Читать книгу Going All Out - Jeanie London, Jeanie London - Страница 9

BREE MOVED QUIETLY around her house, more out of habit than necessity. With walls separating her from Tally and Christien, she didn’t have to worry about her odd hours at Toujacques disturbing anyone anymore.

She told herself she was glad. All things considered, life hadn’t changed too, too much with her sister’s engagement. The renovation had been a piece of cake as far as renovations went. The town house had been a split plan to begin with, so a few cleverly placed walls, a new kitchen and doorway had done the trick. She’d been pleased with the effect…until now. Tonight her place felt too dark, too quiet.

Or maybe that was her mood talking.

Pausing in her workroom, Bree stripped off her damaged dress and tossed it on top of her sewing machine. Here’s hoping she could pull this dress back together or else all the money she’d spent on it just went down the drain.

Thank you, Jude Robicheaux.

Fortunately she was a capable seamstress. Working with high rollers meant dressing the part, and since she’d always been too broke to do anything but buy off the rack, she’d honed her altering abilities to a fine edge. She liked sewing and designing her own clothes, too, when she got the chance. In fact, she liked it so much that she’d turned her unexpected skill into a side job that earned her good money.

Still, the split seams had snagged the fabric and broken more than a few strings of sequins. This dress might be too far gone for even her ability.

Forcing her throbbing legs to carry her up the stairs, Bree headed into her bedroom. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and forget all about this roller coaster of a night.

A possible job promotion.

The bad-news ex.

Lucas Russell.

Eventful for sure and not at all what she’d expected when heading out earlier to arrange Mr. Loaded Cowboy from Dallas’s trip away from the faro tables to a visit behind the velvet ropes of the French Quarter’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club.

Her heart still throbbed a little harder than it should. She should shower and let hot water soothe her racing thoughts and soak away her aches, but showering would mean dealing with her bandages. She simply didn’t have the energy.

Lucas had done all the hard work already, so Bree just pulled on comfy jersey pajamas and crawled into bed. Nestling deep beneath the warm covers, she paced her breathing and tried to clear the thoughts snapping through her brain like a ball around a roulette wheel.

But the sound of Lucas’s laughter still echoed on the fringes, along with her breathless thanks when her boss had given her the news about the promotion opportunity.

She could also hear the grinding of rubber over wet pavement, tires turning behind her, pulse throbbing dully in her ears as the sedan had followed her through the dark streets.

Damn, why now? She stood a really good shot at the head hostess job. And she needed the money. While the treasure reward money had raised Tally’s fortunes considerably, her sister shouldn’t be expected to put aside her goals to foot the bills for their family.

She and Tally had been the sole support of their younger brother, Mark, since their mother had gone AWOL. Mark had been only fourteen at the time, and raising him hadn’t been cheap. Both she and Tally had given up college scholarships to work, and Bree would continue covering her share of Mark’s expenses now that he’d finally—thankfully—decided to focus on college.

Tally deserved to spend her share of the money on reaching for her goals and starting a new life with her handsome fiancé. And even more importantly, Bree deserved the head hostess job. She was detail-oriented and worked well with the other VIP hostesses. She knew the ins and outs of the Big Easy better than anyone on the staff. She’d been at Toujacques longer, too.

Except for Lana. And the thought of working for that self-absorbed, ass-kissing former Vegas showgirl made Bree toss restlessly under the covers.

Plumping her pillow, she tried to find a more comfortable position. On her side, and her knees squeezed together and ached. On her back, and her legs extended and her knees ached. Lying on her stomach wasn’t even a consideration.

Finally settling in an awkward place somewhere between her back and side, she tried to convince herself that Toujacques’ big boys would be fair enough to promote the woman most qualified for the job.

She was most qualified. No question.

Everyone knew it. Everyone also knew Lana would feel she deserved the job because she’d been there longer. She’d torture the entire staff if passed over. Everyone knew that, too, which meant Bree’s future boiled down to whether or not the managers wanted to deal with Lana’s tantrums.

Unfortunately Bree understood. Time didn’t exist in the around-the-clock world of big money and high rollers. The casino stayed open 24/7, an active and exciting life but a demanding one. So the absolute last thing Bree needed to do was give the big boys any grief or aggravation.

Jude Robicheaux was always grief and aggravation.

If Lana caught wind of Bree’s former connection to the smooth-talking Cajun con man, she’d have a field day making sure everyone from the French Quarter to Bayou Teche knew about Bree’s not-so-stellar past. After turning her life around and establishing herself in a solid career, Bree could kiss any hope of job advancement goodbye.

Management would be announcing the promotion after their quarterly meeting next week. Why couldn’t Jude have waited one more stupid week before coming back to town?

And what was she going to do now that he had?

Bree had no answers, and with a sigh she turned restlessly again, debating whether or not to get out of bed and tackle alterations on her dress. Or scrub the bathroom, which seriously needed it.

She was only torturing herself by lying here. Sleep wasn’t in the cards tonight. She needed to distract herself. Or talk. Not so long ago, she’d have come home, plopped down on Tally’s bed and spilled her guts.

Now there was a man in bed with her sister.

Bree was thrilled with Christien. Really. Tally was head over heels, and Bree couldn’t have picked a more perfect man. She wanted Tally to be happy, even if her sister had gotten so caught up in the spirit of the treasure hunt that she was taking the whole ghost legend thing seriously. Even if all the time she spent in bed with her new fiancé or at the Blue Note meant Bree didn’t get to see her nearly enough anymore.

Right now Bree needed to hear her sister laugh as if everything was a joke, because it all felt big. Too big. Bree had worked her butt off to put Jude Robicheaux behind her. She was independent now and making something of her life.

Her sister would agree. She’d praise Bree for how hard she’d worked to be considered for this promotion, for how she’d started at Toujacques as a cocktail waitress and worked her way up through the ranks.

She’d remind Bree about how long they’d dreamed of moving into a real home that wasn’t some tiny apartment in a dumpy complex or a prefab rental in a bad section of town.

To Bree and Tally a real home had meant Court du Chaud. Their connection to the swashbuckling Captain Dampier had been the only thing to make them feel special in an existence that often felt weighted with problems and responsibilities. And when they’d finally gotten their shot at owning their own home, it had all felt magical, special.

Tally would tell Bree not to let anything take that feeling away, not to let anyone smack her down again.

She knew Tally was right, but as Bree sat up in bed and stared at the wall that had been skillfully designed to match the old, she wished she could actually hear Tally say it.

WITH HIS EYES TIGHTLY shut, Captain Gabriel Dampier moved through the wall of the bedroom that had once been his in life. After spending nearly two hundred years haunting his former quarters in Court du Chaud, he had witnessed many who’d inhabited these rooms and had no wish to intrude on anyone’s privacy.

Especially this chit’s. She was directly descended from him, and the very idea of chancing across her in a state of dishabille or, heaven forbid, engaged in some intimate activity smacked far too close to perversion for comfort. As much as he wanted Breanne to fall wildly and hopelessly in love, he had already established guidelines for proper behavior with her twin. He would adhere to those rules now.

Neither death nor the passing of generations apparently tempered the familial bond running through his bloodline. He was Breanne’s many-times-removed grand-père. While he might not have behaved appropriately paternally in life—or even been aware he’d sired offspring—he was correcting the oversight in death.

After listening closely for any sounds of movement, Gabriel peered narrowly through half-closed lids to find his beautiful descendent lying restlessly across the bed.

He sighed, relieved, and opened his eyes.

“You are a fool.” A familiar voice startled him.

“Eternal damnation,” he snapped much louder than he had intended, a rebellion against the invisible barrier between the living world and his own. “Must you plague me at every turn?”

“Yes.”

An unnecessary reply to a question he well knew the answer to. This crone had been tormenting him ever since the fateful night he’d been gunned down on his ship. He’d awakened to find himself dead and her his only companion in the afterlife.

Talk about cursed!

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw her ghostly form emerge through the wall, a shawl pulled tightly around her stooped shoulders, a pleased expression on her withered face.

The sum of his life obviously equaled a dismal failure to have earned this woman as an eternal reward.

“Go away. I have no wish to deal with you tonight.”

She laughed, a grim sound that would have raised the hairs on his neck had life still pulsed through his veins. “You should have thought of that before you involved yourself with my granddaughter and spawned a bloodline that we share. I’m surprised you have not yet figured out that death is not about what you wish.”

That much he knew. “You shall not ruin my mood, belle grand-mère. Not when the end is finally within my grasp. Breanne has met a man who sparks her interest. She is all that is standing between me and my eternal peace. I can break your damn curse once and for all.”

“Still so proud, pirate.”

“I am no pirate.” The words fell from his lips mindlessly, a habit from long ago.

But even as his denial faded to silence, he could see a smile split her shriveled cheeks until she reminded him of an apple left too long in the sun.

“Then go about your business. I will not disturb you. I would only savor the joy of watching you fail.”

“Fail? This chit’s twin lies in the arms of her new fiancé. Tallis has placed her love for him above her ambition. The curse you placed on our descendents—”

“You I cursed, pirate. Our descendents I blessed to never know the heartache you heaped upon my beautiful granddaughter.”

Curses. Blessings. A matter of opinion. Gabriel’s only consolation was that by cursing him, this vengeful old grand-mère had cursed herself to share in his fate. Not much of a consolation when he’d had to actually listen to her for two hundred years, of course.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “The curse is almost broken. You should be grateful, so you can finally rest, too.”

“I’d rather watch you fail than rest, pirate.”

“Fail? You seem to have forgotten the new skill I acquired to help me bring Tallis and Christien together.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said in an irritating singsong voice. “I’ve forgotten no such thing. You have every right to be flush with your new skill.”

A compliment? Had he been alive, the hairs on his neck would have been bristle-straight. This woman loathed him. He loathed her, too, truth be told, but she actually had more of a reason. He had been the biggest fool where the beautiful Madeleine had been concerned.

But hadn’t he heard somewhere that forgiveness played a part of death?

Sheer stubbornness forced Gabriel to turn away and pretend to ignore her. He would not ask what she meant because he knew she wouldn’t tell him. No forgiveness with this one. She would only reveal herself when she knew it would stab like a knife, and he’d entertained her far too often with his failures to doubt that. He wouldn’t let her see that her words had hit their mark. And honestly, he wasn’t all that confident of his ability to help Breanne overcome her ambition.

Even in sleep his granddaughter’s aura gleamed the dull gray of one who would never know any true emotion. She’d wandered through life in pursuit of ambition, restless in spirit and unfulfilled by her goals, never experiencing the plunging despair that made the heights of happiness all the more sweet.

And Breanne was only one in a long line of descendents he’d watched suffer the same cursed fate because of his selfish actions. When all was finally said and done—and it would be—he wondered if there would be much forgiveness among any of them.

To his credit, though, Breanne also had him to thank for remaining in one piece after her stupid stunt in the yard of Number Sixteen tonight.

Not that she knew it, of course. Spirits had no substance in the living world. A fine thing, too, since had he been of corporeal form, he would have broken his bloody neck saving her when she’d fallen off the wall. But he had managed to cushion her fall—a fine feat.

Generally, spirits could not appear to the living. Apparently only those old enough or powerful enough could learn to summon matter and affect the living world. It had become rather a race between him and the old crone to see who could sharpen their abilities best.

So Gabriel had practiced summoning his strength to bridge death to the living world. It was draining business, to be sure, but he continued to prevail and proudly added new and useful skills to his repertoire.

His proudest achievement thus far had been fully materializing to Tallis and her fiancé.

That had been the only reason he’d finally convinced Tallis to recognize how precious love was. But Breanne was even more headstrong than her sister, and until tonight there hadn’t even been a potential male around.

But Gabriel had seen the way her aura had sparked off Lucas. Lucas’s aura had sparked right back.

These two had the potential to share a truly great love. Auras never lied, and he’d grown quite sensitive to reading the nuances of energy that radiated off the living.

“What shall I do with you, Breanne?” he asked aloud, almost forgetting the old woman who watched him. “Aha. I know.”

He would start by whispering suggestions while she slept.

Yes, the helpful man in Number Sixteen is very handsome.

Yes, he had been a gentleman to bandage your wounds and see you home.

Yes, the sparks had flown between you.

Yes, you want to see him again.

Gabriel sat on the bed beside Breanne, leaned close to her ear and summoned his strength to materialize so she could hear him speak….

Nothing happened.

He felt no echo of the life that had once pulsed through his veins, no stirring of the heart that had once beat in his chest. He felt no rush of the air through his lungs.

Puzzled, he inhaled deeply—another habit of old that had no place in the afterlife—and tried again.

Nothing.

He heard the crone’s laughter.

Amazing how he could feel fear chase up his spine. “What have you done to me?”

“I have done nothing.”

“I appeared to Tallis. And Christien. They could see and hear me. Why can I not now? Is this some new trickery of yours?”

“You credit me with too much power, pirate. And yourself.” She held up her hand dismissively when he opened his mouth to argue. “You did nothing special to appear to our Tallis. You delude yourself in death the way you did in life. In all these years of haunting you, I still cannot fathom what my darling granddaughter ever saw in you.”

Shaking her head, she sent lank white hair whirling around her face. “The curse gave you the ability to appear to two people. Only two people. It was your chance, pirate.”

Two people?

The twins.

It made such coldly logical sense that Gabriel couldn’t believe he hadn’t guessed sooner. Instead he’d appeared to Tallis and her lover and had prided himself on gaining enough power to take a ghostly form again.

Damn his pride!

Nearly two hundred years spent haunting this court. Nearly two hundred years denied his eternal peace. Denied any peace when he stared at the horrible old crone who had been his only companion. Nearly two hundred years to atone for his sins.

Nearly two hundred years and he’d learned nothing.

“You tricked me,” he cried. “You set me up to fail.”

“I only cursed you. Your failure is your own.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Do not despair, though. Perhaps if you practice materializing as hard as you practice your other parlor tricks, you may be able to manage the task in another century or two.”

Which was how long it would take before another set of twins would be born into this family.

She blew him a kiss and stepped back through the wall, and with her laughter still ringing in his ears, Gabriel stared down at the bed where Breanne moved restlessly. He was so close to breaking the curse, to ending this eternal limbo…and all he had to rely upon were parlor tricks.

ALTHOUGH MONTHS HAD PASSED since Bree had joined Krewe du Chaud, she still hadn’t decided why she’d become a part of this organization. It certainly wasn’t to hand over her hard-earned money paying steep annual dues.

But Josie hadn’t given her much of a choice. The acting president had been pretty strong-handed about the whole thing. A bully, really.

When you move into a court that’s a huge part of French Quarter history, Josie had told Bree in a tone that left no room for debate, it’s your duty and responsibility to keep the legend alive….

Blah, blah, blah.

Tally, of course, had jumped in with both feet. No surprise there. Tally had been enamored with the krewe since they’d been kids, standing on the streets as the captain’s floats had passed by in the Mardi Gras parade.

Bree had never understood her sister’s obsession with all this historic family tradition stuff. It was sort of cool to bring up the connection in party conversation, but Bree had never found it much use otherwise.

Being descended from the captain certainly hadn’t done anything for their mother, who’d spent her life—was probably still spending her life, as far as any of them knew—trying to capitalize on the connection with her alcohol-induced get-rich-quick schemes.

Only Tally had ever managed to change her fortune. And she’d been on quite a roll lately, and Bree wished some of her luck would rub off.

After last night, Bree could use it.

Scooping up her mail from the floor in her foyer, she locked up the house and headed out into the bright afternoon. She walked through the alley past Café Eros, inhaling deeply of all the wonderful smells emitting from within. Beignets. Coffee.

After a night spent tossing and turning while visions of Jude Robicheaux and Lucas Russell warred through her subconscious, she’d awakened feeling as if she’d been run down by a riverboat.

But she had a problem to solve, so she’d gone online to the sheriff department’s Web site to confirm Jude’s status.

He did still have an active warrant, which meant he wouldn’t surface openly. She couldn’t decide if that would bode good or bad for her.

Today wasn’t the best of days for a krewe meeting, but Bree knew the distraction would do her good. Otherwise she’d be sitting at home, alternately debating what to do about Jude and remembering how tingly she’d gotten when Lucas had touched her.

So stepping into the busy street, she flagged a passing cab. She hopped in, gave the driver the address of the krewe’s den on the river and skimmed through her mail as they wove through Canal Street traffic.

Bill, bill, overdue bill…hmm, what was this?

Lifting up the plain white envelope, she scanned her name and address in computer-generated text. There was no return address or any postmark, which meant the sender must have hand delivered the letter to her door.

A chill skittered up her spine, and she had the wild impulse to tear the envelope to shreds and toss the pieces out the window to scatter through the streets like so much confetti during a Mardi Gras parade.

Oh, please don’t let Jude know where she lived!

Lifting her gaze to glance at the cabbie, who didn’t seem to notice the earthshaking anxiety happening in his backseat, Bree inhaled deeply to dispel the sensation.

With the thought of a ruined pair of seventeen-dollar hose steeling her resolve, Bree opened the envelope to find a single sheet of copy paper and more of the same computer text.

A vanishing act, gorgeous? Is that any way to welcome back the love of your life?

Blood rushed to her head only to drain away just as quickly, leaving her clammy, dizzy and nauseous.

Two sentences, but the message was crystal clear.

You can run but you can’t hide.

Arrogant bastard probably thought she couldn’t resist him—prize catch that he was.

And the humiliating part—once upon a time she couldn’t.

Damn man looked like a dark angel with that inky black hair and those crystal eyes. He knew it and used his looks to disarm stupid young women who hadn’t yet learned that the inside of the man was a lot more important than his yummy chocolate coating.

But in all fairness to her, while Jude’s looks had first attracted her, his looks hadn’t been what had sucked her deep into his life. That had been all about being taken care of. Jude had spotted her weak spot and had exploited it.

Bree had been a shamefully easy mark.

After their mother had gone MIA, Tally had stepped up to the plate and taken control of the situation. Bree had let her. That was the natural order of things. Always had been. They’d chosen to postpone college and rear Mark to keep him from being farmed off into foster care.

But life hadn’t been easy, and when Jude had shown up, he’d seemed like an answer to her prayers. He’d flashed and dashed her big-time, bought her clothes and paid her bills and helped out with Mark’s expenses. He’d shown her a lifestyle of fancy restaurants and expensive shopping sprees that had dazzled her into blindness about his character.

At eighteen, Bree had thought Lady Luck had been smiling all over her. By the time she’d started questioning whether that luck was good or bad, she’d already known the answer deep in her heart.

And had been in way over her head.

God, why had she ever been stupid enough to get involved with that man?

Bree already knew the answer. But now she had the answer to another all-important question.

Jude wasn’t here for revenge. He was playing the romance card. He wouldn’t have let her know he was back otherwise. Whatever he wanted from her—and he wanted something, no question—he intended to use their history to get it.

Relief burst through her, so sudden and hot she grew flushed in the close confines of the taxi. She could scratch revenge off the list, and a part of her wasn’t surprised.

Bree honestly didn’t believe Jude would ever hurt her. The man was an opportunist, a con man. Not an abuser. He expected to control her and would try to bully her if he didn’t get his way, but as dysfunctional as their relationship had been, he had once claimed to love her.

And Bree believed he had—as much as he could love anyway. He’d honestly expected her to leave town with him when his last con had gone south. He’d thought all his money and promises to solve her problems would replace her family.

But keeping her family together had been the whole reason to deal with the problems.

Jude hadn’t understood that. His idea of love was unconditional devotion. If he loved and cared for her, then she should devote herself solely to him. Bree shuddered to think what her life might be like now if she’d continued down that path, if he hadn’t gotten in trouble with the law, forcing her to choose between her family and him.

Lady Luck had been shining on her after all.

So then why was he back now?

Then she remembered Lucas’s words upon finding her in his shrubs. You found the captain’s treasure.

Had Tally’s illustrious treasure hunt brought a rat out of the woodwork?

While she honestly didn’t think Jude would ever physically harm her, she knew he wasn’t above using her for his gain.

Bree was so lost in thought that when the cabbie said, “Hey, lady, you going or you want to sit here with the meter running?” she nearly jumped out of her skin.

A glance proved they’d reached their destination. Feeling stupid, she paid the man and hopped out of the cab.

Krewe du Chaud shared valuable warehouse space on the river, compliments of a generous member who owned a shipping business. The man didn’t actually live in Court du Chaud but was a long-standing aficionado of anything and everything Captain Dampier.

Bree felt edgy, like an open target on the street. She didn’t want to wait for someone to answer the buzzer and open the front gate to let her in, so she circled the building to get out of the street.

Resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder, she maneuvered the narrow concrete alley between the warehouses toward the river. She scanned the wharves for any signs of unwelcome faces, and finding no one around, she bypassed the back entrance and headed to the water.

With a foot on the slimy seawall stairs, she knelt carefully and pulled Jude’s letter from her bag.

Love of my life…not in this life!

She tore the paper and envelope into tiny pieces and let them float down onto the muddy water for the fish.

If Jude thought he could intimidate her, he had another think coming. She needed to go to the police. Even though Jude hadn’t actually done anything, there was a warrant out for his arrest. The police definitely would be interested that he was back in town.

They’d be so interested that she’d get dragged into the precinct station to file a report and answer questions. They’d send officers to Court du Chaud to question her neighbors about whether anyone had seen Jude hanging around.

That scene wouldn’t be pretty. Tally would start worrying. Christien would want to help and likely use his police connections to have every cop in New Orleans keep an eye on her. Josie would wind up finding out and doubling up the Neighborhood Watch shifts.

She might even mention the trouble to Lucas, and for some reason Bree didn’t like the thought of him learning about her past, even if she wouldn’t see him until his next visit from California.

Then there was Toujacques and the promotion announcement next week….

Argh!

Even if she reported Jude anonymously, Bree knew she’d be at the top of the list of people the police would track down to interrogate. Since she’d issued official statements, they’d also be thinking revenge. All she didn’t need was for Lana to get wind of this.

“Is everything all right, Bree?”

The voice made her jump—tetchy today, wasn’t she?—and she had the mocking thought that this man’s voice probably shouldn’t have been so familiar after only one conversation.

Not only was Lucas’s voice familiar, but hearing it brought a sense of calm she had absolutely no business feeling. Suddenly her heart didn’t pound quite so hard and she didn’t feel so all alone on this busy riverbank.

Glancing over her shoulder, Bree found Lucas showcased on the wharf above her. He wore clothes today. His well-worn jeans rode low on trim hips, and his sweatshirt hinted at the muscles of his toned body below. Despite the clothes, she could still envision what he looked like in his towel.

After last night, that image was burned into her psyche.

“Playing the knight on the dock today?” she asked, her best defense a good offense.

“Only if the damsel needs rescuing.”

“She doesn’t, thank you.”

His gaze followed the bits of paper littering the water, and with the bright sun throwing his chiseled features into sharp relief, he looked as if he didn’t believe her.

But when he extended his hand, Bree took it, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the jolt she got when his warm fingers closed around hers.

He helped her to her feet. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little sore, but I’ll live. So what are you doing down here?”