A Taste of Love and Evil

by Barbara Monajem

  Jack found himself recalling his blessings—his endlessly patient mother, and his sneaky, disloyal jerk of a father, from whom he got both his chameleon ability and an endless supply of money—and shuddering at the weight of it all.

  He lowered himself into a tattered leather easy chair by the front windows of the bookshop and flipped through Guitar magazine. Not that he expected to find anything useful about Constantine Dufray any more than in Musician, but it was the best he could do to pass the time. He had a bad feeling about Linda Dell. She’d pleaded with him not to come near her house, and since he couldn’t tell her about his camo, he’d had to agree.

  She’d had her chance. In another hour or so, he’d have to leave. Another failure in an occupation—if you could call it that—plagued with failures. Just let it go. Back to Dufray, whose concert tour was almost done. He’d be back in Bayou Gavotte in a couple of days. Time to meet Constantine, assess him, and put the proposal before him.

  Jack snorted at the notion of assessing Constantine, who was probably the most dangerous individual he had ever met. Dufray didn’t run the underworld—his sometime drummer, Leopard, did that—but only a fool would fail to recognize Constantine’s importance. After months scoping out the underworld, checking out all the clubs, and evaluating Bayou Gavotte’s potential as a safe haven for battered women, Jack was back to square one: it all hinged on Constantine Dufray. Did he enforce the safety standards the clubs boasted, or did he turn a blind eye?

  He didn’t, if Constantine was the same person Jack had once known, but time and circumstances changed people. Could Jack commit his rescues and their shattered lives to a town controlled by a man who had, quite possibly, murdered his wife?

  “Ooh, Constantine Dufray. Sex-y!”

  Christ. Jack stood and gave Juma the chair and the magazine. Rose came up, holding out a paper bag from which wafted the unexpectedly welcome aroma of burger and fries. “You need to keep up your strength.”

  He would never be able to even the balance at this rate. He thanked her, making an effort to hide his dismay, but she was already looking over Juma’s shoulder at the magazine.

  “He’s the sexiest Native American in the whole world.” Juma drooled over the photo of Constantine naked past his navel, with his long black hair flying and a sultry pout.

  “He’s even more attractive in real life,” Rose said. “I met him backstage at a concert.”

  Juma clapped a hand to her chest, mimicking a swoon. “Oh, you lucky, lucky thing! Do you think he really did poison his wife?”

  Surprisingly, Rose didn’t come out with a vehement denial. “I hope not. He was sweet to me, but I think he would be capable of almost anything. He scared the shit out of my jealous boyfriend with just a look.”

  That sounded right. The police hadn’t arrested Constantine, who’d been two hundred miles away performing at a club when his wife died, but the media had had a field day and bizarre theories were rife. Seemingly random outbursts of violence at his recent concerts fueled the speculation even further. Most reasonable people wouldn’t believe that stuff, but Jack knew better. Where Constantine was concerned, bizarre and violent were all too likely to be true.

  “Did you know he lives in Bayou Gavotte?” Juma said. “He’s not just a rock star. He’s one of the vigilantes Jack told you about. Even if he didn’t kill his wife, he’s probably killed a bunch of other people. They say he scares people to death without even coming near them, so he never gets caught. All bad guys, of course.”

  That didn’t make it right. And yet, violent crimes against women were almost nonexistent in Bayou Gavotte. Not for the first time, Jack wondered if he was afraid not for the rescues but for himself. When the eight-year-old Constantine, his best friend in the world, had up and disappeared one day, he’d gone through rage and misery and loneliness, and then gotten over it. When Constantine surfaced years later as a violent rock star, Jack wasn’t all that surprised, but he didn’t try to contact him. Childhood friendships don’t usually rekindle well.

  It wasn’t a matter of friendship anymore. He needed someplace safer and more manageable than New Orleans. Someplace where he could better maintain a low profile and keep this gig separate from the conventional charities his father dragged him into: committees, administration, fundraisers, wining and dining the wealthy.

  Talk to Dufray. What’s the worst that can happen?

  In his pocket, Rose’s cell phone rang. He read the display and flipped the cell phone open. “Rose’s line.”

  “Damn it, where is she? This is an emergency!”

  “Miles, my friend. It’s Jack again. Shall I give you to Rose?”

  Rose took the phone and marched away, frowning. “What is it, Miles?”

  “Your customer,” Miles said. “Violet Dupree. She’s the one who stole the Elizabethan gown.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Who told you that?”

  “It’s a scam,” Miles said. “She pays the deposit, steals the goods when they’re ready, and then demands a refund.”

  “That makes no sense at all. She needs the dress for—” Rose stopped herself just in time, glancing around. Juma was by the bookshelves, while Jack flipped through Sports Illustrated a few feet away. She had promised Violet Dupree to keep the whole thing secret, start to finish. “Some sort of social function. Lots of people will see it.” She swung away and went out the front door. “What idiot fed you this hogwash?” As if she didn’t already know.

  “I know you don’t like Titania, but I won’t have you speak of her that way,” Miles said. “Titania says Violet chooses small businesses hundreds of miles away who can’t afford to follow up, and if we do, she has underworld connections who can make our lives very uncomfortable, to say the least. I knew we shouldn’t have taken this job.”

  Anxiety pricked at Rose. She shook it away and let anger take its place. How dared Titania feed Miles such lies? A mother and her chattering daughter brushed past and into the bookstore. Rose took a calming breath and reached through the fence to finger a camellia.

  “Titania says she’s known Violet forever,” Miles said. “They went to school together in New Orleans. She says Violet’s father was a gangster, and Violet is just as bad.”

  Rose sucked in another attempt at a deep, soothing breath. The camellia showered pink petals onto the ground. “Even if I believed that, which I don’t, I can take care of myself.”

  “Rose, you left Chicago to get away from shady characters, not to end up in even worse company. Titania says Violet’s not a safe person for you to know.”

  “I’m not going to date the woman, Miles.” She paced away from the bookstore, turned, and paced back. “I’m just making a costume for her.” She paced away again. And if you say “Titania says” one more time—

  “Titania says you’re in danger. If Violet finds out you’re on to her, there’s no telling what she’ll do to make sure you keep your mouth shut. Titania says you need to turn around right now and come back to Chicago. She says—”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck what Titania says!” Rose clapped the phone shut. At a small sound behind her, she swiveled.

  Jack stood by the fence, his face harsh and grim. When had he come outdoors? And why was he looking at her like that?

  Rose got a grip on herself. “What are you doing out here?”

  He didn’t reply, and his eyes cut into her like ice picks. He must have sneaked out and camouflaged himself while the mother and her talkative daughter went in; otherwise she would have noticed. “You were eavesdropping! Weren’t you?”

  He had the grace to look abashed, but only for a second. He nodded.

  Unbelievable. “Why?”

  He took his time. “Let’s just say I need to know everything that’s going on.”

  “‘Let’s just say’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Her fangs bucked in her gums, and she forced them back in their slots. “Tell me the truth!”

  “It’s complicated. There’s a lot going down just now.�
��

  “What does that have to do with me? I saved your sorry ass, remember?”

  “I do remember, and I appreciate it, but under the circumstances I need to take note of everything going on around me, and that includes you.”

  “Because you don’t trust me.” Rage boiled up and her fangs slotted down. “And why should you? I’m an animal, and a destructive one at that. You’d better start running. Closer than a hundred yards, and no telling what might happen.”

  “I apologize for that, Rose. If I’d known you could hear me, I—”

  “What does it matter whether I could hear you? The truth is the truth.”

  “That wasn’t the truth, it was prejudice speaking, and I should know better.”

  She licked her fangs, considering and rejecting this feeble attempt at recovery. “Regardless, you can’t bring yourself to trust me. Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about Linda?”

  He hesitated, and that was enough to send Rose through the roof. “You think I’d do something to jeopardize an abused woman? Are you out of your mind?” Rose clamped her mouth shut to muffle a scream.

  Jack raised his hands in a patronizing male gesture. “No, I don’t think that. I didn’t tell you what I was planning because I didn’t know yet.”

  “Bullshit.” Rose’s phone rang again. She stormed away, flipping it open. “Damn it, Miles—”

  “Don’t hang up on me. This is serious. I don’t know what to do. I can’t pay the woman back her deposit and neither can you, but at least I can get you here where you’re safe.”

  “We won’t have to pay her back,” Rose said, struggling to sound confident and calm. “I’m making another costume, remember? Did you ship the supplies?” She sucked her fangs slowly into their slots, and this time they stayed put. Jack leaned against the wall, shamelessly listening now. She lowered her voice and walked away along the fence. Let him follow if he dared.

  “Yes, but Titania says it’s no use. Violet will tell us it’s too late, that she’s lost confidence in us. She’ll demand her money back and order a costume from someone else, and if we don’t pay her, she’ll sue.” His voice dropped. “You know how slow business is. I don’t even have insurance anymore. I’ll have to file for bankruptcy.”

  “You will not go bankrupt.” She yanked a camellia and it sprang from her hand, recklessly flinging petals to earth. “If she reneges, I’ll find a way to keep you afloat.”

  “Rose, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t possibly find the kind of money I need.”

  “Yes, I can,” Rose said, her morale plummeting like the deep pink petals at the prospect. “I promise.” I’ve done it before. I can do it again.

  She yanked her morale by its bootstraps and scrounged up the most cheerful voice she could find. There was no reason to believe a word Titania said. She was a thief. Since the original gown was gone, she had the audacity to expect Rose to trot right back to Chicago and make another, so she could steal that instead. “Don’t worry, Miles. I’m good at getting money when I need to. Everything will be fine.” This time she said good-bye before hanging up. She shut the phone and sank slowly onto the curb.

  Bootstraps or no, her anxiety must have shown, for Jack approached, stopping a few feet away. “Anything I can do?”

  She revved herself up enough to say, “It’s my problem, not yours, and you had no business listening, and if you were a decent human being, you’d let my private conversations be just that—private.”

  “I mean it. If there’s something I can do to help—”

  “Stop it! You don’t owe me anything.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with owing you,” he said. “If you need help—”

  “I don’t,” she gritted. “It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it.”

  He blew out a long breath. “Right.” He lowered himself beside her. “Now, about tonight.”

  So, Titania was involved. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. Violet’s little game made sense now. What a delicious revenge, to have Jack help foil her archenemy. He had no problem appreciating the humor in that.

  Except that Rose was involved as well. Violet should be thrashed for endangering her, and his blood boiled at the thought of Rose anywhere near Titania. Jesus. Rose would be safer sleeping with Dufray, whom she found so attractive. Sweet, she’d called him.

  Wait. Why in hell was he jealous of Dufray, when he had no intention of succumbing to Rose’s charms himself? He needed to explain himself to her, though. She’d taken everything wrong, but when she’d licked her fangs, he’d gone totally blank.

  Rose had lovely fangs, tiny and sharp, gleaming white on either side of her sweet pink tongue. Moist, delicious lips, glorious breasts, and in the women’s showers, she’d been right to undress behind the curtain. He wouldn’t have been able to prevent himself from scanning her luscious curves.

  No.

  He forced his mind away from the sex bomb beside him and let his gaze roam across the bookstore parking lot, past the burger joint on the other side of the road to the sun setting behind a stand of pines. At least Rose hadn’t jumped up and stomped away the moment he approached her. She sat hunched over a little—a crying shame for such a tall, vibrant woman—looking utterly dejected. He longed to put an arm around her, pull her close, and tell her everything would be all right. Wished he could borrow Gil’s soothing voice, so she would believe him, so she would feel safe and confide in him.

  How the hell was he supposed to protect a woman who couldn’t stand him?

  “It’ll be dark soon,” he said. “I promised Linda Dell I wouldn’t go near her place, so I couldn’t risk it in daylight. Too many neighbors might have caught a glimpse of me, and even if I had a tranquilizer gun they would have noticed the dogs were out cold, so I—”

  “What dogs?”

  “The woman next door has two yappy dachshunds. I’m surprised Linda’s husband hasn’t killed them by now.”

  “You’d shoot tranquilizer darts into two helpless little dogs?”

  “They’re not helpless. They’re fierce little devils. The tranq doesn’t do any long-term damage, and there’s no other way to shut them up. Also, there’s no cover in front of the house and damned little at the rear.” He grimaced into the sunset. “Linda won’t sleep at night unless she thinks she’s disappeared without a trace.”

  “So why did she pick this bookstore? Why not Wal-Mart or some other place where she’d be lost in the crowd?”

  Jack shrugged. “Everybody has their own weird logic. I need to go to her house and take a look. She probably chickened out, but since we’ve come this far, I have to make sure. Give me the keys to the van and I’ll take care of it.”

  “No,” Rose said. “I don’t trust you any more than you trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” Jack said. “What I said back there at the truck stop…It was completely unwarranted. I should be horsewhipped for my rudeness.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “No, a funky little flogger should do the trick.” She huffed. “Stop trying to bullshit me. I’ll go get Juma.”

  Jack banished the image of Rose with a flogger and shook his head. “I’ve only seen Linda once—I insist on meeting my rescues first, to verify the situation—and it was obvious she’d been beaten, and badly.” An appropriate uneasiness crossed Rose’s face. Good. “This might get ugly, so it makes more sense for me to go alone. I’m used to this stuff.” If one ever gets used to it. “I’m not a thief. I’ll bring your van back.”

  “No,” Rose said. “I’m driving. And I don’t see why Juma can’t just wait in the van.”

  “And I don’t see why you can’t just stay here,” Jack said, but Rose deigned no more than a glare.

  He threw up his hands. “Juma can’t come because it might be dangerous. I don’t anticipate any problems, but Juma’s a minor and I can’t take chances with her. At least you’re an adult, and you have your own built-in weapons.”

  Th
at’s right. Think of the damn things as weapons, not instruments of pleasure most supreme.

  “Not that I want you to use them,” he said, putting up a hand.

  That was dumb. Really dumb, because in a flash the tenor of their conversation changed. Rose laughed, and her smile lit up the dusk. Their eyes clashed, and heat swept over Jack. “Of course you don’t.” She ran her tongue across her upper lip, holding his eyes.

  Jack dragged his gaze away, cleared his throat, and focused on the pink and gold sky behind the pines. This was yet another of the things he couldn’t stand about vamps. Sex was always in the air, always, even when it should be the last thing on anyone’s mind. Which was a mighty hypocritical attitude for Jack Tallis, since what had attracted him to Titania was her appetite for plenty of sex. More than that—almost a surfeit of sex. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “Jeez, Jack. Don’t freak out. I was joking.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell Juma what’s going on.”

  Rose followed Jack’s directions to a rundown strip mall containing a convenience store, a church in a tiny storefront, a dry cleaner, and a nail salon. Jack pointed past the Dumpster and a sagging wooden fence to the backyards of a subdivision. “See that white house? Her place is across from it, a couple of houses down. I’ll cut through, scope things out, and be right back. Half an hour, forty-five minutes tops.” He jumped down into the gathering dusk. A chill wind sneaked into the van.

  “Be quick. I’m really worried about Juma.”

  Jack lifted a shoulder. “She’s a survivor.”

  “She’s frightened, and she was not happy at being left there alone.” Rose rubbed the gooseflesh on her upper arms.

  “Was that my change you gave her?”

  “Sure, so she could get a Coke or something if we take too long.”