Vegas Moon (7 page)

Memories of the kidnapping flashed through Tristan’s mind. He swallowed hard against the stark reality that Jordan definitely wasn’t talking smack. Ennisbrooke left Mia in bad shape when the police found her, and yes, she did almost die. She flatlined and came back. And that moment in time changed Jordan forever.

He really wasn’t the same man that he was before the kidnapping. God forgive the man who looked at Mia in the wrong way. If Jordan could hold Mia up in a room for the rest of her life, and not have to deal with the backlash from her best friend and the rest of the Stiletto Sanction, he probably would lock her behind closed doors.

Frustrated, Jamison sighed. “No one is going to kill anyone. Victoria will protect Mia until this situation is dealt with. Stop talking bullshit, Jordan. For once control your fly-off-the-handle mentality.”

Those were fighting words, so Tristan wasn’t surprised when Cindi let go of him and crossed the room. She put her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried about her. But please, don’t do anything stupid. You know that it would devastate Mia if you went to jail or…died. And I am not putting up with her baking and singing and all that stuff she does when you’re away. Trust me, if that happens, I’ll personally stab you.”

Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle. It was true when Jordan and Jamison had traveled for speaking engagements, Mia drove Cindi crazy with her planned fun nights. Tristan chuckled when he thought of the many strange dishes he’d tried in the name of Cindi and Mia’s friendship.

Cindi had always made sure to invite Tristan over for those “oh so special” nights.

Jamison poured another shot of Jack and then downed it. “Victoria has a coven of voodoo priestesses camped out at her place. And you know as well as I do how frightening their magic is. So quit worrying and let’s see if we can help our old friend Jasperillo find Mia’s stalker.”

Victoria and her connection to the voodoo goddess of New Orleans, Marie Levoux, was a story in itself, a direct descendent of one of the scariest women in history. Tristan silently chuckled. Damn Jamison went to extremes when it came to women. First the virginal Catholic girl, Mia, and then the voodoo priestess, Victoria.

Tristan was just about to agree with Jamison when the doorbell rang.

Jamison escorted a tired-looking Chief Jasperillo into the living room. “Would you like a drink?”

Jasperillo nodded, and took a seat on the sofa. “Yeah, I could use one. This has been one hell of a day.” He removed his blue cop hat and placed it next to him. “Is Mrs. De’L Croix in New Orleans?”

Jordan downed the shot he’d poured, and then took a seat next to the chief. “Yes. She’s with Victoria. Safe in voodoo haven.” He smirked an obvious reaction to his feelings at the moment.

The chief arched a surveying brow. “You’re not a believer?”

“Didn’t say that. Hell, at this point I’ll believe in anything if it will keep my wife safe. Am I a believer, well yeah, I believe in all kinds of stuff, but right now, I just want to believe that you are going to catch this lunatic before the woman I love is hurt yet again.” His cynical tone lingered. “So, what do you have for us, Chief?”

Back to his businesslike manner, the chief pulled a bundle of letters from the inside of his uniform jacket and handed them to Jordan. “These were confiscated from the post office. A concerned employee phoned us because of the verbiage written on the outside of the letters.”

Jordan fanned the letters on the coffee table in front of them.

Holy shit. There had to be two hundred letters. And the death threats he could read from a distance written on the envelopes was enough to make a grown man squirm. Tristan shot a concerned glance at Cindi. Her expression remained stoic as the police chief continued.

“As you can see, the sender tried sending these to the address in Florida, and then the address in Vegas. Of course the red flag in all of this is that the sender started scribbling profanities and death threats on the letters over the area stamped
Return to sender
.”

Tristan moved closer for a better look, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
What a sick fuck.

The creative ways that the sender wanted to maim Mia were written all over the envelopes, graphic details that made Tristan cringe. Images that he’d just as soon not imagine whirled in his head.

Cindi swooped down like a hawk and took a seat beside Jasperillo. “Let me see those.” Before the chief could open his mouth in acceptance or protest, Cindi had one of the envelopes in her hand. “What the fuck.” All of the blood drained from her face. “This is so fucked up.”

She shot a frustrated and then angry glance at Jordan.

“Don’t.” His hand shot up in front of him, a sign for her to stay at bay. “Don’t say something you’re going to regret. I damned well am aware what my previous life is doing to my present life. You should know by now that I won’t let anyone or anything hurt Mia,” Jordan promised, the words mingled with anger and love, a deadly combination when it came to Jordan.

Obviously embarrassed by her outburst, Cindi lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love her. I know you won’t let anything happen to her. I’m–I’m just angry.”

“Chief, may I open an envelope and look at one of the letters?” Cindi waited patiently. Honestly, Tristan was surprised she didn’t just tear open the envelope and deal with the consequences later. That was more of her style. And he loved that about her. Her spunk and tenacity was what wrapped her so tightly around his heart. The way she loved those close to her, like her love for Mia
,
was one of the many qualities Tristan admired in her.

“No problem. Our department has been through the letters more times than we’d like to count. Perhaps fresh eyes will see something we don’t.” Jasperillo handed her one of the envelopes.

Carefully Cindi opened the evidence seal and removed the paper.

All eyes in the room stayed glued on her every move.

“Interesting.” She mumbled the words of the letter and then flipped the paper over to the other side. “Very flowery language.”

Jasperillo’s eyes lit with awareness. “Yes, our department thought the same. The language is very…sappy.”

Cindi nodded. “Sappy yes, but very brutal. Very, very harsh.”

“There is something else,” the chief added. “The writer seems to know a lot about Mia and Jordan’s wedding. Right down to the style of lingerie that Mia wore under her wedding dress.”

“What?” Jordan, who’d left his seat beside Jasperillo earlier and had been standing at the far corner of the room, moved from his space in the opposite side of the room in a minute flat. “What does it say?”

Shock swept across Cindi’s face followed by apprehension. “Um…”

“What. Does. It. Say. Cindi?” Jordan’s tone held a hint of aggravation a sign that somebody better start talking soon.

Cindi sucked in a breath, the sound of the wind whizzing through her teeth not at all comforting.

Tristan slid into the open space next to her on the couch and cupped her hand that held the letter. “Here, baby, I can read it.”

Cindi didn’t say a word only nodded her head in agreement and released the paper.

“Jordan.” Tristan cleared his throat and glanced at Jordan. Stress lines were etched deeply in his face. Tristan continued, “Your wife will look so lovely buried in her wedding lingerie drenched in her blood. After I’ve bled her out, I will soak the clothes for a bit, and then dress her. She will resemble a beautiful Stargazer lily at her burial. A human replica—dead replica—of your wedding flower. Just remember when you’re inside me completely, body and soul—this angel of death—it’s magical.”

Tristan’s gaze met Cindi’s shocked one. Both of them looked at Jordan, who stood like a marble statue, the fear in his face palpable. “I need to get to New Orleans as soon as possible. I don’t want my wife out of my sight with this lunatic running free.”

“Jordan. Victoria will keep her safe,” Jamison promised.

“Just the same. I’m going to New Orleans.” With that declaration, he turned on his heel and left the room.

“I don’t blame him. I’d go, too, if it were you.” The words left Tristan’s mouth before he could stop them. Silence loomed heavy in the room. Perhaps he overstepped his bounds with Cindi. But damnit it was the truth. If the tables were turned, he would be catching a plane to New Orleans ASAP.

The squeeze to his hand came first. And then she turned a passionate gaze at him that practically shot him across the room. “Thanks, candy man.” Her voice lowered, and through the cracks she whispered, “You really are a great guy.”

Jasperillo pulled out a pen and paper. “I’m going to need a list of the guests that attended the De’L Croix wedding. It is apparent that the author of these letters attended the wedding, and that they were granted free roam of the establishment since they have such intimate details of Mia’s wardrobe.”

“I’ll have a list faxed to you in a few hours. I’ll get my assistant on it,” Jamison said.

“That’s great.” Jasperillo stood and slid his cap onto his head. “I’ll see myself out. Later.”

Halfway across the room, the chief stopped. “Cindi, we’ll find the culprit behind these letters. And do whatever we have to to make sure she’s safe.” The determination in his promise was loud and clear.

A ghost of a smile slid across Cindi’s face. “I’ve let her down once. I couldn’t bear to do it again.”

And the images of what took place years ago during the kidnapping of Mia and Cindi flashed in bright panoramic view across Tristan’s landscape. He’d almost forgotten the beating Cindi took at the hands of John Ennisbrooke. The man had almost broken Cindi’s spirit. The things he did to her, Tristan had to put in the back crevices of his mind. The torture she withstood at the hands of that monster he was reminded of every time he glanced at her scarred abdomen and thighs.

Yeah, he totally understood Jordan’s unstoppable, risk-everything mentality to protect Mia. If the tables were turned, he’d be that same guy.

Once Jasperillo had cleared the premises, Jamison said his good-night to Cindi and Tristan and retired to his room. Cindi and Tristan secured the house and made it upstairs to Tristan’s room.

“You know, something about the letters Jasperillo showed us this evening is bothering me.” Cindi proceeded to peel off her clothes, letting them fall around her feet.

He already had his clothes off and was stepping out of his underwear. “Why?”

“The word choices and the emotional quality of the writing seem to be more from a female’s perspective.”

Cindi kept on her underwear and brushed her hair before she slid into bed. He waited for her to comment on his removal of every stitch of clothing, but she didn’t, so he slipped into bed next to her. “Now that you mention it, the letters do seem mushy. Not from a dude’s thoughts. What dude says, ‘when you’re inside me it’s magical’?”

She wrapped her arms around him and then slid a hand down his leg until she cupped his cock. She stroked him gently. “I’m going to mention my thoughts about this to Jasperillo in the morning. See what he thinks. I mean I know that the whole ‘when you’re inside me body and soul’ could be a metaphor for something, but it really sounds like a female’s perspective.”

Tristan really tried to concentrate on her words, but once his cock was nice and hard and her face was going south, all thoughts of Mia and Jordan and everyone else scattered. “Good idea,” he managed to squeak between a hitched moan. “Tomorrow we’ll—”

A moment later Cindi’s mouth was on his cock, and he swallowed the rest of his sentence. Desire shifted through his body and he closed his eyes as she licked him from hilt to tip. She slid off her underwear and maneuvered her body until she was positioned perfectly between his legs, and then pushed up on his knees until his feet where flat on the mattress.

He closed his eyes, savoring her lips on his flesh.

That’s right, baby, suck me. Ah, yeah. Open wide so I can fuck your mouth.

She gave him one long lick then released her mouth, but not her hand. Gently she slid her hand up and down his erection.

And then she was staring at him, her big blue eyes scanning his face. The power of the longing he captured in her gaze pounded at his heart until he had to look away. And even with his gaze moved to her beautiful lips, the ones that suck his cock so magnificently a few moments ago, she still managed to whisper, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Tristan. I can’t imagine what Jordan is feeling knowing that another person wants to kill the woman he loves.”

What? Lose me?
Silence.

“All I can say is he must have been some player before Mia. I mean I’ve heard the stories since coming into the sanction, but damn the guy slept with some real psychos. And because of it he has men wanting to slice him open. They want to hurt him by hurting my best friend in ways I can’t even bare to think.”

With the way she’d opened up and let him glance into her heart, he really wasn’t sure what to say. Cindi didn’t feel about him the way Jordan felt about Mia. She made sure to announce it to him every opportunity she had. And yet she just admitted she didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him? Head games. Once again. They were fuck buddies, occasional date buddies, and always blood-play pals, but anything more than that was out of bounds. The rewind button in his brain played again. She’d just admitted she wouldn’t know what to do if she’d lost him. But the words,
I love you
—she’d never said, and probably wouldn’t.

Was he wasting his time with her? Not to be vain, but damned he could have any woman he wanted, several at one time if he preferred, so why was he so stuck on her?

Common sense told him he should just take their relationship for what it was and enjoy it. And there lay the problem. If he could burn her from under his skin and his heart, it would be so much easier to accept the relationship she wanted, the one they currently had.

Anger slowly burned through his veins, the heat increasing the more he concentrated on her recent comment. How much more of her flip-flopping was he going to be able to handle? This was the second time in a matter of days she’d admitted he meant more to her.