Chapter 4 #2
“You said it’s against your parole rules. It’s too risky. And you don’t know for sure that putting those reliquaries back will keep any of the so-called bad luck from happening.” He frowned. “And, for the record, the attacks weren’t bad luck or coincidence. You were targeted.”
“I think the missing reliquaries are what’s causing the chaos. If I don’t go after the thieves, who will?”
“The sheriff’s department.” Xavier raised a hand. “I can talk with Remy and have him pass the word on to Shelby.”
Lissette snorted. “She’d sooner spit on me than help me.” Then she shrugged. “Not that I blame her. Still, they know about the thefts, and nothing has been done.”
“Then I’ll have my team work the problem. We have resources the sheriff’s department might not have. Plus, they can look into who’s trying to get to you.”
“You’d do that for me?” Lissette’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
He frowned down at her. “What do you mean?”
“There’s always a catch.” She frowned, not willing to trust him, even though he’d saved her twice. Trusting men never seemed to work out for her. “People don’t do anything for others without wanting something in return.”
His lips twisted. “Then you’ve been hanging with the wrong people.”
Lissette snorted. “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “Why would you help an ex-con without wanting something in return?” Her gaze swept him slowly from the top of his head to his toes. “What is it you want from me?”
A frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “I’m not asking for anything.”
“Good,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “because I’m not trading sex for help.”
A ruddy flush rose up Xavier’s neck into his cheeks. “Who said anything about sex?” he blustered, clearly thrown off by her declaration.
“Considering I’m hated by some, avoided by most and broke,” she said, “I don’t have anything else to offer.” Her lips pressed together. “Unless you’d consider a potion or spell as payment.”
Xavier held up his hands. “I don’t want payment.”
“Then why would you help me?”
“I don’t know,” Xavier said, “and I’m beginning to regret my offer to help. Maybe it’s just that since I’ve saved your life twice, I feel a bit responsible for you.”
“Hold on there.” Lissette held up a hand, her jaw tightening. “You’re not responsible for me. I can take care of myself.”
“Like you were taking care of yourself when those guys were shoving you into that van?”
She glared at him. “I was working on it. You just happened to come along before I gave them the what-for.”
“Yeah,” Xavier said with a snort. “I could see that. I guess I should’ve just let you untangle yourself from two grown men.”
For a long moment, Lissette stared at him through slitted eyes, her body stiff and tense.
Why was she fighting this? Under the constraints of her parole, she’d be hard-pressed to do all the investigation, questioning, following clues and more.
The man had offered to help. She drew in a breath and let it out, her shoulders relaxing as she did.
“Okay, so I might not have made it out of that van without your help. I owe you for saving me from whatever dastardly deed they had in mind for me. And damn it, I hate owing anyone anything.”
“I gathered that,” he said, his lips twitching.
“If I let you help me, I’ll owe you even more,” she pointed out.
Xavier shook his head. “You won’t owe me anything.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he touched a finger to her lips. “You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Her mouth tingled where his finger rested. When he dropped his hand, she shook off the sensation and lifted her chin. “A favor? How so?”
“It’ll give me something to do for the next week until I leave.”
Lissette blinked, surprised at the sudden tightening in her chest. “You’re leaving? Are you bugging out before the storm? Or going on vacation?”
“No to both,” he said. “I’ve accepted another job back in the DC area.”
Lissette raised a hand to press against her chest, wondering why this tight feeling had suddenly appeared. “You’re leaving for good?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He shrugged and glanced away. “Unlike the other members of my team, I haven’t developed a connection to the place. Having been in the military and working with the Brotherhood Protectors, I’ve moved around a lot. I get itchy feet. I guess you’d call it wanderlust.”
“It’s not the place that grounds you,” she said softly. “It’s the people. Don’t you get along with your team? I thought you former military guys were a band of brothers and would take a bullet for each other.”
“Of course, I get along with my brothers. But they’re all pairing up and making Bayou Mambaloa their home.” He shrugged. “I haven’t made that connection. I need to keep moving.”
“Why?” she repeated.
His jaw tightened. “It’s what I do. I need to go to the next place.”
“Are you sure you’re not running away from something? Most people who keep moving have trauma in their pasts, hoping to leave it behind.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Trust me, I know.”
Xavier stared past her to the front window of the shop. “This place doesn’t feel like home to me, like it does for them.”
“One week,” she whispered.
“That’s right,” he said. “So, if you want my help, I can only commit to one week.”
“Are you sure you’re leaving in only a week?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I have no idea how long it will take to find the lost items and get them back to where they belong.”
“It might take longer with one person. If I help you, you have the added technical prowess of the Brotherhood Protectors. Two heads are better than one, and our IT guy performs magic of his own through the internet.”
He had a good point.
He gave her a glance. “Even if I don’t help you, you’re basically under the same time constraint with a hurricane heading for Louisiana.”
“I don’t like relying on anyone else,” she said quietly. “I prefer to work things out for myself.”
Xavier gave her a single nod. “Okay.” He held out his hand. “Good luck.”
She laid her hand in his, a shock of electricity zinging through her fingers and up her arm.
His eyes widened briefly and then narrowed.
Had he felt the same electric connection?
No, of course not. She pulled her hand free and shoved it into her pocket.
“I guess this means goodbye,” he said. “It’s been...interesting.” He turned and strode for the door.
As Xavier reached for the doorknob, a flash of panic forced a word past her vocal cords. “Wait.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Xavier glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”
Her cheeks heated as she struggled with what to think, much less say. “You really don’t want anything? Not even a potion?”
“Not a damned thing,” he said.
“How soon could you start?” she rushed out, shocked at her sudden willingness to accept his offer.
He turned to fully face her. “Now.”
“You’re not afraid to be seen with me?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Considering I’ll be gone in a week, I won’t care what the people of Bayou Mambaloa think.”
“That is an advantage.” Lissette grimaced.
“I wish I could leave as well, but that’s not how my parole works.
One of the stipulations of my parole is that I have to have a full-time job.
” She waved her hand at the interior of the shop.
“I run the shop. I can’t leave any earlier than four o’clock in the afternoon. ”
“Let’s be clear,” he said, “are you saying you want my help?”
As much as she hated being beholden to anyone, she couldn’t go everywhere. The man had offered. He had the technical support she might need and could go outside her limited geographic area. It was a no-brainer.
Then why did she have the panicky feeling that it was a very bad idea?
Because she was an ex-con, and he was one of the good guys, like oil and water. They shouldn’t do anything together. She’d drag him down to her level. He didn’t need that blemish on his record.
But as he’d pointed out, time could be running out. She needed to find and return the relics before anyone else was hurt or before the hurricane plowed into the coast and destroyed Bayou Mambaloa.
“Well?” he prompted.
She held out her hand. “Yes, I want your help.”
When he reached out to take her hand, she pulled hers out of reach.
“As long as we keep this alliance purely platonic and you don’t want anything from me in return.”
“I promise I don’t want anything from you,” he said. “And anything beyond platonic is totally up to you,” he said. “That ball is in your court; however you want to play it.”
“I have no intention of playing it,” she assured him.
“Then we have a deal?” He held out his hand.
She hesitated a moment longer and then took his hand in a firm grip. That electric current shooting up her arm again almost made her drop his hand and run.
Instead, she said, “Deal.”