Voodoo Love (And the Curse of Jean Lafitte’s Treasure) (7 page)

             
“Diego Martes? You mean the reason we had to get married? The guy who is supposed to be watching me?” I couldn't hide my sarcasm. "No. Never heard of him."

             
“He finally made contact. He wants to speak with you."

             
A cold chill ran through me, and I remembered the vision Juan had just shown me. Diego Martes made my stomach churn, and though I couldn’t remember the interactions I'd supposedly had with him, I knew he was an awful man. He was in my nightmares sometimes and one of the reasons I would wake up screaming. I sipped my wine, trying to breathe normally, but I couldn't hide the shake in my hands.

             
“
Elizabeth
, are you okay?” Eddie's blue eyes were filled with concern, and he ran a nervous hand through his blond hair.

             
“Yeah. Why does he want to talk to me?”

             
"Apparently, he is in big trouble with another country who wants him dead. He wants to make a few deals with our government regarding secrets he has on a couple of weapons facilities in order to get asylum here. Part of his stipulation is that he gets to talk to you first."

             
"He must have some good dirt if the Feds are considering his offer."

             
"Really good dirt. The kind that makes us anxious to reduce the money laundering charges or maybe forget about them all together."

             
I gave a low whistle, trying to play it cool. But I felt nauseous. If Diego Martes was free… I didn't bear thinking about what would happen to me. I'd be as good as dead.

             
"You don't have to do it." Eddie gave me a soft smile. "No one is making you, and you wouldn't be alone with him. I think we're all just as curious as you are to know what he wants. Besides, he may not have any real information."

             
"I need to think about this."

             
“I know. Why don’t you go rest for a few minutes? I’ll finish making supper.” Eddie placed his hands over mine. “Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

             
I smiled at Eddie and nodded before going down the hall to our bedroom. I didn’t lie down. Instead I stood in the doorway, staring at the bed. I knew it was crazy, but I couldn't help thinking about how I probably wasn’t going to have sex that night. Bummer! As I thought that, I glanced at the long rectangular mirror attached to our brown chest of drawers.

             
Juan Carlos looked back at me from inside the glass and gave me a sad smile.

             
"Oh, Juan." I sat down at the edge of my bed. "What am I going to do? Diego is back."

             
"That's why I'm here. To protect you. And you are going to start remembering." I don't know how he did it, but suddenly he was beside me, the nearness of him warming.

             
"I've been trying to do that these last two years. I don't know why I can't. It's like my mind just throws up a road block. I don't even know what I hit my head on! I remember losing you and then just…blacking out."

             
"You didn't hit your head. I told you that I made a deal to come back here and protect you. Part of that deal included you having your memory erased. It seemed the safest alternative."

             
"What are you talking about? Tell me what's really going on. Maybe I should talk to Diego Martes. At least, I'd get some answers."

             
"Stay away from him, Elizabeth." Juan's tone was sharp. "He's obsessed with you."

             
"He's obsessed with the treasure that I can't even remember finding!"

             
"No. It's more than that. You shamed him. Don't ever forget how dangerous he is."

             
Juan reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold coin.

             
"Are we visiting the past again?" I asked.

             
"Yes. This is a reminder of why you can't ever trust Diego Martes."

             
Juan kissed me, cluttering my mind and body with sensation as the present drifted away.

***

             
I stood in the lobby of the Bourbon
Orleans
, hoping I didn't look as sweaty as I felt. Carla had taken Nicole, Betsy, and Janet upstairs to our hotel room and sent me around the corner to the all night drugstore. From the looks of things we were all going to need some serious Tylenol in the morning. As I was the least intoxicated, it became my duty to go retrieve it before everyone passed out.

             
Truthfully, I didn't mind going. The tarot card reader at Laveau's Lounge had freaked me out. How had Madame Euralie made her voice change like that? It had felt like someone else was speaking through her. Just thinking about it gave me the chills! And then there had been her card reading. Three important men coming in to my life? And one of them will try to kill me? That was not what I'd call a promising glimpse of the future.

             
Which is why it worried at me. Why would you make up a future like that for someone? What would she have had to gain? It's not like I paid her for the reading or anything. The whole thing was just too weird.

             
As I headed towards the elevators in the hotel lobby, I saw a man that I recognized from Laveau's Lounge. He'd been at the bar with Carla. Right now he was walking out of the elevators, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.  What was he doing here? He carried an air of secrecy with him that made warning bells go off in my head--not to mention that he looked really pissed off.

             
Just as I was about to call out to him, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a tall plant in the corner. A man pressed me against the wall. Before I could get a good look at him, he planted his lips on mine, drawing me into a deep kiss.

             
Sexual heat washed over me, and though I was incredibly shocked at the brazenness of this stranger, I didn't try to stop him. Maybe it was his technique. Maybe it was that I hadn't been kissed, really kissed, in a long time. For a few seconds, I just went with the sensation.

             
But then my mind processed the craziness of what was happening to me and I pushed at his chest.

             
He stepped back and gave me a crooked smile that lit up his dark brown eyes. The way his hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail reminded me of Antonio Banderas in the movie Desperado. Muscles rippled through his black t-shirt as he stuck his hands into his jeans pockets and tilted his head to the side.

             
"Sorry. I thought you were someone else." But he didn't sound that sorry to me. I could hear just a trace of a Spanish accent. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

             
"No, I'm fine. You just…startled me."

             
"Forgive my mistake. You look like an ex-girlfriend of mine."

             
"That's how you greet your ex-girlfriends?"

             
"Only the ones I still like to sleep with."

             
Hmm…I didn't know what to say to that. How could I get on the ex-girlfriend list?

             
"Well, it was nice to…meet you," I laughed. "I've gotta go."

             
"My apologies again," the man said, flashing me another drop dead gorgeous smile.

             
I moved away, uncertain about what to make of that spine tingling lip lock and wondering if there was any way to continue the conversation. In fact, all the way up the elevator, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Damn! It had been a good kiss!

             
Our hotel room was at the end of a long hallway. As I approached I could see that the door was open. I expected to hear the sounds of my friends as I approached, but it was quiet.

             
Too quiet. A sense of unease hung in the air.

             
"Probably already passed out," I muttered.

             
But I was wrong. So wrong.

The first thing I saw was Carla lying on one of the double beds. Her green eyes were wide open, and she stared at the ceiling. There was something dark on her chest, and it spread down her dress. Nicole also appeared to be passed out in a weird position, and her head…something was not right there either. Half of it was missing. Brain tissue peeked out at me from beneath her blond hair matted with congealed goo…blood.  Betsy lay motionless on the floor, a crimson puddle forming around her. Janet sat in a recliner, the wall behind her sprayed with ragged lines of blood.

They were dead. Shot. Overcome with fear, I staggered backwards down the hall, before dropping to my knees and throwing up. My brain fumbled on what to do. Cell phone. I needed to get to my cell phone, which was tucked in the bag on my shoulder. I fumbled through it, as I pulled myself up and backed away from the scene, panic filling me, spilling out in little animal gasps. I pulled out the cell phone, dropping my purse in the process. As I turned away from the door, I bumped into a man.

He was the man who'd kissed me in the lobby.

Without hesitation, he moved to the hotel room and processed the horrific sight in the span of five seconds.

“I didn’t do that to them,” I stammered.

“Of course you didn’t.” His words were terse. “But I know who did.”

“I’m calling 9-1-1.”

             
“There’s no time.” The man took the phone from me, and slipped it into his pocket. "You must come with me. Bring the paper that Euralie gave you at the bar. It's what your friends were killed for.”
             

             
He turned and walked away, never doubting that I would follow. I watched him for a moment and then hurried after him, hoping I was making the right choice.

*****

             
Eddie woke me for dinner.  I don't know when I fell asleep, but a quick look around told me I was alone. No Juan Carlos.

             
Grief washed over me as I remembered the faces of Carla and the others, all murdered by Diego Martes. He'd been the man coming out of the hotel elevator. If Juan hadn't pulled me aside and kissed me, I probably would have died right then. He'd saved my life. I splashed my face with cool water before heading to the kitchen.