Hidden Conduit- The Complete Series

by J. N. Colon

  “The gwo-bon lyen ain’t all I’m talking about,” Bastien said. “He’s worried for you. Baron Samedi isn’t the type to give up on what he wants, cher.” The oldest Benoit could pretend to be as carefree as he wanted, but when it came to Etie, he was serious about protecting his little brother. It wasn’t an easy job especially when Etie was one of the most powerful voodoo casters this side of the Mississippi.

  “He won’t get me.” My voice was more confident than I felt.

  “Not with Etie watching over you.” The smile returned to his face. “Just give the guy a break, yeah?”

  I nodded, not really sure what I agreed to. Did he want me to let Etie hover and boss me around because it might keep me safe? That wasn’t likely to happen.

  A creak echoed right before Antoine sauntered into the room with dramatic flair. “You’ll never guess who I just got a call from, Bastien.” His dark eyes flickered toward me, and he wiggled his fingers. “Hey, pretty girl. You gave that boy downstairs your golden ticket yet?”

  My mouth dropped. “None of your business,” I sputtered, thankful my tan hid most of the blush spreading across my skin. No, Etie and I had not gone there.

  Yet.

  I licked my lips picturing the sexy voodoo Cajun in my bed this morning.

  “Hmm… from that look on your face, I’d say it’s only a matter of time, sugar.” Antoine ran his hand over his smooth, dark head. “He’s going to rock your little Puerto Rican world.”

  “Oh my gawd.” I turned back to the wall. “I’m not even going to respond to that.”

  “Because you know it’s true.” Antoine’s laughter was as theatrical as he was.

  And the little flutter in my stomach agreed with him. Ugh.

  “What do you got for me, Anty?” Bastien asked, temporarily distracting his friend from my love life.

  “Rosie Dallas done caught that Thomas Wilson cheating on her.” Antoine shook his head. “That dumb bastard. He picked the wrong woman to scorn.”

  A wide, toothy grin split Bastien’s mouth. “She wants a little voodoo curse on him.” He rubbed his hands together. “My favorite.”

  Anyone in town could be a paying customer of Bastien’s. From the mayor—who should have an MVP card—to Ms. Beauchamp and even little Ms. Finkle who owned the cutest flower shop. I’d have a heart attack if I caught Ms. Unrue at the Benoit’s swamp looking for a voodoo spell.

  The white paint began to run out on the roller, and I sighed at the empty pan. “Is there any more of this eggshell something or another color?”

  Bastien glanced over his shoulder, taking a break from writing down a list of spell ingredients on a small notepad. “We just picked some more up. It’s in the truck outside.”

  “Thanks.” I dropped the roller into the pan and headed into the hall and down the stairs. Memories of painstaking hours working those damn spindles with sandpaper gave me the chills. Never again did I want to see another piece of that gritty crap.

  Summer was in full swing in Carrefour and hotter than Hades. It needed to rain, but not one single cloud was in sight. What was in sight when I came around the corner was way better than any storm cloud. Etie was hammering nails into new wooden planks on the front porch, shirtless.

  Ave Maria.

  Sweat trickled down those rock-hard abs, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. I licked my lips as if I could taste his sweetness. His damp hair was pushed back from his tan face, a few unruly strands falling forward. His jaw was working, crunching up another piece of candy. As if sensing me, his mismatched eyes lifted, piercing me with a scorching look.

  Hot-freaking-tamale. I resisted the urge to check my chin for drool.

  “Angeline.” His tongue flicked out, licking those sugar-flavored lips. “Like what you see, cher?”

  Oh did I.

  I swallowed the words back and instead gave him the one finger salute. “Don’t get overheated, voodoo caster. I’m just passing by to get some paint.”

  His deep chuckle did funny things to my insides. “I ain’t the only one who needs to cool off.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  I watched Etie through my lashes and climbed into the bed of the truck, absentmindedly searching for the paint pail of eggshell white. Etie looked right at home with a hammer in his hand and sweat clinging to his bronzed skin. I could never picture him in a boring, clean-cut desk job. He’d rather die than sit in a vanilla-colored office with the A.C. bumping and the monotonous drone of computer keys.

  Muscles twisted and stretched as he worked. His hand brushed back wild locks of hair from those mesmerizing eyes. That said hand had been on me not long ago. So had those soft, puckered lips tracing a line down my neck.

  The tattoo on my collarbone tingled, and Etie’s head snapped up. His mouth twitched.

  My cheeks flooded with heat. That sinful look told me he knew exactly what I’d been thinking about. Perfect. Just perfect.

  I shook my head, dispersing naughty thoughts of the Cajun and found the gallon of paint. By the time I grabbed the handle and turned toward the tail of the truck to climb out, Etie was standing there, all six-foot-something of muscle and hotness blocking my way.

  “Angeline.” His arms stretched across the gate as his eyes slowly roamed my body. I was in jeans and a t-shirt, so it wasn’t much to look at, but you couldn’t tell that by the fire flickering in his gaze. He made me feel like I was naked. “Want to go somewhere?”

  I scoffed even as flames licked up my neck. “Not a chance, buddy.”

  His head tilted. “You can’t lie to me. I know you were thinking of us together a few seconds ago.” His Cajun French accent was especially smooth and buttery.

  “I have work to do, and if you think I’m just going to go off and hook up with you out in the woods or something, you’ve got another thing coming.” I waved my hand for him to move out of the way.

  Etie didn’t budge. “I was talking about going to my house.” His bottom lip snagged between his teeth, and he looked at me like I was a glistening piece of candy.

  “Oh.” I swallowed hard. My body lurched forward, deciding to take Etie up on his offer before my mind had a chance to catch up. This damn gwo-bon lyen was a force to be reckoned with. It was making me feel and do things I shouldn’t. Bad things.

  Okay, so it wasn’t just the bond that had me all hot and bothered over the Cajun Casanova. I gave him such a lovely nickname for a reason. He was slathered in sexiness, and that accent could make my knees week. But it was hard getting over how my grandmother had manipulated us into each other’s lives. The bond was just another obstacle that made me doubt my feelings for him. Were they real or just a product of circumstance? How did Etie really feel about me?

  He’d bound our souls together to save me despite the consequences. He’d also given up his chance at finding peace from his powers. That had to count for something.

  Warm hands were suddenly locked around my hips, yanking me from the whispers of doubt and confusion. Etie hoisted me out of the truck. I squealed in surprise, and the paint can hit the ground with a thud.

  “A little warning next time!” I huffed as he set me on my feet. This close his spicy scent mixed with sweat swirled up my nose, making me dizzy.

  He grinned. “Where’s the fun in that, cher?” Etie’s warm, cherry-scented breath dusted over my lips. I could almost taste him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Man, he was persistent. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

  “I have many jobs.” His fingers skirted over my collarbone, spawning goosebumps across my skin. His lids lowered, eyes burning into me. “The house can wait. You need some attention. You have a few things that should be tended to.”

  Holy voodoo dolls. I was in way over my head. Etie wasn’t a timid, unsure high school boy. He said and did things I had no way of responding to—other than my total surrender. This guy didn’t play fair.

  I swallowed hard. “I, um…”

  His mouth closed in, softly brushing mine
. It was barely a kiss, but electricity shot down my spine regardless. I was left breathless.

  This was bad. He couldn’t have me melting so easily.

  I gave myself the biggest mental slap I could muster and slipped out of his grasp. “Not happening.”

  Etie’s chuckle was too dark for my liking. “So you want to play hard to get? I got to warn you, cher, I don’t play by the rules.”

  I already knew that.

  A saccharine smile split my lips. “Take a cold shower, Cajun Casanova. You’re not winning this one.” I grabbed the paint and spun around, marching toward the house. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to have a heat stroke—and not from the hot weather.

  As I turned the corner, my toe nudged the water hose stretched across the grass. A bad idea flashed through my mind. I was about to play with fire, but I was becoming addicted to this kind of burn.

  I dropped the paint and turned on the water. The Cajun needed to cool off before he got us both in trouble. I followed the green hose to the nozzle. Etie was taking a break, leaning against a tree, chewing a piece of candy.

  Perfect.

  I snuck around and aimed the hose. A stream of water hit him right in the torso.

  He looked startled—until he found the reason for his suddenly drenched state. “You done it now, cher.” He rushed forward.

  A high-pitched screech slipped out, and I showered him with water before dropping the hose and running for the door.

  A lot of good it did me. Seconds later, a blast of cold hit my back. My sharp intake of air echoed as Etie soaked me, using magic to do a thorough job.

  “You cheated!” I shouted, his presence on my heels.

  Large hands grabbed my hips, and I was spun around, coming face to face with a grinning Etie. “I don’t play by the rules, cher. Remember?”

  “How could I forget? You never play fair.” I was just as breathless from running and adrenaline as I was from his presence. His arms had wound around my waist, pinning me to his hard body. There wasn’t an ounce of space between us.

  “There’s no such thing as fair with you, Angeline.” His mismatched eyes seared into me, water droplets clinging to his lashes. “You’re mine, and the sooner you get that, the sooner we can stop all these games.” Etie smothered my protests with a kiss.

  There was no objecting after that. His mouth made sure of it.

  Etie Benoit tasted like melting candy, sweet and warm. His tongue danced along mine, caressing and playing chase in my mouth. I lifted on my toes until every inch of his body was pressed against mine.

  A groan rumbled through his chest, making my knees quiver. “Angeline,” he murmured. “You feel so good.” His hands roamed my back, kneading my flesh.

  My fingers tangled in his wet hair. It felt as if my clothes had disappeared. My skin was on fire, and all I wanted was to burn with my sultry Cajun. Our hearts beat in the same frantic rhythm, crashing against each other. If we were any closer, we’d be fused together.

  Electricity crackled over the toujou above my collarbone. Clearly, the gwo-bon lyen was ecstatic we were giving into our feelings. I wasn’t too upset about it either. I might regret it later, but my entire being was alive. Every nerve ending felt each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his fingers, each squeeze of his hands. My insides quivered, and heat pooled in my belly. Before long, I was going to lose the ability to stand.

  As if Etie knew this—maybe he felt it through the bond—an arm tightened around my waist, holding my weight.

  My breath was coming in fast pants. We shouldn’t be doing this in public. We could probably be arrested for this much PDA. If Bastien saw and had his phone handy, there would be pictures.

  “Etie—we can’t—outside.” I could hardly get the words out between his scorching kisses and the waves of pleasure melting over me.

  “I invited you to my house.” His husky voice did nothing to bring me closer to reason.

  Going to his house sounded like a fine idea right about now. Before I could stop them, words were tumbling from my mouth. “Étienne, let’s go—”

  An approaching car motor cut off the rest of my sentence. With a growl, Etie broke away from me, glancing over his shoulder. He muttered a string of French as an older, baby-blue Mercedes pulled into the gravel driveway.

  He turned back to me, scowling. “I was so close.” His thumb swiped over my bottom lip before he leaned in, giving me a gentle kiss.

  I would have responded to his remark—so close to what exactly?—but his suddenly tender touch had me breathless again.

  A woman got out of the Mercedes, her over-processed blonde hair brushing the top of her shoulders. The skin-tight dress she was squeezed into left little to the imagination. She was older, but age didn’t stop her from showing her goods.

  Once she removed the large sunglasses from her face, a sour taste melted over my tongue. Mary-Lynn Belmont. Her daughter Trisha was a growing thorn in my side.

  “Étienne Benoit, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Her sugary-sweet voice made me want to hurl.

  With a sigh, Etie turned away from me, giving her a polite smile. “Hello, Mrs. Belmont.”

  She waved her hand, long fake nails flashing with metallic gold polish. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mary-Lynn?” She stopped a few feet from us, her blue eyes eating Etie up. “I hadn’t seen you in a long time. You and Trisha aren’t hanging out much.”

  “I’ve been busy.” He gave no other explanation.

  Her gaze finally flickered toward me, her red-painted lips curling into more of a scowl than a smile. “I see that. Does your mama know you’re over here, getting very close to a young man out in public?”

  My cheeks warmed. Did she know Trisha was a skank who didn’t understand when a guy was interested in someone else? “I’m eighteen.” And I can do whatever the hell I want!

  Etie cleared his throat and stepped closer, his fingers soothingly brushing my arm. “How can I help you, Mrs. Belmont?” His tone was slightly more clipped.

  She shifted her attention back to him, that fake sweetness returning to her smile. “My husband wanted some work done on the store. You and Bastien come highly recommended.”

  I staunched the urge to roll my eyes. I bet they did.

  “We’re pretty busy right now.” He gestured toward the mansion behind us. “I don’t think we can do anything for a few more weeks.”

  Mrs. Belmont pouted so much like an older version of her daughter that it freaked me out. “Awe now, come on. Can’t you at least come see what he wants? It’s not much. I’m sure you can fit us in. My husband’s very generous with his pockets, and it would make me so happy.”

  Could someone please get me a puke bucket?

  Etie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. Bastien and I can talk to Mr. Belmont later today.”

  She clapped. “Great! That’s wonderful.”

  He gave her a forced smile. “I’ll have Bastien call him.”

  “You’re such a doll, Etie.” She waved and spun around, heading toward her car, but not before shooting me a nasty smile over her shoulder.

  Once her faded blue Mercedes pulled away, I turned to Etie. “Did you have to say yes?”

  “I said maybe.” He shrugged. “And it’s not my place to speak for Bastien. He may want to do it.”

  “This is just a way to get you around Trisha. That psycho girl probably put her mother up to this.” Why did I sound like a whiny, jealous girlfriend?

  Etie did a terrible job of hiding his grin. “Don’t worry, Angeline. You’re the only one on my mind.” His fingers clasped around my waist, and he dragged me closer. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, among other things.”

  A thrill zipped down my spine. “Whatever.”

  He chuckled. “If we’re not going to my house, we should get back to work. Bastien just caught sight of us out the window, and he’s got his phone.”

  I groaned. What was wrong with that guy? He had a weird fascinatio
n with teasing us. And I thought Marisol was bad. “If you do take this job, be careful. I don’t like that girl.” I couldn’t tell Etie not to take a job even if that skank had ulterior motives. This was his livelihood. I wasn’t that kind of person. Besides, he wasn’t even my boyfriend. He could do whatever he wanted.

  A tiny voice laughed at me. Who was I kidding? The thought of him with someone else made me want to double over and hurl.

  Chapter 4

  Riley and Lana stared from across the table at Bernie’s, waiting for me to dish about my day at work with Etie. No way in hell was I going to rehash our serious make-out session in the front yard. It was embarrassing enough that it happened and Ms. Belmont saw, but to bring up what a tramp I could be to my friends would cause instant mortification. No thanks.

  “It was work. That’s all,” I mumbled, averting my eyes to my plate of chicken fingers. “I painted some walls.” And kissed an extremely hot voodoo caster.

  Riley scoffed. “You are such a liar. Your cheeks are bright red.”

  “It’s like a hundred degrees!” I pointed out. “Why are we even eating outside?”

  Lana picked up her soda. “Inside is packed, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” You’d think Bernie’s was the only restaurant in Carrefour.

  “And don’t change the subject.” She stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “Something happened with that Benoit. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Riley clapped, shaking the wrought-iron table. “I still can’t believe you’re seeing Étienne Benoit. Not even Marisol can claim something like that.”

  “I’m not seeing him.” I was doing more than that. “And I’m pretty sure Marisol and Bastien have hooked up.” They grinned too much around each other. I glanced down Main Street, watching Ms. Unrue waddling toward my mom’s veterinarian office with her fat pug Chauncey in tow.

  The knot that had formed when I learned my family had been lying to me my entire life grew bigger. I’d barely spoken to my mother in days. Her disapproval of Etie didn’t help matters. She didn’t want her youngest corrupted by him. Those weren’t her exact words, but it was pretty damn close.