Remembered by Moonlight (10 page)

His reply was just as neutral. “Perhaps I didn’t want to upset you in that delicate condition you never told me about.”

“Like your own marriage and impending fatherhood that you never shared even knowing where
I
lived and
my
phone number.”

Max cleared his throat, about to step in as reluctant referee. But Brigit cut in too quickly.

“Well, let me be the better sibling and insure you’re the first to know of my wedding.”

Giles had been in mid-swallow. His startled inhale had him choking and coughing as he turned watering eyes to the enraged female beside him.

“What?” he wheezed. “I haven’t even asked.”

She skewered him with a look. “You don’t want to marry me?”

He managed to clear his throat to croak, “Of course I do.”

“Then what difference does it make who does the asking? You’ll be my child’s father, and I’ll have your name. And no one will have reason to be ashamed of either of us.” Her narrowed stare went back to Silas. “So do let me know, brother, when you have a convenient opening in your schedule, so we can plan the happy family event.” She shoved up out of her chair. “Excuse me. I need something decaffeinated.”

All three males blinked after her, then Silas turned to Giles. “Do you want to go, or should I?”

Giles made an expansive gesture. “Be my guest. I think I need to finish my coffee to get my heart restarted.”

As Silas hurried into the house, Max smirked at his friend.

“Congratulations?”

“I’ll let you know.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

“Bree. Bree! Oww! Shit! Don’t make me run!”

At the sound of his distress, Brigit slowed and finally turned to wait for him to catch up with his stumbling hobble. Before she could fillet him with further temper, Silas caught her up to his chest, holding her tight, mainly to protect himself from fists and knees until she stopped squirming. Once her arms slipped around him and her head rested on his shoulder, he stroked a hand over her bright hair and sought to gentle her further with his apology. Such as it was.

“Don’t you dare tell me that you thought I’d despise you.”

“Why would you find this current folly any less degrading than all the others before it?” Her tone was still angry, but there were tears in her voice.

“Aggravating girl, you know I love you. There’s nothing in this world you could do to ever change that. But Daniel Guedry? Dammit, Bree. What were you thinking?”

“Shouldn’t that be what was I thinking with? Probably the same foolish hormones that had you chasing after an assassin.”

“It’s hardly the same thing,” he scolded, not letting her go when she tried to push off his chest. “I love Nica.”

“And I loved Daniel.” A shivery breath and loud sniffle. “Until I found out what an utter imbecile he was.”

His kiss brushed her temple. He heaved a huge sigh. “You should have come to me.”

“I was afraid of how you’d react to me carrying the heir to our enemy’s clan. So I did what I had to do to protect him.”

Silas paused then demanded, “What did you do, Bree?”

“I went to Memphis and negotiated with Rueben.”

“You
what
?”

She shrugged off his strangled alarm. “Giles came after me and helped Rueben come to terms with me raising their heir here in New Orleans. He may have dropped Max’s name.” She patted her belly. “You might say this little guy negotiated the first truce between our families. So maybe that’s something you can be proud of after all.”

“Proud? That you put yourself and Giles
and
my nephew in danger? I’m—I’m speechless.”

“I’m sorry,” she began, head lowering. He halted that humbling move with a thumb beneath her chin.

“So you’re marrying St. Clair.”

“I asked him, didn’t I? If anyone can make an honest woman out of me, he can.”

“You name the date. I’ll be there.”

Brigit was still smiling after he returned to the porch and Giles approached her in his stead.

“You couldn’t wait for me to ask?” was his chagrinned greeting.

“Sometimes you tend to overthink things.”

“I agree.” And his demonstrative kiss put an end to any other uncertainties. Except one.

“Giles,” she whispered against his ear. “Please don’t go to Chicago. If you do, I’m very afraid you won’t be coming back.”

As she passed him in the dining room, Cee Cee smiled at Silas who was busy loading his breakfast plate, then her attention riveted to the lone figure warming himself outside in the first beams of morning. Waking to find Max gone from their bed wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Nor was his unreadable expression now.

She took a chair opposite and observed, “You look well rested.”

“I believe I have you to thank for that.” When she searched for a flicker of heat beneath his indomitable cool, she found a spark, not a flame. Not enough to encourage her as he added politely, “I presume you did as well?”

On this particular morning his careful civility stroked her mood the wrong way. “Presume what you like since you didn’t care to stay around to find out for yourself.”

His heavy brows lowered slightly. “I didn’t want to disturb you. 'Scuse me for thinking you might need the rest.”

“You have no idea what I need, Savoie, so keep your presumptions to yourself.”

“Perhaps if you’d tell me, I wouldn’t have to make my own uninformed choices.”

“Would you like me to map it out for you, Max?”

“Yes. I would appreciate that, Detective. I have enough unknowns confronting me without you being one of them.”

She continued to scowl for a moment then a small smile teased out. “I slept quite well, thank you.”

His eyelids lowered to a smoldering slant that melted away the last of her frosty mood. “You are quite welcome,
sha.”

As much as she wanted to explore the moment, a quick glance at an incoming text intruded to claim her time. “Can you ride back in with Giles? I need to touch base with Dovion and write up some acceptable fiction on our double homicide.”

His bland stare gave her nothing as he smiled and murmured, “I’ll see you at home then.”

At the apartment where neither of them felt at home with the other.

When Silas rejoined them, his plate filled with appealing smells, Max grabbed at the excuse to explore the buffet. Her partner’s gaze followed him.

“Things progressing?”

“We need to find this Genevieve Savorie, even though Furness warned against it.” When MacCreedy urged her on with a lift of his brow, she relayed her conversation with the priest.

“So he doesn’t trust this woman.”

“No more than I trust him. What am I going to do, Mac? She’s the only one who can give Max back to me. I don’t know where to start looking, and I’m afraid Max is going to go north to find her, with or without my approval.”

He gave a reluctant shrug. “Worst case scenario would be him going up there alone without any facts or friends to rely on. And that’s a real danger you can’t ignore.”

“I know. How can I keep him from going when he doesn’t trust us any more than we trust them?”

“Give him a reason to stay.”

Cee Cee frowned at that quiet suggestion. “Meaning?”

“Tell him about the child.”

They’d never spoken about it, not since she’d revealed that truth when the Tracker bounty hunters had come for Susanna. When Nica had told Silas she was also expecting—to keep him from throwing his life away against odds too great to overcome. Above all things, Silas MacCreedy was a realist. He knew firsthand how the information Cee Cee withheld would affect Max, even if his friend didn’t remember her. Max was a Shifter male, the Alpha male, and the instinct to protect his own would overrule any personal desires.

“Tell him. He won’t leave.”

“And have him resent both me and the child if his memories never return?”

“Would you rather live with his annoyance or his permanent absence? My guess is he’ll be more forgiving of you than those in the North will be of him poking around for answers.”

Cee Cee fell silent, knowing he was right but still bothered by the risk. She was grateful for her partner’s change of topic.

“So, now that our would-be informant is dead, how do you want to handle tonight’s fight? Do you think the kid’s death is related to our dealings with him?”

“I don’t know, Mac. There’s a chance they made us, but I’m willing to take it if you think we can find another in.”

“Let’s see if my old pal Todd has come up with anything.”

“Dealing with Blutafino is tricky business.”

“If we can get Babineau back inside his circle, we’d have a toehold.”

Cee Cee nodded. Her former partner’s cover was still solid because Babineau was still breathing. She was reluctant to pull him in just as he was starting to get his life back on track, but the job never waited for the right time. “Let’s see how things shake out tonight and go from there.”

“I’m going to be an uncle,” he said suddenly. Cee Cee’s congratulations became an uncharacteristic squeal when he added, “And Max may have to break out a tux to act as best man.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

After squeezing Giles’s about the neck tight enough to turn his face blue and giving warm best wishes to Brigit, Cee Cee grabbed a hurried breakfast and headed to her car, Max silently following. There, they faced one another, an awkward tension brewing.

“So,” he began, drawl smooth and carefully impartial, “with you and MacCreedy on the clock tonight, I take it our talk will be postponed.”

“I don’t know how late I’ll be. How 'bout tomorrow?”

A thin smile. “That would be fine, Detective. Be careful in your endeavors today and be on your guard this evening. Matters involving Carmen tend to disintegrate quickly. And violently.”

She touched his tailored ink blue shirt. “Promise you won’t make any big decisions before then.”

“Like whether to order my po’boy dressed or undressed?”

“You preferred undressed when we had lunch together.”

A slow, simmering smile. “I’ll enjoy remembering that. Soon, I hope.” His knuckles brushed against her cheek then he stepped back before she could respond and opened the door for her. Offering a safe escape. One she now took hesitantly.

After he’d closed her in and she’d buckled up and started the monstrous engine with a roar, Cee Cee rolled down the window to regard him wistfully.

“We’ve said our share of interesting good-byes in this driveway, Savoie. The only thing I anticipate more is the hellos.”

“I, too, Detective.
mer features for the truth of that claim then challenged it with a mild, oned."h Max on her heels. The faced one a
”

He took another step back and watched her speed away in a spit of gravel, his mood contemplative.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

During daylight hours, Tito Tibideaux’s neighborhood looked much less threatening. In his apartment above a seedy tattoo parlor where the neon from the bar across the street glared in each night, the young musician had entertained dreams of a better life playing his trumpet and loving his human girlfriend who’d waited tables across the road. Those ambitions died with him on the docks, just as the pretty girl had bled out upon their bed, at the merciless hands of Chosen attack dogs hunting for Max Savoie. Cee Cee and Jacques LaRoche had been lucky to survive their encounter with a pair of those killers in Tito’s upstairs rooms, making her somewhat uncomfortable that her best friend now sought sanctuary there.

Her quiet knock was answered after a long pause. Knowing Philo would be at work during the early afternoon hours, she waited patiently for Mary Kate Malone to step back and allow her inside.

The small apartment had undergone a thorough updating since she’d last seen it. Gone were the scatterings of sheet music, take-out boxes and wild Hawaiian shirts strewn about in colorful disregard. The ruined console TV had been replaced by a large flat screen. Replastered and painted walls held unfinished song scores in simple frames grouped around Tito’s dented horn. The only sign of untidiness was in the mound of pillows and blankets on the end of the couch Philo had obviously turned into a makeshift bed. A sleek metal café table held two coffee cups and a shared box of croissants.

“I was worried,” Cee Cee began as Mary Kate started to clear the table, obviously unsettled by her visit.

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine. I’m housed and fed and safe. No need for your concern.”

“Philo told me.”

That seemed to distress her further. “He shouldn’t have. I asked him not to.”

“He knows how much you mean to me.”

That was greeted by silence as Mary Kate washed out the cups and set them on the tiled counter to dry.

“Let me take you back to St. Bart’s,” Cee Cee coaxed. “You’re just starting to get better. You’re making wonderful progress. Susanna can adjust your treatments so you’re more comfortable, more in control.”

Trembling hands clutched the edge of the sink. “I’m in control now, for the first time in what seems like forever.”

“I know you’re upset by what you overheard.”

“I’m not going back there, Lottie.”

“We need to talk about this, Mary Kate.”

“No. We don’t. And we’re not going to.” She turned, leaning back on the sink as she favored her leg. “If that’s all you came here for, you might as well leave.”

Cee Cee hadn’t seen her friend out of her nun’s regalia for years. She wore crisp new jeans and a boxy knit sweater, her usually restrained and covered blonde hair now loose about her shoulders, reminding Cee Cee of how young and attractive Mary Kate still was. Even with the scars from their shared past.

“You can’t hide here forever,” she said quietly.

“Why not? I’ve been hiding, as you pointed out, for most of my life. Apparently those who know me so well feel I’m not capable of handling the truth. Why else would my entire life be a lie?”

Cee Cee started toward her, but Mary Kate held up firm hands to keep her back.

“No, Lottie. Not this time. I don’t need you to be strong for me. I don’t need you to wrap me up like delicate china to keep my ideals from getting chipped or broken. They are broken and they can’t be repaired. You can’t fix me. You can’t change what was done to me. You can’t restore me to that sweet, silly girl you remember. I’m tired of pretending to be something I haven’t been since it happened just so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I’m no saint. I’m a sinner who has no business wearing that habit. I’ve done terrible things and I don’t regret them. Damn you for keeping me from the punishment I deserved!”

If the words weren’t enough to stop Cee Cee, the look in Mary Kate’s fierce blue eyes would have. Such fury, such bitterness, such . . . self-loathing. This was what her friend masked beneath the pure white robes and benign smile. This emotionally traumatized and twisted avenging angel who lashed out from her own suppressed pain to judge those who would prey upon the weak. And Max had been her weapon.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

“Why? I wanted to. I was happy to end my misery so you and Max could be free of my contamination. But you just
had
to play the hero, the rescuer and make everything worse. You should have let me go. I could have slipped away, quietly, peacefully. Like Ben. Instead, you turned me into this. . . this monster who feels
everything
.”

“Mary Kate, let me help you.”

“Haven’t you done enough? Being your friend destroyed me. I’m not going to let you make me into a martyr so you can feel better.” She drew a harsh breath in the face of Cee Cee’s anguished shock and concluded flatly, “Just go. Let me live what’s left of my life without having to meet your expectations.”

“Mary Kate—”

But her friend made an awkward dash for the bedroom, shutting the door between them. Leaving Cee Cee with no choice but surrender to an awful truth of her own.

She was losing all those who defined her past—her dad, Father Furness, Max and now Mary Kate. The only constant remaining was her work. And never had she felt so all alone.

Max held to his grimace as he forced a hard swallow. Good thing Susanna Duchamps was a superior scientist because she never could have made a living as a cook.

Seated at her simple table to a dry pork roast and under cooked potatoes, he was looking back wistfully to Helen’s epicurean morning spread when Susanna chuckled.

“You don’t have to be polite. It’s quite awful, isn’t it?” Her warm smile of apology more than made up for the terrible meal. “I just don’t understand. I know how to follow the most complex chemical formulas, but a basic recipe is beyond me. Good thing Jacques doesn’t mind take-out or he’d starve to death.”

“I never take food on the table for granted and appreciate being invited to yours, especially on such short notice.”

When he’d contacted the lovely geneticist that morning, he’d been surprised by the offer but she’d insisted. Jacques was working late to fill in for Nica, and she thought the casual ambiance more conducive for discussions.

But Pearl’s unblinking stare made that difficult. The child unnerved him. He could still feel the sharp snap of their brief connection and shivered at the memory of her whispered words.

He’s not what he seems.

“How are you settling in, Max? I know how difficult it is to find yourself in a foreign world, trusting those whose motives are unclear to you.”