Illicit Connections (Illicit Minds Book 2)

by Rebecca Royce

  Illicit Connections

  Illicit Minds #2

  Rebecca Royce

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Illicit Connections (Illicit Minds #2)

  Copyright @ 2019 by Rebecca Royce

  Original Publication 2016 called “Embraced” by Rebecca Royce

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-951349-12-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-951349-13-4

  Cover art by Glowing Moon Designs

  Content Editing: Heather Long

  Copy/Proof Editing: Jennifer Jones

  Final Proof Editing: Meghan Leigh Daigle

  Formatting: Ripley Proserpina

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Rebecca Royce

  www.rebeccaroyce.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Untitled

  About the Author

  Other books by Rebecca Royce…

  Prologue

  One year since the Addison Wade incident

  Every damn news outlet had covered the Addison Wade– Spencer Lewis debacle. Every damn one. The President loosened his tie and glanced down again at the paper he’d been trying all night not to focus on. He had no choice but to sign it. The public outcry in favor of the administrative changes the Committee had set forth had been almost unanimous. Everyone was terrified that a Conditioned uprising was on the horizon. Hysteria was at an all-time high.

  Still, the new rules sterilizing all Conditioned females over the age of twenty and putting them to death by forty? It seemed downright cruel. Why couldn’t they simply increase the security everywhere? Why not put them to death at birth? They had no rights under the Constitution. They weren’t even people. He closed his eyes for a moment. The Conditioned were profitable to the Institutions for the first forty years of their lives, before health issues took over and they couldn’t work as much. They earned their own keep. It was either eliminate them at forty or make sure they were better nourished and taken care of in their earlier years.

  He sighed as he put his head in his hands. It was not his fault this had happened, but how he responded to it would be his legacy. Yes, the few freedoms the Conditioned had would be cut back. Even the policies to let them live would have to be limited.

  They were too dangerous—that was all there was to it.

  One

  October in New Orleans was a blessed month. Not too hot, not too cold, just perfect for being outside and doing nothing strenuous. The sun shone down on City Park, illuminating the currently empty children’s playground that Ben Lavelle was sure would be busy later in the day when the kids got out of school. For now, it was the ideal place for his semi-illegal meeting with the most notorious person Ben knew: his brother, Gene.

  “What you’re asking for, Benedicte, is next to impossible these days.”

  Ben took a deep breath and held back the sharp, insulting remark he wanted to throw at Gene. Only his brother still called him Benedicte. Not to mention that virtually nothing was impossible for Gene to accomplish. The fact that his brother pretended that he couldn’t do this was insulting to both of them.

  Normally, Ben refused to play Gene’s games. But in this case—for Ben’s daughters, neighbors, and entire community—he would let Gene run him through his emotional obstacle course.

  “Surely, for your boss, it can’t be that much of a problem. I know someone is getting them out still, and it’s not like we don’t have a real need.”

  Eugene was eighteen months Ben’s senior, but he looked ten years older. Not surprising, considering he worked for the Mob. The Giallanis had been illegally running New Orleans for at least five generations, and Eugene had pushed and pushed until he’d become part of their inner circle. That kind of self-serving devotion to criminal activity took a toll on the body and soul.

  Gene took a seat on the park bench Ben had just vacated. It was a beautiful day and, given other circumstances, Ben would have loved to spend it sitting on that park bench just thinking. Today, however, was not for quiet contemplation.

  Eugene rubbed his nose. “If y’all are seeing ghosts, perhaps you should take yourselves down to the Institute Evaluation Center and have yourselves checked for the Condition.”

  In his head, Ben counted to ten, searching for the patience he’d once had before the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. “All thirty of us can’t be Conditioned. Besides, I haven’t heard of any instances of the Condition showing up for the first time in adults. Have you?”

  In general, it was a problem that manifested in childhood. Just one more thing for parents to worry about all the time.

  “No.” Gene closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t suppose I’m in any position to start moralizing to you. Am I, brother?”

  Ben shook his head. There was no point in disagreeing. Considering Gene’s line of work, he really wasn’t in any position to judge anyone. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was asking Gene to do anything illegal. He just wanted use of one Conditioned Ghost Talker. That was all. One day with the strangely afflicted individual so he or she could tell him how to get rid of the ghost that was haunting the three-block radius around his house.

  Gene sighed and opened his eyes. For a second, Ben could almost see him as he’d been as a child. His older brother had always been the sensitive one of the two. Whereas Ben had ignored the constant taunting about their “weird” eyes and their “Jap” mother as nothing more than stupid ignorance, Gene had clung to the idea that he looked more Caucasian than Asian, desperate to fit in with the racist morons who’d taunted him. He should have wanted to stand out as much as possible from that small group.

  It hadn’t mattered one lick to Ben that their mother had been born in Japan. To Ben, she’d been the epitome of grace and beauty. To Gene… well… his brother had never said anything directly, but Ben suspected he’d almost been ashamed. It had been hard. They’d been the only family at school and church who weren’t completely white.

  Ben could almost see Gene as he’d been then. But then he blinked and the image passed away. Instead he was presented with his sort of criminally-inclined brother who existed in so many shades of gray, Ben wasn’t sure he would know if Gene
fell into the darkness completely.

  Not that Ben should judge. Right now, he needed his brother’s abilities to make things right at home.

  “How long will you need the thing?”

  Ben sat down next to him. “I can’t imagine it’ll take very long. Is there a time limit?”

  “Well, you know, ever since Addison Wade ran off last year with that freak from Safe Dawn, things are a lot harder out there.” He looked up, his eyes gazing out at something on the horizon. Ben wondered if Gene was really looking at anything at all. “They’re killing them. They’re not even letting them live anymore.”

  Ben touched Gene’s arm. “Eugene, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. You know that. The girls, Gene… Daphne and Ella…”

  “Done. I’ll make it happen.” Gene stood. “You know I would walk on water for the girls. In this case, I won’t have to do anything miraculous.”

  Ben knew that Gene meant every word he said. Uncle Gene was completely devoted to his nieces and had been since they’d first arrived in the world, two minutes apart, with black hair stuck to their heads as they’d wailed like banshees.

  “They’re not Conditioned.” Ben spoke quickly. “They’re suffering through the same weirdness we all are. I mean, maybe it isn’t a ghost or a poltergeist or whatever it is…”

  Gene put his arm on Ben’s sleeve. “It’s fine. You’re doing the right thing. There’s so much strange shit out there…”

  “Yeah.”

  An uncomfortable silence grew between them, as it always did when they got together and Ben didn’t have his girls with him to talk Gene’s ears off. Cars passed by on City Park Drive, marring the otherwise pastoral feel of the moment.

  Gene pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket, and Ben shook his head. “Do I need to tell you how disgusting it is that you still smoke?”

  His brother shrugged, ignoring his remark as he always did.

  “Doing anything for the anniversary?”

  Ben didn’t follow. “Anniversary?”

  Gene leaned back on the bench where they sat. “Seriously?”

  “What?” Somewhere along the line, Ben had lost track of the conversation.

  “Benedicte Lavelle, I’m asking you what you’re going to do to mark the death of your wife? Four years ago, tomorrow? Ring some kind of bell?”

  Ben put his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ.” He’d fucking forgotten. He’d been so distracted by the ghosts that he’d forgotten Dana’s death. What kind of monster was he?

  Gene changed the subject. “So, the weather is nice today, isn’t it?”

  Ben walked into his house, shutting the door behind him with a thud. He stood silently and listened to see if he could catch anything unusual. Nothing greeted him but the tick-tock of the old grandfather clock he’d inherited from his father, and he let go of the breath he’d been holding.

  His own ghostly encounters had been limited to strange feelings and sounds. He hadn’t seen the apparitions his neighbors claimed to have witnessed, and was glad as anything that he hadn’t.

  As it was, since he’d been “elected” to take care of the problem, he hadn’t paid one hoot of attention to his law practice all week. This visit to his brother and contact with the Institutions was the last attempt he could make. After this, someone was going to have to find an exorcist, which was way above Ben’s pay grade.

  His nanny refused to work—she was too spooked to even come inside the house—which meant he also had to take the girls back and forth to school and be with them afterward. He looked toward the sound of the ticking. It was one o’clock. He still had two hours before he had to get them. Enough time to obsess.

  His phone rang, and he picked it up, surprised to see Gene’s number flashing across the screen. “Hello?”

  “If you can take her in an hour, the Institute will drop the best Ghost-Handler they have off at your house. She happens to be out doing a job, and she’s on her way back to the Institute. It has to be now, because she’s scheduled to be put down when she’s returned.” Ben listened to his brother’s fast talk on the phone.

  “Benedicte? Are you there?”

  Ben cleared his throat. “I’m here. An hour? I have to get the kids in two—”

  Gene interrupted him. “Great, then you can do it.”

  “Did you say she’s going to be put down?”

  “Gotta go. I’ve got to get back to Tony and tell him it’s a go. You owe me for this.”

  Gene hung up and Ben stood, staring at his cell phone in disbelief. How had this happened so fast? He’d thought he’d have weeks to prepare. Where was she going to sleep? Did they sleep? He cursed as he stalked over to the fridge to get out a soda—a real soda, with actual sugar, like he let his daughters drink on special occasions, not the diet stuff he usually restricted himself to. He took a swig, letting the sweetness fill his mouth.

  Moments like this were why he needed a housekeeper. He was going to have to bite the bullet and dish out the money to get cleaning help in addition to the nanny—if she ever came back. As soon as he finished his drink, he was going to have to go upstairs and make up a bed in the guest room. Did he even have clean sheets? And where the hell was he supposed to get the money for a full-time housekeeper? If he doubled his billable hours, which he couldn’t even do if he didn’t have the nanny, he would never see the kids—

  The grandfather clock fell over, smashing onto the floor. The noise was so deafening that for a second, he couldn’t even move. Instinctively, he’d covered his ears when the first smash had sounded, which meant he’d dropped his drink all over the floor. He could only hear his fast breathing in his ears. What the hell had just happened?

  He grabbed a towel to clean up the spill. The grandfather clock… that was too huge. He couldn’t deal with that now. Not yet. The drink, yes. That he could handle.

  What the fuck had knocked over the clock?

  He rose, holding the wet towel in his hand as he clenched his fists. This was the same crap that had been going on for weeks. Something he couldn’t see had knocked over his ancestral clock. What the hell?

  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to express any of this once the girls came home, he took the opportunity to scream at the top of his lungs, loud and unabashed. Anyone who would care if they could hear him was at school. This would be the one time today he could lose his mind.

  His screaming was short-lived. It wasn’t solving anything. He still felt like hell.

  A knock on the door made him groan. So much for no one hearing him freak out. In two strides, he made it to the door and pulled it open. The sweet, plump sixty-year-old woman who greeted him made him grin. She was his favorite neighbor and a pseudo-grandmother to his girls.

  Annie spoke very fast. “I was walking to my car and I heard—”

  He interrupted her. “Yes, I was screaming.” He tried to give her a sheepish grin.

  “Is everything okay, Ben?”

  “My grandfather clock fell over.”

  “The old one, that you’ve had forever?”

  “Yes.” He turned to regard the mess on the floor just to assure himself it had actually happened. “Would you like to come in, Ms. Annie?”

  “Maybe for a minute. I’ll help you clean it up.”

  “Thank you.” He gestured for her to enter and closed the door behind her when she finally did.

  “This has to stop, Ben.”

  “I know.” Walking to a narrow closet, he pulled out the broom and dustpan. He’d have to get the large, wooden part of the clock up first before he could even attempt to handle the glass. “I spoke to Eugene. He’s gotten us one of the Conditioned, as we discussed.”

  “Oh, good.” Annie’s face brightened significantly. “We all knew we could depend on you.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “I’m very… dependable.”

  “Are you going to keep the girls here while it’s here?”

  Ben’s thoughts stuttered. He hadn’t thought of moving the girls out of the hous
e, but Annie was quite right. Not having expected such fast service, he hadn’t had time to dwell on the particulars. He was bringing—inviting—a dangerous Conditioned person into his home, where his daughters slept.

  “Annie, I’m not sure what to do.” He closed his eyes. “I think I might be losing my mind. Until Gene reminded me this morning, I’d forgotten it’s the anniversary of Dana’s death.”

  His neighbor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Your sweet wife wouldn’t have wanted you to stop life every year on October fifth.”

  “In this case, it’s not about what she would have wanted but what my girls need. They were two. Talking about her, recognizing the date… it’s the only way we can keep her in their day-to-day lives.”

  He gave up and sat down on the floor.

  “Well, you would know best.” She cleared her throat. “If you’ll pick up the big piece of the clock that’s too heavy for me, I’ll clean the rest of this up. And the girls can stay with me.”

  “I couldn’t possibly impose.”

  She interrupted him. “Of course you can. Hugh will love it, and you can’t have them there with it until we’re certain it’s safe.”

  “I don’t know what to say but thank you.”

  Annie laughed. “Thank you for handling the difficult part of this whole thing. I wouldn’t want one of those things in my home.” She took the broom from his hand. “I’ll get them from school for you today.” Before he could speak, she held up her hand. “Don’t you dare say thank you again.”