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  “The kind that involves you not telling anyone but Brooks, Drew, and me the next time your informant calls with information, then letting us run the operation,” Remy said.

  Lorenzo flinched. “I don’t think Captain Barron would ever go for that.”

  “That won’t be a problem since a key part of the plan is not telling him either.”

  * * *

  It was almost one o’clock by the time Triana got to her mother’s shop. She hadn’t been able to wait to read the police and coroner’s reports Bodine had given her, so after leaving the diner, she’d hopped off the streetcar at the Tulane station and run across the street to the public library. At that time of the day, it hadn’t been hard to find a quiet cubicle out of the way to review the files.

  Even though she’d pored over thousands of reports like this in her job, it had been difficult to read these. This wasn’t just a random murder. This was her father’s. But she’d forced herself to push the emotions aside as much as she could and focus solely on the facts in the reports.

  She’d hoped the file would provide some details she might be able to dig into with her forensic skills, but there had been no unusual hairs, fibers, trace evidence, or even fingerprints found at her father’s club. Like Bodine had said, the blood of the two attackers her father had apparently killed was not in the system, and the bullet casings didn’t come back as related to any other reported crimes.

  She’d hoped the animal tranquilizer used on her father might be a different story. Xylazine was a sedative and analgesic used for horses and other large animals. The coroner had found several large, deep puncture marks on her father’s body, indicating he’d been hit multiple times with a dart gun of some kind. The dosage used on her father had been extreme, and the coroner estimated that nearly fifteen milliliters of the stuff had been dumped into his body. That would have been a lot for a full-size horse. For a human—even one as big as her father—it would have been fatal in minutes.

  But even though Triana had never heard of anyone using xylazine on humans in regard to murder, it appeared no one had done anything with the information. She’d read through the reports several times and found no record that the coroner or detective in charge of the case had checked with ViCAP or any other state criminal database to see if something like this had happened before.

  Triana had called a friend at the crime lab in Houston and asked the woman to check for other murders involving the use of this drug. Her friend had been curious, wanting to know if this had anything to do with her father’s death, but when Triana said it wasn’t something she wanted to get out to the rest of the lab, her friend had promised to keep it quiet.

  It was entirely possible that the reason there hadn’t been a note in the file about a ViCAP check was because the coroner had done his job and hadn’t found anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to check again, if for no other reason than it would give her something to do while Bodine was digging into the angle that her father had pissed someone off right before his death. Bodine promised to let her know if he learned anything and asked her to do the same.

  As Triana walked into the shop, she couldn’t help smiling when she saw her mom behind the counter, tying up gris-gris bags and putting price tags on them. Her mother looked up and returned her smile.

  “So you finally decided to come home, huh?” she teased.

  Triana laughed. She’d texted her mom earlier that morning, before her meeting with Bodine, and again before stopping at the library. So it wasn’t like her mother hadn’t known where she was and that she was safe.

  Walking over to the counter, she set down her purse and the envelope so she could help with the gris-gris bags. She absolutely loved the smell of the combination of herbs and spices her mom put in them.

  Her mother glanced at her as she reached for another bag. “Since you spent the night with Remy, that must mean your date went well.”

  Triana’s first instinct was to say it was wonderful and that they had a great time, but she caught herself. Her mother was as much her friend as her parent, and if there was one person in the world she could tell about her date with Remy—minus the part about them sleeping together—it was her mom. Besides, if she didn’t talk to someone about Remy and how much she liked him, she was sure she would explode.

  But wanting to talk about Remy and actually getting the right words to come out were two completely different things. Especially because her head was still swimming with everything she’d been feeling. Thankfully her mother didn’t rush her as she tried to get her thoughts together.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth, hoping the right words would somehow find their way out. “It went extremely well. I can honestly say that I’ve never been with a man so charming, engaging, relaxed, confident, or so…”

  “Attractive?” her mother finished.

  Triana grinned. “Yes. Without a doubt, Remy is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, much less dated. The funny thing about it is that I don’t think Remy knows how incredibly handsome he really is. I saw at least a dozen women trying to catch his eye when we walked into Muriel’s and he didn’t even notice. He never looked at a single one of them. In fact, he never took his eyes off of me the entire night.”

  Her mother’s lips curved. “Why would he? Remy’s as smitten with you as you are with him.”

  Even though Triana appreciated her mother’s analysis of Remy’s feelings, she couldn’t help laughing. “Mom. No one uses the word smitten anymore. And even if they did, I’m not sure I’d say I’m smitten with him. It’s a little too early for anything like that.”

  Her mother lifted a brow. “What word would you use then, if not smitten?”

  Triana opened her mouth, all ready to try to put the crazy feelings that had been zipping back and forth through her head all morning into a single, simple word. She failed.

  “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “What I’m feeling right now is too complicated to fit into a single word or even a whole bunch of words. All I can say for certain is that I’ve never been with anyone like Remy. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “You seem to have done a decent job of saying how you feel right there,” her mother said. “And whether you want to admit it or not, you are smitten with him.”

  Triana knotted the ribbon on the gris-gris bag she was working on. “I can’t be smitten with him. That would mean I’m falling for him, and that would be certifiably insane considering we’ve only gone out once.”

  Her mom laughed. “First off, I think you get a little credit for being friends with Remy in high school. It’s not as if you just met the man two days ago, you know. Even if you had, there’s nothing crazy about falling fast. It simply means fate put you in front of the man you were meant to be with. There’s nothing insane about that. In fact, it’s magical.” When Triana looked skeptical, her mother continued. “If it makes you feel any better, the exact same thing happened when I met your dad.”

  Triana looked at her mother in surprise. “It did?”

  She knew how her parents had met, of course, but she didn’t know it had been love at first sight.

  “It did,” her mom said. “I knew there was something special about him the moment I saw him. Neither of us felt the need to play games. Your father asked me to marry him a week after we met, and I said yes.”

  Triana stood there so stunned she wouldn’t have been surprised if her mouth was hanging open. She’d thought her parents had dated for months, maybe even years, before deciding to get married—the way normal people did. The idea that her mother and father had fallen in love in a week was crazy hard to believe. But she had to admit it was also interesting. Her parents had been the most in-love couple she’d ever seen. If it was possible for that kind of love to happen in days, maybe this thing going on with Remy wasn’t so insane.

  Chapter 9

  Remy couldn’t un
derstand why Triana needed to go back to her mother’s apartment above the shop to change before they headed out to the French Quarter to meet up with everyone else that night. As far as he was concerned, the form-fitting navy-blue dress she was wearing, with a slit that showed off plenty of thigh, was just fine with him. But she insisted it wasn’t sexy enough for Bourbon Street or the kind of dancing she had in mind.

  Not that he really cared what they did. After the day he’d had, he simply wanted to spend some quality time with Triana. If that meant watching her change clothes for an hour, he was definitely okay with that. Actually, in terms of quality time, he couldn’t imagine anything better than watching her take her clothes off over and over again.

  After spending another hour down at NOPD headquarters, he, Brooks, and Drew had headed back to the SWAT facility, hoping to get back to the training they had planned out for the day. It hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, they’d sat in the briefing room the entire afternoon talking to officers from the Public Integrity Bureau and filling out statements regarding when they had learned about the raids and with whom they had talked during the time period from that point until the actual raids had taken place.

  If there was anything Remy hated more than lawyers, it was paperwork. And the PIB truly loved their paperwork.

  It had been easy to put all that frustration and stress behind him the moment he’d picked Triana up for dinner, though. Being with her made all the crap he and the SWAT team had been dealing with the past two days fade into the background. He didn’t have a clue how she did it, and by and large, he didn’t care. If it meant being able to put thoughts of Aaron Lee and his damn crystal meth out of his head for a few hours, he was willing to accept it without a lot of analysis.

  When they’d gone to a nearby diner to grab an early dinner, Remy quickly discovered it didn’t take a fancy restaurant to enjoy himself with Triana. He’d had a simple seafood po’boy sandwich and a bowl of soup but had enjoyed it as much as the expensive cut of meat he’d had last night. They’d sat in the booth and chatted about inconsequential stuff like how the Saints were looking this year and whether LSU was going to fire their football coach. He found it didn’t matter what he and Triana talked about. He simply loved hearing her velvety, soft voice.

  They were half a block away from her mother’s shop when Remy heard the sound of strident, angry voices coming from that direction. He didn’t recognize the man, who was saying something about this being the last offer Gemma was going to get. But he definitely knew the woman. It was Gemma, telling the man to get the hell out of her shop.

  Tightening his hold on Triana’s hand, he picked up his pace the last twenty feet or so, jerking open the front door. The second he stepped inside, his senses went on alert and he gently pushed Triana behind him.

  There was a slick-looking man in a fancy suit standing in front of Gemma, berating her for being a stubborn old woman. The man’s attitude and clothing screamed lawyer, and Remy instinctively knew it was the same jackass Triana had mentioned to him that morning. But it wasn’t the lawyer or his condescending voice that had Remy’s fingertips and gums tingling. It was the three large brawler types the lawyer had with him. Remy recognized professional thugs when he saw them. They had noses that had been broken multiple times and scarred knuckles, not to mention wore cheap, loose-fitting sports jackets that allowed them to move easily as well as conceal a weapon.

  All eyes turned toward him and Triana as the little bell above the door tinkled, announcing their presence.

  “Mom?” Triana said hesitantly from behind him. “Is everything okay?”

  Gemma turned, relief on her face. “Of course. Mr. Murphy—or rather the person he claims to be representing—seems to have taken a sudden interest in my little voodoo shop. He offered to buy the whole place, including all the merchandise inside it and the apartment above it, for a ridiculous amount of money.”

  Remy was focused on the three toughs, who’d started to spread out and move toward him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Triana’s startled expression. She was obviously stunned and more than a little confused.

  “You’re selling your shop…your home?” she asked softly.

  Gemma shook her head. “Good heavens, no. I was just telling Mr. Murphy, for the second time, that the shop isn’t for sale, when you came in. Unfortunately, he’s a little hard of hearing.”

  Murphy glared at her. “Mrs. Bellamy, insult me all you want, but the offer my client is making is very fair. And as I’ve said more than once, it’s not an offer you’re in a position to refuse.”

  It was impossible for Remy to miss the threat in the man’s words. He didn’t imagine Gemma had either. But Triana’s mother didn’t bat an eye. Instead, she folded her arms and looked at the lawyer like he was an errant two-year-old having a tantrum.

  “Yet here I am, refusing your offer nevertheless.” She looked at Remy. “Could you please be a dear and escort Mr. Murphy and his friends out of my shop? This conversation is over.”

  “My pleasure,” Remy said.

  Two of the lawyer’s thugs immediately stepped forward to block his way while the third moved over to stand near his boss. Remy wasn’t in the mood to toy with these guys, not after they’d come in here and tried to intimidate Triana’s mother, but with Gemma and Triana standing there, it wasn’t like he could cut loose and go all werewolf on them. Unfortunately, he was going to have to restrain himself.

  So, instead of tossing both men across the room like he wanted to, with two fingers, he poked the first guy in the sternum hard enough to crack the bone and make the man stumble back a few feet. A split second later, the man fell to the floor, gasping and fighting for air.

  Remy spun around just as the second guy took a swing at his head. Remy brought up his hand, catching the thug’s fist in midair and stopping it a few inches from his face. Then he squeezed. Not as hard as he could but hard enough to end the fight quickly. The sound of the bones in the man’s hand cracking was probably loud enough for Triana to hear over by the door.

  The guy wailed in pain, his knees giving out as he collapsed to the floor. Remy squeezed the man’s hand a little harder before he let go, just to make sure the asshole didn’t develop any silly ideas about getting back up.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw a flash of movement and turned to see the third man coming his way, his hand behind his back like he was reaching for something. Remy didn’t know if it was a knife, a gun, or some other weapon, but he wasn’t going to let the man get it the rest of the way out.

  Unable to contain his inner wolf any longer, Remy snarled low in his throat, an animalistic warning that would be unmistakable to even the dimmest bulb in the box. The idiot coming at him must have been at least a little brighter than that because he stopped in his tracks, his hand still behind his back.

  “You might want to reconsider your plan,” Remy warned. “Because if that hand comes out with anything in it, you’re going to learn just how far out of your weight class you really are.”

  The guy stared at him for a moment, then glanced at his two buddies where they were lying on the floor rolling around in pain before finally eyeing the lawyer, who was paler than his white linen suit and obviously not going to be of any help.

  Shoulders slumping, the man’s hand slowly came out from behind his back, empty.

  “You want to call the police?” Remy asked Gemma as he continued to keep his eyes on the third man.

  “No,” she said.

  Remy frowned. “You sure? These guys threatened you.”

  The lawyer opened his mouth to say something, likely full of bullshit concerning the legal threshold for establishing the conveyance of a threat or some other crap that Remy really didn’t care to hear. Remy glared at the man, letting his eyes flash gold for a split second. The old man swallowed his words and looked like he might do the same to his tongue.

 
“I hate lawyers, so don’t talk,” Remy said. When it was obvious the man was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, Remy turned to Gemma. “You sure about not calling the police? What if these guys come back?”

  Gemma’s mouth curved. “I think they’ve gotten the message. This shop and the things in it are not for sale. Is that understood, Mr. Murphy?”

  When the lawyer nodded, Remy motioned with his head toward the door. He didn’t like the idea of not calling the police, but he understood Gemma’s reasoning. She wanted these people gone and probably thought he’d scared them enough to keep them away for good. He hoped she was right.

  But as the lawyer and the uninjured thug helped the other two jerks off the floor and out the door, he couldn’t miss the angry looks on their faces. They’d been embarrassed, and they were pissed. Remy had a bad feeling this might not be the last time he saw them.

  Then he caught sight of Triana standing by the door, watching the men hobble out. She hadn’t said a word or even moved the entire time the confrontation had taken place, but now her heart was thudding like a drum and she was breathing fast. She was scared to death, and if the way she was looking at Remy was any indication, what she’d just seen him do likely had as much to do with her fear as the fact that a bunch of lowlifes had threatened her mother.

  * * *

  Triana decided she must be in shock. She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten upstairs, other than a vague recollection of Remy steering her that way.

  She hadn’t even realized Murphy was at the shop until Remy had tightened his hold on her hand and practically dragged her there almost faster than her feet could move. Triana’s stomach had clenched the moment she’d seen that creepy old lawyer and his scary friends. The fact that they were there trying to intimidate her mom was obvious, not to mention terrifying. Those three men were big, and they looked like they were eager to hurt someone.

  “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” Remy asked softly as they sat down at the kitchen table. “Tea, maybe? Or something stronger?”