Hazel sighed and stood. “Then it’s best you meet Jenna.”
“You brought Jenna?” Kate inhaled, eyeing the tall young woman with more scrutiny. She’d been expecting some cocktail waitress from Harper’s club, not one of his kickass warriors. They’d never met before but Kate had seen Jenna around Harper enough times to know where her loyalties lay. And Jenna was no easy mark. “How did you –?”
“An enticement spell.” With her back to Jenna, Hazel poured tea into a fresh mug, reached into her pocket for a small bag of herbs, and stirred in a pinch.
“How on earth am I supposed to imitate her?”
“You’ll be fine, Kate.”
“She’s one of Harper’s warriors! Are you crazy?”
“Don’t worry,” Hazel whispered back when she saw Kate’s dismayed expression. She stood, tea cup in hand. “She’ll get a good night’s sleep and won’t remember a thing. No harm will come to her. Or us. And you’ll be fine, just keep in the background.”
“Which is why a waitress would’ve been easier!”
“Ssh.” Hazel swatted her away. Turning to welcome their guest, Hazel pasted on her brightest smile. “Ah, you’re just in time for tea.”
When Kate finally left several hours later, she was dressed in Jenna’s clothes, a mask in her pocket. The clingy material hugged her body and she tightened the belt around the jacket, snuggling into its warmth.
It smelt of Jenna’s perfume, sparking a short-lived twinge of guilt.
The sun had set and the streets were busier, everyone preparing for the craziness of New Orleans’s entertainment. And it would only get crazier from here.
It wasn’t until she’d walked past the iron gates of Jackson Square that she felt the familiar shiver down her spine. She glanced around casually, once again riddled with the sense that someone was following her, and headed for a group of tourists gathered around a lone saxophone player. His music filled the air, pleasant and enticing, but did little to lessen the punch of fear that trickled through her.
She slipped into the crowd, using it as a shield, and scanned her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and once again, she wondered if her imagination was at an all-time crazy. Years of taking her cue from her mother had resulted in the constant flickering of her senses.
She’d hoped to have had all the daggers before tonight’s party. How they were meant to protect her, she wasn’t sure, but it would have made her feel a lot better about what she was about to do.
First thing in the morning, she’d leave town and head for Rapid Falls. It might be suicide but she needed the daggers. She still had Declan’s key to gain entry into the house. Only this time, she’d be smarter.
Facing her demons and shedding the secrecy from her life all started with those damn daggers.
Kate was on the move again.
Declan watched as she emerged from the magical shop where she’d spent the day and did a double take at her revamped appearance.
What the hell?
With her mountain of dark curls hidden beneath a sleek blonde wig, wide eyes, and flawless skin, she looked a far cry from the cat burglar in his living room. She’d changed into pants and a jacket, the outfit hugging her figure like a second skin, accentuating hips and curves in all the right places. The V-neckline of the jacket plunged between full, ripe breasts that had been a perfect fit in his palms. His abdomen clenched at the memory.
Dammit.
She headed past Jackson Square toward Bourbon Street, New Orleans’s most popular tourist attraction, that stretched for miles. Every night, the road was closed to traffic, giving the tourists and locals the freedom to wander the street and take in Bourbon’s whirl of extravagance. Chatter and laughter, along with the music from the clubs and bars, filled the air with a constant hum of noise.
Declan followed, easily hidden amongst the crowd. Pulling on her mask, Kate stopped outside a busy club, the entrance jammed with people, and disappeared inside.
A club? What was the little vixen up to now?
And what was with the wig?
He scanned the rowdy crowd, clogged with drunks, dancers, street musicians and tourists. Those wanting a more private party had taken to the balconies that overlooked the street. It was a colourful, theatrical mix of people. Wild, untamed. He loved it.
New Orleans had been the perfect escape when he’d left Rapid Falls two years ago, drowning his guilt after losing his sister, Sarah, to the Brogan brothers. Sienna had cast a spell to desiccate Mason forever. Believing Warrick to be redeemable, they’d only bound his powers.
But they’d been wrong.
In retaliation, he’d killed Sarah and bolted.
Lost to her demons, Sienna had fled town next, freeing Declan from his Keeper duties. Leaving his brothers had been easy. Living with the guilt had been destructive.
Up until the night of Sarah’s death, he’d heard guilt was a bitch but had never known it. And since then, the bitch hadn’t left him alone.
But tonight, he wasn’t here to indulge in what New Orleans had to offer – or the memories it muffled. Several shots of whiskey had barely softened the frustration that chewed at his gut. He’d been played. Lied to. Stolen from.
And had his ass kicked by a woman.
When they'd met three months ago, Kate was everything he needed. Beautiful smile, an infectious laugh, and womanly curves that offered the perfect diversion from his destructive road. Alcohol, women, self-loathing, grief. God, he’d almost drowned himself in them all.
But Kate had been a wake-up call. He’d fallen straight into her trap. The whiskey, the easy flow of conversation, endless laughter and the hottest sex he’d ever had.
Even numb from the whiskey, he remembered her. Clearly. Up until the point she’d climbed out of his bed to pour them a drink. From then on, everything was a blank.
He’d woken up the following morning with a headache that smacked of more than a hangover; naked and minus his key. And damn, he’d liked that key. Spelled to open any door, it was a nifty gadget.
A call from Archer had saved Kate’s hide and kept him from tracking her.
Archer had finally found Sienna – as had Warrick Brogan, seeking vengeance and Mason’s freedom. That alone had been enough for Declan to cut short his two-year sorrow party to return home and defend his witch.
A calling. His duty. His destiny.
And they’d kicked ass. Sienna had kicked ass and made him so proud. Mason was still entombed and Warrick had met his creepy-assed makers.
