Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (23 page)

She let him go and slid her feet to the floor, then smacked Ty with an oath that sounded like mangled French. When she pulled back for another smack, Zane reached out and caught her wrist midair. Ty’s guilty conscience may have been willing to stand there and take it, but there was a limit to how much Zane would allow, even if he did want to do the same right now.

She yanked her hand out of Zane’s grasp and drew a deep breath. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I heard about Murdoch,” Ty told her, remarkably calm in the face of her temper.

She glared at Zane, her eyes raking him up and down.

“This is my partner, Zane Garrett.”

“You’re a Fed too?” she spat at Zane.

It was sort of a bullshit question, but she was obviously rattled by Ty showing up out of thin air. Zane tipped his head and raised one eyebrow in silent confirmation, if not a subtle dare to comment about it, before looking her over in return, checking for obvious weapons.

“Zane, this is Ava Gaudet. Ava, we need your help.”

“Right,” she said with obvious disdain. She turned her dark eyes back to Ty. “You need my help. Like you needed my help before?”

Ty narrowed his eyes before letting them stray to meet Zane’s. He shook his head. “This was a waste of time,” he said to Zane. He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Zane was perfectly willing to let any of Ty’s old flames carry on without them, so he nodded and took a slow step back. He didn’t see any knives on Ava, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Or more.

Ty turned to go, showing no compunctions about exposing his back to the woman.

She sighed loudly and held up her hand. “Wait. What do you want from me?”

Ty studied her briefly before digging into his pocket and pulling out the small red bag he’d been carrying. Zane didn’t know how he’d retrieved it from the police station, but he’d obviously thought it a priority as he and Liam had escaped. He held it up and let it drop, holding it between two fingers by its cord.

Ava gasped and took an involuntary step back, running into Zane. He steadied her with a hand on each arm. “Well, I guess that answers that.”

“Is that like the one the cops said they found on Murdoch? Where did you get that?” Ava asked Ty, sounding as if she’d forgotten how angry she was.

“It was under my mattress,” Ty answered through gritted teeth.

She glanced between them. “Well, I didn’t do it! I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“We need a place to lay low. There are seven of us. People are after us, and so are the police.”

“
Feet pue tan
!” she shouted.

Ty cleared his throat, looking at Zane wryly. “She just called me a goddamned son of a bitch.”

“I like her,” Zane responded.

“You need my help? You don’t need my help, you need an army!” She shooed Ty toward the door. “I want no part in whatever you’re doing.”

“A girl was murdered last night,” Ty hissed.

“That is not my problem!” Ava shoved him toward the door, both hands on his chest. He didn’t budge, and she couldn’t make him.

“She looked like you,” Ty said loudly. He held up the bag. “She had one of these.”

Ava was breathing hard, but she stepped back and stared at the bag, then glanced over her shoulder at Zane. She looked genuinely frightened. “You think they meant to kill me?”

“Yes. The police think I killed her and Murdoch. My name was in these bags.”

“You’re being set up.”

Ty nodded. “And you know the only person who could possibly have known I was in town.”

Ava licked her lips. “Daddy.”

Ty quirked an eyebrow.

“Whoa, wait,
Daddy
?” Zane blurted.

Ty and Ava both nodded. Ava put a hand over her mouth.

“Now,” Ty said almost gently. “We need a place to stay for the night. They’ll never look here. Are the rooms upstairs empty?”

“Yeah,” Ava whispered. She put a hand on her hip and lowered her head like she was trying to catch her breath.

Ty met Zane’s eyes. “Call them. Let them know how to get here.”

Zane took out his phone, glancing between them as he dialed. He couldn’t wait to hear the rest of
this
story.

“Can you tell me about this bag?” Ty asked Ava.

Ava glowered at Ty mutinously for a few moments, then dropped her hands and gave a curt nod. “Dump it on the table. I’ll get some drinks.”

She turned on her heel and stalked back to the curtained doorway behind the bar as Zane spoke with Owen. They were the only two who had retained their phones. Once he hung up, he stared at Ty until the man met his eyes.

“Her father was my case when I was here,” Ty told him. “He’s the 8th District Police Commander. He’s dirty as all hell.”

Zane felt his blood run cold. “When you said you left a pissed off Cajun daddy down here . . .”

“I meant it. I never knew if he figured out I was his problem or not. Now I know. He probably caught wind of me when we hit the airport. We’ve been dead men walking ever since we got here.”

“Wow. And I thought I had a scary father-in-law.”

Ty rolled his eyes. He looked around the dim tavern. “Are you sure you and Becky were here?”

“Ty, I may not remember what your face looked like, but I remember this place like it was yesterday. It was you. How long were you down here?”

“Couple years.”

Zane nodded. That wasn’t unusual. It had taken him several months to establish himself in Miami. And they’d both been yanked out of their assignments: Ty because of Hurricane Katrina, Zane because he’d been arrested and had to be pulled for his own safety. When he’d been put back in, he’d discovered most of the Miami cartel still thought he had done his time in prison somewhere and his cover remained intact. Ty’s cover had weathered the storm too, and now he was back in the thick of it.

Ty was chewing on the inside of his lip, his eyes focused on the wall near the door, where an array of framed photographs lined the brick.

A crash and muttered curse came from the kitchen, then Ava stomped through the heavy curtain with a couple of bottles in her hand and a cloth thrown over her shoulder. Ty took a few steps and tossed the bag onto the table. She glared evilly and sat down in front of it, thumped the bottles down, and used the edge of the table to open one with the heel of her hand.

Zane snorted. He liked this one.

“So, Ty’s partner, tell me why you’re here.” She reached for the bag and began pulling at the strings.

Zane considered truth or evasion for a few seconds before shrugging. “We’re celebrating a birthday.”

She laid the cloth out on the table and dumped the contents of the bag onto it. She nodded but didn’t respond, fiddling with the pieces of the gris-gris bag for a few moments. “How did you find the bag?”

“I told you, it—”

“I was talking to your partner,” Ava snapped.

Ty growled softly but let Zane answer, mumbling under his breath as he paced away.

Zane glanced between them. He could see the possibility of chemistry there. A lot of flash and bang . . . much like himself and Ty. Had Ty ever been in a relationship that hadn’t either begun or ended with open animosity?

“We found it in a standard search,” Zane said, wondering how familiar she was with law enforcement procedures.

“Bullshit.” She put her nose closer to the mossy substance on the cloth. “Probably found it having sex.”

Zane snorted. He wasn’t getting any threatening vibe off her, and he kind of liked how direct she was.

She cocked her head at Zane as if sizing him up. Then she turned the other way, to Ty. He was watching her from several feet away, hands in his pockets.

“What was it?” she asked him. “Migraine? Stomach bug?”

“Kidney stone.”

She snorted and nodded. Zane narrowed his eyes, not happy that she’d known something had been wrong with Ty. He pressed his lips together tightly. He didn’t like putting any stock in this voodoo stuff, but he seemed to be the only one. And he had to admit, it was pretty coincidental that Ty had been struck down with a kidney stone on the same night he’d slept over a hoodoo bad luck magnet.

“I don’t recognize the work,” she said stiffly after examining the bag and its contents.

“You’re lying,” Ty hissed.

She smacked her hand against the table.

“Is it your father’s?”

She didn’t answer, still staring at the tabletop.

Ty got in her face and lowered his voice. “Is it Shine’s?”

She jerked her head away and closed her eyes.

“Who is Shine?” Zane ventured to ask.

Ty straightened, looking grim. “Ava’s brother.”

She frowned. “It’s more refined than his work usually is. And its purpose is . . .” She shook her head. “This level of skill is beyond me, and I would say it’s beyond Shine, but I haven’t spoken to him in a year. I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been into.”

Ty grunted, stepped forward, and placed the second alligator tooth on the corner of the cloth, along with the roll of parchment with his alias on it. “I kept that out.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She picked up the paper and studied the calligraphy. “That does make things clearer. It seems it was meant to do you great harm. How many people here want to kill you? Because with this in your pocket, they will
all
find you.”

“You tell me,” Ty said gruffly. He was standing at her shoulder, large and grim next to her.

She met his eyes and straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t tell anyone who you really were. Not even my dad.”

Ty didn’t look surprised. More relieved.

But Zane wasn’t all that taken aback. “If she’d told anyone, it would have cast doubt on her as well, just by association. Especially since you were . . . close.”

Ty nodded and moved to sit in one of the chairs beside her. Ava was doggedly staring at the red felt bag. “So . . . my cover?”

“Is still intact,” she told him grudgingly. “Although I told everyone you left me for the Russian whore, so you’re still an ass.”

Ty grunted at Zane. “She means she told everyone I ran from the hurricane.”

Zane snorted and didn’t try to hide his smile as he walked toward the wall to peer at the pictures. He supposed he ought to feel more awkward being here with Ty, who he wanted to throttle, and his former almost-fiancée, who had tried to kill him. Especially since he was now positive he had actually met them both years ago and been asked to join them after a show.

Zane grew warmer with the knowledge. The man he’d seen in New Orleans had been the little spark of interest he’d needed for his first encounter with a man. It had been Ty all along. Zane sniffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t even sure what to do with that realization, especially since every time he thought of Ty, the anger and betrayal threatened to overwhelm him.

Ty and Ava were talking about the ingredients of the gris-gris as Zane studied the pictures. The one Ty had been staring at earlier was large, with a simple wooden frame, and beneath it the date and event were written on a piece of tape. Easter, 2004. Seven years ago. The picture was of a man sitting in a chair, tipping it back, feet on the table as he grinned. A crowd of people in festive masks danced in the small confines of the bar in the background of the photo, their motions blurred and surreal. The man sitting was the only thing in focus. He wore a bowler hat and a vest. He held a thin cigar near his face, the frozen smoke curling up over his hand.

It was the man Zane remembered, there in black and white. And after a long moment of staring, Zane knew that he was looking at a picture of a younger, wirier Ty. His hair was different, longer. He had a Van Dyke beard. His face seemed gaunt in a way. He truly was a chameleon. But it was still Ty.

“I don’t know, Ty, there have to be half a dozen people who’d want to make you miserable,” Ava sneered as Zane turned back to them.

Ty flopped a hand. “Can you reverse it?”

“No. Only one who can reverse it is the one who put it on you. Or you.”

“Well, how do
I
reverse it, then?”

“I don’t know.”

Ty sat back and ran both hands over his face.

“I’ll see if I can’t find out, though, okay? This curse on you will spread to those around you. Anyone who comes in contact with you now is in danger, including me.”

“What, like it’s contagious?” Zane couldn’t keep the amusement or the cynicism out of his voice. But Ty and Ava both looked grim.

“This is like a black spot on his soul,” Ava whispered. “It will spread to everyone he cares for, everyone his soul has touched.”

Ty slumped and banged his forehead on the table.

The three rooms above La Fée Verte had once been rented out to travelers, back in the early days of the city, and though most of the old buildings in the neighborhood had been converted into condos and apartments, the layout of La Fée Verte’s rooms was very much unchanged from one hundred years ago. They all had small kitchenettes and just enough space for a double bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. They shared a washroom at the end of the hall, and adjoined a smaller room that served as an office for the bar below.

Ty knew all of the rooms well. He had lived in one of them for almost two years. They generated extra income for the bar, but Murdoch had rented mostly to employees at a ridiculously low rate. It kept someone on the premises at all times, and it kept them loyal to him. For Ty’s purposes, living there had thrown him right into the middle of the world he’d needed at the time.