Not if we wanted to escape. Speaking of which, I think we’d better get out of the city.
I think that’s right.
He kept her hand in his as he started walking again, the pleasant buzz of connection simmering between them. Not the headache, thank the Lord. She remembered a trace of it from their first touch. Now it only seemed to come when they were on the verge of real intimacy, when the mental images were coming fast and furious.
They turned into an alley with rows of garages. As she looked at them, she knew where he was going to stop.
“I guess we’re not stealing a car,” she said as the picture of a late model Mercedes filled her mind. It was Jake’s.
“I have vehicles in several locations around the Quarter.” He gestured toward the garage door. “This one’s kind of a tight fit. Let me drive out before you get in.”
He pulled the car into the alley, then used the remote control to close the door behind him.
When she joined him in the front seat, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t stop a heated scene from flickering in her mind. He was thinking about pushing back his seat, pulling her into his lap, making love to her right there.
Guy thoughts.
“This mind reading stuff is a little inconvenient,” he muttered.
She laughed. “I guess we’ll have to work on . . .” She raised her shoulder. “A shield.”
“How?”
“Do I know?”
He pulled out of the alley and headed across the river into Orleans Parish. Classic rock was playing on the radio. One of the Creedence Clearwater Revival tunes she liked. She was letting the music distract her when the song stopped abruptly.
“We interrupt our regular programming with an announcement from the New Orleans Police concerning a pair of fugitives–Jake Harper and Rachel Gregory. Harper is aNew Orleans businessman. Gregory is a French Quarter Tarot card reader.”
“Fugitives?” she gasped.
“Wanted for questioning concerning a murder at the Bourbon Arms Hotel yesterday. Earlier this evening they apparently participated in a shoot-out at a warehouse owned by Harper.”
Jake cursed under his breath.
Rachel struggled to drag air into her lungs. “They think we killed Evelyn Morgan? But we weren’t even there.”
“They didn’t exactly go that far. We’re wanted for questioning.”
“But why?”
“The guy could have left some evidence that makes the cops think we’re involved.”
Her voice rose in outrage as she continued. “Then he shoots up your warehouse, and that’s our fault, too?”
“I’d say he’s done this kind of thing before and he knows what strings to pull.”
“A real pro.” She clenched her fingers on the armrest. “So he’s still after us. And we can’t go to the police for help, because he’s framed us.”
“I think we already agreed not to get the police involved.”
“That was before he attacked us a second time.”
Jake sighed. “We’ve got to figure out who he is and why he came after us. And who Evelyn Morgan really is.”
He slowed when he reached the outskirts of a small town and pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant.
“What are you doing?”
