Remembered by Moonlight (13 page)

They’d spoken in the briefing room that morning. He’d returned to the job at Silas’s request, stepping back into his roll of Al Babbitt to ferret out Manny’s connection to the fight ring and distribution of Kick. He’d said he was ready to get back to work, but there was a remoteness to his mood. As if his thoughts were elsewhere. Hopefully not on a distraction that would get them all killed.

Cee Cee was in her guise as Chili Pepper, ghostly make up on her face beneath the bright red fright wig. Silas had transformed into the bespectacled and slicked back Mac Creed, the clever gambler who’d worked the high stakes games upstairs. And Nica clung to his side as his slinky window dressing.

Casper Lee sat in the shadows of a booth, eying the hunky bartender rather than the girls engaged in acrobatics on the lighted bar surface. He was instantly aware of them and waved them to his table, standing to shake Silas’s hand and smile warmly at his escorts.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

Letting Cee Cee slide in next to Lee, Silas sat down and asked, “Did your talk with Manny put him in a good mood? I’d rather not get any more bones broken if he’s in a pissy one.”

“It went well, and he has no objections to you being here. Said he admires your moxy.”

“Hmm. Hopefully that admiration will cover my ass.”

Casper’s pale gaze dropped subtly in speculation then he grinned. “Manny’s not a bad fellow if handled carefully.” He flagged a spangled waitress and ordered two beers after the ladies declined. “Now,” he began in his smooth purring voice, “tell me why I should be interested in you, Mr. Creed.”

Cee Cee studied Lee. He was obviously educated and just as obviously dangerous despite his slightly lisping speech and taste for pastels. And he smelled delicious, some expensive cologne with ambiguous tones of light and dark. She remembered Philo’s claim about his personal proclivities and wondered if she should mention them to Silas. But Silas was a bright boy. He’d figure it out quickly enough. Nica was on alert, her narrowed gaze on the dapper Lee, ready to protect her husband’s aforementioned backside.

Silas smiled easily. His confident banter had Nica’s grip tightening on his thigh. “We’re birds of a feather, Mr. Lee. We share a love of money and the fine things it provides. We know how to spot opportunities and are bold enough to seize them.”

Casper leaned back in the booth, hooded eyes studying the other man. “Manny’s told me how ambitious you are. But perhaps not quite as wise as you’d like to believe yourself to be.”

“I learn from my mistakes.”

A smile at that claim. “Do you? And what did you learn?”

“To only trust in the bottom line, in the cash, not the cause. I got caught up in the passions of the moment and paid the price. That won’t happen again. I won’t ever be left to take the fall so someone else can profit off my skills. That was a painful lesson. One that doesn’t need to be repeated.”

“So, you don’t trust me to take care of you?”

“No.” A tight laugh. “Not in the least, and you’d be wise to be of the same mind regarding me. My only loyalty is to my bank account. If you can help me pad it, we can do business.”

“A rather bold approach to take, Mr. Creed.”

“Fortune favors the bold. You come to appreciate that while you’re waiting for your broken bones to heal.”

“What makes you think I’d be more gentle than Manny?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d kick me aside like scuffed loafers if I ceased to be of use to you. But I’m a handy fellow, Mr. Lee. And I think we could work quite well together.”

A warm chuckle as Casper appreciated the bold words and man expressing them. “So what are you bringing to the table, Creed?”

“I want to get into the fight game.”

Lee gave him a once over, lips pursed. “In what capacity?”

“I want to run my own fighter.”

That amused him. He glanced at Nica. “The way your lady’s glaring holes through me, one would think she’s applying.”

Silas chuckled as his palm rubbed over her tense knuckles. His claim of, “She could more than hold her own against any you have,” had her clutching his hand for a tender squeeze, prompting him to add, “but I prefer to keep her all to myself. I have another in mind.”

“Oh? So, you understand the qualifications for stepping into our ring?”

Silas’s eyes flashed with an unnatural light even as he sent out a confirming Glimmer, that preternatural shimmer of awareness only one of his own kind could perceive. “Yes, I do.”

Casper let loose a wide, wolven smile. “Excellent. Can you have your man audition for me two days from now?”

“What time and where?” He pushed a card across the table containing the name Creed and cell number.

“I’ll have O’Leary contact you. If I like what I see, we’ll talk serious business. Until then,” he murmured, placing his manicured hands on the table top as he pushed to his feet, “I’ll wish you a pleasant afternoon.”

After he’d left the table and was moving toward the exit, Cee Cee turned to Silas, brows lowered. “And just who are you planning to bring to that party?”

“Still working on it.”

Before she could challenge his mild statement, Alain Babineau threaded between the slowly-filling tables to theirs.

“Your presence here has been noted and commented on,” he mentioned casually. “Anything you’d like me to pass on to the curious party?” He meant Manny Blu, of course, the corpulent owner of the establishment and ringleader for most of New Orleans’s shadier dealings now that Legere was dead.

“Tell him I appreciate his indulgence.” Silas smiled as he concluded, “And him not demonstrating his annoyance.”

Nica smiled with a chilly menace. “You know if he has hands put on you again, I’m going to have to kill him.”

“I would hope so,” Silas responded. “We should go before we wear out our welcome.”

Cee Cee touched Babineau’s sleeve. “How are you?”

Again, all she got was the bland, “Doing fine,” which she didn’t believe at all.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy.” An obvious brush off.

“Business.”

With personal matters taken out of the mix, Babineau nodded. “Manny’s been asking about you and your living situation.”

“I didn’t know he cared.”

“He cares about a lot of things it wouldn’t pay to underestimate.”

Duly warned, Cee Cee smiled to offset the intensity of her request. “Come out to the house tonight. You and the family.”

Features tightening, he muttered, “You said business.”

“Any reason it can’t be business and pleasure?”

Though his expression denied the possibility of the later, he muttered a compliant, “We’ll be there.”

She nodded to Silas. “You two join us as well. We’ll make it a party. The more the merrier.” And if her former partner and friend thought he could hide within a crowd, he was mistaken.

Time to find out what was going on with Detective Babineau.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Michael Furness moved easily about his business, checking on the various obligations of the church. His hopes of hearing from Sister Catherine were met with silence. An upsetting situation, but not unmanageable. He understood her distress and knew time would provide more solace than his interference.

He wasn’t sure the same applied to Charlotte Caissie. He didn’t underestimate the ability of her disillusionment to affect his plans. Strong-willed and passionate, she was right in the middle of everything he’d so painstakingly orchestrated, and an impulsive move on her part might push him to steps he didn’t want to take. But he couldn’t let fondness override necessity.

He never felt another presence until a whisper of warning brushed the back of his neck. By then, it was too late to respond with any effective self-preservation.

“Hello, Michael.”

The soft greeting breathed gently against his ear, sending a complex shiver through his body, a reaction he hadn’t experienced for decades.

Without turning, he murmured quietly, “Hello, Genevieve.”

The afternoon’s slow trickle of rain developed into wind swept sheets prematurely darkening the early evening sky, and forcing guests to dash for the porch. They gathered in the parlor where a fire crackled and wine and conversation flowed.

But Max remained restless and wary.

It wasn’t because of the three newcomers to the group that included the MacCreedys and their mates. Cee Cee’s former partner, Alain Babineau, his wife Tina and their son Oscar weren’t complete strangers. Each stirred faint sparks within the ash of his memories.

Babineau wasn’t as young and All-American as he appeared. Beyond the tousled blond hair, megawatt smile and male model physique was a tough, seasoned professional and the only human besides Giles in their group. But unlike St. Clair, he brought a degree of reticence to the party even as he conversed easily with Cee Cee and Silas. Stories of past bad blood between the two of them were reinforced by the way a disagreeable hackle stirred at the nape of Max’s neck. He’d also learned that Babineau’s wife and stepson had only recently returned beneath the detective’s modest roof from the asylum they’d sought here, beneath his. A problem of genetics. Both Tina and Oscar regarded him curiously but kept their distance to keep the peace.

Tina Babineau was a shape-shifter, a fact as new to her as it was to her husband. From a surprising crook in their family trees, the petite brunette was both Silas and Brigit MacCreedy’s half-sister and his own pseudo-stepmother. The tangle of those branches still boggled his brain. She was a gentle, quiet female who’d found unexpected shelter in Brigit’s flamboyant shadow.

But it was the pre-teen Oscar who interested Max the most. His half-brother. The pull of affection was strong even though he didn’t remember the boy. Tall, slender with his mother’s coloring and features that mirrored Max’s own, Oscar stood apart from the group of adults to play with Cee Cee’s furry little pets. The pair of plump Guinea pigs, sensing they were in the midst of predators, chutted anxiously and squirmed for a return to the relative safety of their corner cage. Just as keenly as the rodents’ fear, Max could feel the strength of the boy’s power pulse from him.

And if he could, so could their enemies.

Another worry to add to his growing list, right behind deceiving those he’d begun to care about and, yes, love. He struggled to shield them from the threat pounding through his head even as he smiled and responded politely to their chatter. Now that he understood the true enemy hiding within him, he could guard against it to a degree. But it was difficult, requiring most of his energy, leaving little for the frivolity around him.

Even distracted as he was, Max sensed a sudden disturbance in their surroundings. They weren’t expecting more company, yet he could sense the vibration of a new arrival. Standing close together talking freely, none of the others were aware of it.

Excusing himself with a vague promise to be right back, Max stepped into the wide hall in time to see a single headlight pan the entry’s glass sidelight. What kind of fool would be on a motorcycle in torrential weather? Curious to find out, he moved to the door to peer into the night, concealing his own presence from whoever swung off the big bike and strode unhurriedly up onto the porch. And there, the unidentified figure paused.

Instead of ringing the bell, the helmet-clad rider moved along the porch toward the glow of the parlor windows. Back turned to Max, he removed the full-face helmet to reveal mashed- down dark blond hair with glints of red highlighted as he neared the full-length window. When he paused there to study those inside, Max’s protective mode slammed into place.

Soundlessly, Max slipped outside, all senses alerted to the presence of another of his kind. His kind, but not his clan. Few would have felt his stealthy approach, but just as Max came up behind him, the smaller figure gave a start of awareness. Max snatched a handful of leather coat collar and jerked him back into the shadows, away from the notice of those inside.

With a rasp of a zipper and a quick shrug, the intruder was free of his jacket and out of Max’s grip. He didn’t run—like a smart fellow would—toward his bike and possible escape. Instead, he came around fast, dropping his helmet to fist both hands as he sank into an aggressive crouch, making himself a compact, yet no less dangerous opponent. His warning came at Max as sharp and deadly as a knife strike.

“Back the fuck off me right now,” he growled in ferocious warning. “You have no idea who you’re messing with, brother.”

“Neither do you. And I don’t believe I’m your brother.”

Max caught him by the throat, grabbing him up close with one swift move. Elbow and knee came flying at him in a lethal tandem that might have broken him in half if they’d connected. Instead, Max pulled the other Shifter off balance with a quick twist of his body. Before his opponent could recover and resume the attack, Max’s hold crushed about his windpipe, lifting the slighter man until his feet dangled. Gripping Max’s steady forearm with both hands to lessen the choking pressure, he still managed a bruising kick before Max shook him like a rat to discourage further resistance.

The porch light flashed on, momentarily blinding them both.

Hanging from Max’s fist, using his own considerable strength to support his weight, the intruder suddenly went still and grinned wide.

“You’re Savoie.”

“I am. And you are—?”

“Family.”

“Max!” came a sudden cry from Brigit. “Let him go.”

As Max complied, their uninvited guest took a staggering stumble backward. Brigit rushed to steady him with the circle of her arm, and Max’s dangerous pose eased to one of wary interest.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded of the stranger rubbing at his throat. Then she quickly scanned the porch and yard. “Is Kendra with you?”

“You think I’d take her out on a bike on a night like this?” he chided. He caught a handful of vibrant red locks in his fist, dragging her up for a hard smacking kiss he quickly abandoned for his own safety. A sassy grin. “That’s from Kendra. She misses you.”

Brigit rubbed at her mouth in annoyance, ignoring his comment to demand, “Did she come with you?”

“Your brother said it was important, so I came first. Common problem with males in my family, I’m told. I didn’t expect to be hanged like a thief before I could even say hello.”

“You shouldn’t have been sneaking around like one,” was Max’s silky rebuke as he sized up the other Shifter. “Family would knock at the door, not peek in the windows.”

A careless laugh. “You don’t know my family. It’s good to be cautious.” He thrust out his hand with no hint of ill will. “Cale Terriot.” After a firm shake, he picked up his wet jacket and helmet and asked, “Mind if I come in and warm up?” His tongue ran across his lower lip as he glanced at Brigit. “Got anything stronger than that Cabernet you were drinking? And maybe something dry to put on?”

“Nothing cheap enough or with an inseam small enough,” was her curt reply.

Cale chuckled and snagged his arm about her shoulders. “Naughty girl. Looking at my inseam.”

She jabbed him with her elbow but was smiling as they entered the house, Max following closely. Cale released her to approach Silas, who’d come out into the hall to see what mischief his sister was up to. Cale gripped his hand, hauling him up despite his conservative stiffness to bump forearms in manly fashion.

“Hey, brother. Nice digs.”

“They’re not mine. You made good time. Would’ve been faster and easier to just fly.”

“I like a road trip, 'specially at night. Peaceful. Gives a man time to get reacquainted with his thoughts. Rode straight through from Reno. Your message got me curious. What’s up?”

“We’ll talk in a bit,” was MacCreedy’s vague reply as he stepped back and handed Cale’s helmet and jacket to Helen. “First, come in and meet everyone.”

Cale hesitated, scowling at the rain puddles forming around his sturdy motorcycle boots. “I shouldn’t.”

Max made a low sound between a laugh and a snort and said wryly, “Like that’s the worst these floors have ever seen,” as he moved past them into the parlor. “Come in.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Cee Cee had been watching the hall since Max’s rather cryptic excuse for leaving their guests. She’d wanted to follow but knew he’d resent her constant smothering if she was obvious in her concern. Especially at this tentative juncture.

His terse mood had carried over from that morning, troubling her because she could think of no reason for his change in attitude toward her. And he wasn’t talking. So how to force the issue without making it into one?

Her purpose for the impromptu dinner was twofold, a place to do Shifter business downstairs and to air personal business upstairs afterwards. These surroundings were better suited to both for their isolation and intimacy.

Once their guests were gone, Max would have no excuse to avoid her. She planned to make that impossible, starting with her dress. As red as a bull fighter’s cape, it was all fit and flare, from elegant hugging sleeves and bodice to loose, multi-layered skirt that swirled above her knees with every move. And then the shoes—shiny black peep-toe pumps, with scalloped edges outlined in red and a sexy animal print on inner high heel. His gaze riveted to every step she took. And then the final one-two punch of pearls and perfume. He didn’t stand a chance. His intense stare told her she’d be lucky to remain unscathed until the last of their company went home.

And that was fine with her.

Then the sudden disappearance of Brigit, followed by Silas.

Puzzled, she’d begun moving toward the door when Max returned with them and someone she’d never seen before. She could tell Silas and Brigit knew him from the way they interacted, but that didn’t automatically reassure her.

He’d obviously traveled a long way, his posture stiff, his clothing road-stained. The short sleeves of his black tee shirt revealed a pair of truly spectacular biceps and the tease of a tattoo. His lack of height was off set by mile-high attitude, a strutty walk, and the arrogant wink of a single large diamond earring. He surveyed their group with a narrow stare and the vee of a smile not quite as genuine as the wide flash of white teeth he’d displayed to brother and sister. At first glance, Cee Cee thought “thug” because of rugged and weathered features that matched his attire. But there was something in his manner, a quick, bold confidence that made her think twice.

Silas introduced him to the room. His cousin Cale from Lake Tahoe. A Terriot? She remembered Brigit’s description of the Twelve of the House of Terriot: brash, brutish princes known for the gaudy diamonds in their ears, who fiercely circled the throne of their despot and somewhat crazy father. Was he the one who’d inherited the crown after winning the hand of Brigit’s best friend, Kendra, Silas’s one time love?

They made eye contact. His were an intense gray green, direct and unblinking as he studied her carefully before striding forward with hand outstretched. He had a good, solid grip and a soft, rough-edged, right-to-the-point voice.

“Forgive me for intruding on your party. I wasn’t aware that this was your home when I followed Silas’s directions, or I’d have stopped off someplace first and made myself more presentable.” He gave her a straight-forward once over. “The detectives in my neck of the woods wear big hats and bigger guns. Might I say I approve of one who doesn’t feel the need to compensate.” And there was that broad flash of charming grin.

She admired his bold honesty but that didn’t lessen her caution. “You may and you’re welcome to join us for dinner, Mr. Terriot.”

A laugh. “It’s Cale. We’re practically related, after all.”

Before she could question that statement, he turned to Babineau who was standing nearby with his family.

“Another policeman. I feel very safe.” He thrust out his hand. Babineau took it, introducing himself, his wife and son.

And that’s when Cee Cee saw a subtle change come over the self-assured Shifter. His expression froze.

Then everything about him gentled, from features to manner, as he reached for Tina’s hand.

With an inexplicable shimmer in his eyes and quiet in his voice, he said, “It’s very nice to meet you.” And for some reason, Cee Cee thought there should be a “finally” tacked onto that sweetly gruff admission. Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to press her palm against his tee shirt, directly over his heart, holding it there briefly then releasing it as her brows knit in uncertainty. When he turned to Oscar, his genial mood was back.

“They don’t actually call you Oscar, do they?”

The lanky boy smiled at his feigned horror. “Ozzy.”

“I’ll call you that. Rock on, brother.” They bumped knuckles. Then his smile faded to that non-committal vee as he regarded Nica who’d slipped silently to join Silas behind him.

“So you’re the bad ass ninja he married.”

“I’m the one who stole him away so you could have her,” she returned. They exchanged a nonverbal challenge for a long beat until Cale smiled ruefully.

“Thank you?”

Nica allowed a brittle smile. “I didn’t do it as a favor to you, so don’t thank me.”

Her? The cousin Silas had been involved with? Just when Cee Cee feared she’d have to step between them to prevent those knifing glares from becoming the real thing, Cale chuckled and moved to where Giles St. Clair stood before the welcoming fire.