Remembered by Moonlight (22 page)

“Please. Dazzle them. Better yet, dazzle me.” Lee waved him toward the court, daring him with baiting lift of pale brows.

All eyes were on Cale as he strode out into the bright pool of lights, across the ribbons and puddles of blood he’d helped scatter on the concrete. He scanned the faces of the already eliminated in the crowd and called, “Shall we get down to it, or do you want more of the same?” He grinned at the expected response and shot a quick wink at Cee Cee. He swept the remaining four competitors with a dismissing flick of his hand. “Do you want to wait while I take them down one at a time, or should I give them a chance, all or nothing?”

Silas went rigid at Cee Cee’s side. “Shit!”

Cale grinned and goaded, “Four against one? Do you like the odds? I’m betting they still won’t stand a chance.” Then his gaze leveled on the remaining fighters, his eyes going flat and deadly. “Care to prove me wrong?”

The four stood uncertain until Cale beckoned with his fingers, his contempt too great to ignore. Finally, they came forward, eager to damage the loudmouth outsider.

“Silas, stop this,” Cee Cee insisted.

But Nica answered.

“No. Don’t.” And at the sound of Cale’s low, provoking laugh that same look of icy confidence in his eyes mirrored in hers. “He’s got this. He’s going to take them to school.”

Expression unconcerned, Cale let them back him up against one of the high-banking curls. Just as they were about to make a move, he made his, turning to dash up the steep ramp, using the momentum and height to launch a high, agile flip and twist that landed him at their backs. Then he tore through them like a Category 5.

With precise, devastating moves and quicksilver speed, Cale made it look easy, a cat toying with confused and rapidly exhausted mice, dropping them one by one.

He dazzled—punching, chopping, sweeping, dodging with an almost playful exuberance. Wowed by his skills, the crowd of not quite peers was wildly entertained and amazed. And they cheered.

Casper Lee joined in, lifting Cale’s bruised and bloodied knuckles in the air to proclaim, “Last man standing. But,” he mused, “worthy of being champion?”

Cale took the bait. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

“You bested this lot with your tricks and fast foot work, but can you hold your own where it counts? Where the odds aren’t in your favor? Are you ready to raise those stakes . . . Gunslinger? Or are you all talk?” His pale eyes swam with a sudden lurid red light.

“That’s not what we agreed to,” Silas called out.

Cale motioned him to be quiet, his own eyes taking on that same preternatural glitter. Smiling, he said, “I’m here to please. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

Lee rubbed his index finger across a small cut on Cale’s jaw then put that bloodied digit to his own mouth, sucking it clean. “Good.” Then he shouted, “Bring a collar!”

Cale recoiled suspiciously.

“No!” Silas strode into the arena. He flung his cousin’s leather jacket at him and declared, “We’re done here. You wanted an audition, we gave you one. You wanted to see him in the ring, you got an eyeful. But we don’t put it on the line for free.”

Amused by his use of “we”, Casper indulged Silas with a narrow smile. “I don’t believe you make the rules here, Mr. Creed. You’ve got to pay to play.”

“I told you, I don’t gamble. I bet on sure things.” He jabbed a thumb at Cale. “He’s my sure thing, and he doesn’t fight unless I can make a profit. Not ever. Those are
my
rules.”

Casper glanced at Cale, brow arching. “And whose rules do you want to play by? His?” His voice lowered. “Or mine?”

Cale held Lee’s stare unblinkingly then finally said, “His. For now. Because I said I would and I keep my promises.”

“You want to see him fight,” Silas interjected, “name a night. Put him on the card. After I place our bets, he’ll give you the show you want to see. Not before for cheap thrills.”

Lee stiffened at that, and Cee Cee feared her partner had pushed too far. If the whole deal crumpled now, she didn’t know if they could rebuild it.

But after Lee’s narrowed eyes lingered over Cale in a thorough sweep, he finally nodded. They couldn’t mistake the threat in his soft, “I’d better be impressed.”

“You will be,” Silas promised, pushing Cale to get him moving toward where the ladies waited.

As they left the concrete arena, a cry rose up, small at first then rising with an increasing fervor.

“Gunslinger! Gunslinger!”

Cale slipped on his coat without looking back. His head filled with another shouted accolade from what seemed like a very distant past.

“Our prince!”

“Our king!”

Run, Max! Run!

Max jerked awake, the abrupt movement setting the porch glider into a motion as frantic as his heartbeats. It took several long, cleansing breaths for him to grasp his situation and to expel the putrid scent of the swamps from his nose.

The night lay quiet and cool, humidity passing along with the rain. He’d come out on the porch, too restless to seek company inside. Oscar had wished him good night hours ago, and the big house had settled into silence. Yet his thoughts continued to prowl, circling without destination or purpose. Because the woman who put all into calming focus wasn’t there.

No use denying it. He relied upon the fiery detective with her passionate heart and grounding presence.

Since she’d given herself to him in that glorious re-bonding, she consumed his every moment. Max found himself straining to catch the sound of her laugh, the hint of her scent, a glimpse of her exotic features. Just her nearness quieted frantic thoughts and urgent fears. Her briefest touch, her fleeting glance hurried anticipation for what the night might bring, and even now had him shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat as he glanced again at his watch.

It was late. Where was she? What were she and the MacCreedys and their new-found ally doing that required furtive exchanges and ever deepening secrets?

He had no problem with her job. Despite the danger and the frequent moral conflicts that arose, he couldn’t imagine her doing anything that suited her as well. Pride swelled when he considered the scope and consequence of her occupation, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to support her if he could.

So what bothered him like a burr embedded under his skin if not the badge? He stared unhappily toward the end of the drive and the distant gate that separated them, musing over the similar barrier that remained in place whenever those sultry dark eyes lifted to his.

With a single glance, she conveyed a wealth of experiences denied him. Though busy building new ones, he’d never understand the true depth of their relationship because, for all intents and purposes, he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t rescued her from Jimmy Legere’s terrorizing thugs. He hadn’t earned her fragile trust or claimed her for the first time in the fierce way of their kind. He couldn’t compete with the man she remembered, the one she adored. And he would always feel like second best.

Unless Genevieve Savorie kept her word.

“Thinking deep thoughts, boss man?”

He glanced up at Giles St. Clair and smiled, glad for the distraction.

“'fraid they’re only as deep as a puddle.”

“Still deep enough to drown in if you fall in face first.” Giles moved to the rail, hand reaching for his pocket then coming away empty, fingers twitching for the cigarettes he no longer smoked.

“Cold feet?”

“What?” Giles looked surprised then relaxed into a grin. “About getting hitched? No. I’ll feel better when I have her lassoed good and proper.”

But something gnawed at his friend.

“Been doing some thinking,” the big man mused.

“'bout what?” Nothing he’d like, Max gathered from the way Giles suddenly avoided eye contact.

“That after we tie the knot, Brigit and I’ll spend some time with my family.”

“Honeymooning on the Bayou? I hadn’t guessed that would be her dream destination.”

An agreeing chuckle. “First a week at that clothing optional place next to the family friendly one Babineau and Tina went to in the Islands when they were hiding out. She brought me back brochures.” His grin flashed wide then faded. “Then I’ll take the summer off from school. Hell, another few months won’t matter at my age. We’ll stay at my mama’s until the baby comes. That’s what I’m thinking, anyway.”

And he sought Max’s blessing.

Brigit’s auto accident had shaken Giles more than he’d admit. Max had recognized the unabashed terror in his eyes when he and Charlotte had brought the soaked, bruised and bloodied pair home. They couldn’t tell which direction that danger had come from, but one thing was certain, it knew where to find them. And if Giles wanted to hunker down within the isolated circle of family, Max couldn’t blame him. Nor would he hold him to any of the obligations that made him hesitate now.

“You do what’s best for you and yours, my friend. Whatever you need, however long it takes, wherever you need to be. Things here won’t fall apart in your absence.”

Relief evident in his features, Giles chided, “Well, I’d like to think there’d be some minor inconvenience.”

Max returned his smile. “We’ll manage somehow.”

“It’s not decided yet,” Giles continued, looking uncomfortable now that his plans had been revealed. “Just something I was knocking around.”

“Let me know when I’ll need to hire a dozen or so to try to replace you. Temporarily.”

“Will do, boss man.”

Max stared at his sneakered feet, and began to frown.

“Giles?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you know what the deal is with these shoes?”

Giles looked down at the red Chucks and shrugged. “Don’t know. You’ve worn them for as long as I can remember. Maybe when you were a kid you had dreams of playing in the NBA.”

“Maybe.” Max didn’t know what dreams he’d held as a child, but playing pro basketball wasn’t one of them.

“I’d better turn in before the future Missus comes looking for me. G'night, Max.”

“'Night, Giles.”

Moving toward the door, Giles let his hand drop onto Max’s shoulder before leaving his friend to his thoughts.

And more alone than he’d been since waking up in that locked room at the Institute.

Max closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the glider, letting its motion in tandem with the monotonous night sounds gradually lull him into a fitful slumber.

Where he saw red.

At first, it was just a pattern, deep reds and golds and blues woven together in a bold geometric. Max was familiar with every repetitive angle and swirl. He’d played upon them for as long as he could remember. And then the design altered, beginning with just a spot that increased and spread at an alarming rate until it swallowed up the other shades. Red. Red like his shoes, his hands, the floor. Max watched the insidious progression in mute horror.

What had he done? How had he done such a thing?

“Hurry! It’ll be daylight soon. Max!”

He glanced up through a glaze of tears to see a woman whose careworn expression couldn’t hide her beauty, even behind a mask of blood. She bent down to grab one end of the rolled rug.

His mother, he realized with a sudden shock.

Numbly, he stooped to grip the other end, struggling because it was so heavy with the awkward shape wrapped inside.

“I can’t, Mama. I can’t lift it,” he whined.

“You will. You must! If they find him, they’ll kill us both. They kill what they don’t understand. Is that what you want, Max?”

“No, Mama,” he sobbed, terror doubling as a small dot on the front of her already stained dress begin to widen just above her breast, just like the circle on the rug. He stared, not understanding the significance. Her beloved features began to distort, to wither and rot and fall into horrible decay. Choking on a scream, he dropped his attention back to the body bundled in the rug, hugging his arms around it, straightening until it lifted off the floor. He could hear the scuffle of his mother’s feet as she backed toward the doorway, hauling the sagging burden. He fought to hold up his end.

What seeped from the rug to discolor their floor wasn’t blood. It was water, dark, dirty, stinky water threaded with weeds and muck. His feet slipped and skidded in it, his red-stained shoes unable to find traction. The weighty load fell from his arms to thud on the slimy trail. And from out of the hasty binding something rolled free to bump against his toes.

A head.

The scream he’d been stifling broke loose, wavering high and thin and never ending as the features rocked upward. A familiar face. Not the one of the stranger who’d come to their door to take him away by force. The one he’d gutted, the one his gentle mother had ripped into with fangs and claws. These features were like his own, only older.

Then the eyes opened, connecting with an eerie intensity to his own petrified stare. And he spoke.

“Don’t forget the letters, Max. Read the letters.”

“Max?”

He leapt back from the light touch upon his cheek, causing the glider to bang against the side of the house. It took him a frozen second to recognize Charlotte bent over him in concern.

“I’m sorry,” she was saying. “I didn’t realize you were asleep. Baby? Are you okay?”

His arms snagged about her hips, pulling her in tight between his shaking knees so he could rest his head against her waist. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed her in. The feel of her fingers sifting through his hair, of her warm cheek brushing his, the strength of her body as she stepped her knees up onto the seat to straddle his lap and hug him tight made the nightmare fall away in fractured pieces. Until there was just the two of them wrapped about one another, slowly rocking.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“I was dreaming,” he mumbled, still choking on the shock of it. “The rug wrapped around the body of the man we killed. My mama the way she looked when I held her in the swamps after she’d died. My father.” His voice broke and went silent.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I pushed, hoping you’d remember something, anything. I wish it wasn’t all so terrible. I wish you didn’t have to remember any of it, Max.”

The huskiness of tears in her voice had him straightening, shifting so he cradled her instead of the opposite. They sat like that for long minutes, rocking.

“Tell me about the shoes, Charlotte.”

“You said they symbolized a past you’d never return to, when you were helpless, defenseless to protect yourself and those you loved.”

“Red from the blood of the first man I killed.”

“From the first time you realized what you were and what you could do. That being different didn’t mean being powerless. I like the shoes, Savoie. I’ve always liked them because they set you apart from the rest. I admired you for that arrogance.”

“I’m not arrogant.”

She chuckled at his indignation. “Yes, you are.”

The sound of a motorcycle approaching had her leaning back to add, “And speaking of arrogant, our guest is home.”

“How did your evening go, Detective?”

“Progress. Finally some progress.”

“A reason to celebrate, then.”

She stroked her thumbs along his dramatic cheekbones. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something involving a quick good night to our company.”

Cale shut down the bike in the drive and lifted off his helmet. He reached for his phone, apparently not noticing them there on the porch in the darkness as he said softly, “Hey, mama. Just got in. Sorry it’s so late. Just wanted to tell you how much I miss you before turning in. I’m beat. Doing some favors for Silas. Yeah, who’da thought he’d count on me. Like a brother.” He fell silent for a moment then concluded, “Gotta go. I love you, baby.”

The light from the phone went out. Leather-clad shoulders rose and fell, then he began pushing the bike to the garage.

“Let’s go to bed,” Cee Cee suggested quietly. “I don’t think he’ll miss our company tonight.”

Hand in hand they entered the house and climbed the stairs.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Light from the swollen full moon poured through the glass doors leading out onto the balcony, burnishing every inch of Charlotte Caissie’s skin like liquid gold as Max laid it bare. She stood before him, proud, strong, lushly female with her tempting curves and enticing smile. He couldn’t wait to possess her body and soul. But he forced himself to take his time.

He felt her mood heat as he appreciated her beauty with a slow, thorough stare. He watched her tremble in anticipation when he took a step to close the distance between them. Her eyes grow languid then impatient when still he didn’t touch her. He bent, his face tucking in where her long neck met very sexy shoulder, the one that bore the symbol of his desire, and her breath caught. Then stuttered from her when his deep inhalation was followed by the trace of his mouth along that sleek, already-healing angle.

He dipped lower, nuzzling between her breasts, underscoring their fullness with his tongue. Kissing his way down her belly to the hot valley between her thighs. A brief flicker of exploration there encouraged a damp rush of welcome. He ignored the need to linger, choosing to adore her long legs with the stroke of palms and lips, all the way down to her bare toes.

And he looked up from where he knelt at her feet as if in worship, his features all harsh lines and compelling shadows, eyes ablaze with that phosphorescent glow. His words shook through her like a rattle of approaching thunder.

“You’re my everything, Charlotte. There’s nothing but emptiness before you, nothing but promise from this moment on. Fill my days and nights. Be the heart beating in my chest, the hope rebuilding my spirit, the dreams that stir my soul.”