Deadlock: Southern Arcana, Book 3 Read online

  But he would keep an eye on Carmen, just in case he’d sent trouble her way. It was the responsible thing to do.

  And if that wouldn’t have Jackson rolling on the floor of the elevator in a fit of helpless laughter, nothing would.

  Chapter Four

  Alec jerked awake to the sound of his front door crashing in off its hinges.

  It could have been any of a dozen threats—someone come to rescue the prisoner still in his basement, someone he’d pissed off recently, even a pointed message from Cesar Mendoza—but as Alec rolled from the bed a familiar voice sounded from the entryway, the words a rage-filled roar. “Where is he?”

  Oh shit.

  Alec had fallen into his bed too tired to take off his jeans, and he didn’t waste time with a shirt. By the time he got down the hallway, Andrew had already torn the basement door from its hinges. It crashed to the floor as Andrew disappeared down the stairs, his nose leading him unerringly to the one person Alec had to keep him from killing.

  When he found out who’d spilled their guts to Andrew, he might do some killing of his own.

  Hopping the last three steps got him to the basement in time to see Andrew lunge against the side of the cage, one strong arm sweeping between the bars. The man inside cringed against the opposite side, but Andrew only stalked around and snatched him by the hair.

  At least the guy had his priorities in order, and an apparently functional sense of self-preservation. He scrambled away again, even though doing so left a handful of his hair still clutched in Andrew’s fist. “Get him off me!”

  “Callaghan!” Alec planted his feet and put the full thrust of his power behind the words. “Back the fuck down.”

  Andrew wrapped both hands around the bars and snarled through a vicious smile. “Not this time.”

  Someone had blabbed. Someone who believed Andrew’s calm facade was the truth, who thought his apparent lack of interest in Kat’s day-to-day life signaled actual detachment. A foolish mistake that might get someone killed. “At least tell me what you’ve heard. I know you haven’t seen Kat.”

  “Wrong.” He tilted his head, still studying his quarry with that terrifying smile on his face. “I stopped by this morning to talk to Mackenzie about a renovation project at her dance studio. Ran into Kat there.”

  Jesus Christ. “And did you ask any questions? At all?”

  “Mac talked at me, tried to tell me how it was all under control.”

  “It is.” Alec nodded to the cage, where Kat’s attacker huddled cowering in the corner. “The Conclave’s coming to get him.”

  “Yeah?” Andrew’s arms flexed as he pulled at the bars. They creaked but held—for the time being. “Open the cage, Alec.”

  “So you can do what? Rip the guy’s guts out? You gonna put his death on Kat’s shoulders?”

  “He’s already dead.” The man in the cage blanched at the flat words. “He just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  A chill gripped Alec as he took one careful step forward. The magical wards layered into the bars of the cage would probably keep Andrew out, but now they were balanced on a far more dangerous precipice. “You can’t do this, Callaghan. You can’t kill every person who touches her.”

  Andrew eased away a little, as if in capitulation, then dove against the bars. This time, they bent enough to activate the wards, and the snap of energy drove the young wolf back. He snarled again and paced, all his attention focused on the cowering man’s face.

  Finally, he released a deep breath. “Have it your way, Alec.” To the man in the cage, he flashed another feral grin. “I won’t forget your face. Remember that when you try to sleep at night.”

  Alec didn’t look away, in case Andrew decided to push a challenge. “If you want to talk, you can wait for me upstairs.”

  “I’m sick of talking.” Andrew turned from the cage and glowered at him. “I’ll come back later and fix your door. Doors, whatever.”

  Alec nodded. “For what it’s worth, Kat dropped him. By herself. The idiot underestimated her.”

  Andrew paused. “I heard. I’m still going to kill him one day.” He ducked through the open doorway and hurried up the stairs.

  The sound of his footsteps faded, and Alec turned to his captive and tilted his head. “He’s going to kill you one day.”

  The guy didn’t stand, and it took Alec a moment to realize he was shaking so badly he probably couldn’t. “He won’t find me.”

  “Don’t make any bets on it. You punched the wrong girl in the face.”

  His prisoner didn’t speak again, maybe because there was nothing to say, or maybe for fear of pissing Alec off badly enough to call Andrew back. Alec scrubbed a hand over his chin and slogged up the stairs, pausing at the top to haul the door up and lean it against the wall.

  The front door was in slightly better condition. Andrew had pulled it shut, but the frame was shattered where he’d smashed open the deadbolt. He shouldn’t have been able to do it at all, but Alec had gotten lazy and complacent, secure because no one in the city would dare challenge him in his own house. Not after what had happened the last time.

  Not after Heidi.

  The biblical-style vengeance he’d delivered to those responsible for his wife’s death was the stuff of supernatural legend, but maybe he’d been riding on his reputation for too long.

  Better safe than sorry. Repairing the damage was beyond him, but he could at least get Mariko out to make sure the magic in the cage wasn’t compromised by the bent bars…and to renew the wards on his doors. After that…

  Well, he might have to pay Carmen a visit after all. Someone had to warn Miguel Mendoza that getting too friendly with Kat could get him killed.

  When Kat found out, she’d probably take her stun gun to Andrew’s face. And won’t that be fun?

  Alec fought a groan as he returned to his bedroom to get ready for work. The sun was barely up and the day was already shittier than yesterday. At this rate, tomorrow was likely to be hell.

  It was almost eighty degrees already, a little warm for early April, even in New Orleans. Carmen locked the front door behind her and dialed her cell phone as she stepped off the porch.

  Kat answered on the second ring, sounding slightly out of breath. “Dr. Mendoza?”

  “Carmen,” she corrected. “Call me Carmen, remember?”

  “Carmen.” The faint strains of music in the background cut off. “Hey, listen, I appreciate this, but you don’t have to come take me to lunch. I’m fine. You have to have better things to do.”

  “Too late. I’m already on my way.” She squinted against the midday sun and slid on her sunglasses. “I just need directions to your office.”

  Kat gave her quick, concise directions to a side street in the Central Business District. “If you hurry, you’ll get here before Alec comes back from bugging whoever he’s bugging. He’s been even crabbier than usual today.”

  All she had to do was hit St. Charles, and it would be a nearly straight shot. “I can be there in—” Her phone beeped. “I’ve got to go. Someone’s on the other line. Give me ten minutes, tops.”

  “See you then.”

  Once she looked at the caller ID, Carmen stopped in her tracks and hesitated before flashing to the other line. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Honey.” He sounded almost relieved. “I thought you might not answer.”

  “I considered it.”

  “Don’t hang up,” he said quickly. “You didn’t come to dinner last night with your brother.”

  She’d parked on the opposite side of the street, so she crossed carefully and leaned to sit on the hood of her car. “I didn’t feel like having to defend myself.”

  “I would have liked to have seen you.”

  He sounded sincere. As a child, Carmen would have given anything to hear him say those words and mean them, but it hadn’t happened. Not after she’d watched him look her mother in the eye and tell her that he loved her, but he still had to go. “Miguel told me why you’re here, an
d you should know I have no intention of meeting this guy you’ve picked out for me.”

  “That’s a shame. Richard is a very solid young man. He’s successful, and he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  He spoke as if it were a foregone conclusion, and Carmen’s temper spiked. “How much are you and Uncle Cesar paying him?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “To take a human as a wife,” she clarified.

  He hesitated just a little too long before stammering out a denial, and a piece of Carmen’s heart she hadn’t realized was still whole shattered. Her eyes stung, and she clenched one hand around the edge of the hood. “Never mind. He’d just leave one day anyway, wouldn’t he?”

  “That’s not fair,” he objected, his voice showing the first tinges of anger. “You were barely twelve, Carmen. A child. Things were more complicated—”

  “I know.” And she did, that was the hell of it. She’d rather be back in that childish ignorance, believing that her father had left them, left her pregnant mother, because he no longer cared.

  Now she knew that he cared, had always cared, just not enough to stand up to the rest of his family.

  “Will you meet Richard? He’s in Memphis on business. He could fly down this weekend.”

  She eased her sunglasses up and rubbed her eyes. “No, and you need to stop asking. We’re not talking about political alliances, Dad. We’re talking about the rest of my life, and I’m not for sale.”

  His silence now was heavy, almost sad. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, honey.”

  Fear shivered up Carmen’s spine. “Dad?”

  “I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon.” With that, he hung up.

  She sat there for a moment, staring at her phone. Every not-quite-human instinct in her screamed danger, and she dialed Julio’s number almost without thinking.

  It routed directly to his voicemail, and she tried to think of something reasonable to say as she half-listened to his greeting. I’m afraid of our family was alarmist, and she’d be hard pressed to explain exactly why she was scared. What could they do?

  What would they do?

  A shrill beep interrupted her thoughts, and Carmen swallowed hard. “Hey, Julio. It’s me. Look, I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m a little worried. If something happens to me—”

  A white van screeched to a stop beside her car. The door slid open, and two men dressed in dark clothes reached for her.

  Carmen ran. She almost tripped over the curb, but recovered enough to keep going. Halfway across a neighbor’s tiny postage-stamp-sized lawn, strong hands wound in the back of her shirt.

  She screamed, but a hand clapped over her mouth a second later, muffling the sound. “There’s a witch in the van. If you don’t cooperate, she’ll make you cooperate.”

  Her odds weren’t good if they managed to get her into the van. She kicked wildly, more in hopes of attracting attention than hurting the man. All it earned her was a tiny, frustrated sigh, and then she couldn’t move at all.

  Sheer animal panic gripped her. Being restrained was one thing, but literally having no control over her body was another. Hot tears streamed out of her eyes, and she tried to scream again.

  Nothing.

  The other man helped lift her into the van like a doll. A woman sat in the back, and she tilted her head, sending the wild cascade of beads woven into her hair clinking against each other. “Be calm, child. Your family has decided to give you the ultimate gift.”

  No. No, please. She had no idea what the witch meant, but her family had never wanted what was best for her. Only what was best for them. No.

  The engine rumbled beneath them as the van squealed away from the curb. The hulking man beside her steadied her with a gentle but impersonal hand on her shoulder. The witch waved a hand, and the paralysis gripping her vanished.

  If she fought or made too much noise, they’d do it all over again. So Carmen pushed her hair back with shaking hands and tried to still her trembling lips. “My father. Call—call my father. Please.” She’d dropped her phone, but they could find the number.

  Something almost like sympathy filled the woman’s eyes. “Where do you think we’re taking you?”

  Alec took one step into his office and knew his day was about to go from worse to catastrophic.

  Kat sat at her desk, her fingers flying over the keys even though she was looking at Jackson. “—been here an hour ago. I’d just talked to her but now her phone keeps going to voicemail.” She glanced back at the screen, but her gaze shot straight to Alec. “Hey, Carmen’s missing.”

  “Missing?” Alec glanced at Jackson. “How missing?”

  “Pretty damn missing.” Jackson shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket. “No one’s heard from her, there are no major traffic snarls between her house and here…and I’ve got a real uneasy feeling.”

  Protective anger twisted inside Alec too fast to be anything but bad news, and guilt followed hard on its heels. He’d provoked Cesar the previous night and hadn’t bothered to warn Carmen. “What exactly happened, Kat?”

  “She called to say she was on her way over, and then she had another call to take. I thought it might be the clinic, an emergency or something…” Kat trailed off and returned her attention to the computer. “She’s not there. She’s not anywhere.”

  “What are you looking up?”

  “Her cell records.” A frustrated noise escaped her. “I’m trying, but I’ve still got a headache and this is a carrier I’ve never had to hack before.”

  “It makes a difference?” He regretted asking when Kat paused long enough to level a scathing glare at him. “Never mind. Do you know where she was when she called?”

  “Leaving her house maybe? Jackson’s got the address.”

  His partner held up a small square of paper. “Uptown. You coming with me?”

  “Yeah. But someone needs to stay—”

  Kat made an annoyed noise. “If you say with Kat, I’m going to taser your balls.”

  The stun gun sitting next to her made it no idle threat, even if it wasn’t an accurate one. Worry for Carmen made him choke back his knee-jerk reminder that Kat didn’t own a taser. “Fine, lock the door behind us, at least.”

  Jackson held the door, his usual easy grin conspicuously absent. “How loose do you think old Cesar’s definition of the word suitor is?”

  “The usual.” Which should be enough to impress upon Jackson how dangerous their situation might be. “Kidnapping a mate isn’t standard operating procedure, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

  “How in demand would a woman like Carmen Mendoza be?”

  “Hard to say.” Which was a lie. Plenty of wolves would be willing to marry a halfbreed to get a chance at the Mendoza fortune—or a little influence with a council member—but Cesar hadn’t spent decades building the mystique of his psychic niece and nephews just to throw it away on a nobody.

  “Maybe something came up and she’s just busy at home.”

  It took a few seconds for Alec to figure out why that felt wrong, to put words to what instinct had already decided. “She didn’t seem thoughtless. If you were an empath, would you stand Kat up right now?”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Jackson admitted as he unlocked the car, “but I’m working up to the worst-case scenario.”

  “This is shapeshifter politics, Holt. Start at the worst-case scenario, and you’ll already be pretty damn close.” Unless it gets worse.

  It got worse.

  Alec crouched on the tiny scrap of grass across the street from Carmen’s house and picked up a cell phone with a cracked casing. “Has her scent on it.”

  “Skid marks on the street.” Jackson bent and retrieved a set of keys from beneath the front bumper of a late-model navy-blue Camry. A key ring jingled, and he held it up. “Kappa Kappa Gamma. Think our girl’s the sorority type?”

  He didn’t have a clue. “Do they go with the Camry?”

  When Jackson depr
essed a button on the black key fob, the car’s locks disengaged. “Yeah, worst-case scenario.”

  Tension twisted into anger, and Alec fought a brief, dirty battle with his instincts to keep from stalking to his truck. Cesar Mendoza wasn’t stupid enough to haul a kidnapping victim into the front lobby of Harrah’s, and they didn’t even know if it had been Cesar. Alec straightened and held up the phone. “Between this and the keys, think you have enough to track her?”

  “Yeah. I learned a new one. Won’t take a minute.” He didn’t bother with the phone, just walked to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door. He unfolded a map of the city on the seat and clutched the keys in one hand. “Just need to concentrate…”

  As Alec watched, Jackson’s hand began to shake and glow slightly. Another hint of light swirled over the paper, growing tighter and brighter until it condensed on a single spot on the map.

  The phone in Alec’s hand started to ring.

  He flipped open the phone and saw the name Julio Mendoza flash across the screen. Shit. “You found where she is?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Somewhere in Algiers, near the ferry. I’ve got to keep trying to pin it down.”

  “Get in the truck.” He started toward the driver’s side as he hit the talk button on Carmen’s phone. “Julio Mendoza?”

  Silence greeted him, and then a voice growled, “Who the fuck is this, and where’s my sister?”

  “Alec Jacobson, and that’s what I’m trying to find out. You know anything about why your father and uncle are in town?”

  “In New Orleans?”

  “Yeah.” Alec climbed into his truck and shoved the keys into the ignition hard enough to make the dashboard tremble, a clear sign his temper was starting to slip. “I don’t know how fast you can get here, and I might just be riling you up for nothing, but I’m pretty damn sure someone snatched her off the side of the street.”

  Julio swore. “I’m already on my way to the airport. She left me a message, said there was something going on and she was worried. Then I heard a scuffle, and the call cut out.”