There were no drugs, no arms, no implements of any illegality in that house. I’d stake my life on it!”
“I’m not suggesting James Garcia was doing anything illegal,” Larue said. “Not really illegal.”
“What do you mean?” Father Ryan demanded.
“Garcia was one of the most trusted men in his business,” Larue began. “He would pick up items for delivery when he finished for the night so he’d be ready to head out first thing in the morning. This wasn’t official policy, but his supervisors have admitted they had an understanding with certain employees and Garcia was one. He’d had packages waiting to go out at his home. Some had blood spatter. We don’t know precisely what they were, but one of the crime scene techs who’d been collecting objects from the house for analysis told us the packages weren’t in the evidence room. She and a few others were brought down to try to remember. You can knock out a computer, but as long there are still people around, memory serves.” He paused. “The only detail she could recall was that one of the packages was large and flat—presumably a piece of art—and another seemed to contain jewelry....”
They all stared at him. “I just wanted to let you know.” He shrugged. “Garcia might have been killed over something in his house—something he knew nothing about.”
“Are you finding out exactly what packages were being held at Garcia’s house?” Quinn asked.
“We’ll have a full report from Garcia’s company by morning.”
“So where are we? What’ve we got?” Billie asked.
“Five corpses—and a seasoned cop scared out of his wits,” Larue said. “That’s what we’ve got.”
“Plus missing evidence. And fog, mist, smoke,” Quinn added thoughtfully. “Natasha?”
“I haven’t heard a thing from the street,” she replied. “But...”
“But what?” Quinn asked sharply.
Danni stood quickly; she didn’t want Quinn trying to read her mind when her thoughts were still so jumbled. If she acted casual and began to clear the table, he might not notice.
Okay, so Natasha had some kind of sight. She’d told Danni a dozen times that with most people who came to the shop, she read the person more than she ever read a tarot card or tea leaf. And she was very good at it; as a priestess, she knew her followers. She knew when they needed guidance, when they should take a chance and when they should keep their heads down.
But that day, when she’d read Danni’s tea leaves, something had been different. Danni had never seen Natasha quite like she’d been that day.
“I’m sensing that this is a situation we all need to be involved in,” Natasha said, glancing at Danni.
Danni felt Quinn’s eyes on her. Then, when she reached for a plate, she felt his hand. He looked at her as he asked Natasha, “What did you see?”
Natasha seemed to carefully gauge her words. “A very strange sight, and that’s why I’m so curious about your ‘fog’ at the station. I saw Danni standing on a hill, and there was a castle in the background...a medieval castle, I believe. She was shouting, warning someone. The fog—the mist or whatever it was—seemed dark and shadowy. Gloomy. But there was something else.”
“Like what?” Quinn pressed.
“There was a crimson cast to it. Crimson...red...” She paused. “I wish I’d seen more. I wish I knew more.”
“Crimson. Red,” Larue repeated.
“The color of blood,” Billie said.
Chapter Four
FINALLY, THEIR GUESTS were gone for the night, each one in a pensive and expectant mood, dreading what the future would hold.
Danni went up to her room first. Quinn—being Quinn—had taken Wolf and gone through the house, assuring himself that the place was securely locked. Since Royal Street was just a block from Bourbon, the faint sounds of music and laughter continued.
The murders had been on the news all day. But visitors to the city—revelers on the streets—probably believed they were a strictly local phenomenon. Still, most people would be more careful that night; when they met in the city’s bars or clubs they’d talk about what had happened not far from the French Quarter.
But while they’d react with horror and sympathy, they would tell themselves that it didn’t affect them.
Danni usually turned on the television in the evenings. That night, she didn’t. She already knew what she’d see on the news.
Quinn came upstairs, quietly opening the door, and just as quietly closing it behind him.
“You asleep?” he asked her.
“Seriously?” she replied.
“I’d rather hoped not,” he said.
“Wolf’s been relegated to the hall?”
“He doesn’t seem to mind. He lets me be the alpha dog.”
“And I thought I was the alpha dog,” Danni said.
He stood in the doorway. “I was thinking—” he began.
“No thinking tonight!” It had been too long. She rose naked from the bed and walked over to him, met his hungry, urgent kiss with her own as she tugged at his shirt.
He kissed her while removing his jacket, shoulder holster and gun, allowing her to play with the buttons on his shirt.
Then he grew impatient and unfastened them himself.
Danni wondered how she’d ever had the strength to let him go. In his arms she immediately felt the inferno between them. His clothing was strewn about the floor and since she hadn’t bothered with any...
They fell together on her bed. He laughed, rising above her, and then his lips found hers again and they kissed, tongues delving, lips locking and breaking apart so they could gasp for breath, then joining again. She grasped his shoulders, the muscles moving sleekly beneath her touch. He was back; he was with her. It was real, the sheets beneath her were real, the moonlight filtering through the drapes was real. And the force of his body against hers was both solid and dreamlike. For long seconds she was content to feel his flesh, to stroke his shoulders and down his back. But she felt his kiss moving against her, felt his lips on her throat, teasing her collarbones. His hands curved around and caressed her breasts and then his tongue and lips bathed her where his hands had been. She thought she might crawl out of her skin, she was so desperate to be part of him.
He was a tender lover, a careful lover, always wanting to arouse as he was aroused. But she felt the hardness of his erection so swiftly that night, felt him slide into her, and she wanted him so badly, she shared his impatience, entwining her limbs around his, moving with him, arching closer. She felt the frantic rhythm of her heart and his. The music from Bourbon Street seemed to fade away, and even the moon seemed to pale. All that remained was the feel of each other, their desperate, urgent need to be together again.
She
