Voodoo Love (And the Curse of Jean Lafitte’s Treasure) (4 page)

             
How am I? How am I? The dead guy in the living room is asking me how I am
? My thoughts raced, but I struggled to stay calm.

             
“I’ve been better Juan.”

             
“I know what you mean.”

             
“I'll bet. Where have you been?”

             
“It’s a long story.”

             
“I’ve got the time.”

He moved to sit on the couch. I couldn’t help myself. I shrank away, sniffing the air for the smell of the sea or death. Slowly, he sat, eyes never leaving mine, hands held up in an "I have nothing to hide" fashion. I reached out and touched his shoulder. It felt solid. Real. I touched his chest above his heart. I could feel the steady beat. That's when my feelings betrayed me and tears welled in my eyes. He pulled me to him, and for a few minutes, I let the anguish of the past out.

There has never been anyone to share the pain of two years ago with. My husband does not fully comprehend or understand everything that occurred, and I was not as forthcoming with the police about some things that were personal in nature. Crying with Juan was cathartic. And even more importantly, he felt so alive, so sturdy, not a figment of paranoia.

Not dead.

His masculine smell surrounded me, like a comforting blanket and I reveled in the feel of his hands stroking my hair. Tentatively, I pressed myself closer to his chest, wanting…more. He tensed and I could hear his heartbeat pick up. Not sure what to make of that, I drew back and attempted to stop crying. Juan handed me a Kleenex from the box I kept on the end table. As I wiped my eyes, I noticed that his eyes darted everywhere, taking me in, the surroundings, and the noises of my house.

             
He’s the paranoid one now
.

             
“Where have you been?” I asked.

             
After a long deep breath he answered, “Well,
Elizabeth
, there’s no easy way to tell you this. I should just leave you in peace but the truth is you have something I need. Something a lot of people want, actually.”

             
I knew what he was talking about. The map. It was the very thing he had been looking for the night I met him. The night my life changed. But that map was gone, lost in the depths of the bayou. I remembered that much. It was the question that every Federal agent I'd ever encountered the past few years asked me about.

             
“You're kidding, right?" I gave a small laugh. "That map is destroyed."

             
“Yes, that one was."

             
“That one? You mean there's another?"

             
“Sort of. At the last minute, I did something, something I don’t think you saw.”

             
“What?”

             
"I gave you the key to finding the treasure." Juan stared at me, the apology in his face etched into lines that showed how tired he was. It reminded me of the Devil tarot card I'd left in the kitchen.

             
“Federal agents questioned me over and over about that damn treasure!  I told them nothing, which was easy since I knew nothing. I must have hit my head during the helicopter explosion, because I can't remember anything about that stuff. All I could say was that you and your friend had found some pirate treasure map and were killing people who got in the way of you finding it. Like my friends." I stopped for a moment, the anger bubbling up. "Do you know that the Feds thought I killed them? They thought I had murdered my best friends in the world over some guy. Ridiculous! They almost didn't believe me until Diego Martes showed up, spouting crazy stories about ghosts and pirate treasure. After he showed them a gold coin that could be traced to the early 1800's, the Feds began to change their tune."

             
“Diego never could keep his mouth shut.” Juan smiled, and I tried to ignore how sexy it made him look.

             
“A good thing in this case or I would have been charged with murder. Luckily, they pinned the crime on him.”

             
“
Elizabeth
.” Juan’s voice was soft, mesmerizing. “I’m here for a reason. To help you. You are still in danger. You have the key to the treasure, even if you don’t realize it quite yet. I know a lot of things about you.”

             
“How? Have you been spying on me? Watching but not letting me know? Do you have any idea how upset I was? How ripped apart?” The anger reared again and I let it out. “How guilty I felt? I thought you were dead because of me. And now, to see you like this…alive.”

             
He winced at the word.

             
“
Elizabeth
, what happened out in the Gulf was not your fault.”

             
“I let go of you. I couldn’t pull you up.”

             
“It was not your fault.”

             
“I thought I killed you.”

             
“No, that’s not what happened.”

             
“Obviously not since you’re here in my living room! Tell me then. What happened? And where the hell have you been?”

             
For a long moment Juan was silent. I could hear the house creaking as it settled, the tick of the clock, the hum of my refrigerator as I waited. He was stalling, though I couldn’t think of why. After all, at this point, we were bound together by our past adventure. What could he tell me that would stop the danger? But of course, he surprised me. He always had an ace in the hole.

“I want you to do something for me, Elizabeth.” Juan touched my hand and turned it so that the palm faced up. He placed a gold coin there, tracing a small circle around it. I could feel a tingling sensation beginning. “I want you to revisit the past. I can help you remember, can help you see things differently.”

“I don’t understand.”

He reached forward and touched a strand of my hair, letting it slip through his fingers before shaking his head. Like a puzzle piece, it came back to me that he'd liked my hair brown. In fact, I think he'd once said that blondes were nothing but trouble and given his reputation with women, he would know!

“Close your eyes,
Elizabeth
.”

I did as he asked. My mind became clouded with pictures. The tingling sensation in my hand spread through me, making me slightly dizzy. After a moment, it was as if my conscious mind dissolved into the images, re-living the past even as I heard the words from the present that made my heart stop.

"
Elizabeth
, I am dead."

Juan observed Diego Martes at the bar, his face hooded in the dim light of Laveau's Lounge. He didn't like the way Diego watched the girls, his lust as obvious as his intentions--get one of them into his bed for the night.

Juan doubted it would happen though. In his short time observing Diego Martes, he's noticed that something about the man turned women off. Maybe it was the thick mustache or the oily hair always slicked back to his head. Or perhaps it was just that they could see the cruelty in Diego's eyes, and most women were smart enough to get out of his way.

Most women.

Juan's eyes flicked to Euralie who was engaged in a tarot card reading for a customer. She hadn't exactly gotten out of Diego's way and it had almost been the end of her.  All because of Diego and his obsession with the map.

Juan wondered if the map could even be real. It was hard to believe that any kind of pirate treasure lurked unattended anywhere in the
United States
. Then he'd seen the bayous of Barataria and reconsidered the possibilities. There was a reason the old pirate, Jean Lafitte, had settled in the area in the early 1800's. It had easy access to a main waterport and the swamp provided cover for any illicit activities or items that could be kept from prying eyes.

Still, Juan figured it was a long shot that the treasure hadn't already been looted--curse or not.

Ah well. That wasn't his problem. Pirate curses, voodoo mumbo jumbo--he just had to get the map and remove Diego Martes from the picture. Forget all that other stuff!

One of the big stipulations of the job was that Euralie was to be kept out of the loop. The less she knew the better off she was. The man who'd hired Juan twenty four hours ago had been explicit in those instructions and in supplying information on all the things that Diego Martes had done to Euralie. Not that Juan needed details. A job was a job and he'd been working as a paid gunman long enough to know that if the customer had enough money, then who cared about the details? He'd just do the job he'd been hired for and walk away.

While killing Diego would be no sweat off of Juan's nose, finding the opportunity to get the map was more challenging. It turned out that Diego only had part of it, a fact that Juan's boss had only discovered in the last hour or so. The actual map, which had been handed down from generation to generation, was missing a crucial corner piece, and the rumor was that Euralie had it. She'd torn it off as an act of rebellion, a rebellion that would likely get her killed.

Not his problem. Protecting Euralie wasn't in the contract, but getting the map was--and that meant getting all of it. So he'd been sitting in Laveau's Lounge waiting for a moment when Diego wasn't lurking around the bar to speak with Euralie. He figured he could charm her into getting the map. Easy Peasy.

The drunk girls that had entered the club singing some ridiculous pop song had been just the thing Juan needed to distract Diego. Unfortunately, Euralie had zeroed in on one of the girls as a tarot customer. He would have to wait until she was finished reading the cards to make his move.

Diego Martes leaned against the bar and smiled at one of the women, a stunning brunette. She smiled and nodded back, but then turned her attention back to her friends. Diego frowned and tried again. He motioned for the bartender to bring the girl another drink. She accepted it, but her body stiffened as Diego dropped a too friendly hand on her knee.

One of the women looked over at the brunette.

"Carla, you alright down there?"

Carla removed Diego's hand and stood. "Yeah, Nicole, but we should go back to the hotel soon."

"And where are you lovely ladies staying?" Diego asked, standing, too.

"The Bourbon
Orleans
," one of the other girls called out.

"A lovely place and full of
New Orleans
heritage." Diego smiled. "Perhaps I could get you a round of drinks on the house before you go?"

"You own this place?" Carla sounded like she couldn't quite believe that.