Bound by Moonlight (24 page)

“Feed your family. Go to Legere Enterprises in the morning. Ask for Giles St. Clair. He’ll give you work.”

He started away.

“Hey . . . hey, who you are?”

A flash of strong white teeth in the gory face. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“I
KNOW WHAT
I saw. He was right there—right next to the other one.”

“Maybe he just got up and walked away.”

“With a hole the size of a saucer in his chest? I don’t think so.”

Cee Cee, Babineau, Schoenbaum, and the transplanted Vice detective, MacCreedy, edged into the crowd at the mouth of the alley. Careful not to catch the eye of the officer trying to calm a furious tourist whose clipped East Coast tones were growing louder and more insistent, they checked out the scene. One body remained sprawled on the ground, victim to the pistol still clenched in his hand. There was enough blood on-site to validate the woman’s claim of another victim, but no evidence that another killing had been done. Of course, that would change when two blood types were found. Or three.

Cee Cee’s gut clenched. A robbery gone wrong, most likely. But where was the intended victim?

MacCreedy moved in closer, crouching down near the blood-soaked stones, intense in his study. Cee Cee
gripped her partner’s arm and towed him out of the circle of voyeurs.

“Time for us to go see if those home fires are still burning.”

M
AX STOOD IN
the shower fully dressed, letting the hot water wash the blood down the drain. Giles hadn’t said a word about his appearance when he’d picked him up and driven him back to River Road, while a group of Jimmy’s trusted cleaners slipped in to dispose of the corpse with its all-too-telling cause of death. They hadn’t had time to retrieve the other body and completely sanitize the scene.

All that remained of his own wounds were the stains on his clothes. All that remained of what he’d done was the taste in his mouth and the jittery hum of adrenaline.

A high like no other: that’s how his father had described killing. Max had denied it then, but he couldn’t now. Not while it trembled through his system. The excitement, the danger of confrontation, the thrill of domination. There was nothing like it.

He leaned into the spray, letting the water fill his mouth so he could rinse and spit. But the taste lingered. The taste of death. He understood now that this was in his genetic makeup, what he was bred to be. But that made it no less appalling—or the fact that he liked it, savored the strength flooding through him.

He cranked the faucet to cold. With palms braced against the tiles, he let the chill beat the quiver of savagery from him until all that was left was weariness and remorse.

How could Charlotte love him? How could he ever hope she’d accept all that he was when he couldn’t manage that himself?

Dressed in slouchy sweats, he peered in at Oscar, emotions crowding up. His brother. His father’s other son. Oscar had progressed so quickly during their lessons, already able to conceal the essence of what he was, able to unerringly find Max even from amazing distances during their games of hide-and-seek. Simple tricks compared to what they’d be facing.

He knew next to nothing about the nature of what they were. How could he fulfill his promise to protect the boy when he didn’t understand his enemy? They were going to die, horribly, and he didn’t know how to prevent it.

The Shifter king. His features contorted briefly with irony. The blind following the blinder. Jacques was right to mock him; he didn’t know what he was doing. The only thing he could do well was protect himself. Even now, looking down upon the innocent sleeping boy, he could hear that instinctive whisper.

Run. Save yourself. Survive. Don’t look back. You don’t owe them anything. You don’t owe them your life.

But what would his life be without them? His clan, Jimmy’s people, this boy. Charlotte.

Restless, moody, lonely, he went out onto the front porch to settle into the old glider, wishing he was still small enough to tuck under it until rescue came. But there was no rescue for him now. He rocked, letting the movement soothe his troubled mind, his heavy heart.

Then he became aware of someone nearby. “Don’t you ever sleep, Giles?”

Giles St. Clair came out onto the porch, standing at the top of the steps to stare out into the night. “I’ll sleep when you sleep. When I’m sure you won’t be getting yourself into any more trouble.”

Max smiled at the faint censure. “If you think loyalty will encourage me to pay you more when you’re too tired to do your job, you’re mistaken.”

“Don’t worry about me, boss man. I’ll keep up.”

“A fella by the name of Peekon Williams should be coming to you about work tomorrow. See that he gets a job. If he doesn’t show up, let me know.”

“Some more of that same trouble?”

“I hope not.” He closed his eyes, moving the glider back and forth. He could feel Giles’s pensive study.

“It’s nice having the boy here.”

He waited for the other shoe to drop.

“But I think you’ve got the wrong woman upstairs.”

Max tensed. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“You didn’t. Figured you’d want to know it.”

“We need to sort some things out between us, is all.”

“And that’s gonna happen by you moving another family in while her back’s turned?”

“That’s not what I did.”

Then Max caught the unmistakable rumble of a big-block engine, and his spirit settled. And as the vehicle approached, he hoped no regrets were coming his way.

T
HE TWO PARTNERS
approached the porch as a team. Max’s expression was inscrutable. Giles broke the standoff with a friendly overture.

“Charlotte, this is a new look for you. Very, pardon me for saying so, hot.”

“Hello, Giles.”

“Here for a professional or personal visit?”

Max coolly said, “It’s always business first. What can I help you with, Detectives?”

“Doing some off-the-clock follow-up on a witness statement,” Babineau stated with equal chill. “One vic dead at the scene with a gunshot wound a few blocks from our motel. The witness claims there was another DB minus a heart that somehow managed to disappear before the police got there. Plenty of blood to suggest she was telling the truth.”

“If you’re asking to search the premises for your missing body, I’ll want to see a warrant first, and to have my attorney present. But perhaps I can save you some time by telling you there’s no one on site without a pulse.”

“You must have walked right by that alley on your way back to your car. Right about the time the DB was bleeding out. Did you happen to see anything, Savoie?
Like some kind of freak with fangs and claws yanking the beating heart out of some guy’s chest?”

“No, Detective. I didn’t see anything like that. If those are your only questions, your family is upstairs. They’d probably like to see you.”

Babineau hesitated, then he went in through the door Giles held open, the bodyguard following on his heels.

Alone, Max frowned at the sight of the bruises on Cee Cee’s cheek and brow.

“Why did you kill those men?” she asked in a voice as tight as the ratchet of her cuffs.

“Are you here to arrest me, Detective? If that’s what you want, here’s your confession: I killed them. Their own foolishness and greed initiated it. I did one with his own gun, the other with my bare hands. And I enjoyed doing it. To the very last bite.

“It’s what I am. That part of me you loathe. What a monster that must make me in your self-righteous eyes.”

She said nothing, standing on the top step of the porch, keeping that neutral distance in space and attitude. And that goaded his temper up another notch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Not enough physical evidence for you?” He surged up off the swing. “I’ve just the thing.”

Cee Cee waited while he disappeared into the house. Small tremors began to build into seismic waves of fear. Why was he doing this? What was he trying to prove? That there was no hope for them? Instead of working to resolve their differences, why was he determined to emphasize how impossible it was to span them?

He burst from the house full of dark, forceful power. She caught the wet garment he flung at her.

“There,” he said in a low snarl. “I think I managed to preserve everyone’s DNA.”

She recognized the shirt as the one he’d been wearing, and her heart clenched at the vicious knife slashes in the material. Her gaze lifted, shimmery with emotion. “Are you all right?”

The quavering words almost undid him, but he held tightly to his anger. “Of course I’m all right. You think a few petty thieves could bring me down when seven skilled assassins couldn’t? The only one who’s ever taken me to my knees is you, and you know it.”

She fingered the torn fabric, her hands shaking, then stepped onto the porch and crossed to him. She touched his side, his arm, in gentle exploration.

“Self-defense,” she said. Then her eyes were all glittery again. “They attacked you, hurt you. I’m glad they’re dead.”

As her arms slipped about his waist and her head rested on his shoulder, the tension ebbed from Max in relief. He rubbed his cheek over her false red hair; his hands came up to knead her strong shoulders. He took a huge, satisfied breath—and his body stiffened.

Cee Cee heard the quick snuffles and the rumble of his growl vibrate through him, and she held tight to ride out the whiplash of his discovery.

He gripped her chin and thrust her head back so that her face tilted up to him. Her gaze held his firmly, her expression open without the regret, guilt, or the defiance he’d expected as he leaned close to sniff her. She watched possessive rage and tortured pride build
in his tough features, and she locked her hands behind his back as if to form a circle he couldn’t break.

“It was nothing, Max. Trust me.”

“Trust you,” he repeated in a toneless whisper. “The only reason my fist isn’t breaking through his rib cage right now is because he’s sitting upstairs with his wife and child.”

“Max, listen to me,” she petitioned quietly.

“Listen to you. Trust you. You come to me, to my home, with the smell of him all over you, and ask me that? You ask me
that
?” he roared as he shoved her away then paced the porch fiercely

“Don’t be stupid, Savoie. You know there’s nothing going on. He’s having a difficult time dealing with what he found out about his wife.”

He faced her with a deadly chill in his eyes. “Did you convince him to accept his animal bride? And what happened to your face?”

Her hand rose to her cheek, her eyes darkening with dismay, and a stark realization struck Max. He’d been with her in her motel room. What had happened there? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know what he’d done, only what he was capable of: hurting,
killing
the one thing most precious to him without being aware of it.

“Maybe he’s right, Charlotte. Maybe it’s madness to think you can mingle with monsters without things ending badly.”

“Max.” She gripped his arm, but he jerked away.

“Don’t try to rationalize what we both know is true. Not now. Collect your lover and go—it’s dangerous for you to be here right now.”

“Dammit, Max, don’t push me away!”

“If you won’t leave, I will.”

In two gigantic strides, he vaulted over the rail and disappeared into the night.

She stared after him, furious. “Don’t you run away from me,” she shouted.

She plunged into the night in pursuit. She crossed the back lawn knowing it was stupid, but pride and panic kept her going. She’d plowed through fifty yards of the thick woods before her ridiculous shoes failed her, snagging on ropy vines to send her sprawling, rolling down a steep incline into a mossy ditch far below.

Once she’d recovered her breath Cee Cee tried to stand, then collapsed onto the ground with a cry of pain.

Damn shoes. Damn Savoie.

She lay there on the cold, boggy soil, cursing them both, cursing the need to crawl back to the car to slink off in shame, when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She sat up to take off her shoes, but the agony knocked her down onto her back with a groan.

“Max! Max, I know you can hear me. Don’t you just leave me out here, you son of a bitch.”

“You should speak a little more nicely to someone if you want them to help you.”

“To hell with you,” she grumbled. “Don’t help me, then. I’ll just lie here and let you explain why you have a decomposing police detective in your backyard.”

He was suddenly crouched at her feet, and his hands were warm and soothing where her ankle throbbed. He removed her shoe and began a light massage.

“You shouldn’t have come after me.”

“I shouldn’t have had to.” Pain gave her words an extra sharpness. “How could you be so . . .”

“Stupid? I’ll carry you to your car and let your
partner
take you for x-rays.”

“Why, that would be damned decent of you.”

“Or I could just tell him where to find you, and let him drag your thorny ass out of here.”

She winced at the harshness of his tone. “Whatever unruffles your vanity.”

“Vanity?” His head came up and moonlight bathed his incredulous expression.

She reached out to bracket his face between her palms. “How many times do I have to tell you, there’s only you? Alain Babineau is my partner, my friend. Nothing more. He’s
never
been more.”

She sighed. “We were never lovers, Max. We never had sex. I only said that to provoke you, and I shouldn’t have let you continue to believe it. He’s no threat to you, or to what we have. He needs to get back to his family. And I need to get back to you.”

Relief was short-lived in his expression. He shook free of her touch. “So I’ve been imagining that you’ve been having reservations, that there’s a sudden uncertainty between us? Tell me I’m wrong, Charlotte, and I’ll believe you. I want to believe you.” He handed her the shoe and lifted her easily into his arms.

Outrage and indignation hit hard. “Reservations? What about your cozy little business deals with Manny Blu? And your new family here.” Here, the only place besides St. Bart’s that had ever been home. Pain pinched her heart. “Put me the fuck down.” She gave him a hard elbow and he opened his arms, letting her
plop to the ground on her rump. She glared up at him, jealous and upset beyond reason.