BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (27 page)

“Like what?”

“You’ll think it’s dumb!”  She laughed.  “You’ll think I’m crazy to want to give up the water for it.”

“Try me.”

“I would like to be high in the mountains.  I wouldn’t even care if it snowed ten months of the year.” 

Mountains
.

“Yeah, me too.”  Niall smiled.  “When I finish this last job, my hopes are to either go home, or go to the mountains somewhere.” 

“Where’s home?”

“India.”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  That’s very cool.” 

“Yes and no.  Some parts of India are beautiful, but much of it is poor and run down.”

“When did you come to the United States?  You don’t really have an accent.”

“I was seven.  My mother and father met while my mother was there on a missionary trip.  She tired of it quickly.”

“Where are they now?”

“My father is back in India.  My mother lives near the Rockies.” 

“Nice.  I’m sorry they’re divorced.”

Niall shook his head.  “They aren’t.  He comes to visit once a year, and she goes there once a year as well.  It’s better for them this way.”

Sinclair looked at him curiously.  “If I loved someone, I wouldn’t want to be apart form them.” 

“Me either.”  He replied quietly. 

Niall and Sinclair ceased their conversation as the food arrived.  Niall would never admit it out loud, but had been surprised when Sinclair had ordered a grilled chicken salad. 

“Would you like a drink?”

“You mean one with a little more kick?”

Niall smiled.  “Yes.”

“Sure.  But I want something exotic and memorable.”

Niall flagged the waitress down.  She returned, her face showing the pinched signs of feeling busy and over worked. 

“Do you have a specialty drink?”

“We have the Bayou Blast and the Voodoo Temptation.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Bayou Blast has vodka and peach schnapps in Margarita mix, and the Voodoo Temptation has coconut rum, spiced rum, and whiskey.”

“Well?”  Niall looked to Sinclair.

“Voodoo Temptation.”  She grinned wickedly.

“Two of those.”  Niall shook his head as the waitress disappeared.  “Not sure that was a good idea.”

“Why?”  Sinclair laughed.  “Because we are entangled in a Voodoo mystery of our own?”

“Exactly.” 

Niall and Sinclair left the restaurant at seven and by nine were well on their way to a real bar crawl down Bourbon Street.  Niall had liked the way the Voodoo Temptation had softened the edge of what they were really out there doing, and the way it had flushed Sinclair’s face and made her eyes bright.  He wanted it to continue. 

“Where’s we gonna go now?”  Sinclair asked and twirled in front of Niall on the sidewalk. 

He laughed and took her hand.  “Maybe we should head back to the hotel.  I think we’re both getting hammered.”

“No!  No, not true.”  She shook her head furiously. 

“Right.”  His eyes were bright as he watched the transformation unfold.  She was carefree for a moment.  Did he really want to spoil it?  As it turned out, he didn’t have to. 

Niall scanned the opposite street trying to determine their next stop.  A man with his arm draped across a woman’s shoulders walked casually, his head angled towards hers in conversation.  His light hair and lanky frame was familiar.  Niall instantly sobered.  He took Sinclair by the upper arm and roughly pulled her into the shadows, earning only a cursory glance from a few passersby.

“What are you doing?”

“Look.”  Niall pointed across the street as the man and his dark skinned woman with braids passed on the opposite side. 

“Oh God…”

“Come on.”  Niall took her firmly by the hand.  They crossed the street, waving at the cars which slowed to allow them to pass. 

“We can’t let them get out of sight, but I don’t want to risk them seeing us…not Joseph anyway.” 

The side of the street they were on didn’t have as many people, and Niall often applied pressure to Sinclair’s hand and slowed their steps.  The night was cool, cool for Louisiana, but Niall was feeling sticky and disjointed.  Something felt wrong.  Joseph Overman didn’t look over his shoulder, but he often looked from one side to the other.  The motion was slow and innocuous, but Niall sensed tension. 

Joseph slid his arm off of his woman’s shoulder and they entered a tiny bar at the corner of one of the many streets which intersected Bourbon.  Niall waited, counted to five, and entered as well. 

The bar was dirty, and out of place, the wooden floors were in good need of a sweeping, the walls nicotine stained and peeling.  Eight sets of eyes were instantly on them, and Niall knew without a doubt that he had been set up.  The air in the little place charged and his skin prickled. 

The bartender, a woman of indeterminable age with oily hair of an indeterminable color, stared at him with flat eyes.  Her hand stilled over the rag she had been wiping the bar with.  The small tables, seven in total, had a spattering of people sitting at them.  Niall tightened his grip on Sinclair’s hand.  He swept his eyes over the silent staring people again as a voice came from the shadows in the back.

“It’s a shock to see you, Sinclair.”  Joseph stepped from the back, his woman remaining partially enclosed in the shadows. 

Sinclair squared her shoulders.  “We need to talk, Joseph.”

He shook his head and smiled coldly.  “Nothing to talk about.”

“Ya’ll ordering, or just standing around gawking.”  The gravel voice of the woman irritated Niall instantly.  He jerked a chair from under the only empty table. 

“Two Bud Lights.” 

The woman shrugged and grabbed two bottles from a cooler with a sliding top.  The tops came off the beer with a hiss, and she set them on the counter with a clatter.

Niall handed one to Sinclair and sat down, keeping his eyes on Joseph.  Joseph whispered to his woman before approaching their table without her.  He swung a chair around backwards and straddled it, yelling to the bar tender for the same that they were drinking.  His smile was tight.

“You don’t mind buying me a beer, right?  Since you both are so intent on talking to me.” 

“Look,” Niall began, relaxing slightly as the other patrons lost interest and began ignoring them.  “You have unfinished business in Florida.  Finish it, then you can go on with your life.”

Joseph turned his attention to Sinclair.  “So, what are you doing here?  Couldn’t live without me?”

Sinclair raised her eyes from the table top and glared at him.  “I don’t need you, Joseph, but I do need my name cleared in all of this.” 

“You should have never told the cops what you told them.  That’s on you.”  He took a long pull from the bottle the bartender set in front of him.

“I did it for you.”  She whispered.  “I did it, because I thought you loved me.” 

“That was also on you.”  He tilted the bottle at her. 

Niall wanted to grab the back of his neck and crack his forehead on the table.

“We aren’t here to discuss your failed attempt at a relationship with her.  We need to discuss the item you’re carrying around, and Enrique Arrays.”

Joseph’s face turned to stone.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sinclair’s eyes narrowed.  “Maybe you can explain how your son ended up with a mark on the back of his neck then.  Want to talk about that?”

Joseph’s face remained unreadable, but there was a flatness which entered his eyes, and Sinclair knew he was attempting to block all emotion out. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He repeated. 

Sinclair leaned forward and hissed.  “We met Carla!  We met your
son
!”

He shrugged.  “So?  He’s none of your business.”

“How can you leave him out there with your Grandmother?  What if something happened to her?”

Joseph licked his lips.  “I have that under control.”

Niall shook his head.  The conversation was going nowhere.  “The stone.  Where is it?”

“Safe.”

“I need it.  You can either hand it over willingly, or not, but make no mistake I will have it.”  Niall also leaned towards him.  “And you, for that matter.”

Joseph laughed.  “Sure.”  He snapped his fingers once, and the room became a flurry of movement. 

Sinclair sucked in her breath as the barrel of a gun touched her temple the same time one touched Niall’s.  The black woman with braids slinked behind Joseph and ran her slim hands along his shoulders.  Joseph smiled smugly. 

“Enjoy New Orleans, Sinclair, but I suggest you just go home.” 

Niall raised his hands slowly as he rose from the chair.  Sinclair mimicked his movement, with the barrels following them.  Niall reached for Sinclair’s hand and began moving cautiously toward the door.  He glanced at Joseph.  “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Sure.”  Joseph laughed.  “Sure you will.”

The night air felt like a cocoon as they stepped outside.  The effects of the alcohol was long spent, and Sinclair was left feeling nauseous.

“I’ve never had a gun to my head before.”  She said shakily.

“It was a bluff.  It was a tool used to make us leave.”

Sinclair let go of his hand and leaned into a wall.  “He snapped his fingers and…”  Her eyes were wide and confused.

“Yeah.  I saw.  It’s an interesting twist in this story, that’s for sure.”  Niall ran his hand down her arm.  Her skin felt oddly cold considering the heat and humidity of the evening.  “Let me take you back to the hotel.” 

Sinclair shook her head and straightened.  “And lose our chance of following him?  No way!” 

“We found him once.  We can find him again.”

Sinclair eyed him steadily.  “No.”

“Alright.”  Niall nodded his reluctant acquiescence.  “Then we better position ourselves a little better.” 

Claude Monroe was a busy man.  He owned a restaurant bar with several pool tables.  He had even been conceited enough to call it
Monroe’s
.  He had a loving wife and a gaggle of grandchildren.  He was respected within the French Quarter.  He was also one of the top Voodoo Priests for New Orleans.  Yes, he was a busy man; and feeling his age in his hips and feet. 

Claude wasn’t surprised to find the door of Angela’s unlocked on a Tuesday at eleven o’clock.  The nature of her second business meant that she needed to keep odd hours.  He was surprised, however to find that no one greeted him as he made his way through the shadowy interior of her antiques shop. 

He hesitated at the foot of the first stairs.  There was a presence up there.  He hoped it was only Angela.  He called a quiet uncharacteristic “hello” up the stairs before forcing his stiff legs into action.  Once he got to it, the winding staircase would be a bitch. 

Claude kept his eyes upward as he made the spiral advance to the attic.  The soft glow of candlelight flickered and moved as if someone walked past the flames, or breathed to close to them.  He bit his tongue to stop himself from calling out again.  When he reached the top step, he stopped, disconcerted by Angela’s still presence staring at him. 

“Hello, Claude.  I thought I might be seeing you tonight.” 

“Angela.”  He said flatly, allowing his eyes to make a quick sweep of the room.  She appeared to be alone, but with Angela appearances were deceiving.  As satisfied as he could be, he moved a cautious foot towards her. 

“We need to talk, I think.”

“You think?”  Her laugh was light and airy, but caused Claude to feel a tick in his chest.  “Yes, I guess we do.” 

Claude watched her move gracefully to the long counter and lean against it.  Her light colored dress almost swept the floor; its hem cut in odd wispy angles.

“There’s another shifter in town.  I know he and the girl have been here.”

“Yes, twice actually.  They want the stone and Joseph Overman.”  She clucked her tongue.  “I warned you about him.”

“Yeah, you did, but he has something I want.” 

“Which he has failed to give you.”  Angela tilted her head to the side.  “Why is that?”

Claude narrowed his eyes.  “He brought it here; why didn’t you buy it?”

Angela’s demure façade vanished.  “Because it’s potently dangerous.”

Claude laughed with true amusement.  “I didn’t realize there was anything too dangerous for you.”

Angela walked behind the counter and lifted a small vial from among the hidden contents.  “Do you know what this is?”

Claude came closer and picked the tiny bottle up.  Enough air space was left within to allow the powder inside to move.  His mustache twitched. 

“Looks like powder.” 

Angela lifted on side of her mouth.  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?  Mix the contents of this with three drops of an undead’s blood and you have a concoction so powerful it will create a real zombie, not the parlor trick ones you raise up in the swamp.”