Chapter 25
"How's the business going?" Scooter asked as he slid his rod into the holder on his pier and grabbed another beer from the ice chest next to his lawn chair.
Mallory cast her line into the bayou and leaned back in her lawn chair. "Good. It's been a lot of information to throw at the employees, what with the tax situation, Royal trying to buy us out, then Royal getting arrested. But everyone is happy that things turned out all right."
"And Harry?"
"Harry is especially happy. He barely let the ink dry on the legal papers transferring the business to me before he and Thelma headed to the Bahamas. Apparently they've always wanted to go."
"I'm glad they got the chance."
"Me too," she said and jiggled her rod a bit. "The fish aren't biting so well today, are they?"
"Nah," Scooter agreed. "Too hot. Probably run late tonight."
Mallory looked over at her friend and smiled. "Then I guess only one of us is going to catch any fish today, as lately, you've spent your nights occupied with other things."
Scooter grinned at Mallory and lay back on the pier, holding one hand up to s.h.i.+eld his eyes from the sun. "Who would have ever thought, right? Me and someone like Amy. She's, like, the smartest person in the world."
"I'd have to agree with you on that one. The smartest I've ever known, anyway."
"You ought to see the plans we've come up with for the casino. Your uncle is going to flip. Everything is state of the art-built-ins, fold-outs, stuff that rises from the floor and hides in the walls until you need to use it. He's going to make a fortune with this whole casino-of-the-future idea."
"How is Reginald these days? I haven't seen him since the arraignment, and that was a week ago."
"He's good. I met his girlfriend the other day Glenda - she's kinda cool."
"You're right again. That's two today, Scooter."
Scooter sat up and looked over at Mallory, the smile dropping from his face. "Well, since I'm on a roll, I'm just gonna go ahead and say I think you ought to call Jake."
Mallory looked over the bayou and struggled against the rush of emotions that ran through her every time she thought of Jake. "You know I can't, Scooter. I can't ask him to be with me when I know how things are. Things that will never change."
Scooter shook his head. "That should still be his choice. And if you won't even take a phone call from him, how's the man supposed to plead his case?"
"He's not. That's the whole point."
Scooter sighed and lay back down on the pier. "Fine, but for the record, Amy and I both think you're making a mistake."
Mallory slumped back in her chair and drew in a deep breath. So Scooter and Amy thought she was making a mistake. Well, there was a novel idea. Like Harry, J.T. and Father Thomas hadn't already told her the same thing, some in more polite terms, some in less. Even Brad had weighed in his opinion after the arraignment. It seemed that everyone in the state of Louisiana knew what was best for her.
Except her.
She wanted to call, wanted to answer the calls when she saw Jake's number on the caller ID. But ultimately, she'd been too afraid. Jake may be riding the first throes of romance and love right now, but what about years from now? When disaster after disaster, courtesy of Mallory's curse, affected every day of their lives? Would he still want her then? Still love her?
She didn't see how he could, and was smart enough to know her heart wouldn't be able to take having him for a while, then losing him all over again. It still hadn't recovered from the five days they'd had together. How in the world would she pop back from a year, or two, or ten?
"I knocked on your door." She jumped at the sound of Jake's voice behind her. "I should have known I'd find you two where there was fish and beer." He stepped onto the pier and walked over to her chair, smiling down at her.
Scooter jumped up from the pier and nodded at Jake. "Guess I'll be heading in for a shower." He gave Mallory a thumbs-up and hustled off like someone had just said "last call."
Mallory stared at Jake, wondering what the h.e.l.l he was doing there. But with the way Scooter had shot off the deck, not looking at her even once, Mallory was afraid the fix was in. She rose from her chair, not liking Jake standing above her. It made her feel she was at a disadvantage, and even though that was probably the case, she didn't need to feel worse about it than she already did.
She looked at him for a moment but couldn't hold his gaze. Shoving her hands in her jeans pockets, she stared down at the pier.
"You've been avoiding my calls," Jake said.
Mallory shrugged and shuffled her feet a bit, still not looking up at him. "Wasn't any use wasting time."
He placed one finger under her chin and tilted it up until she was forced to look at him. "You call what we have wasting time? Jesus, woman, what do you do when I'm not around that's so much more important?"
Mallory sighed. "Jake, you know how I feel, but there's no future for us. Not with the way things are. You'd never have a normal moment for the rest of your life."
"Who the h.e.l.l said I was interested in normal?"
"You did. Over and over again, when you explained to me how weird Louisiana and voodoo and me thinking I could cool cards was. Remember?"
Jake waved a hand in dismissal. "Old news. The new Jake thinks normal is boring. How in the world could I go back to a regular life when I have a shot with a woman that makes cars explode after s.e.x? Now that's something special."
"Yeah, I bet Hertz was thrilled."
"So I'll drive an old clunker and carry liability only."
Mallory stared at Jake and shook her head.
Jake reached down and drew both her hands into his. "What if I told you there was a way around it?"
Mallory felt her heart leap into her throat at his words. "But, the voodoo woman said... "
"She said there was no way to take the curse off you," Jake said gently. "She didn't say there wasn't a way to protect me from it."
"You saw the voodoo woman?" she asked, trying to control the hope quickly rising inside of her. "How? When?"
"Scooter took me to see her last night. That's probably why he took off so fast when I got here. I think he was afraid you'd come down on him for interfering."
Mallory stared at Jake in disbelief. "Scooter took you to the voodoo woman? I can't believe it. He's scared to death of that stuff."
"That he is, but he loves you more than he's scared. He knew I'd never find her without help and figured you wouldn't take me."
Mallory bit her lip and drew in a breath. "So what did she say?"
Jake reached inside his s.h.i.+rt and pulled out a string with a tiny pouch on the end. "She said that if I wore this, it should protect me - against the curse, anyway. She didn't have a protection against falling desperately in love with you." He placed one hand on her cheek and leaned in, gently placing his lips on hers.
Mallory relaxed in his kiss, every nerve in her body tingling from his touch. "You're sure," she said as he drew back and placed a finger on the pouch. "If this protects you from me, will it work for others?"
"It better not."
Mallory stared at him. "Why on earth wouldn't you want my friends and family protected?"
Jake placed his hand over hers. "I would, but the voodoo woman said this protects me because of the scope of our relations.h.i.+p. I took that to mean in a biblical sort of way." He grinned. "Now if you want to work something like that out with Amy, I might consider it."
Mallory swatted him on the shoulder but couldn't keep from smiling. "You wish." She drew in a breath, trying to absorb everything he was saying. "What about your job? You know I can't leave here - "
Jake placed one hand over her mouth to stop the barrage that was most certainly about to spill out. "I've resigned my position with the FBI, and I'll be relocating to Royal Flush as soon as I can pack up my apartment and schedule a moving truck."
Mallory stared at him in disbelief. "But what will you do?"
"I've been thinking a lot about my work, wondering if it really accomplished what I hoped it would as far as making society a better place. Everything that went down with Mark and Janine kinda clinched it for me. I think I'd rather work with kids - teenagers specifically. Hopefully prevent them from becoming someone I would have arrested."
Mallory smiled. "I think that sounds wonderful. Do you have any idea where you might work? There are a lot of charitable organizations in New Orleans. I know they could use help."
Jake shook his head. "I'm planning on starting my own organization. I have a real estate agent trying to locate a warehouse in New Orleans for me. That should give me the room to start."
A real estate agent? New Orleans? "But, how will you pay for it? Something like that's got to be expensive to get started."
"I've applied for the usual grants. But I have a long-term plan for continual funding."
"What kind of plan?"
"I'm sure you heard about the ATF seizing all of Royal's a.s.sets. Well, I have it on good information that the port-a-john plant is going up for auction here shortly. In fact, the ATF has given me an inside deal. If I can come up with the money they want before the auction, I can buy the plant from them at an absolute steal."
Mallory stared at him for a moment. It had been weeks since the arrests, but the residents of Royal Flush still hadn't quite wrapped their minds around Walter Royal as a gunrunner. The ATF case, however, was solid as a rock. A search of the plant had produced thousands of weapons stored in false bottoms in the port-a-johns. She supposed it made good sense when you thought about it. The port-a-johns were distributed all over the country, and she'd guess no one was going to get overly involved in inspecting a portable toilet, empty or not.
But Jake buying the port-a-john plant? Surely he was joking. "You want to be the King of c.r.a.p?"
Jake laughed. "Well, I am planning on living in Royal Flush. If you're going to be King of c.r.a.p, this is definitely the place."
Mallory smiled. "Okay, King Jake, any idea how you're going to come up with that capital?"
"Funny you should ask. I hear there's a poker tournament starting up next week in Vegas. I figure with Amy's card shark training and a little help from you, the other players don't stand a chance. And then there's the added benefit of so many wedding chapels."
Mallory drew in a breath. "You want to marry me?"
Jake laughed. "More than anything. But you've got to meet my mother first or she'll kill me. I'm going to have her meet us in Vegas if that's okay with you. I don't think she's quite ready for Royal Flush - I need a little time to prepare her for a visit here, and I would take you to her place in Atlantic City, but she's an artist. She lives and works in her studio and it's probably not the best place for you to meet."
"An artist, huh? What does she do, paint?"
Jake gave her a pained look. "She's a gla.s.sblower."
Mallory laughed and threw her arms around Jake, squeezing him hard against her as if there were no tomorrow. "Vegas it is, then."
THE END.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.
Jana DeLeon grew up among the bayous and 'gators of southwest Louisiana. She's never stumbled across a mystery like one of her heroines but is still hopeful. She lives in Dallas, Texas with a menagerie of animals and not a single ghost.
Website: www.janadeleon.com.
Zane's Redemption.
Tina Folsom.
DEDICATION.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, Josef Veselak, prisoner #29658. He perished in the concentration camp at Dachau on July 26, 1942.
CHAPTER ONE.
Zane heard a scream and blocked it out to prolong feeding from the succulent neck of the Latino kid he'd cornered in an alley in the Mission, the predominantly Mexican and South American neighborhood of San Francisco. It was a sketchy area; on one hand, trendy restaurants and nightclubs attracted the rich residents from the north side of town, on the other, poor immigrants toiled in dead-end jobs for minimum wage. Yet somehow, Zane had instantly felt at home when he'd first set foot in the neighborhood.
As his fangs lodged deeper to draw more blood, Zane listened to the thundering heartbeat of his victim, fully aware of the power he had over the teenager's life. If he took an ounce too much, the boy would bleed out, his heartbeat ceasing, his breath rus.h.i.+ng from his lungs for the last time, leaving behind a lifeless sh.e.l.l.
It was how he liked to feed, not from a bottle of lifeless donated blood like his colleagues at Scanguards preferred, but from a human where he felt the life pulsing beneath his palms while the warm, rich blood coated his throat. There was no subst.i.tute for this feeling. It went beyond pure nourishment; it appealed to his need to feel superior, to be powerful, to be in control of the life in his arms.
Every night, the struggle to allow that life to continue renewed. Despite the fact that each night a different human was at his mercy, it changed nothing, and the battle inside him remained the same: to stop while the human was still alive or to give into the urge to destroy and a.s.suage his need to avenge, for no matter whether he fed from a Latino kid, a black woman, or an Asian man, their faces were all the same once his memories of the past took possession of his mind. Their features morphed into those of a white man, his hair a dark blond, his eyes brown, and his cheekbones high: the face of one of his torturers, the only one he had failed to track down after chasing him for over sixty-five years. The only one he hadn't slain-yet.
Zane noticed the change in pressure of the blood rus.h.i.+ng through the kid's veins, and drew his fangs from his neck. He quickly licked over the wound to close it and prevent any more blood loss as his fangs retracted back into their sockets, deep within his gums, satisfied for the moment. His own heart hammered furiously in his chest as he felt his victim slacken, but his ears picked up the faint heartbeat, a.s.suring him that he hadn't gone too far. He'd won tonight's battle, but the restlessness he'd felt in the last few months was increasing and driving him to take more and more risks with his victims' lives.
He'd come to San Francisco nine months ago on an a.s.signment for Scanguards, the vampire-run bodyguard company that had employed him for several decades. The a.s.signment had turned into a permanent stay. At first, he'd thought that the change of venue from New York to this quiet West coast town that was frequently engulfed in fog would bring him peace, but the opposite was the case. The hunt for his torturer had stalled, then come to a dead end. With every day that pa.s.sed after the trail had gone cold, this failure drove his anger and hatred higher. He needed to hurt somebody. Soon.
At a sound, Zane snapped his head to the side. He lowered the Latino kid to the ground, resting him against the wall of a building. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, concentrating on the distant voice he'd heard. Past the noise that indicated a vibrant nightlife, a low whimpering laced with fear and despair drifted to him. It was remote, but his sensitive vampire hearing identified it as a plea for help.
"f.u.c.k!"