Authors: Nancy Gideon
“No, I did not,” she said with just the right touch of indignation. “We had an agreement. You kept your end so, of course, I kept mine. I’m no longer a child. I am fully aware of my position and obligations. I would never do anything to jeopardize them. Or embarrass you. I owe you everything.”
“Yes,” he said with a cold pleasure. “You do. I’m satisfied with your honesty.”
Susanna didn’t relax at his assurance.
She would have to be very, very careful. She was returning to a world filled with enemies, with those who would rip her security from her and destroy the one thing she’d struggled so long and hard to protect: her daughter’s survival.
So she sipped from the water to hydrate, then pretended to fall into a restorative sleep. Only behind her closed eyes did she dare revisit the horror of the past few hours, of the sight of Jacques LaRoche sprawled upon the floor in a pool of blood that still discolored the clothing she wore.
But he was alive.
That was all that mattered.
And he would continue to live as long as she remembered how to play by the rules. Rules that might someday be broken with the materials contained in the bag she’d tucked beneath her seat.
Until that time, she would play the game under the wary supervision of Damien Frost.
To protect her future with the man and child she loved.
Jacques might have had worse days, but he couldn’t remember when.
The club was dark and silent, its doors closed for the first time since he’d opened them four years ago. Someone, probably Nica, had stopped the last of his blood
from running out onto the floor, cleaned up his face, and bandaged his shoulder. He’d been dragged up into a chair, force-fed a lion’s share of raw meat to encourage healing, and left alone at his request. As soon as he could manage small, shuffling steps, he’d retreated into his office like a bear into its cave, taking a bottle of single malt to hurry the journey, hoping when and if he emerged, his world would have righted itself.
The leader he believed in was gone, tearing the substance out of the future he depended upon. The woman he loved had also vanished, betraying not only his dreams, but memories she’d somehow become entangled in. His best friend and trusted lieutenant blamed him for endangering them all, first by embracing Savoie and all he represented, then for opening their secret existence up to one of their enemies. And the Upright female he admired and respected had damned them all as cowards. He had no reason at all to poke his head out of his comfortable lair until the harsh emotional weather changed.
“You can’t make things better by hiding in here.”
The sudden intrusion of Nica’s voice was not welcomed.
Jacques opened a bleary eye to squint at her where she sat on the perpendicular couch. “Says who?” he grumbled, reaching down from where he lay sprawled upon the other part of the sofa for the bottle he couldn’t remember emptying. He stared at it for a surprised instant, then let it drop back to the floor.
“Experience,” was her pat answer.
“Well, my experience has been the harder you fight, the more you lose.” He closed his eyes, hoping she’d just go away. Wishful thinking.
“So you’re just going to sit this one out?”
“What difference does it make? Leave me alone, Nica.”
“You’re a whiny drunk, LaRoche.”
He scowled. “And you’re a pushy bitch, Fraser. Get outta my office.”
“If I left, who’d you have to smack you back to your senses?”
“No one. That was kinda the idea. Where’s your loverboy?” he asked, to turn their conversation in a less personal direction. “Why aren’t you off bothering him?”
“He’s at the Towers trying to get everyone calmed down and settled in.”
Good ole MacCreedy. Stepping right up.
“Kinda like locking the chicken coop after the wolves finished their dinner, don’t you think? They got what they wanted. They won’t bother with us anymore.”
“He could use your help.”
Wincing at the sudden sharpness of her tone, Jacques hugged his arms about himself. “He doesn’t need me. He’s a smart boy. He’s got everything under control. Just ask him.”
“Want some cheese with that whine?” she drawled.
He hauled himself into a seated position, gritting his teeth against the pain stabbing through his slowly
mending chest, to growl, “What do you want from me, Nica?”
“A little backup would be appreciated. I used to be able to count on you for that.”
Flinching from an even sharper discomfort, Jacques muttered, “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Her eyes grew flinty. “This isn’t about me, Jacques. It’s about them. They count on you to give them direction.”
He snorted. “Yeah, some leader. Follow me, right into this dead end. They wouldn’t follow me across a room when I was depending on them to have
my
back. Probably the smart choice, considering.” He slumped back against the cushions, the fight and heart going out of him. “I don’t care where they go. I just don’t care.”
He braced for more of her right-to-the-bone repartee, deserving of her scorn. But he wasn’t prepared for her sympathy.
“She didn’t bring them here, Jacques.”
Everything inside him shuddered loose as she exposed that raw nerve he hadn’t realized was at the root of all his misery. “And you know this how?”
“Because I know her.”
“That simple?”
“Yeah, it is. So why are you making it so complicated?”
Before he was forced to come up with an answer, the lights went on in the body of the club. Jacques twisted around, groaning at the effort, surprised to see some of his crew righting furniture and sweeping
up broken glass and bullet casings. Amber and Jen went to work on the bloodstains with buckets and brushes.
“What the hell are they doing here? I didn’t ask—”
“Must be worried about their job security. Can’t think of any other reason, can you?”
Jacques gave her a look. “I can think of one, sitting over there looking annoyingly smug.”
“And I can think of an even bigger one, sitting over there looking irritatingly clueless.” She sighed. “Life goes on, boss. Time to get back among the living.” She turned just as MacCreedy entered the room. “Hey, lover. Great timing, as usual.”
Jacques had no real reason to bristle up with resentment just because Nica’s mate looked freshly showered and ultracompetent after the grueling twenty-four hours he’d just put in. Time Jacques had spent licking his own physical and emotional wounds instead of seeing selflessly to others.
When Nica stepped up to him, MacCreedy folded her easily into his arms and just for an instant, he leaned.
“Get everyone buttoned in tight?” she asked as her hands pushed inside his cheap sport coat to rub over his crisp white shirt.
“I think so. Philo’s been a big help rounding them up. Think he needed something to keep him busy. He’s pretty broken up about losing so many of his friends.”
And MacCreedy was there for him. Where Jacques should have been.
“How’s your partner holding up?” Though her tone was conversational, her touch soothed and comforted.
“Getting ready to go solo on the Rambo warpath.” His cool glance went to Jacques, then quickly away. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her, Nica, before she does something ill-advised.”
Nica snorted. “You think I could be talked down if they’d taken you?” She revolved in the curl of his arms to look at the figure still slumped on the couch. “Jacques, you talk to her. She listens to you.”
“I don’t think she has much use for any of our kind anymore.” His voice lowered. “And I don’t blame her.”
“Then let’s see if we can change that by getting Max back for her.”
Jacques stared at her blankly. “You gonna just head north and start knocking on doors?”
Her expression grew cunning, making Jacques all kinds of uneasy. “No. That’s not what I had in mind.” Her smile made him even more nervous. “Go down and thank the troops, boss. I need to talk to my man for a minute.”
Cautiously, Jacques hoisted himself off the couch, clutching his rib cage as if to hold himself together.
MacCreedy’s brow puckered. “You all right?”
“Fine.” He growled, knowing he didn’t look it. The left side of his face and scalp was a latticework of faint scars. He still wore his bloodied clothing, mainly because he couldn’t manage to lift his arms high enough to shed his shirt. His breaths were small and shallow lest they incur painful retribution from his
mending ribs. In short, he was a mess inside and out and not pleased to have that pointed out. Even if Nica did it so much sweeter.
She stretched up to hug him about the neck, murmuring, “You look like hell, boss. Just go home. Shower. Eat something. I’ll say your good-byes for you and take care of things here.”
“No. I’ll do it. You can lock up.”
“Got it under control. See you in about an hour.”
And he needed to do the same with himself, was her insinuation. If MacCreedy had made that suggestion, Jacques would have tried to prove him wrong with both fists. But it was hard to stay angry with Nica when she was kissing him softly.
“No tongue,” MacCreedy growled dangerously enough to make Nica smile.
Jacques straightened, unwilling to provoke the man who’d saved his life. He gave MacCreedy a steady stare. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Having my back.”
“No problem . . . as long as you take a step back from my woman right now.”
The quick grin hurt Jacques’s face but was worth it. “She’s all yours.”
Nica waited until Jacques had left the room and was making his way gingerly down the stairs to the main floor before cocking an eyebrow at her mate. “Your
woman
? Could you be any more Neanderthal?”
“Yeah,” MacCreedy drawled, hands fitting to her
waist and tugging her up against him. “You got a problem with that?”
“None whatsoever.”
Their kiss was slow and searing. Finally, MacCreedy leaned back and placed his palm on her midriff.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice softened. “Worried about the timing?”
Her eyes filled up with emotion, glittered like sapphires. She shook her head. “You?”
“No.” He grinned wide, and his hands cupped her face. “Our own family. I couldn’t be happier.” His tone deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was worried about other things. That’s one of the reasons I brought Susanna here.”
Alarm tightened his features briefly. “You’re afraid something might be wrong with the baby.”
“Not afraid. Cautious. I’d feel a lot better if she was still here. I was thinking maybe we should bring her back along with Max.”
He touched her hair in a soothing gesture. “Would she come willingly?” His somber gaze said he might consider the idea in either instance.
A secret smile. “Oh yeah. In a heartbeat.”
He kissed her brow and murmured, “What’s on your devious mind, woman?”
“To find out where Max is, I’m going to have to use you.”
“How?”
“I need you to make a collect call.”
Industry stopped the second Jacques’s crew became aware of him. His chest clogged up with more than just pain as one by one they smiled determinedly.
“I want things ready for doors to open tomorrow night. You don’t think I’m gonna pay you all out of my pocket change, do you?”
“We’ll be ready,” Amber assured him from where she knelt over the dried stain of his own blood.
Mood darkening, he gestured to the floor. “Leave that one. A reminder.”
“Of what happened?” she asked in quiet empathy.
“No. Of what didn’t happen that should have.”
He wanted his patrons to remember every time they saw that discoloration that he’d lain unprotected and vulnerable at the mercy of their enemies while they’d done nothing.
The crackle of the sound system was followed by a bawdy blues tune. He smiled at Nica’s choice as Big Al Carson wailed, “Time to take your drunken ass home.”
Yes, it was.
And as he stood under the hot spray of his shower, he was grateful for that slight residual inebriation that dulled him to all the reminders Susanna had left behind.
His tangled sheets held the scent of their passion. Her new clothes were still strewn about the floor. The smell of floral shampoo filled his towels and twisted about his heart.
He’d grown so used to her company, to the sight, sound, and scent of her, her absence was achingly apparent. But once those reminders faded and were
gone, he’d be alone again. Then what would he do with the emptiness?
He dressed in loose cargo pants and eased into a white button-up shirt, securing only the bottom few and leaving it untucked. Then he cleaned up the remains of his last meal with Susanna from what seemed like days ago, grateful to be interrupted by the arrival of his guests.
He buzzed them up.
Nica led the way inside. She took in his spacious apartment with an impressed nod. “Pretty upscale, LaRoche. I didn’t get a good look around before.”
She and MacCreedy had been too busy hurrying him out ahead of an arsonist’s flames.
“It’s big,” he agreed, and suddenly that didn’t seem like such a good thing. All that open, unoccupied space for him to ramble around in. Alone. His ratty old trailer on the docks, surrounded by activity, crowded by his work and his world, held more appeal. “Get you something to drink?” he asked automatically.
Instead of reminding him that he might have already had more than enough, Nica shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m abstaining for two.”
“Yeah?” The news was just the shot of optimism he needed. “Good for you, for both of you.”
“I’ll take hers.” MacCreedy’s typical buttoned-up reserve gave a notch as he loosened his tie and stuffed it into his coat pocket. A restless energy crackled about him. Something to do with the purpose of their visit, Jacques was certain.
He fetched two beers, raising a brow as MacCreedy took his down in several long, determined gulps before also taking the second one that he’d brought for himself. He carried it over to the couch, setting it on the wood-and-glass coffee table.
“So,” Jacques began warily, “what’s on your mind, Nica?”
What’s got your mate so jumpy
?