Betrayed by Shadows Page 4

  Brigit MacCreedy was one of those beautiful things that would appear in his harsh, ugly world to make him want and dream again. Watching her was like watching a sunrise, like seeing those first bright spring flowers pushing through the dead remains of winter. She was like poetry and music that teased the heart and transported the mind. But only for a moment. He knew the second he got closer, the minute he looked deeper, that surface loveliness would begin to dull and darken. And things would get complicated.

  So he’d watch from a distance and appreciate what he saw without having to put her into one of the two basic categories that arranged the way he viewed everyone he meet. He hadn’t learned that from Jimmy. That was the lesson his own father taught him.

  There were good guys and there were bad guys.

  Jimmy Legere had been a Class A Number One bad guy. He’d lived every day of his life off the misery and domination of others and had never apologized for it. He was a criminal, a murderer, a bully, and a cheat who surrounded himself with those who exemplified the same characteristics. Giles had no illusions. He was a bad guy, too.

  When Jimmy saw goodness, his first act was to use it or pervert it. He always said there were no good people, only people who hadn’t accepted how bad they really were. He laughed at decency, flipped off the idea of law and order, and scorned those who believed in self-sacrifice. If he could see those gathered under his roof today, he’d be thrashing in his fancy family crypt.

  Good guys and cops. Giles smiled as he pictured Jimmy’s horror. That amusement dimmed when his gaze settled on Alain Babineau. He hadn’t placed the detective in either group yet. Was he a good guy pretending to do bad things or a bad guy hiding behind his badge? Or were Giles’s instincts clouded by the man’s refusal to accept the son he saw as unnatural?

  Natural and unnatural. Those were two categories he’d believed in since he was a child growing up on the bayou. There were humans and animals, but also those who walked as both. He’d known that long before he’d met Max Savoie, Jimmy’s ferocious bodyguard, and added new columns to his list. There were humans. And there were Shape-shifters. Today that column held the names of most of those celebrating in Jimmy’s former house of criminal intent.

  “Got a minute?”

  Giles turned to see Silas MacCreedy: good guy, Shape-shifter, friend. And today a new category: married man.

  “Sure.” He followed the shifter cop out onto the wide front porch.

  “I need a favor.” MacCreedy wasn’t one to mince words; Giles liked that about him.

  “Name it.”

  Silas passed him a piece of paper. “That’s my number in case of an emergency. Call and leave a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Giles tucked the slip into his pocket. “Thanks, Mom. Everything’s going to be fine here. Go and enjoy all those things I’d be doing if I were in your place, and don’t give us another thought.”

  Silas smiled. “That’s not the favor.”

  “Oh. Thought I was getting off easy.”

  The detective’s mouth took a wry twist. “Not hardly. I’d like you to keep an eye on my sister.”

  “As pleasant a task as that might be, she’s a big girl who doesn’t look like she needs a babysitter.”

  “Wrong on both counts.” Silas paced to the rail and Giles waited for him to continue. “I love my sister, but she is the most maddening female. Given a good or a bad choice, she’ll inevitably pick the bad one, whether it’s words or actions or men.”

  Giles began to think that being a bad guy might have its advantages.

  “She’s going to be staying here until I get back and have time to decide what to do with her.”

  “Staying here?” Giles’s heart rate took a giant leap. “What kind of trouble could she get into?”

  Silas gave a short laugh. “I don’t even want to think about it.” His shoulders rose and fell heavily. “That business with the attack on Max when his driver, Pete, was killed.”

  Giles’s expression tightened. “What about it?”

  “She was involved with the man behind it, maybe even encouraged him. Now he’s dead, and his family might be looking for someone to pay for it.”

  “Ah. So you think they might come here?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s worried, so I’m worried.”

  It might have been a good time to tell Silas about the blood on her clothes and her skin. A good guy would have given up that truth, man-to-man, in a heartbeat. But Giles said nothing, knowing Silas would cancel his plans for his sister’s sake—and that would put him in the middle of a lot more drama than he was prepared for.

  Another part of him whispered it might be a good time to look like a good guy in the lovely Brigit MacCreedy’s eyes by saying nothing. By being the one to protect her if trouble came her way.

  “She’ll come to no harm here. You’ve my word on it. I’ll watch over her like a lion with a lamb.”

  Silas took his hand in a firm clasp, warning, “She’s no lamb, Giles, and she’ll fleece you if she can. Don’t trust her for a second, and don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Brigit wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke, but she sensed the lateness of the hour. As soon as her brother and his bride had left, she’d slipped upstairs and beneath the covers to lose herself to an exhausted sleep she’d hoped would last until morning. It had been all too brief and not in the least bit restful.

  She’d dreamed not of recent nightmares but of the past. She had Tina Babineau to thank for that.

  The big house was quiet and steeped in shadows. She rolled over and tried to sink back into slumber, but she couldn’t shut her mind down. Agitation prowled like a thief bent on stealing her sense of security, making her once again that preteen girl clutching her best friend as death screams echoed below. She could hear them still in the silence of the old house. Her father. Her mother. Then nothing, which had been worse.

  Because of Tina Babineau, the child her mother had been forced to bear to link two great families. The child they’d hidden rather than surrender her to the father’s brutal clan. The child who’d been raised in safety and security because of the horrendous sacrifice Brigit’s parents had made; the child who’d gotten to live a normal, happy life while Brigit’s own was a minefield of treachery, danger, and despair.

  And now they were under the same roof. Like sisters.

  Needing to rinse the taste of that from her mouth, Brigit slipped out from beneath the silky sheets and padded to the bathroom for a glass of water. In the mirror, her face swam like a ghost’s, features pale, eyes swollen with a grief too terrible to be expunged by the passing of years. She missed them still, their loss a huge, aching malignancy that continued to spread without ease now that she was alone and uncertain. But safe. For the moment, she was safe.

  She was surprised to see that the clothes she’d left soaking in the sink were clean and pressed on a hanger. Now someone other than her burly driver knew she’d been tangled up in violence prior to her arrival.

  Considering the owner of the big estate, bloodstains were probably not all that uncommon.

  She rubbed her palms up and down her arms as if they still ran with blood. Her stomach clenched against the surge of remembered terror, suddenly so close, so vivid, she could almost smell the pungent stink of cigarette and fear. That was over. She’d survived it, escaped it, and could put it behind her. Not so easy to turn away from was the thought of her cousin Kendra, left to her own inadequate devices.

  Dammit, why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut and choked down that attitude of humility? Then she’d be at her best friend’s side to comfort and protect.

  Well, so much for the Terriots’ plan to be rid of her permanently. How’d that work out for you, Cale? Her narrow smile faded. How was that working out for her? Distanced from where she needed to be, without a plan, without a purpose, without her family?

  They were all she had, all she knew. Once the three of them, now her all alone.

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nbsp; Too keyed up to remain in her room, Brigit wrapped herself in the plush robe hanging on the door and wandered down the wide, curving staircase. To enjoy the illusion of freedom, she stepped out through the front door to inhale the cool if heavy night air. And the scent of cigarette hanging on it.

  Her pulse lunged like a startled deer as she spun, eyes wide, body tensing into fight-or-flight mode.

  It wasn’t the dead come to claim her. It was only Giles St. Clair sitting on an old-fashioned glider, rocking slowly while having an evening smoke.

  “Evening, Miz MacCreedy.” His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Catch up on your sleep, did you?”

  Fright changing into fierce defensiveness, she clipped out “Yes, thank you.”

  “Going somewhere?”

  She made an expansive gesture. “Where would I go, Mr. St. Clair? I believe we’re in the middle of nowhere I want to be.” When he made no reply, she sighed. “I thought the night air might help me think through some things.”

  The cigarette glowed bright and hot. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “I can’t imagine how, but thank you for asking.”

  “Your brother asked me to look out for you. Just letting you know so you wouldn’t think I had designs of my own.”

  He had her complete attention. “Silas asked you to spy on me?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “In what words, exactly?” she demanded. How dare Silas treat her like a wayward child who needed supervision! Turning her over to this—this stranger, this human! When the human in question remained silent, she growled in aggravation. “I don’t need someone looking out for me, so I’d appreciate you keeping your distance.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. She could see him lounging on the wooden swing, wearing the suit coat over an open-collared white shirt, though well-worn jeans and tennis shoes had replaced their dressier counterparts. He was a good-looking man in a ruggedly conservative way that usually didn’t appeal to her. She liked pretty men with pretty manners.

  There was nothing the least bit pretty about Giles St. Clair. His hair was a close-cut basic brown with a touch of rather sexy silvering at the temples that made it hard to judge his age. Mid- to late thirties was her guess. His obvious time spent outdoors had left creases at the corners of his eyes that deepened attractively with his frequent smile. His big frame was as relaxed as his tone.

  He appeared a gentle giant, with those calm blue-gray eyes and easy movements, but she wasn’t fooled by that impression.

  “Don’t think for a minute that you can tell me what to do or that I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

  A slow smile. “I didn’t think that even for a second.”

  That made her pause. “So what does he expect you to do?”

  “Help you if you need it and get in the way of you doing anything foolish. Otherwise, I’ll be keeping that distance.”

  “You do know that you’re just a puny human and I can tear through you like a slice of prime rib.”

  His teeth flashed white. “I’ve always considered myself more of a slow-cooked, chuck-roast kind of fellow—meaty, a bit of gristle, but tender if basted properly. And I think I could take you. I know a thing or two about your kind. You can growl, scratch, and bite, but for the most part, you can’t change into anything more dangerous than the average female.”

  “You would wrestle me to the ground, Mr. St. Clair?”

  “Only if I had to. And I’d try not to enjoy it.”

  Why had she ever thought her thuggish jailer pleasant and vaguely amusing?

  “I’ll do my best not to provoke any physical contact,” she drawled. “I find close proximity to those who indulge in nicotine addiction quite nauseating.”

  He blew a thick stream of smoke in her direction. “You might want to stand upwind, then.”

  She could feel the hair bristling on the back of her neck and wished just once she could transform to scare the ever-loving smugness out of him.

  But he was right. She couldn’t go through him. So that left around him or over him.

  She tamed her tone to gain sympathy. “I need to get some clothes and some other things. I had to pack in a hurry.”

  “An evening dress and heels wouldn’t have been the first things I thought to grab.”

  She almost smiled. “I should think not. You don’t have the figure for it.”

  “How do you know? I happen to think I’ve got damn fine legs.”

  She laughed; she couldn’t help herself. “Would you take me into New Orleans so I can get something to wear?”

  “Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far. We have one of those where-America-shops type stores up the road a piece.”

  Her good humor fell. “I would rather go naked.”

  “I’d rather you go naked, too, but it’s up to you, Bridget.”

  “That’s not my name. You are a crude, disgusting man.”

  “Now you’re hurting my feelings. And I so hoped we’d get along.”

  “Are you or are you not an employee here?”

  “I am. But I don’t work for you.”

  Brigit swept back inside, slamming the door behind her, leaving Giles to leisurely finish his smoke. And ponder.

  Whatever had covered her in blood had left its stain upon her. For a moment there, before she yanked up her impressive bluster, she’d been scared witless. The notion of anyone in his care shivering helplessly at the hint of threat didn’t sit well with Giles.

  Whether that threat was real or imagined was something he’d have to find out.

  After interminable hours of tossing and fretting, Brigit was finally coaxed downstairs again by the comforting smell of chicory coffee. The rich, dark scent reminded her of precious moments spent with her father while the rest of the family was sleeping. She’d sat on his lap, her head tucked in to his shoulder as he read the morning paper. She could still feel the rough cable of his sweater beneath her cheek, inhale the skin-warmed note of sandalwood from his aftershave.

  She followed her nose to the dining room, where her nostalgic mood abruptly ended. Tina and her son, Oscar, were enjoying breakfast together. The sight was an immediate affront to that tender memory.

  “Good morning,” Brigit called to announce herself. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  Tina was all smiles. “We would have waited if we’d known you were an early riser. Have you met Ozzy yet?”

  The boy regarded her with an open curiosity. “You don’t look like Silas.”

  Brigit extended her hand. “You look very much like your mother.” And their mother before her, with those big dark eyes they all shared.

  He took her hand warmly, exchanging a quick prickle of energy in that brief press. The power of the Glimmer from one so young surprised her.

  The kind of power one would expect from a Terriot prince.

  While they waited for Jasmine to fill her china coffee cup, Tina continued to chatter happily. “I wish we could spend some more time together, but I’ve got to take Ozzy to school in the city. Giles usually drives him, but he’s on a conference call this morning in the city. Some business he needed to take care of for Max.”

  “A conference call? I thought he was just . . .”

  Tina smiled. “Just muscle? Not anymore. He’s practically running everything now. Or at least has been for the past few months. I guess you could say he and your brother are partners.”

  So the wise guy was pseudo CEO. Food for thought for another time.

  Brigit smiled brightly. “Well, maybe we can kill two birds with one stone. I’m in desperate need of some shopping time in New Orleans, and I certainly don’t want to drag Mr. St. Clair from fitting room to fitting room. If I rode in with you, would you mind helping me with some retail therapy?”

  Tina looked surprised, then almost pathetically grateful. “That sounds like fun. I’d love to. Try some eggs. Helen, the housekeeper, is a genius in the kitchen.”


  “I will. I’ve suddenly got quite an appetite.” Brigit tore into the meal the way she’d rip her way through a tender chuck roast.

  A leisurely morning in Saks Fifth Avenue at the Shops at Canal Place was just the pick-me-up Brigit needed to feel more herself again. She would have enjoyed it more if not for her companion.

  Tina’s shy reserve had dissolved the minute she was asked about her son. Resentment growled through Brigit as she listened to the woman go on and on about her perfect little family. The loving and decent faux parents who’d raised her in sheltering happiness atop the blood of Brigit’s own parents. The beautiful child she’d been blessed with. The handsome, heroic husband who’d swept her off her feet. Her discovery of her heritage and the powerful tie to Max Savoie, who again provided for her lavishly.

  And now her half sister basked in her brother’s affection.

  Envy wasn’t something Brigit was familiar with. Being jealous of such a drab little mouse sat uncomfortably. To combat the prickly emotion, Brigit felt the need to eclipse those simple claims with her own accomplishments. Success. Wealth. Lovely belongings. Love itself. She talked of her travels to fabulous foreign places, of dining with princes and politicians, of glamorous parties and endless suitors. Of the future she was poised to have with Daniel Guedry before tragedy struck. And naive little Tina was properly awed, not realizing how shallowly those things sat in Brigit’s regard. The only things she truly wanted were those Tina enjoyed. And the pain of that goaded Brigit into further flaunting the differences between them.

  One of the store’s personal shoppers provided an endless parade of designer options for inspection while Tina sat in wide-eyed wonderment. Brigit’s must-haves included a blousy beige Bottega Veneta cargo jumpsuit, an elbow-length cashmere sweatshirt and cropped linen pants from the Marc Jacobs collection, a taupe laser-cut suede jacket over a leopard-print jersey wrap dress from Just Cavalli, and a fitted Alexander McQueen silk peplum jacket over a gray floral skull tee and slim cropped denim pants.