling, “Screw him.”

  “Would you tell me?”

  Cale glanced at his brother-in-law and smiled slightly. “Something big’s going down in the next coupla days. Lotta talk about somebody at the top, somebody with influence and power. Lee answers to him, and he’s met with my brother. This fella is Teflon, if you get my meaning.”

  “Nothing sticks. Did you get a name?”

  “Maybe I did.”

  He gripped Cale’s arm tight enough to make his brows soar in objection. “Was his name Brady?”

  “I’m going to want you to let me go right about now.”

  In response to the low drawl, Babineau opened his hand. Breathing hard into his frustration, he watched as the newcomer’s gaze followed his wife and son. He couldn’t mistake the depth of emotion in Cale’s eyes.

  “Make you a deal, Terriot.”

  Cale slid a look his way. “I’m listening.”

  “You help me get Brady, help me nail his ass to the wall, and,” he drew a breath, hesitating just a beat before concluding, “I’ll let you take them back to Nevada with you.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  “You look pretty darn girlie in that dress, Ceece.”

  Cee Cee glanced away from where Max shared cigars with Giles to smile at her former partner. “What a mean thing to say to me, Babs. I’m still lethal. I’m packing a piece.”

  “Tucked into your garter? Won’t Savoie be surprised when he goes nosing around under your skirts to give it a toss to the single guys.”

  They exchanged grins and stood together for a long moment of silence. Finally, she pressed, “What’s on your mind, Alain? Something to do with our case?”

  “We need to talk. You’re not gonna like it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The wheels went up on the private charter just as the last of the wedding revelers were stumbling to their cars. Max settled back into his seat and glanced across the aisle to where Giles and Brigit popped the cork on their champagne. In the hour before their own vows were spoken—witnessed by just him and Cee Cee, Silas and Nica—the two of them had exchanged their own in Furness’s office with plans for a big family blow-out when they returned from their hastily arra
nged honeymoon. Max accepted a glass with a nod.

  In an hour, they’d be in paradise. Two weeks of sun and sand.

  “Did those press vultures get plenty of pictures of our dash to the plane?”

  Max chuckled at his wife’s wry question. “I made sure they got my good side, sha.”

  “All your sides are good ones, Savoie.”

  “Easy for you to say, when you don’t have to back up your big talk with action.”

  “Oh, I will. Believe me. I will.”

  “It should be all over the news tomorrow,” he mused. “The fancy wedding, the top cop bride and her former mobster groom jetting off for two weeks of unbridled fornication. Ah, the romance of it all.”

  “Quit your bitching, Savoie. You’ll catch up on your paperwork and get a great tan.”

  “I’d rather be catching up on the fornication.”

  “Giles and Brigit will be good company.”

  A snort. “I don’t think they’ll be inviting me to join them.” He cast a jaundice eye across the aisle to see them already lip-locked.

  “I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

  “Yes. You will.”

  The flight’s hostess tapped his shoulder. “You need to turn off your phone, Mr. Savoie.”

  He nodded and waited for her to move on before adding, “It’s going to be a long two weeks, Charlotte.”

  “For both of us.”

  “Dream of me,” he crooned before cutting their connection.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Cee Cee tucked her phone away then finished stuffing her perfectly coifed hair under the bright red wig.

  “From blushing bride to stripper in the blink of an eye. Your dedication is truly frightening.”

  “Bite me, MacCreedy. At least your sister got the media upgrade from sleazy whore to jet-setting honeymooner using my good name. Are my seams straight?”

  “You’re asking me that without your husband present?” He looked. “They’re fine. Very sexy.”

  “Ummm. I’m sure that’s what this newly married woman wants to hear from a man who’s not her husband.”

  “Don’t snap at my ass. It wasn’t my idea. Remind me to pick up copies of the paper. Bree loves to see herself in the news.”