French Quarter (33 page)

Celina went to gather some clothes.

Only minutes passed before they heard the roar of Jean-Claude’s pride and joy, his vintage red Morgan, right-hand drive and complete with leather straps around the hood—or bonnet, as Jean-Claude insisted it be called.

With Celina wedged in the middle, and her small bag squashed behind the seat, Jean-Claude drove to Jack’s place. A quiet, thoughtful man, the only comment he made was, “This is real bad stuff, isn’t it?”

Jack said, “Yes. It’ll pass—soon, I hope—but we’ve got to do what the police won’t. We’ve got to look out for Dwayne and Celina. Don’t ask me to go into the whole thing now. I don’t want Dwayne anywhere he could be isolated and picked off, okay.”

“You got it,” Jean-Claude said, drawing up in front of the Chartres Street property. “Be in touch, huh?”

Jack assured him he would, and Jean-Claude drove away.

Looking around, searching shadows, and staring at faces under the streetlights, Jack rang the bell on his own door. He and Tilly had an agreement that when she and Amelia were at home but Jack was out, the heavy old bolt would be used.

Soon there were footsteps on the stairs inside and Tilly called out, “Who is it?”

“A mannerless ghost,” Jack said, and the bolt slid back.

When she opened the door, Tilly said, “I’ve been insane with worry about you two,” and Jack didn’t miss that she’d included Celina in her concern.

“You get in here,” she said. “Upstairs with both of you. You look terrible, Miss Payne. You’d better have a shower and go to bed. Maybe some warm bread pudding and cream. Lots of butter and cream are good for women in the family way. Build yourself up, and the baby.

Poor—” She paused, and gulped.

Jack and Celina looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Tilly said, sounding miserable. “I can’t think what came over me. Carried away, I guess.”

“I thought maybe it wasn’t so obvious,” Celina said.

“I knew when I first met you,” Tilly said. “I’ve always been good at noticing those things, and it isn’t what you think so much as what I see in the face, in the eyes. I thought that was it, and then I took a look elsewhere and knew I was right. But I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” Jack said. “We certainly aren’t. Where’s Amelia?”

Tilly looked bemused. “In bed. Where else would she be at this hour?”

Avoiding Celina’s eyes, he said, “She has been known not to stay there.”

“I just checked,” Tilly said. “Fast asleep with F.P.”

“Her frog,” Jack said, unsure if Celina remembered. He couldn’t keep the fear at bay, but he was going to have to try. “There’s going to be a wedding on Friday, Tilly. Think you might like to come?”

Tilly sniffed. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” Jack leaned down until she looked at him. “I’d be very sad if you weren’t there.”

“In that case I’ll come,” she said.

“Oh, good,” Jack told her. “Do you suppose we should get Celina off the street and inside for all that good, baby-buildin’ stuff? She’s had a horrible time, Tilly.”

Flustered, Tilly turned and rushed upstairs while Jack secured the door and followed with an arm around Celina again. “I’m going to want more details,” he told her very quietly. “There may be things that mean nothing to you but they could give a hint of something to me. We’re going to need all the help we can get to make sure we put an end to this.” And he would surely be paying Win another visit real soon.

“I don’t want to talk about— Some of it wasn’t important.”

His gut sucked in. In other words, “manhandle” had been code for more intrusive liberties. “We’ve got lots of time. Forget it for now. Are you sure we shouldn’t get a doctor over here to look at you?”

“Sure. Really. I’m jelly between my ears, but I’m strong and I don’t feel there’s any reason to overreact. But we’re going to get them, Jack. And we’ve got to start right away if were going to find ...” Her voice faded away.

He looked at her curiously. “Find?”

She swallowed and made a great deal of running her fingers through her hair. “I want to find them,” she said, but it sounded lame.

Now wasn’t the appropriate moment to push her on anything. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

He left the two women and tried not to dash to Amelia’s room. Black curls showed between the pink pillow and pink sheet. Jack tiptoed around the bed until he could see her face by the glow from the night light. Her thick lashes moved in sleep. Frog Prince’s head rested beside hers on the pillow.

Relief shouldn’t be so tainted by dread. Celina couldn’t possibly guess how far he’d go to make sure the police weren’t involved now. This would be between himself and Win—as long as Win still held the real power.

Leaving the room as quietly as he’d come, Jack closed the door and returned to Celina’s side. He felt the intensity of her gaze. She squeezed his forearm and he hoped his smile was careless enough.

“I told you Amelia was asleep,” Tilly said, coming out of the kitchen with a steaming mug. “Herbal tea. Drink it down, it’ll relax you.”

Jack took the mug for Celina and carried it directly to his bedroom. When he got inside and looked back, Celina still stood where she was, at the top of the stairs, with Tilly, who actually smiled benevolently.

He beckoned to Celina, who came slowly toward him, then let him sit her on the couch in his room to drink the tea. Leaving the door open was no accident. He did not want her to feel threatened, and he also wanted her to eat whatever nasty-sounding concoction Tilly intended to offer.

That offering wasn’t long in coming. Bustling about, Tilly pulled forward a small table and set a tray on top. A bowl of bread pudding with melted butter and cream floating on top, and scattered with brown sugar, was flanked by another mug, this one filled with steaming milk.

“Thank you,” Celina said, and actually looked at the food with anticipation. “I’m really hungry.”

“Of course you are. That baby’s taking everything, you mark my words.” She beamed at Jack with what he realized was something close to grandmotherly pride. “And we want a healthy baby and mother, don’t we, Mr. Charbonnet?”

He cleared his throat and said, “We certainly do. Thank you, Tilly.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” she said, her hands folded on her middle. “And I suggest you lock this door so our young lady doesn’t decide to pay a visit. If she needs anything, I’ll take care of it. You both need some time alone, and some sleep. If you want me, call on my line, Mr. Charbonnet.”

With another proprietary smile at Celina, she left.

Jack couldn’t think of anything sensible to say.

“Not what you expected, hmm?” Celina said, spooning down the food in her bowl with evident relish. “She thinks this is your baby.”

He glanced away. “Good. That’s what we want people to think.” He didn’t say that with every moment he spent with Celina, he wished even more that the baby was his. “Tilly’s right. You need to sleep. I should get some paperwork done. Do you need anything before I go?”

She set down her spoon and picked up the hot milk. “Could you lock the door, please? I’d like to feel safe.”

He frowned. “You want me to lock you in? I’m not sure you’ll like that.”

“I want you to lock us in. Would you mind, Jack? I’d really appreciate knowing you’re here with me tonight.”

“Celina—”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m the one who is sorry. You’re a busy man and I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.” She set down the milk and got up. “I’ve turned your life upside down. I have no right to ask for even more consideration.”

He ran the tips of his fingers lightly down her arm. “Every day I get a stronger picture of just how brave you are. And how brave you’ve been. We’re in trouble. I’m not going to lie to you about that. But you make it easier because you’re strong.” He locked the door and returned to move aside the table she’d used. “There’s nothing I have to do that can’t wait for tomorrow. I wanted to stay, but Ι didn’t want to crowd you.”

Her smile turned down and for an instant he thought she would cry, but she blinked back the tears. “Thank you. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m so scared, I have to block it all out or I’d be paralyzed, but you make me feel safe, Jack. I’ve dragged you into something that’s not your responsibility, but you just keep on backing me.”

“That’s not a chore, c
hère.”
There were feelings that should be put into words, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to say them yet. He might never be ready. “We got here together because I judged you, and I judged you wrong. But for once, a mistake paid off.”

“Which mistake?” She eyed him anxiously.

“Thinking that you were a conniving, evil, manipulative little witch who was out to capitalize on my dead friend’s tragedy to further your own ends. And that you were responsible for driving him over the edge and making him fall off the wagon. Have I missed anything?”

She gasped and wrinkled her nose. “That’s horrible.”

“It was horrible. Past tense. I’d really like it if you’d lie down.”

“Would it be okay if Ι take a shower”

From the look of her, she might pass out at any moment.

“If you’re sure you’re okay to do that. But don’t lock the door in there, okay?”

She turned an interesting shade of pink, but said, “Okay.”

Bathrooms were really personal.

In the movies they often showed characters poking around in bathrooms, looking for...usually they didn’t know what they were looking for, except something they had no right to find.

Narcotics?

Birth control pills.

Celina stood under beating hot water in Jack’s shower and grinned. She grinned? She found the thought of birth control pills funny? Either she was approaching hysteria, or her sense of humor had taken a sick twist.

She liked being in Jack’s shower. It felt intimate, a little forbidden. And the smells were so good, his smells. Soap that was very simple, that came in a large slab and reminded her of walking in a forest—and of him, her bare feet where his stood, her face lifted to the water in exactly the place where he lifted his. Silliness, all of it. Somehow she’d managed to turn a convenience into a romance. But she liked the way this silliness felt.

Looking down, she smoothed her soapy tummy. How could she have thought anyone was likely to be fooled for much longer? How many people must already be whispering,
“Have you seen Celina Payne lately? No? Pregnant, darlin’. Ι expect we’ll be hearin’ about the weddin’ any day, don’t you?”

If Jack had his way, they’d be hearing about the wedding any day now.

That man who put his hands on her must have been too...She bowed her head and let the water pound on the back of her neck. It could be that the other man, the one who had asked the questions, had realized she was pregnant and that’s why they hadn’t killed her. He had seemed more human than his disgusting companion.

Neither of them was human. She was alive because, unlike Antoine, there were too many people who would raise the alarm if she disappeared—or she’d been taken in the first place only because she’d been elected to warn Jack for some reason.

No relationship could survive dishonesty.

She hadn’t been dishonest, wasn’t dishonest. Telling Jack or anyone else about Antoine and Rose hadn’t been her choice to make.

Had it?

She turned the water off hard and clung to the faucet. Her head felt muzzy. Several deep breaths didn’t make her feel better. Bad judgment couldn’t be wished away, and when it came to Antoine, it had been a bad call not to at least ask the advice of someone she believed in. Cyrus. Or Dwayne.

Her eyes ached.

She should have asked Jack. She must ask him now. The longer she delayed, the bigger the wedge between them was likely to be in the end.

Tonight was as good a time as any. The towel she’d hung over the shower enclosure slid down the glass. She didn’t catch it before one end was soaked.

“It’s been that kind of day and that kind of night,” she said to herself, and climbed out to walk carefully across the dark tiles to get another towel.

Heaviness in her legs made her weak. She reached the sinks and braced herself on the counter.

The baby. Could something be wrong with the baby?

Stop. Be quiet. Think. It’s me, not the baby. I’m sick of thinking. And sick of trying to decide what’s best. And I’m tired, darn it, just so tired.

She sat sideways on the lid of the toilet, folded her arms on the counter, and rested her forehead on top.
So very, very tired.

Water from the shower turned cold on her skin and evaporated, but sweat broke out along her hairline. All she needed to do was dry off and make it to the bed.

Jack would be there.

This was all so strange. Time seemed suspended. Her tummy fluttered inside. Like a little bird flapping fragile wings in there. She loved bread pudding, but it had probably been too heavy after not eating for so long—and suffering a shock that might have thrown her blood sugar into a spin.

Her eyelids didn’t want to open.

Little bird flitting in there.

“Celina?” Jack was calling her.

Bird? She sat up and stared at her belly again, and spread her fingers wide—and concentrated.

Wasn’t it too early?

The baby moved! Tears welled in Celina’s eyes, and her throat tightened. Faint, and unlike anything she’d ever known before, a tiny being moved inside her.

Jack tapped on the door and she looked up. The door opened a fraction and he said, “Celina? Are you all right?”

She remembered she was naked and took a towel from a pile on a hamper beside the toilet. “I’m okay,” she said. “Jack!”

He slammed the door wide open. “What is it? You need help?” Dressed only in his white shorts, he was a long, leanly muscular expanse of male.

Celina got to her feet and wrapped the towel around her.

“The baby’s moving, Jack. I thought it was too early, but it did. Then it did it again—twice. Two times.”

“You scared me. You’ve been in here so long.”

“The baby moved.”

“He did, huh? That must be really somethin’ to feel. Did it hurt or something? You should sit down.”