Tonight the building sensuality couldn’t stop the other part of it–the shocking part where her mind and his opened to each other in a way that should be impossible.
When a startling piece of knowledge leaped toward him,he stiffened, then sat up so abruptly that she had to steady herself with a hand against the sofa cushion.
In the heat of the encounter, he had forgotten all about Evelyn Morgan. The reason Rachel had come to the Bourbon Street Arms. The reason she was here now.
They were supposed to be figuring stuff out, but it had gone far beyond that. Very quickly.
He heard the accusation in his voice when he said, “You knew she was going to die!”
Only a few blocks away, Carter Frederick sat in the back booth of a bar. Dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, he fit in with the casually dressed evening crowd. The Jazz Authority wasn’t the most private spot in the world, but he needed a drink.
When the waitress brought him a double shot of bourbon, he chased it with a NOLA ale. He liked the local brew well enough.
He might have asked for more bourbon, but he wasn’t finished working for the night, and he had to keep a clear head. In his mind, he was planning what he was going to say to the Badger, spinning it the best he knew how.
Evelyn Morgan had been a tough old broad. She had narrowed her eyes and refused to tell him why she was in New Orleans. Then she’d come up with some surprising moves.
He’d thought he could handle any woman. Not this one. She’d attacked, and they’d fought. When he’d pushed her away, the back of her skull had come down hard against the edge of the radiator. Too hard. One look at the blood pooling around her head, and he’d known that she was done for, and that he had to get out of there before anyone figured out that he’d been in her room.
Even so, he’d taken precious minutes to go through her stuff and make it look like robbery was the motive. Whilehe was ransacking her luggage, he’d found a day book with the names of two locals. Rachel Gregory and Jake Harper.
At least he had that much. Not enough to satisfy the Badger, but he’d already put off his report as long as possible. Anticipating a nasty few minutes, he signaled for the waitress and paid for his drinks.
When he was outside on the street, he lit up a cigarette and took several deep drags before tossing it away. Finally knowing he couldn’t delay any longer, he pulled out his cell phone and speed- dialed a number in Portland.
The Badger answered, and he started talking before Carter could get any of his carefully planned words out.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m listening to CNN. A woman visitor to New Orleans was killed this evening. I guess you made an effing mess of the assignment,” he said as soon as he heard Carter’s voice.
“Not my fault. Why didn’t you tell me she had martial arts training?”
“News to me.”
The man might or might not be lying. In Carter’s experience, the Badger said whatever was most effective at the time. And he might change his tune if another story was more convenient.
“Nobody can connect you with the incident?”
“I’m clean. I didn’t talk to anyone at the desk. I paid a delivery boy to ask for her room.”
“Okay.”
“Afterwards, I went down the backstairs.”
“So you got away, but we’re at a dead end.”
“Not exactly. I got the names of two contacts that she visited in the city.”
They talked for a few more minutes with the Badger pressing him for results and Carter wishing he’d never accepted the freaking assignment.
Not that he had a choice. Once you got on the Badger’s Christmas Card list, you stayed on it.
After hanging up, he clamped his fingers around the phone as he automatically studied the evening crowd to make sure nobody was taking not of him.
Then he started planning his next moves.
CHAPTER THREE
Rachel dragged in a breath and let it out.. “I saw something in the cards.”
