Devil’s Luck Page 14

  She’d never looked at Lou as if somehow Lou had betrayed her.

  Lou exhaled and scrubbed her face with a cloth. She washed her hair and body and made slow work of it, given her one able arm.

  After she stepped out and wrapped herself in the soft towel, she found a comb in Konstantine’s medicine cabinet.

  In the bedroom, he’d laid out a pair of his black sweats and a large, loose white shirt.

  She put them on and sat on the edge of the bed to brush out her hair.

  When she heard a noise, she turned and found him standing there, a glass of water in one hand and a small sauce cup with two pills in the other. He was watching her with a strange expression.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He started as if remembering himself. “My mother used to sit on the end of my bed and brush out her hair.”

  “This bed?”

  “No,” he said, his smile widening. “It was a long time ago. Here.”

  He handed her the water first. She had to set down the comb so she could take it with her good hand. Her bad shoulder felt better after being pummeled by the hot water, but it still throbbed. She’d done too much too soon, and that was painfully clear now as the night was moving in on her, as the adrenaline was leaving her and her muscles were stiffening.

  “What is this?” she asked, opening her hand for the pills.

  “It’s your Vicodin, which you stopped taking.” His voice held a hint of playful challenge. It reminded her of Lucy’s I told you voice.

  She remembered leaving the hospital with a prescription for it after she was shot. She’d taken it for a week, when the pain was at its worst, and mostly slept because she was so tired. But after that she hadn’t liked feeling dull in her mind or in her body. She hadn’t realized Konstantine had kept the rest of the pills.

  “I doubt I can convince you to see a doctor. I’ll settle for immobilizing the arm and treating it until the swelling goes down. And if you rest, your shoulder should feel okay in a few days.”

  “We’re going to go after Winter,” she said.

  He stood and placed the water on a small desk against the wall. “Of course you are. And who is Winter?”

  “It’s a fake internet name.”

  He gave her a patient smile. “Yes, I know what a handle is. What do you know about him?”

  Lou did her best to recount what Diana had told her.

  He positioned himself against the headboard. “I’ll see what I can find out. I hate those who prey on children. When are you moving against him?”

  “That hasn’t been decided. But King is on board.”

  After a pause, he said, “I heard that Jiri Svoboda went missing tonight. Any chance you’ve been in Prague?”

  She met his gaze. “Was he one of yours?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Would you have spared him if you’d known? Did you know?”

  “No,” she said. It was a blanket answer to both questions.

  He smiled. “I didn’t think so. He can be replaced. But you do love causing trouble for me—and yourself—don’t you?”

  He was so beautiful there, relaxed, his hair framing his deep green eyes.

  She kissed him. She hadn’t known she was going to do it until her lips were pressed against his.

  “Hello,” he said, a laugh in his voice, as she settled her weight against his lap. “Buonasera.”

  When she began to rock her hips, just slightly, he stopped her.

  “As tempting as you are,” he said, his face flushed. “Do you want to make your shoulder worse than it already is?”

  Piper’s face flashed in her mind again. Why? Why did it keep haunting her like that? When was the last time anything had haunted her?

  “What’s wrong?” Konstantine asked. When she didn’t answer, he said, “If you really want—”

  “No.” She sat up.

  “Was it something I said?”

  “I was thinking about Piper.”

  His brow arched. “Do you often think of lesbians when you are in bed with me?”

  His joke fell flat. Lou was too far away, deep in the recesses of her mind. “She’s mad at me.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He snorted, settling back against his pillows. “It is true I am not an expert on women, but what I do know is that they’re usually only mad at you if you’ve done something wrong.”

  Wrong.

  There it was again, that feeling of not okay. It made her itch under the collar. It made her want to hold a gun.

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  We can’t have another psychopath hanging around. One is enough.

  “She doesn’t want me to work with Diana.”

  “But you agreed to anyway.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  When she met his eyes, he flinched. “I’m not questioning your judgment. I’m only asking your reason.”

  “They’re hurting children.”

  “Okay. But do you need to work with her to save them?”

  Lou turned the question over in her mind, but it blurred out, grew fuzzy. She felt her eyes fluttering.

  “The Vicodin is working. You should sleep.” He patted the bed beside him. “All of this can wait.”

  He said it as if she had a choice.

  But even as the darkness reached out to take her into its arms, it was still Piper’s hard, accusing face that she carried with her into the deep.

  22

  King wasn’t sure Lou would come. He sat at his desk sipping coffee, his eyes straying to the door labeled Ms. Thorne every few seconds. He’d even made the coffee himself, using the small coffeemaker in the office, lest he should miss her by going down to the café.

  He was trying to get some work done, but it wasn’t easy. He kept thinking of the night before, of Dani’s panic attack, of Piper’s anger. He’d known about Mel sometimes taking Valium. She’d turned down his offer to smoke weed once or twice because of it.

  “You’re too late,” she’d said. “I already took a pill. I don’t chase my downers with downers.”

  And drama aside, there was something irresistible about Diana’s offer. It was a great case, busting a large pornography ring.

  But he wanted to go over the plans for the move against Winter. And he wanted to make it absolutely clear to Lou what she had to risk by working with someone like Dennard.

  Only one concern plagued him. When Lou had left, she’d been too quiet. More quiet, he thought. It was the sort of silence that unsettled him. It usually meant that Lou was about to do something he wouldn’t like.

  He glanced at the closed door, leaning back in his chair. He wondered if he could step out for lunch, albeit quickly. He was getting hungry again.

  That morning, during a tech blackout, King—with Konstantine’s assistance—had been able to find and remove the cameras and bugs.

  “We have an uneasy truce with Diana,” he said to the urn on his desk. “We’ll see where this gets us.”

  His heart ached. He missed his wife. Not just her smile, and her laugh. He also missed her brain. She would know what to do about Dennard—about Lou.

  You forget I came to you for help, her distant voice reminded him.

  His eyes flicked to the closed door again. Nothing.

  Come on, come on, he urged. This time he even sent a page, hoping it would be picked up by the GPS watch Lou often wore.

  Piper’s door was also closed, but the girl wasn’t home. King and Mel had both given her the day off so she could stay with Dani. King had offered to let Dani keep Lady until she felt better, but there was something about a cat named…Taffy? Tabby? He hadn’t caught that part.

  Lady stayed with Mel.

  The door creaked suddenly and King jolted.

  Lou stepped into the office, complete with leather jacket and mirrored shades. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail today, but a few dark strands hung around the sides of her face.

 
; “Hey,” King breathed, wondering if his relief was too obvious. He held back from saying, You came.

  “I got your page.” Her eyes fell on Piper’s empty seat and her shoulders sagged.

  “She’s off today,” King said. “It’s just us.”

  Was that relief he saw flicker across her face?

  “You okay?” he ventured.

  The stiffness returned.

  “Never mind,” he said. “Let’s talk about Winter. Do you know anything about him?”

  “Not yet. Konstantine’s searching.”

  King decided to go for sunny and see where that got him. “That’s okay. We’ll learn what we need to know.”

  She hadn’t lifted her shades yet, so King couldn’t see her eyes. Not a good sign.

  “I placed a call to Sampson this morning and he’s going to see if Winter is in the system at all. But before we get to that, we need to talk about you.”

  Lou scowled. “Me?”

  “How are you going to protect yourself from Dennard?”

  “With a gun.”

  King laughed. “I mean your abilities. It’s one thing to have Konstantine wipe footage or destroy cameras. He’s not going to be able to do a damn thing if Diana sees you in action with her own eyes.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Like you were last night? He thought of the room going dark.

  “I don’t think that’ll be enough,” King said. “Not for someone like her. People like Dennard are observant, meticulous. She’s going to try to figure you out. Hell, she’s already trying.”

  He worried he was veering toward a lecture. Nothing would send Lou running like a lecture. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’m just saying she can’t be trusted with that information. If you’re not going to kill her.”

  “Why should I?” Lou asked.

  The genuineness of the question surprised him. It was as if she was looking for a legitimate reason.

  “When that reporter from The Herald tracked you down, you shot him, didn’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. “And if she finds out, would you kill her too?”

  “I’ve revealed my gifts to people without killing them before. Women,” she amended.

  So it’s about the fact that she’s a woman.

  Damn. King had hoped that wasn’t the case. He understood that one day they would find Lou’s weakness, whatever it was. He knew she wouldn’t hurt children, but children rarely hunt you down and try to shoot you.

  This Dennard woman was a different problem. She wasn’t like the women Lou was used to saving. If Lou didn’t wrap her head around that, she might end up dead for it.

  “She doesn’t have your abilities,” King began, looking for an opening, “but Dennard is very dangerous. Would you shoot preemptively, if someone like you was on your trail?”

  She didn’t have an answer.

  King sighed. He was beginning to feel old again. The feeling was coming on more and more frequently these days, making his mind ache as badly as his body.

  “All I’m saying is that we need a plan. It’s too dangerous to let her know what you can do.”

  “She might have already put it together,” Lou said.

  “Because of last night? I doubt it. She probably thinks you’ve got tricks. Escape rooms or tunnels in every French Quarter building. I guarantee by the end of the day she’ll have convinced herself that you came through a trap door or something. You’d be surprised the bullshit people peddle to themselves when they can’t understand something. In the 1700s, they’d had no problem believing in witchcraft. Today? No way. People are too sensible. It’ll be worse for someone like Dennard, who prides herself on her sensibility.”

  Lou watched his face for a long moment. Finally, she pulled up the chair to the other side of King’s desk. “How do we take down Winter without letting Dennard know what I can do?”

  His excitement spiked. He couldn’t help it. His love of a good challenge had driven him toward law enforcement in the beginning. Playing by the rules and still winning the game—that was something he understood.

  “First, we need to know her plan. She must have one if she’s been obsessing about this guy for a while. Once we talk to her and see where she’s at, we can build our sham operation around hers. It’ll be brilliant, actually.”

  Famous last words, he thought, glancing at the urn.

  He wanted it to work. He wanted to keep his promise to his dead wife, Louie’s aunt, that he would keep Lou safe.

  “How do we build a sham operation?” she asked. “There’s only six of us. And you’re not a cop anymore.”

  A knot loosened in his chest. “I’ve got a plan.”

  * * *

  Diana stepped into the house expecting…something else.

  When they’d brought the detective, the shopkeeper, and those two whimpering fools in, the townhouse had been pristine. Now it looked like a Halloween attraction.

  She stretched on the latex gloves, scowling at the blood pooled on the kitchen floor. Bending down to inspect the damage, she wrinkled her nose.

  The smell of it was heady, fruity to the point of intoxication, and it made her skin crawl.

  Diana had selected the building because the bottom level was protected by a secluded garden. This meant that neighbors and passersby couldn’t see the entrance or what happened past the townhome’s high gate. It had helped that it was only a block from King’s office. It had made it easy to bring them in without arousing suspicion.

  But it might not have been only to her advantage.

  Had Lou relied on this entrance?

  Diana had done a headcount that morning and could account for only five of their original crew—including Spencer, Blair, and herself. That either meant Lou killed fifteen people or some of them ran off.

  Steph and Sarah Zink—Diana’s favorites—had stayed. But everyone else was gone.

  Maybe after meeting Lou’s gaze down the barrel of her gun, she should be running too. But here she was, mopping blood off the floor.

  The stairs creaked and Diana stood, looking into the hallway.

  It was Blair, with a knit brow and her own pair of black nitrite gloves. “No bodies. Where the hell are all the bodies?”

  “Maybe Lou has a cleanup crew.”

  Blair snorted, stepping into the kitchen. “Shitty cleanup crew. There’s blood everywhere.”

  “Any idea on how many she shot?”

  “If each of the big puddles counts as a body, then fourteen.”

  Maybe she took them all. Somehow that was better. Diana hated nothing more than cowards.

  “But maybe someone ran off,” Blair offered. “Can you blame them?”

  Diana scowled at her. “Don’t tell me you’re a chickenshit too.”

  “I’m just saying, the woman dropped fourteen people in less than a minute. She was in and out of this building and took four people with her before we could get the lights back on. If you aren’t concerned, then you’re stupid.”

  “Stupid? No.” Diana wasn’t stupid. Diana was pissed.

  She wanted to know how Lou did it. How did she get in and out so quickly? How did she kill so quickly? How, how, how?

  The admiration only carried so far. Then it soured, hardening into envy.

  There was much more to Louie Thorne—she knew it. She only had to crack her code.

  “She’s dangerous,” Blair said, stepping over a puddle of blood. “Too dangerous, frankly.”

  Diana gestured at the room, at the house. “Look at what she can do. Think of what we could do with her help.”

  Diana thought herself magnanimous for the use of we. In truth, it was an I that framed her fantasies.

  I’m going to kill Winter. This time I’ll pull it off.

  “What we’re doing is fine,” Blair insisted. “You don’t need her to bring down Winter. You don’t.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I do!” Blair exclaimed. “You’re the one who can’t get your
head out of your ass and see what you’re doing. Take the blinders off, Dee!”

  Diana’s face hardened. “If you’re scared, you can leave.”

  Her irritation chewed at the back of her neck, nipped at her earlobes. Blair never broke rank with her. Why would she do it now, at such an important moment, when they were so close?

  Lou had agreed to help them, hadn’t she?

  Winter was within her reach.

  But if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s not only about Winter anymore, is it?

  “I’m not leaving. I promised that I’d see this to the end with you and I’ll do it,” Blair said, her jaw tight and face red. “I just want you to tell me where the end is.”

  “I don’t need your doom and gloom today, Blair.”

  Her sister took a deep breath. “What do you need then?”

  “Manpower.”

  23

  “Here you go,” Piper said, bringing the hot tea to Dani’s bedside and placing it on the end table. “And a little saucer for you to put the tea bag in so it doesn’t oversteep. I know you hate that.”

  “Thanks.” Dani’s voice was gruff. Her face was still puffy and her eyes red. She’d slept for almost twelve hours, but she looked far from refreshed.

  Dani caught her staring. “Do I look that bad?”

  “You’re beautiful,” Piper said without pause.

  Dani gave her a weak smile. “My chest hurts.”

  “I think that’s from the panic attack.” While Dani had slept and Piper had kept watch over her, she’d read what felt like a thousand articles about PTSD on her phone. It was common for people who had had a panic attack to feel sore the next day from the barrage of contracting muscles.

  A Valium hangover could also leave someone feeling subdued, tired, and out of it. Between the two, Piper had a good sense of what Dani might feel like right now.

  Meow.

  Piper glanced at her leg and saw Octavia, Dani’s cat, rubbing against her legs.

  “You’re trying to kill me,” Piper said.

  “She knows you’re allergic,” Dani said, lifting the mug and blowing the steam. “She wants you to love her anyway.”