Touch&Geaux (24 page)

“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

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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

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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 pul ing 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.”

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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

al igator 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 cal igraphy. “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.

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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

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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.

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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 hal , 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.

Ava led them up the narrow stairs. Ty let his hand caress

the brocade wal paper as he went, the texture and scent

bringing back memories that were, for the most part, good

ones.His life here had been different from any other he had lived

or pretended to live. But there’d been a heady seductiveness

about it, something dark and rich and tempting. Ty had

almost succumbed to its charms.

Ava used a key on a long purple ribbon to unlock one of

the doors, and she stepped aside to let them into the room.

Ty took the key from her. She met his eyes defiantly, but there

was pain there too. He knew he’d hurt her. All in the name of

doing his job. Just like he’d hurt Zane. He tore his eyes away

from her and looked into the room.

He was stunned to find that little was different since he’d

last been there.

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“Murdoch didn’t see any point in changing what you did

to it,” Ava told him.

Ty shook his head and stepped into the room. An odd

sense of homesickness flooded him. He stopped in the middle

of the threadbare Oriental rug as he distantly registered Ava’s

footsteps moving away.

Not one thing seemed different from the night he’d left.

The simple iron bed was burnished silver, the patina of age

giving it a character the delicate scrol work could not manage.

The ivory quilt was plain, and the design of the cotton sheets

was faded and well-worn, giving the entire bed a vintage Dust

Bowl look.

The walls were covered with yellowing pages out of

old books, glued haphazardly, one on top of another, onto

wooden paneling that could no longer be seen. Ty had spent

days doing it, trying to insulate the thin walls so no one could

hear what he was up to when he was alone, but people who’d

seen his work afterward had attributed it to an artistic, quirky

personality instead of simple paranoia.

Along one wall sat an old stove and an antique Crosley

refrigerator that occasionally needed rewiring. Beside that

was a tiny table with two celery green padded chairs, and a

sink below open shelves that held dishes.

In the corner of the room opposite the bed was a large

wardrobe. Ty stepped toward it and opened the door on the

right, almost expecting to see his clothes still hung neatly

inside. It was empty, however, not even a hanger left.

He turned to face Zane, who had stopped on the