Pirate's Alley (3 page)

Breathe. Nothing’s certain yet.

I’d finished paying and was lugging my bags out the door when my pocket vibrated with Pink’s “So What.” The song reflected my pissed-off mood most days now. I’d ditched my mellow Zachary Richard ringtone the day after both Alex and I had been shot, thanks to a power-mad elf and a necromantic wizard who’d sold his skills for a big payday. The day after the undead pirate, scoundrel, thief, and blackguard Jean Lafitte had proven himself both loyal and incredibly brave.

The day after I learned wizards could be every bit as treacherous as elves, vampires, and other species my kind thought of as monsters.

My cell phone screen popped up Alex Warin’s name and photo. I set the bags down on the sidewalk. “Hey.” I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder and waved furiously across the parking lot, where Arnie appeared to be napping in his cab. “Are you home?” He’d been on some secret mission for the Elders.

“Yeah, want to go to Celebration in the Oaks tonight? Maybe grab dinner at one of the restaurants doing Reveillon?” Alex sounded pumped, his deep baritone more buoyant than its usual tones of sexy silk or grumpy caveman, depending on his mood. Whatever he’d been doing for the Elders, it had been successful. I’d find out over dinner.

“Definitely. Why don’t I come to your place about seven?” I needed to spend some quality time with Eugenie and a petri dish, or whatever one used to take a pregnancy test.

Arnie had apparently awakened, because the black-and-white United Cab lurched to a stop in front of me a few seconds later. “Hang on,” I told Alex, and piled my bags in the back seat of the cab. I nodded in response to Arnie’s stage-whispered question of whether I wanted to head back to Eugenie’s house on Magazine Street. “Okay, I’m back,” I told Alex. “Seven sound okay?”

His voice dove closer to caveman territory. “What the hell are you doing?”

Since my relationship with Alex had gone from professional to personal, I’d been trying to be mature and tamp down the instinct to dish the crap back to him when he got territorial and bossy, which was way too often. So I refrained from making a snippy comment about my vehicular drought and his lack of help.

“I just picked up some soda and am taking a cab back to Eugenie’s.” I paused. “Because, you know, she has heat.”

Okay, so I hadn’t perfected the whole mature thing yet.

“Ah … yeah, sorry. I’ll get you some heat this weekend.” Caveman slid into sexy. “I can keep you warm till then.”

I smiled. “You certainly can … after dinner and the Oaks.”

His low, sexy chuckle made my toes curl involuntarily. “Okay, see you soon.”

“That’s a man-smile, that’s what it is.” Arnie watched me in the rearview mirror, and I bit down on my lip to wipe the man-smile off my face. I did not want to be the kind of woman who had a special man-smile. “So, Miss DJ, you think we gonna get snow tonight? I sure don’t like to be drivin’ in da snow.”

I was the last person to ask for weather advice. When Hurricane Katrina made landfall, I was still insisting it would take a last-second turn and hit Florida. “I hope not. I’m ready for spring.”

“Yeah, you right.”

A few minutes later, Arnie prepared to turn onto Nashville Avenue from Magazine, and I saw three things in quick succession, none of which made me happy.

First, on the right-hand corner, a few stray antique bricks littered a patch of bare dirt, all that was left of the foundation of the 1870s Victorian camelback house where I’d made my home until last month. The last two weeks had been filled with a flurry of phone calls and insurance forms as I made arrangements to have the few unburned parts of it demolished and removed. The last little bits of my home had been hauled away to a landfill two days ago, leaving only a few bricks to remind me of all I had lost.

My sorrow morphed into a scowl when I glanced at the opposite corner, where Quince Randolph had emerged from the doorway of his Plantasy Island nursery and was walking toward Eugenie’s house with a purposeful stride. He was bundled in a thick white sweater, a white leather coat, and blue jeans. As usual, he looked like a beautiful, exotic Russian snow prince, all tall and lean, with his long, wavy blond hair and graceful motion. And, today, boots, scarf, gloves, and a fedora-style hat of a shade of deep teal blue that probably matched his eyes to perfection.

He could not get inside Eugenie’s house, even if I had to tackle and hog-tie him with his own pretty scarf.

Giving Arnie a generous tip not only to help him out but to ensure he remained my best cab-driving buddy, I lugged my bags out, trying to protect my right arm. I nodded at Rand with a big, fake smile and turned to the third source of my displeasure—Alex Warin, sitting on Eugenie’s front steps. What part of
I’ll come to your place about seven
hadn’t been clear?

Not that I would mind seeing him under normal circumstances, but Eugenie’s bombshell had blown us way past normal. I didn’t want to tell him yet, either. Not until Eugenie took this pregnancy test and we knew for sure.

Unlike me and, apparently, Rand, the cold weather agreed with Alex. Like most shifters, he was hot-natured, so he not only wore no coat but had the sleeves of his black sweater pushed up. The cold wind blushed his cheeks and nose a ruddy shade of pink that looked good on him.

“How come you’re sitting on the porch?” I asked, keeping Rand’s rapid approach in my peripheral vision. “But since you’re here, help me run interference. Eugenie’s not feeling well and Rand can’t come in. Shoot him if you have to.”

“If I could shoot him without starting a preternatural war, I’d be all over that.” Alex stood up and tugged the heavy soda cartons out of my hands, leaving me with my bag full of chocolate and a discreet little box neither he nor Rand needed to see. I wedged the whole thing into the top of the cross-body messenger bag I’d started wearing to accommodate my shoulder wound.

Rand strode up at a fast clip. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, Dru.” He ignored Alex, who set down the soda and crossed his arms, barricading the front door. Bless his enforcer heart. He did intimidation really well, only I wasn’t sure Rand could be intimidated.

“I’ve been busy,” I told him. Yeah, busy ignoring his mental pings. The more I responded to his nonverbal comments or questions, the more it would encourage him to use that infuriating skill. I’d gotten good at blocking him out. “What’s so urgent?”

He pulled his coat around him more tightly and danced from foot to foot like a show pony. “We need to talk about the council meeting tomorrow. Can we go inside? I can’t stand this weather.”

“No, Eugenie’s not feeling well and you’d upset her.” True enough. “I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Can’t we just go in for a minute?” Rand’s teeth chattered. What a wimp. It was cold, but it wasn’t that cold.

Rand sidled around me and walked toward Eugenie’s front door, stopping a foot from Alex, who didn’t budge, even when Rand’s teal fedora butted his forehead.

“She said she’d call you, Randolph. Go home.”

Rand didn’t answer, nor did he back off. Within seconds, sweat popped out on Alex’s face and the muscles in his jaw tensed. Rand was doing some kind of mental crap on him.

Stop that, you jerk!
I yelled at Rand in my head. I yelled really, really loud.

Rand winced and clapped his hands to his temples, and Alex relaxed. Then he pulled a knife out of his jeans pocket and flicked it open an inch from Rand’s chin. It was a wicked little combat blade with a jagged edge.

Good grief; we didn’t need a preternatural incident on Eugenie’s porch. I stepped between them, facing the elf. “Please go home, Rand. I’ll call you tonight. I promise.”

He dropped his gazed from Alex to me. “You are my mate, not his. Don’t forget that, Dru.”

Turning quickly, he trotted down the front steps and stalked back toward Plantasy Island.

“Yeah, like I could forget,” I muttered.

“Is it legal for him to do shit like that? I have a splitting headache. And why didn’t you remind him that mate thing is just a formality?” Alex had turned into a petulant five-year-old, so I knew he was fine.

“Believe me, he could do a lot worse, and he knows we’re not true mates without me telling him.” I hadn’t been aware until now that freaky elven mental magic would work on shapeshifters. “What did he do to you?”

“Set my brain on fire, I think. Felt like it anyway.”

That was pretty mild, as elven mind games went. If Rand had wanted to really hurt him, Alex wouldn’t be standing upright and whining. Unfortunately, I knew that from firsthand experience. “Why were you sitting outside, anyway?”

“Thought I’d wait for you and enjoy the fresh air,” he said, following me through the entry hall into Eugenie’s kitchen, waving at her along the way. She was still sitting on the sofa, staring at the fire, and I wasn’t sure she’d heard us. Which was good; it meant she probably didn’t realize how close Rand had gotten.

“This is perfect running weather,” Alex said. “Want to go before dinner?”

No, I had a little science experiment to take care of. “Thanks, but I promised Eugenie I’d help her with some, uh, cleaning.”

Alex had beautiful eyes, a dark chocolate brown with long lashes that every woman I knew would kill to have, including me. When he squinted in suspicion, like he was doing now, it ruined the whole sexy vibe.

“You’re an organization freak, but you only clean as a last resort when you want to avoid doing something else. You’re a procrasti-cleaner. What are you really up to?” He snaked out a hand and pulled on the Walgreens package, whose top protruded from its hiding place in my bag. I snatched at it, but he jerked it out, upended it on the kitchen counter, and grinned at the mountain of chocolate candy that tumbled out—until a peanut butter cup rolled to the floor and exposed the lavender box.

If I hadn’t been so worried about Eugenie, I’d have laughed at Alex’s expression. Despite my daily grounding ritual and the small “mojo bag” of protective herbs and stones around my neck, my empathic abilities echoed his fear.

He picked up the box with two fingers, carefully, as if it might contain radioactive materials. For all I knew, it might. Who knew what was in those tests?

“We need to talk about this, DJ.” His voice came out in a froglike croak.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “It’s not—”

“We’re still trying to figure things out between us.” He paced around the counter and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not ready to be a father. You’re sure as hell not ready to be…”

Too late, he realized he’d stuck a big old size thirteen boot in his mouth. It would serve him right if I’d let him go on thinking the pregnancy scare was mine, just to see how big a hole he’d dig himself into. Except I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to keep secrets from Alex. At least not major ones. I was going to be mature enough to give this relationship a fighting chance, even if it killed me—or him.

Plus, I couldn’t deny that he was right. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I was well aware that my grumpy, unaffectionate cat, Sebastian, had become fat, happy, and docile since my house burned down and he’d moved in with Alex, a canine shapeshifter. He preferred a dog to me, proving I wasn’t even a decent cat mother.

“It’s not mine, Alex.” I kept my voice low. “The test is for Eugenie.”

I tried not to be offended at the relief that washed across both his face and his aura. His wonky shapeshifter energy, which had been crawling across my skin like invisible ants, settled down to its usual buzz.

Then it began rising again. “You mean…” He looked toward the living room, then out the window, where the front of Plantasy Island sat in plain view. Rand stood framed in the doorway, looking our way. “Holy shit.”

I followed the direction of his gaze with my own and nodded. “Exactly.”

CHAPTER
3

I paced back and forth behind the sofa; Alex stood in the entry hall, looking out the window at Plantasy Island as if he could will Quince Randolph to permanently disappear. We’d been waiting longer than the five minutes Eugenie needed to get the results of the test, but she hadn’t made a sound and the bathroom door remained firmly shut.

It wasn’t a good sign.

Alex and I had agreed not to discuss anything this close to Rand, in case he turned his sneaky elven antennae in my direction and found me distressed enough for him to get suspicious and investigate. He needed to be nowhere within ten feet of Eugenie, and especially not within touching distance. Touching her would ramp up his power and he’d know in an instant. Since the child she carried had his DNA, he might be able to communicate with it if he got close enough—or even if he didn’t. Who the hell knew?

“It’s sleeting.” Alex came back into the living room. “Ground’s still too warm to stick, but we might have an icy drive to the council meeting tomorrow night if it doesn’t get above freezing tomorrow.”

“Great. It’ll make the evening even more special.” At least the baby crisis had temporarily taken my mind off the coming Interspecies Council meeting, which promised to be a debacle. The prospect of testifying had kept me awake most of the last two weeks, ever since they’d decided to meet before the holidays instead of waiting until January. Not that pretes in general hung mistletoe and stockings, but because the current political atmosphere was so contentious.

This would be the group’s first official gathering as a governing body, and it scared the hell out of me. What could be worse than a roomful of pompous, self-important preternatural bureaucrats, each trying to prove himself more badass than the prete in the next chair?

Judgments would be passed. Examples would be made. I didn’t want to be one of them.

The sound of an opening door wafted down the hallway, and the squeaky hinges were followed by a slow cadence of boot heels on hardwood. These were not the footfalls of a happy woman.

Eugenie’s eyes had puffed almost closed and her nose had reddened to the color of a Santa suit. Her expression lay somewhere between stunned and catatonic. “Congratulate me, guys. I’m having a baby elf.” She sat heavily on the sofa next to me. “What in the hell am I gonna do?”