A Taste of Love and Evil (25 page)

A gap at the bottom of a loading-dock door beckoned, seemingly her only hope. She climbed onto the dock and pushed her backpack under the door, then lay on her back on the cold concrete to squish sideways through the opening. Her tie caught on a metal snag. She wrenched it away, ripping the orange fabric.
Oh, well, Rose didn’t like that one as much.
She’d refused to wear the one Rose had given her
because she was mad at Rose for leaving, but now she wished desperately that Rose were around, because Rose wouldn’t betray her.

Who was she kidding? Everyone betrayed her.

Juma wriggled farther into the gap, squishing her breasts, and turned her head frantically to the side just as Gil’s SUV rounded the corner and its headlamps caught her like a mesmerized deer. Gil cut the lights and jumped out.

“That lady with the pink hair was your grandma?”

“Gil,” Juma sobbed, “please go. Please don’t make me go back to her. She’ll lock me up again and burn my books, and I don’t think I can bear it anymore.” She squeezed farther into the warehouse, and the door creaked heavily, ominously above. “Just go. Please just go.”

“You can’t stay here. Your grandma’s ordering the real-estate people around and calling the cops.” Jack’s partner stuck his shoulder under the door and heaved it up a couple of inches. “This is the first place they’ll look for you. Come on, let’s go.”

“You didn’t know she would be there?” Juma accused. She slipped out, clinging to her backpack. “This real-estate crap wasn’t just to keep me busy until she showed up? You swear?”

“Of course it wasn’t, of course I swear, now get in the car and let’s go!” Gil picked her up bodily, dumped her into the backseat of the SUV, and stuffed the backpack in behind her.

“My book!” Juma shrieked, and Gil swooped down to pick up the book of poems, which had fallen to the pavement. He tossed it in, slammed the door, and got into the driver’s seat.

Juma couldn’t stop herself. She leaned forward and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Thank you!”

Gil shrank away, letting go of the seat belt so that it whicked back into its slot. “You meant what you said to Jolene?” He goggled at her.

Oh, crap. “About you being with me?” Juma shook her head.
“Of course not. I was saving you from a fate worse than death—and it worked, right? Totally freaked the woman out.”

Gil didn’t move.

“That was just a thank-you kiss,” Juma promised. “Let’s go.”

Grim faced, Gil put his seat belt on. “This is why I don’t like runaways. How old are you?”

“Eight—” No. “Sixteen.”

“Just what I needed. The age for statutory rape in Louisiana is seventeen.”

Juma was close to having a fit. “Gil, I don’t want to sleep with you! You’re old enough to be my father, for God’s sake. Anyway, sex is boring. I’m not interested. At all.” She punched him hard on the shoulder. “Grandma will get me if we stay here. Now,
go.”

Gil took off without headlights and hit the road just as the pink Lincoln turned out of the real-estate parking lot. Juma ducked down.

Gil put the pedal to the metal and sped like a lunatic toward town, but Grandma followed them even more crazily through two red lights while talking on her cell phone. She jumped the Lincoln onto the wrong side of the road when Gil made a sudden turn, and Juma cheered as horns blared behind them. Gil stomped on the gas again, and finally lost their pursuer in a maze of neighborhoods before heading into downtown Bayou Gavotte.

“We’re not likely to see her down here,” Juma said. She huddled low in the car, peering at the neon signs and busy streets of the club district as it began to stir for the evening. “Grandma disapproves of clubs, because that’s where my dad got started on drugs. What should we do now?”

“Talk to Jack,” Gil said. He pulled out his cell phone. But Jack didn’t answer, so he left an urgent message before confessing, “In New Orleans, I would have had someplace safe for you. Here nothing’s been set up.”

“Jack’s apartment?” Juma suggested. Not a superappealing idea, but what else was there?

“Too close to my place. Your grandma’s almost certainly got my license number, probably my name, too, from Jolene, and the cops can get that anyway. It’ll have to be Violet. I can’t think of anything else.”

He turned off the main drag, took a few more corners, and drove slowly down a residential street lined with massive live oaks and huge Victorian houses. “It should be down here, by what I’ve heard.”

“You don’t even know where she lives?” Juma asked.

“Behind Blood and Velvet. In a purple house.”

“It should be near the end of this block, then. Keep going, keep going…Oh, no!” She ducked as low as she could and still see out the window. “Gil, if this is another trap—”

They were passing the big purple Victorian just as a cop descended the walk, clipping his radio back on his belt. Juma stared, frozen, as the cop glanced up, sharpened his stance, and ran for his vehicle.

Gil cursed, rounded the corner, and doused his lights again. He headed fast down the dimly lit alley between Violet’s street and the clubs. “I won’t be able to outrun him. We’re downtown, the traffic’s heavy, and he can get backup in no time. Your only chance is to run and hide.” As Juma crammed the book of poems into her pocket and put her backpack over her shoulders, Gil handed his cell phone over the seat. “Downtown is pretty safe at night. Find someplace warm to wait. Keep calling Jack. Tell him what happened.” He passed her his wallet. “Take some money in case you need to go eat.”

Trembling now, Juma opened the wallet. Only a twenty. “That’s all you have.”

“Take it,” Gil said. “And the charger, too, just in case you need it. In the glove box.” Far behind them, the cop’s brights and flashers appeared, approaching at terrifying speed. Gil forced the SUV even faster down the gravel of the alley.

Juma scrounged for the charger. “Got it. But they’ll catch
you.”

“Better me than you. See the bend up ahead? Just past there I’ll stop. You jump out on the left, shut the door, and get out of sight. His lights will be pointing right as he enters the turn, so any cover should do. I’ll gun it and get the cop to follow me. Take off that orange tie, because it’ll reflect everything. That suit jacket’s too unusual, makes you easy to spot. Ready to go?”

Juma tore off the orange tie. “Grandma will say you kidnapped me. She did that once before to some guy who gave me a ride.”

Gil shrugged. “They can’t arrest me for kidnapping if you’re not in the car.”

“Grandma will make sure they arrest you. She’ll say I’m underage and that you had sex with me, and Jolene will back her up. Oh, Gil, I’ve never even
had
sex! I just pretend for the hell of it. I’m so sorry!”

“I’ll be fine.” They whipped round the curve. The alley ended in a crowded street only fifty yards ahead. There wouldn’t be another chance. “Ready? See the bushes by the corner?”

“You’ll be stuck in a cell, or the underworld might kill you. Gil, please!”

He skidded to a stop and roared, “Go!”

Juma jumped out, slammed the door, and dove past a line of bushes at the edge of the alley. Gil plunged the SUV into the middle of moving traffic and blaring horns, and two seconds later the cop flew by, wild with lights and sirens. Juma huddled behind the bushes, safe for the moment in the dark.

Rose climbed off her invisible ex-lover and walked away. She heard him move but didn’t turn. She listened to his intake of breath, followed by a sharp exhalation. Relief, she supposed.
Relief.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t angry. She’d never been rejected like this before, but she felt astonishingly calm. A
new experience; chalk it up.
Obviously, she’d misjudged their connection. Outside, the music had faded and the crowd was dispersing. Constantine must have gone indoors again.

In the living room, she shucked her sweatpants and underwear. Jack might or might not be watching, but obviously it didn’t matter. He didn’t want her anymore. Judging by the way he’d dismissed her while he had a raging hard-on, he must be completely disgusted with her. He should be, she supposed. She’d totally invaded his privacy. She’d thought herself a nurturer, a person who set aside her own needs for others. A woman who understood a man’s desires and fulfilled them. Instead, she’d tried to force him to have sex. It turned out she really was violent at heart. Jack had taught her a lot about herself, most of it unsavory. No wonder he hated vamps.

She unzipped her suitcase and rummaged for something special. Clothing that impressed. Not to impress Jack, though. Jack was history. During the last hour he’d come to some decision she didn’t understand. So, why did her hands shake as she dug through her underwear?

Whatever. She’d had setbacks before. Not this particular
kind, but she could handle anything. She donned a new bra and undies, a delicate tea-rose shade, her special shade, and tall green leather boots.

She didn’t need to turn to know he stood in the doorway. Did he think she would steal his precious Magic Flute teapot as she left? No, she was being petty. This was unlike her, shameful even. She wondered whether he was invisible at the moment, but she didn’t turn to look. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face.

She unpacked her favorite dress, constructed of the homemade fabric that had garnered her several contest wins and a spread in
Quilting Arts,
and stuffed the sweats and shoes into her suitcase. Since he wasn’t talking, she’d get this thing moving. “Call me a cab, please. Fortunately, Violet invited me to stay at her place. I’m sure she’ll welcome Juma as well, if your friend still isn’t available.”

“I forgot a rescue.”

“What?” Rose put her arms into a slip of the same lighthearted shade and let it slither over her breasts and drape gently onto her hips. It left her thighs bare. Guys loved her thighs.

“I forgot a goddamned rescue, Rose.” There was a hitch in his voice. “I was expecting a call. I knew it could come at any time, and I was worried about the woman…but I got so wrapped up in sex with Titania that I forgot to check my phone and the rescue died.”

Rose heard the words, but she was too intent on not caring about him to really listen. She shook out her dress, a confection of wool and silk fibers held together with wandering lines of stitching, with swirls and knots of silver thread. She always felt gorgeous wearing the dress.

By the sound of his voice, Jack felt awful. What was he—?

It finally sank in. He’d just told her a rescue had
died.
What would that mean for a man who lived his life accounting for everything as Jack did? “You mean, you didn’t
hear the phone?” She risked a glance at him, suddenly appalled. He looked like shit. “You heard it and
ignored
it?”

“No. Though for all I know, I might have ignored it if I had heard. Titania can…can be very charming if she chooses, and once she’d caught me, I was blind and deaf to everything but the sex. Even amongst my dad’s vampire girlfriends, I’d never met a woman with such…But that doesn’t excuse me.” He blew out a breath.

Rose’s dress had large round buttons down the front, covered in the same fabulous fabric. She put it on, letting it float down over her slip and settle luxuriously into place. Jack’s eyes slid over her, and she supposed he must have noticed her outfit, but he said nothing. Why should he? So what if everyone in the whole damned world complimented her on this dress? She’d lost him 100 percent. She should have too much pride to crave his attention. Even worse, she should be ashamed to dwell on herself when he was so obviously overset. He looked simply awful, far too distraught over a death that must have happened a year ago, judging by what Violet had said about his time with Titania. It wasn’t directly his fault. She yearned to hug and comfort him.

But he wouldn’t want that. He was disgusted with her, even if he was explaining himself. She had to leave because her calm was dispelling rapidly, fading like his chest had under her hands. She put an olive cotton wrap over her dress and tied it in front. “Would you please call the cab?”

He just stood there.

She couldn’t afford tender feelings, but she could give practical advice, right? “I’m sorry your rescue died, but it’s not your fault if you didn’t hear your phone. Maybe it just didn’t ring. That happens with cell phones. Titania’s call today didn’t ring, either. It went straight to message.” That sounded reasonable and down-to-earth. She scrounged for something else. “Are all your rescues so last-minute? It seems mighty inefficient.” Damn. That was practically a dis.

Maybe he was already so miserable it didn’t matter, because he didn’t appear to take it amiss. “Most of them run more smoothly. The last-minute rescues are unusual.”

“Cindy was one of those, right? One of the successful ones. Maybe you should dwell on those instead.” That was good advice. The kind she gave herself.

“I can’t ignore my fuckups,” Jack said. “I didn’t hear my phone because someone—I assume one of Titania’s friends—put it in silent mode.”

“What?” Rose made a face while she zipped up the suitcase. “Why?”

“Because I was stupid enough to say I was expecting an important call and might have to leave the party early. Titania must have signaled to one of them to silence the phone.”

No wonder he’d been upset. And yet…“That’s horrible, but how does it make the rescue’s death your fault?”

“I should have noticed that it upset Titania if even a fraction of my attention went to someone else. That she couldn’t tolerate that I might consider leaving. I’d already begun to wonder what I’d gotten myself in for. I wasn’t thinking straight because…” Pause. “No, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Rose made a dismissive noise. He really needed to get over the accounting thing if he was ever going to be happy. With someone else. “Nobody’s perfect. You would have answered the call if you’d heard the phone ring.” She slung her handbag over her shoulder. “Now, how about you give me the cab company’s number and I’ll call it myself.” She got out her cell.

Jack’s voice was pure anguish. “I
forgot,
Rose. I know sometimes calls don’t get through, but even if the phone didn’t ring, I should have remembered to check for messages and to call Gil. I forgot
everything.”
He paused. “And this was after I learned she’d conned me into stealing some earrings from Violet’s car. It was after I’d been to a couple of parties where she’d shown her cruel and malicious side. Still I’d come back for more, because I couldn’t resist the sex.”

He really did feel responsible. Rose’s hands itched to pull him close. Her arms ached to hold him, to rock him as he had rocked her earlier today. Her mouth quivered as she stifled words of love and solace. She schooled her expression to disinterested patience. “Okay, so maybe it was
partly
your fault, but it’s over, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Believe me, I know. I may have gotten hysterical a few times today, but if I let everything I thought was my fault get to me, I would have killed myself long since. Like you said, you win some, you lose some. Let it go.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jack said. “I can’t afford—”

“You can’t afford to let one bad experience screw up your whole life,” Rose snapped. Just as she refused to let one rejection destroy her. She opened her phone and scrolled for Vi’s number. “Maybe Vi will send me a cab.”

At last, Jack was back in the present. “You don’t need a cab. Take the minivan out there.” He picked up the little envelope he’d retrieved from the floor and extracted the keys. He held them out.

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s not worth the bother of bringing it back.”

“I don’t want it back. It’s yours to keep.”

What the hell? Rage spiraled, and her fangs bucked. She’d felt sorry for him. She’d wanted to encourage and reassure him, and he’d slapped her in the face. Even though he didn’t love her, she’d thought they’d
felt
something together, something different. But it had just been sex. Sex he didn’t even want to repeat. Shock and misery ravaged her, curling her fingers into claws. But oh, no. She wouldn’t lose it this time. Jack had just proven he was like every other guy, if he was a little better about maintaining reciprocity.

She wouldn’t cry; she’d learned how to play the cool, collected whore. Even Lou, who’d been good to her, had made it clear that business was business. When she’d come to really care for him, he’d been amused. She put her nose in the
air. “Payment for services rendered? Sure, why not?” She took the keys. “I’ve done better in the past, but I guess I didn’t do enough to merit the Porsche.”

His face darkened. He put his back to the door. “It’s nothing to do with payment, and you know it. You want the Porsche? It’s yours.”

“If that’s not payment, then what is it?” The tips of her fangs popped out. “Get out of my way.” She shivered at the déjà vu, but this would
not
end in a hot, no-holds-barred kiss.

“Not until we settle this.”

How dared he? “It’s already settled. You don’t want me anymore, but you feel guilty so you’re paying me off. Which is fine with me, of course, but why let it bother you? I’m used to callous men who only want sex. You’re lucky I’m not like Titania. At least only one vamp is out for your blood.” She snickered. “Ooh, bad joke.”

He winced.

And then it hit her. Thunked her straight in the gut. “She didn’t dump you, did she?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.

“Vampires almost always do the dumping, but in this case,
you
dumped
her.
And you let people believe she dumped you, whether from consideration—which is totally wasted on that slut—or self-preservation.”

Jack sighed. “Some of both, I guess.”

“She doesn’t really want you back,” Rose suddenly realized. “Judging by everything you and Vi have said about her, Titania would never put up with being dumped. She wants you dead. That’s why she was so furious at Biff. She wants to kill you herself.”

Safe Juma might be, but she knew it was only for a moment or two. For that random cop on some other errand to notice Gil’s SUV and come tearing after it, Grandma must have already raised a huge stink.

No way she could risk going to Violet’s place. Like any other adult, Violet was in cahoots with the cops. Juma shucked the suit jacket—Gil was right about that—and the paisley tie as well, and delved into the large compartment of her backpack for the only other long-sleeved item she had, a short jacket of beaded pink silk. She rolled the first jacket, stuffed it in the backpack along with the ties, and crept out from behind the bushes.

Cautiously she made her way to the street, which was now jammed with traffic. To the right, a block or so down, the blue flashers of a cop car told her where Gil was trapped. Juma went left and slipped into the early-evening crowds. Clubs were beginning to open, but they would never let her in. She moved uneasily down the sidewalk, trying to match her pace to others, hoping for a group of girls her own age to trail behind. She wandered into a clothing shop behind a couple, pawed through a rack of designer jeans, and tried calling Jack. No answer, but as his message came on, the saleslady showed up, glowering the way salespeople always do at hesitant, furtive teens. Juma scowled back, clapped the phone shut, and left the store.

She made the rounds of a souvenir shop and scuttled past a club and a bar. Next came a funky little Cajun restaurant. She steered past a busboy stacking the empty tables and chairs of the outdoor area, closed now as the evening chill set in, and hovered by the doorway, pretending to read the menu.

What warned her of danger she didn’t know, but just as she opened the phone to call Jack again, something made her look around. Across the street, Stevie came out of a sex shop with a voluptuous woman dressed in purple, with long, wild black hair. The woman talked on a cell phone while Stevie ogled her cleavage. He probably couldn’t tear his eyes away, but just in case, Juma ducked into the restaurant
ahead of the busboy with his stack of chairs. She shot a glance back out the door. The woman shut her cell, and she and Stevie went back into the shop. Ick.

Juma chose a table near the rear of the half-full restaurant, partly concealed by an urn draped in fake ivy, with a view of the front door. The busboy folded the table umbrellas, came back inside for a chain, and secured the umbrellas to the wall outside. Juma scanned the menu without really looking. The busboy hovered by the sidewalk, speaking to a group of gesturing passersby.

The waiter, a jaded-looking old dude, showed up. Juma ordered a bowl of gumbo and took a trip to the restroom to try Jack again, but Gil’s battery was at
NO CHARGE,
and before she could look up Jack’s number to try again from another phone, the cell died right before her eyes.

She returned to her table. She couldn’t go back to Jack’s for fear of being caught. She couldn’t try other friends in town for the same reason. Her only hope was Rose, but what good was Rose against Grandma?

The busboy returned wide-eyed and hurried into the kitchen. Outside, the whap-whap of a helicopter mingled with the sounds of traffic. A reporter with a microphone and a notebook scurried by in a suit and pumps, with a TV cameraman loping behind her.

When Juma’s waiter arrived with the gumbo she asked him, “What’s going on out there?”

He shrugged. “Nothing blown up into something, knowing the media. Maybe they got sick of hovering over the Impractical Cat, harassing Dufray. There oughta be a law.”