Promise?
Yes, Bastien. Ive got her back.
The cop stared at him intently for a moment and then nodded, accepting his word. All right. I got me a date to get back to, then. Cant keep the ladies of New Orleans waiting for all this hotness.
Max rolled his eyes as the cop strolled away; then he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Rather, the damsel in distress at hand. Dammit. He really didnt need to pull babysitting duty when he should be out hunting bad guys. Or maybe being the bad guy would be more accurate.
A soft hand touched his sleeve, and he reacted violently, spinning to face Lissa, who pulled back sharply at his abrupt move. He carefully stilled his entire body and pitched his voice to calming tones. The police asked if Id mind walking you home. Would that be all right with you, or would that frighten you?
Why on earth would that frighten me? You saved me. Youre my knight in shining armor.
Oh, God. He was so not a good guy. Were it not for some random creep attacking her, hed be the one scaring her. He would be the one stalking her without her knowledge, the one peering in her windows with a telescope, the one bugging her house and cloning her computer and cell phone. He would be the one putting that haunted expression in her big dark eyes.
He shoved a distracted hand through his short hair. Look. Im going to be honest with you. The police have asked me to keep an eye on you tonight since you wont accept their protection. Does that freak you out?
No freakage. But I hate to impose on you. Keep you from your family...?
She left it hanging as a question. No family, he replied shortly.
Job? Pet? Girlfriend?
None of the above. Correction, I have a job, but I work for myself. Set my own hours.
Perfect! You can stay at my place. Well make a party out of it.
Did she have to sound so damned tickled about having a slumber party with him? There was no way he was spending the night in her apartment with her. He might be a cad, but he wasnt that giant a cad. I think the police have pretty much wrapped up here. We can go soon. Where do you live? As if he didnt know already. Ha.
I live over the curiosity shop down the block. But I was on my way to the store. Im out of food. And Mr. Jacksonwell, hes not patient about missing supper.
He frowned. Hed seen no evidence of a man of any kind in her life. He glanced down to verify that her ring finger was naked. It was. You have a boyfriend?
She blinked up at him rather owlishly. What? A look of dawning comprehension. Oh! You mean Mr. Jackson? Gay laughter. Ill introduce you two when we get home. Hes gonna love you. Cmon. I need tuna fish and mayonnaise. He loves my homemade tuna salad and asked after it this morning.
Something deflated inside Max. Had he actually been a little attracted to her? Hell, how could he not be? She was fascinating in a strange kind of way. The woman had an eccentric style that had nothing to do with regular conventions of society or fashion. A hint of...death...clung to her. Or at least a knowing of it. And yet, within that overriding impression of darkness, a discordant note of happiness was audible. It was entirely at odds with her darker self.
Either that, or the long months undercover had finally gotten to him, and he was losing his marbles. He did a quick mental craziness check. Nope. It wasnt him. There was something special about her, something alluring, that called to him. Hell, tempted him. This was the way he felt when he found a lost art masterpiece. The discovery brought out the greedy poet inside him.
Or maybe his reaction to her stemmed from the fact that hed just saved her life. Yeah, that must be it. That had to be why he felt so protective all of a sudden. He was a lot of things, but compassionate was not one of them. And yet here he was, walking his own personal damsel in distress home.
Frowning, he fell in beside her as she strode off down the street. For a woman whod just been attacked and nearly killed, shed recovered her mojo damned fast. Either that or she was a fine actress.
Are you okay? he asked, blatantly throwing out a trial balloon to gauge her mood and mind-set.
Why wouldnt I be? Youre here now.
Well, hell. It kinda made a guy want to puff out his chest and put a little swagger in his step. He glanced down at her and caught her staring sidelong up at him. Their gazes met, and something crackled between them. He could almost see the energy forming a complete circuit between them. Sheesh. His imagination was working overtime tonight. He was a trained covert operative, for goodness sake. He didnt do crackling sexual attraction, particularly not with civilians.
But then she reached out to touch the energy. Her fingertips exactly traced the invisible lines arcing back and forth between them. Crud. Could she physically see the attraction between them? Did that mean she was crazy, too, or was it just him losing his mind? Either way, charges zinged through his body, drawing him to her as if they were opposite poles of human-size magnets. The pull was inexorable and irresistible. And hot. Shockingly hot.
Lust for this woman shot through him along those strange ley lines of sexual energy, and it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. Only the sure and certain knowledge that he would be no better than that sicko stalker behind them kept him from seriously contemplating dragging her up against him, kissing her until she begged him to bed her, burying his body in hers and inhaling all that crackling sexual energy flowing from her into him.
Im not a superhero, you know. Im just a guy.
Youre my superhero.
Huh. He liked the sound of that. Enough that he ordered his raging libido in no uncertain terms to take a hike. Enough that he volunteered to hold the basket for her as he trudged around a local convenience store behind her.
Grocery shopping was a domestic task he had never done before with a woman. It was surreal. Terribly domesticated. So very normal. He had to admit it held a certain charm. Weird charm but charm nonetheless. Or maybe it was just the company he was keeping that made it seem so damned fantastic.
Gah. This was an anomaly. He would deliver her to Bastien in the morning, she would make her statement, the bad guy would go to jail for a good long time and Max would get back to his regularly scheduled life as an undercover agent. Stalking her.
In a state of minor shock, he carried her plastic grocery bags back to Callistas Curiosities of the Magical and Macabre and dutifully stood at Lissas side as she fumbled at the door with a big old-fashioned key.
You should let me install a decent security system and a good lock on that door, he commented.
Is that what you do? Security systems?
Something like that.
The door lock surrendered just then and granted them access to an incredibly cluttered space. Floor-to-ceiling junk crammed the store. It was enough to make a person feel a little claustrophobic. Hell of a name this place has. Quite a mouthful.
I call it C2M2 to myself, she replied.
He stopped in the doorway. It felt odd to be entering the place hed been doing surveillance on for weeks.
Come in. Please.
Dammit, if he hadnt detected that hint of fearful pleading in her tone, hed have refused her. But as it was, he had no choice. Hed promised Bastien, after all. And truth be told, he wasnt the kind of guy to leave a woman in the lurch.
She wound across the crowded and cluttered space, heading for a narrow staircase near the back of the store. Im sorry in advance for the chaos upstairs. I just inherited this place, and it needs a ton of work.
She said that as if the downstairs wasnt a colossal, messy hoarders wet dream. He hesitated to see what she considered trashed enough to apologize for. He rounded the corner into her second-floor home and stopped cold. It was a war zone.
The place had been stripped down to the lath and plaster wallboards, and in some places down to bare brick. Corroded copper plumbing was exposed, ancient electrical wires hung in dangerous festoons, bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling provided the only light and the floor was scraped boards. The angle of his surveillance cameras on the shop didnt capture any of this.
What the hell happened in here? he blurted.
The previous owner started renovations, and I havent had time to finish them yet, she threw over her shoulder as she headed over to a corner that contained a 1950s vintage refrigerator with a rusted door, a hot plate on a wooden milk crate and a metal washtub on the floor under two bare faucets.
Where did the kitchen go? he asked cautiously.
In the Dumpster out back. It was disgusting. I tore out what was left.
So I gather. He picked his way around a pile of debris and across a canvas painters tarp stretched over the floor. And your workmen left the construction site like this? Fire them. I know some good contractors
Im doing the work myself.
He stared at Lissa as she shed her coat and hung it on an elaborate wood-and-iron coatrack in the corner. In a properly restored home, it would be a lovely piece. In this chaos, it was wildly out of place.
Good Lord. She was even tinier than hed imagined, a mere slip of a woman. And she was capable of the heavy labor involved in a complete home restoration? Color him impressed.
Im sorry. I didnt realize you were a contractor.
Im not, she answered cheerfully. But how hard can it be? Its only hammers and nails and saws.
Oh, my dear God. Was that what she thought? And you know how to weld copper and run wiring and hang drywall and know the New Orleans building codes, then? he asked lightly. Hed renovated his condo when he bought it, but hed paid experienced professionals to do it and it had still been a nightmare. Hed pitched in to help the crew and had learned a ton about construction, but he wouldnt know where to begin with this disaster.
No, but Ill figure it out.
He managed to get his hanging jaw closed before she turned around, a small bowl of tuna fish and mayonnaise in hand. Other hand on her hip, she asked, Now where has Mr. Jackson gone off to?
If he were this Jackson guy, hed have run away from home and not come back until this place was put back together. Belatedly, Max answered, Can you call him on his cell phone? Find out where hes gone? I know some guys who could pick him up and bring him back here.
Lissa frowned at him as if hed lost his mind.
Hey. Hed just offered to burn a hard-won favor from his employer for her.
Im sure that wont be necessary, she said slowly, as though he were some sort of ignorant child. Mr. Jackson, she crooned. I made you your favorite. Tuna salad.
Something landed on his shoulder from above, and he dived for the floor, rolling and coming up ready to kill. Jeez. Where had that guy come from? Stunned at the surprise attack, he looked around wildly for his attacker.
Nada. What the hell?
For her part, Lissa laughed and scooped up a...
Son of a bitch.
A cat. Small and black. With one white front paw that looked just like a feline glove. Mr. Jackson, I presume? he said drily, lowering his fists to his sides.
Would you like to pet him? Although I dont know if he likes men or not. Youre the first one Ive seen him around. I inherited him with the store.
Along with this disaster zone?
I prefer to think of it as a project with unlimited potential.
A cold knot of suspicion started to form in his gut. Had she actually, literally, inherited the place? From whom? And how recently? Hed been under the impression that the stores namesake would be returning at some point. Exactly how long ago did you inherit this place?
Lets see. Its been almost a month.
He closed his eyes in chagrin as acid frustration ate its way through his gut. A month. The past few weeks of grueling round-the-clock surveillance had been for naught. She wasnt the person he was supposed to be following. She wouldnt have any contacts. She was useless to him. Worse, the trail had gone cold, then.
Who owned this place before you? he asked in resignation.
My aunt. Callista Clearmont. She willed it to me right before she died suddenly.
His one and only link to the next level of hierarchy in the mob he was infiltrating was dead? A stream of violent swearing erupted inside his head.
Im sorry for your loss, he murmured automatically. Crap, crap, crap. How was he going to track down Callista Clearmonts mob connections if the woman was dead? Why hadnt anyone told him?
Unless the niece had inherited the mob contacts, as well...
Lissa turned away. Her shoulders gave a suspicious heave, and she sniffed loudly. Oh, no. Not more female tears. He had no defense against them. They scared him to death. Frantic to distract her from launching into full-blown waterworks, he asked quickly, You said she died suddenly?
His question did the trick. Lissa turned back to face him, another one of those delicate frowns of hers puckering her creamy brow. She called me. Told me she was going to die any minute and that shed willed everything she owned to me.
Was she sick a long time?
Oh, no. She was in perfect health. We all thought she was going to outlive the rest of the family.
His internal antenna wiggled abruptly. Could it be? Had the mob or one of its enemies killed her? What were the circumstances of her death, if you dont mind my asking?
She died in her sleep, supposedly. A customer found her after she didnt come downstairs for an appointment to do a reading.
A reading?
She was a psychic. I think that customer had asked for a crystal ball scrying. She also read palms very well. The last time I talked to her, she claimed shed had a vision. That a spirit told her she was going to die within a day or two and to put her affairs in order.
A spirit, huh? More like a mob informant, perhaps? Who were your aunts clients? Did she keep a list of them?
I suppose so. I havent found it if she did keep one, though. Her business papers are, well, a little disorganized.
If the shop downstairs was any indication of how the woman had done business, any kind of organized client list was probably a long shot. With a list, though, he could maybe identify Callistas mob contact and find the next level of hierarchy in the secretive Russian gang hed spent the past two years infiltrating.
Are you hungry? Lissa asked, startling him out of his train of thought.
You dont have to feed me. Ill grab something on the way home.
Its the least I can do for you after you saved my life.
I wouldnt go that far in describing what I did. I only interrupted a mugging. Any passerby could have done the same.