Because Lucien is the last thing I need when I’m trying to save girls from a fate worse than death.
Lucien
The morning sun is just coming over the horizon when I walk out onto the balcony of my bedroom, coffee in hand and my mind full of questions.I glance up at the sky, mind still relaxed with sleep, and see that it’ll be a beautiful day.No clouds in sight, and the chill of the morning gives me hope that we’ll have cooler temperatures.
Good for doing some badly needed reconnaissance.
Because if my calculations are correct, we’re running very short on time.
I go quickly through my mental notes, shuffling the pieces until I have a clear picture of where we were before I was–ahem–called to New York to help a ‘friend.’I’d been hearing rumors about girls disappearing, and friends of ours were coming up missing.My sister lost her best friend and was working with me to make lists of the girls we hadn’t seen in some time so I could check on their whereabouts.I’d heard rumors about a trafficking ring but didn’t have anything solid, and was in the middle of trying to shore up my contacts.I’d even gone so far as to start asking pointed questions about trafficking and whether anyone in the city had their thumb in that pie, yet, or if it was a niche I could fill.
The memory of it makes me cringe.Everything about that world is dark and tainted, including the people who run it, and having contact with them–even through intermediaries–left a bad taste in my mouth.I’d felt as if I had a film of grime on me all the time, and the pictures I’d seen made me want to bleach my eyeballs.
Then Brooks showed up in New Orleans, all damsel in distress and speeding through the streets on what I thought was probably a stolen Ducati, and my red flags went up.When Daniel came to me and said she’d been spotted at the airport, I had to admit that part of me had been expecting it.I’d been edgy all evening, my skin itching as though I’d walked through something sharp, and it hadn’t made sense.I was working on something I didn’t like and the city was thick with intrigue and danger, but that was nothing new, and it shouldn’t have brought my instincts to the surface.But I’d felt as though someone was standing behind me, whispering my name against my neck and then disappearing when I turned around to catch them.
For several moments, I’d entertained the suspicion that someone was playing a trick on me.Using voodoo to get under my skin.In a town like New Orleans, it’s not as unbelievable as it sounds.I have a witch doctor on my staff for that very reason.
Then Daniel told me about Brooks being in town, and the pieces slid into place like a puzzle neatly finished off.
Of course she was.My body had always known when she was around, like she was a battery and I was her perfect match, attracted to her whenever she got near enough.She was the gravity to my moon, the pull to my push.My brain might not register her presence, but my instincts always did.
I’d also known she would come back, at some point.I just didn’t know when–or why.
The thought takes my eyes down to the garden outside the mansion, and I breathe out slowly.She’s down there now, barefoot and drinking coffee like her life depends on it, her steps quick as she paces.She’s in the rose garden, turning sharply around the bushes and muttering to herself, and I glance around the grounds, wondering if anyone else is there with her.The yard isn’t big enough to hide anyone–nothing like the grounds of my father’s mansion up the street–but it’s well appointed.A wide lawn full of bright green grass, the rose garden, and a small outbuilding done in gray stone.A forested patch that features twisted magnolia trees and so much dripping Spanish moss that I wonder if I need to have someone out to take a look at it.The pool and hot tub, surrounded by hand-picked sculptures that match the gothic, Romanesque architecture of the house itself.
Some would call it overdone.Maybe even gaudy.
But to me, it’s just home.New Orleans at its very base: gothic and built of stone and moss.Showy when it should be subtle, and hiding in plain sight.I bought the estate when I was only twenty-one and finally able to escape my father.
Brooks has never seen it.She was long gone by that time.
I pull my brain back to the leggy redhead currently wearing a path in my garden.She’s agitated; that much is obvious.She’s had more than enough coffee, if her actions are anything to go by, and if I know the girl, she’s already planning something.
Probably something that will get her in trouble.She’s always thought she was capable of more than any other human.
A smile touches my lips at the thought, and I glance at her face.She’s frowning in concentration, and it makes her features even harder.She’s gorgeous, but there’s something sharp about her, like she’ll cut you with her eyes if you get too close.Lithe and graceful, she’s also poised for action, and one look at her quick fingers will tell you she’s lethal.No man would survive a close encounter with her.
And holy devils, do I adore her.
I give in to the urge for just a moment, allowing that emotion to run through me.I don’t often give in to it–partially because I haven’t seen her in so long–but here, in my own home where I don’t need to maintain any masks, I can admit to myself that she’s held my heart for longer than she realizes.
Not that I can trust her with it.She’s run from me before without a backward glance, and I learned my lesson then.Brooks Landry isn’t a girl to be trusted.She’ll sell her soul for the people she loves, but getting into that inner circle is nearly impossible.
I put my emotions away and force cold, hard logic onto the problem.Brooks isn’t here for me, anyhow.She’s here to solve the mystery of where her friend’s cousin has gone, and I’m not stupid enough to think I can stop her.Hell, I’m not even stupid enough to get in her way.I’ve seen her on a mission before, and once she has a direction, she won’t change it.She’ll sell every organ in her body to get it done, and kill anyone who tries to stop her.
Which makes it lucky, I guess, that for this moment, she and I want the same thing.
And as long as she’s in town...
Well, I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t take advantage of it, would I?
I put my coffee cup down, smile to myself, and saunter back into my room, the hazy idea of Brooks trapped in my house and at my mercy drifting through my head.
***
When I get to her, Brooks takes about half a second to start making demands.
“I need access to your network,” she says abruptly, as if we’re in the middle of a conversation I didn’t know we were having.“I’ll need all the files you have so I can start searching for Aislyn.And the name of anyone you’ve made contact with who knows anything.”
