Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10) (30 page)

Cale gave the lean machine a covetous once over. “Helluva a night for a ride.”

Max grinned wide. “Thought I might surprise a certain someone in the city who would have your nuts if she heard you call her my old lady.”

Cale returned the grin. “My mistake. Let’s ride.”

*

Turow was waiting on the porch when Kendra, drenched to the skin, mounted the steps. They both turned toward the sound of powerful motorcycle engines and followed the two bikes speeding down the drive toward slowly opening gates.

“Shouldn’t you be going with him?” Kendra asked, worried even though she’d urged Max to accompany her mate.

“Watching Cale isn’t my job at the moment.” Turow nodded down the long stretch of sloping lawn where the Quonset was barely visible. “She is.”

“You don’t take much pleasure in being her jailor,” Kendra observed, distracted from her own concerns by the mystery her brother-in-law presented. Turow and Sylvia?  No. She couldn’t picture it.

“I don’t believe in misusing females.”

Reluctant recall of the outrageous things Sylvia told her made Kendra ask quietly, “Is that what Cale’s doing?”

Take by surprise, the careful mask fell from his features. “Of course not. He does what he has to do. I would never second guess his decisions.”

“Even if they’re wrong. Are they? In her case?”

“No. She’s a deceptive and dangerous enemy.”

“But?” Kendra encouraged, trying to draw him out.

“She’s still a female, and I don’t like the idea of her out there in a cage.”

“Should we invite her inside to use one of the guest rooms and maybe wake up with our throats cut in the night?”

“I was thinking the TV room in the back. It has no access to the outside, is isolated from the family portion of the house, and has a fairly comfortable couch.”

Kendra raised a brow. “Is that what you were thinking?”

“It’s what I would do, but it’s not up to me.” He fell silent for a moment before meeting her gaze directly. “It would be up to you.”

“And you’d take personal responsibility for her?”

“Yes, my queen. Of course. She’d be restrained. I’d never risk the household.”

She scrutinized him, looking for some vulnerable chink in his façade but finding none. Perhaps she’d imagined his weakness for the woman. “Don’t forget who and what she is.”

“I won’t, my queen.”

“Then by all means, bring her up.”

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. Nice lips, she noticed. In fact, Turow Terriot was very nice on the eye with his sturdy features and direct stare. If he’d smile or laugh more, he’d turn any female’s head. Perhaps even Sylvia’s.

“Turow?”

“My queen?”

“Would he have done it? Would Cale have tortured her in front of her mother to gain information?”

He went very still as he considered what to say. But, as Sylvia pointed out, Turow never lied. “Yes.”

She swallowed hard. “And you would have agreed with that?”

“To save my king and my clan? Yes, my queen. I wouldn’t have liked it, but I wouldn’t have tried to stop him.”

*

Cale and Max changed bikes and parted ways at the base of the Trinity Towers where the New Orleans leader ruled from the twelfth floor. He’d told Savoie he was going to find his brothers. He hadn’t meant for it to be a lie when he said it. Guiding his motorcycle along the wet narrow streets, he began to see it for what it was.

He wasn’t looking for the company of his own clan. He sought closure so he could return to them whole.

He wasn’t foolish enough to seek out Casper Lee in private to discover if his cover had been blown. Instead, he angled for a spot at the crowded bar as Crave came alive for the evening. Though he didn’t see Lee’s shock of white hair in the press of clubbers, he knew word of his presence would reach him soon enough. Restlessness tuned in to the DJ’s spins, he ordered a drink, taking a first long swallow then holding it for a prop until the rattling of the cubes in the glasses got so loud, he couldn’t hear the music over it. He gulped down the rest, putting the empty on the bar. The swirling light over the dance floor began to pulse in time to the crashing thunder within his chest. He took off his jacket to push up the sleeves of his pullover, suddenly burning alive, only to start shaking with chills that had him tugging the leather back on.

Not now. Dammit, not now!

“Mr. Terry, would you like to join me?”

He drew back in surprise. Lee’s face bobbed in front of him like a tethered balloon. His thoughts tumbled over each other as he struggled to focus.

“I was just getting another drink.”

“Come share mine.”

Lee linked arms with him and led him through the blurry throng of partiers. He didn’t object. What could Lee do in the middle of a mob?

Casper’s sycophant Angelo provided a pitcher of some syrupy cocktail mix that, after a few cautious sips, hit Cale’s brain like a brick. He pushed the glass away and clung to the edge of the table. The room began to roll.

“Mr. Terry, you left last night without saying good-bye.”

He blinked slowly, trying to focus on those pouty lips stretched in a smile. “I couldn’t wait. I tried to find that woman you told me about in the Garden District. There was some kind of fire. The streets were blocked off. I got lost.”

A cool hand touched his cheek. “You don’t look well.”

“I don’t feel very well. Can you help me?”

“What kind of help do you need, Mick? I offered it, but you walked away.”

He shook his head. The room started spinning. “Didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I need money. That woman from the fight the other night. Did you hear from her?”

“I’m afraid not. You were too unstable for her taste.”

“Can I get another gig? Maybe tomorrow? Maybe I can talk to your friend with the cure and get straight. Can you do that?”

“I’m afraid there’s been a little problem with production. It may be awhile before you can get help. You’ll have to ride it out. Can you do that, Mick?”

He let his head drop to his arms on the table top, rolling it loosely as he moaned, “No. Can you get me another fight?”

A low chuckle. “Not the way you are now. You couldn’t hold your own against a teenage girl. A pity.”

Cale swayed upright, falling against the back of the chair. He panted for breath, his mouth dry, his skin running with sweat. “I can get back into shape. Can you help me? Please?”

“And what do I get in return?”

“What do you want? Anything you want. Please.”

Lee’s palm created a refreshing chill against his burning face. “You’re still quite attractive in a rather dissipated way. Perhaps I should help you. We can’t talk here. Come with me.”

Lee lifted Cale to his feet. Something was wrong. The disconnect between intention and action widened into a dangerous gulf. He couldn’t think. A liquefying numbness leeched through his body, smothering the agitation, quieting his resistance to the idea of going somewhere alone with Lee.

Alarm flickered. His thoughts tripped over a brief bump of knowledge.

Something in the drink.

He’d put something in the drink.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

In a distant part of his mind, he knew what was happening but the drug already blanketed his reaction time with a slow motion delay. He was in trouble and if he didn’t move fast, he wasn’t going to survive it.

Cale let his knees go lax, his weight dragging on Lee who had to stop to adjust his grip. Cale used the brief off balanced moment to attempt an escape. His intended lunge from the table dissolved into an uncoordinated stagger, spilling him back in his chair in a sprawl across the table. The room became a blur of movement and color, music throbbing like Lee’s heavy breaths against his ear as his cheek mashed to sticky table top.

“You can take the red out of the hair, but you can’t disguise the arrogant bravado of a Terriot,” Casper crooned. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? The question is, now that I know, what to do about you? Are your partners as treacherous, or have you fooled them, too? Perhaps I should just kill you all. Just to be sure.” His fingers twisted in Cale’s hair. “Time to take this someplace quiet where you and I can get cozy. Angelo, get the car.”

Fear and fury battered against the numbness seeping through Cale’s muscles. He groped for the knife he kept in his boot, swinging it in a tight arc. His wrist was easily caught and torqued to disarm him.

“I’ll fucking kill you. You and my brother.” The words slurred together.

Casper dragged him up into a seated position, his arm curling about Cale’s neck. Those who might happen to glance their way wouldn’t see threat in the movement as Casper murmured against his ear, “Not tonight. Tonight I’m going to pull your teeth so you won’t even think of biting . . . just swallowing. And if there’s any fucking to be done, it won’t be you doing it.” His soft cheek rubbed Cale’s.

The significance of the words and deceptively tender gesture galvanized Cale’s struggles. “Get your hands off me!”

“Didn’t your daddy ever teach you anything?” Lee mocked. “Establish dominance. It’s going to be a long enjoyable evening. At least for me. Time to pay your dues, Mr. Terriot.”

As a silky thumb rubbed over his lower lip, Cale snapped. Hard. He caught the knuckle between his teeth and bit down until he heard bone crunch, felt flesh and muscle tear. When he spat the grisly tip out onto the table top, Lee released him with a girly shriek. Cale wheeled about, spinning low and fast to plunge into the gyrating mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He stayed low, crouching, practically on hands and knees as he stumbled forward, frantic to find a way out before discovered and subjected to whatever Lee had in mind when he’d drugged the drinks. He had to keep moving while he still had some mobility and a slim grip on his mind.

“Hey, watch it bud!”

Cale hung onto the club boy’s belt to steady his world. “Can you help me? I’m gonna be sick. Don’t want to do it in here. Can you get me outside?”

“Sure, pal. Just don’t chuck on me.”

“Thanks, thanks. Out the back. I’m parked in back.”

The Good Samaritan had him by the elbows, guiding him through the crowd. Cale kept bent over, hiding his face from any who might be looking for him.

“I’m not letting you get behind the wheel, friend. Can I call somebody for you.”

Cale fumbled for his phone and told him who to call. He heard the fellow shouting over the mix, “Hey, I got a friend of yours here who needs a ride.”

They reached the rear exit to the parking lot. Cale pulled up, weaving but focused. “Thanks, brother. You saved my life.”

The kid laughed, thinking he exaggerated. “No prob.”

Cale staggered toward the door, so concentrated on his goal he was unprepared when gripped by the shoulder. He reeled to the side. A low, hard punch took him in the gut, the glassy pain quickly numbed by whatever swamped his system. His knees gave. Suddenly, the damp night air brushed against his face. He was shoved outside, tumbling to all fours. There, under the exit light, he got a fleeting glimpse of a face he recognized.

Casper Lee’s houseboy, Angelo. Letting him escape.

*

Kendra bolted upright in bed, her scream echoing around her. Her hand plunged out beside her to sweep empty sheets, panic pounding in her chest. Cale wasn’t there.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

But telling herself that over and over didn’t ease the crushing anxiety. She brushed trembling fingers across her cheeks, knocking the stream of tears away before reaching for her phone. Right to voice mail.

“Cale, call me back soon as you can. Please call me back.”

She stared at the screen, willing his answer to appear.

“Kendra?” A soft tap at her door. Tina peered in. “Are you all right? I heard you call out.”

It should have been easy to turn to her with a sheepish smile and an apology, to say nothing was wrong, go back to bed. But she couldn’t.

“Something’s happened to Cale.”

The sound of her strained voice drew her sister-in-law to the edge of the bed where she quickly perched and gripped one cold hand, glancing at the phone in the other. “Did someone just call you? Was he in an accident?”

“N-no. I was asleep. There was this awful, horrible fear, this terrible pain.” She pressed the silent cellphone above her left breast.

“Are you in pain now?” Tina asked urgently.

Kendra waved off her concern. “Not that kind of pain. A knowing . . . knowing something’s wrong. Like something’s tearing out my heart.” She took a tight, sobbing breath. “I can’t reach him on his phone. Oh, Tina, I love the sound of his voice. I’m never going to hear it again!”

Tina wrapped her up in a warm embrace, letting her cling and cry as she gently stroked her hair. “Nothing’s happened to Cale. It was just a dream, Kendra. Just a very real dream.”

“No!” She pulled away from the offer of comfort, panting frantically. “It’s not a dream. I still feel it. A huge emptiness here.” Again, Kendra struck her chest for emphasis.

Abruptly, she scrambled from the bed, putting on the first things she could find, running barefoot down the stairs with her shoes in her hand with Tina hurrying after her. Running to pound on the closed door to a bedroom in the servant’s wing. A groggy Giles St. Clair peered out, wearing hastily donned sweatpants.

“Kendra?”

She pushed by him and raced to the bed, hurling herself upon a tousled Brigit to wail, “Bree, Cale’s gone. He’s gone, and I can’t live without him!”

Her ever practical cousin levered for room to sit up, her first response hardly consoling. “That bastard! I told him I’d murder him if he broke your heart! When did he leave? Did he take all his stuff, leave a note, or just sneak off like a little coward? I’m going to choke the life out of him.”

Kendra swayed, blood draining from her face. “He’s gone. I think he’s dead.”

Brigit’s mood changed, realizing her cousin didn’t mean simple abandonment. “What happened? Kendra! Is he hurt? Can I help?” She’d used her healing powers to save him once before and would do so again in a heartbeat to kept Kendra’s from breaking. Her own panic building, she forced a calm voice to demand, “Kendra, what’s happened to Cale?”