Chapter 3

Remy strode down the empty hallway, Max, Brooks, and Zane at his heels in tight formation. When he reached the stout wood door at the end, Remy nodded his head rapidly three times, then quickly moved aside, making room for Brooks to come through with the battering ram.

Brooks slammed the thirty-pound cylindrical piece of metal into the door directly below the knob, shattering the wood and sending pieces of the lock flying. The moment it was open, Zane reached out and pulled Brooks back from the doorway, where the momentum of the ram’s swing had left him a sitting duck. Remy darted into the room, Max right behind him, each of them covering their respective quadrants. It was something they’d done so many times in training that it was as familiar to them as breathing.

By the time Brooks and Zane entered the room behind them, he and Max were already motioning that the space was clear. Remy gestured toward a door on the far side. As they approached it, Remy holstered his standard-issue SIG Sauer .40-caliber pistol and swung his tactical shotgun off his back. If the lock on this second door was as strong as it looked, the battering ram would probably bounce off.

Okay, probably not with a werewolf of Brooks’s size handling it, but the goal wasn’t to draw attention to themselves. It was to get through the house quickly using the most efficient breaching techniques available.

In the SWAT world, if you were worried about the lock being reinforced, you ignored the lock and went after the hinges.

Remy’s teammates took an extra step back as he pressed the barrel of the shotgun against the door, where the lower hinge was attached, and fired three shots into it. Without pausing to check the effect of his first shots, he repeated the process at the top and middle of the door, shredding most of the area along the edge. Pointing his shotgun upward, he kicked in the door, then hauled ass out of the way as Max and Brooks slipped through to clear the room beyond.

Shots immediately rang out as Max and Brooks handled the targets inside. Remy had his shotgun back over his shoulder and was drawing his sidearm when Brooks silently motioned that the furniture-filled room was clear and pointed toward a door on Remy’s right.

This one was heavy-duty metal, like something you’d see on the outside of an industrial warehouse. It wouldn’t normally be an issue for a werewolf to get through it using simple brute force, but he knew Gage would be pissed if they did that, so Remy went for plan B.

While the other guys covered him, he moved toward the door, reaching into the demo bag on his hip for the breaching charge he’d put together before coming into the building. Remy pulled the paper off the peel-and-stick back of the charge and shoved it against the door, in between the knob and the jamb, then unspooled the wires of the electric detonator he’d already hooked up to the firing device and gave Brooks a nod. The big man double-checked to make sure the other three members of the team were safely away from the charge and returned his nod.

Remy immediately flipped the cover on the firing device and pressed the red button, then spun around, putting his back to the door. The sound of the blast reverberated throughout the room, the force of it vibrating through him as plastic fragments peppered the back of his tactical vest and cargo pants. By the time he turned around, the dead bolt had been torn apart and the metal door was open.

Zane and Max stormed into the cloud of acrid smoke left in the charge’s wake, firing at the targets set up in the room beyond. Remy and Max had just followed them in when a voice rang out over the speaker in the top right-hand corner of the room.

“Cease fire! Course complete.”

Silence descended over the shoot house as Remy and the other guys complied with the command.

“You got through there in twenty-two seconds. That’s what I call frigging impressive as hell,” the man’s voice came through the speaker again. “Now get out here and tell us how the hell you did it.”

Remy chuckled and holstered his weapon, then led his teammates to the back door of the shoot house and out into the early morning sunshine, where Lieutenant Drew Thompson and the rest of the New Orleans SWAT team were waiting for them. The twenty men and two women had watched the whole thing on the monitors and were regarding them in admiration.

“Okay, so spill,” Drew said.

Tall with blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair cut military style, Drew had come up through the ranks on the Dallas SWAT team with Gage, and when Gage had been named commander, Drew had moved to New Orleans. According to Gage, Drew hadn’t been pissed or jealous Gage had gotten the job but had simply wanted to be in charge of his own team. They’d parted as friends and had stayed in touch.

“What we just did in there might look good, but some of that stuff would be impossible to do on a good portion of the calls our team in Dallas handle,” Remy said. As one of the more experienced breachers on the team, he’d volunteered to lead the training in this area. “The three breaching methods we demonstrated—the battering ram, shotgun breach, and explosive charge—all come with advantages and disadvantages.”

Remy walked over to a long table set up with all kinds of tactical breaching gear, stopping beside the battering ram that was similar to the one Brooks had used to take down the first door. “The ram is the simplest method to get through most doors, but it leaves the person using it standing in the middle of the doorway defenseless because they don’t have a weapon out.”

He moved farther down the table to a shotgun that was identical to the one on his back and held it up. “This can deal with doors that have been reinforced along the lock or hinge side, but it also exposes whoever uses it to someone firing through the door. Worse, the ammo you use, whether it’s buckshot or slug, will keep going and could hit civilians.” He placed the rifle on the table. “The same goes for the explosive breaching charge—it’s going to throw fragments everywhere when you initiate it. So, for either of those methods, you’d better know what’s on the other side of the door you’re going through, or you’re going to end up injuring, or killing, the people you’re there to save.”

That wasn’t anything the cops on the NOPD SWAT team didn’t already know. It wasn’t difficult to find a SWAT officer who didn’t live in fear of going through a door expecting to find a bad guy with a gun and instead finding a four-year-old in their pj’s.

“We’re going to spend the rest of the morning breaching all kinds of doors,” Remy continued. “But we’re not only going to worry about getting through the obstacles. We’re also going to learn where the fragment debris from different breaching techniques goes and how dangerous it can be.” He walked along the table until he came to a cardboard box filled with red balloons. He took one out and held it up. “You pop a balloon, it means you injured or killed a hostage or a teammate. Whoever pops the most balloons buys a round of beer for everyone.”

That earned Remy a couple groans, some chuckles, and more than a few grins. Every SWAT officer appreciated learning a new skill, but they also loved a little competition—especially if the loser ended up having to buy the winner beer.

“All right, you heard the man,” Drew said. “Let’s break up into teams and get to work.”

* * *

Remy was soaked with sweat by the time training ended just in time for a late lunch. As he and his pack mates sat at a picnic table behind the NOPD SWAT facility, drinking Gatorade and talking about the plan for that afternoon’s training, he realized he’d forgotten what the humidity down here on the river was like. It was so hot and sticky it was hard to believe there was a tropical storm still sitting out in the Gulf meandering around like a lost two-year-old.

But humid or not, it had been a good morning of training. On the downside, they’d probably blown through the SWAT unit’s entire budget for wood, building supplies, and training explosives for the quarter, but they’d learned more about breaching in one morning than they probably had in the past two or three years. You couldn’t put a price tag on that.

Remy and his teammates had planned to run out and grab lunch at the nearest restaurant, but Andy told them to hang around because they were cooking up something special in the facility’s kitchen. If Remy’s nose was right, that something special was sausage and crawfish gumbo with a side of rice and corn bread. He sure as hell didn’t mind waiting around for that.

“We’re going back to Bourbon Street tonight,” Max said between gulps of Gatorade. “You in?”

Remy shook his head. “Nah. I’m getting together with Triana tonight.”

Brooks grinned. “Triana, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to downplay his interest in her. He told himself it was so the guys wouldn’t rag on him, but it was more than that and he knew it. Introspection wasn’t his thing though, so he wasn’t going to waste brain cells thinking about it. “I figured we’d go out and get something to eat, catch up on old times.”

“Good for you,” Max said from the other side of the picnic table. “Considering the way you were able to pick up her scent and track her halfway across the French Quarter when none of us could even smell it, she’s obviously special. You’d be stupid not to go after her.”

Self-preservation made Remy stomp on the figurative brakes. “Whoa, slow down there. I might have crushed on Triana back in high school, but I don’t have any interest in doing anything more than hanging out and talking.”

Max, Brooks, and Zane stared at him as if he were a pig wearing a Rolex. Remy suddenly felt like shit for lying his ass off. And if the frown on Brooks’s face was any indication, the guy knew he wasn’t being honest.

He and Triana were going to hang out and talk, but that sure as hell wasn’t the only reason Remy wanted to see her tonight. The thought that they might be doing a lot more than catching up on the good old days had not only kept him from getting any sleep last night, but it had been buzzing through his head all morning too. He wasn’t sure how the hell he’d managed to focus on training.

Even after spending most of the evening with her, he still couldn’t believe the woman Triana had become. He’d been around his share of beautiful women, but none had affected him the way she did. She was so dazzling he could barely breathe when she smiled at him. Her scent was so intoxicating he’d walked around with a hard-on the whole night. And when he’d kissed her, he’d damn near lost it and shifted right there in her mother’s shop. If she’d been wearing a Little Red Riding Hood costume, he would have been more than ready to play the part of the Big Bad Wolf and eaten her up on the spot.

Walking away from her last night had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Not that leaving had helped very much. It had been a long walk across the French Quarter, and yet he barely remembered going back to the hotel. When he’d gotten back to his room, he lay there and dreamed about her as the few remaining hours of night waned. He’d have sworn he could still smell her scent from halfway across the city, and it had nearly been his undoing. It had taken everything in him not to climb out of bed, run back to the shop, and make love to her as the sun came up.

He’d been with Triana for half the night and he already had it bad for her. Yet here he was, trying to tell the guys it was no big deal. And they weren’t buying it. Hell, it probably didn’t help that every one of them could hear his heart rate elevating simply from thinking about kissing her.

“Really?” Brooks said, eyeballing him like he knew exactly what was going on. “Sure seemed like a lot more than that. If I had to guess, I’d say it was like the two of you had an immediate, almost magical connection. After all the crazy stuff we’ve seen in the last year, you don’t think there’s a chance she could be The One for you?”

Panic shot through Remy. The One was that one-in-a-billion soul mate who existed for every werewolf out there. Even though they were supposedly as hard to find as hens’ teeth, five of his teammates had already met their mates in the past year. The odds said something like that should have been impossible, but it had happened anyway. Now, most of the other members of the Pack were essentially looking behind every tree and around every corner, wondering if their soul mates were going to show up at some point.

Remy wasn’t one of them.

He’d found love already. As far as he was concerned, he was one and done. He was completely fine hooking up with women who caught his fancy, but he never let things progress beyond that. There was no denying he and Triana had some serious chemistry going on between them, but that was a far cry from being soul mates, mythological or otherwise. Just hearing Brooks say the words The One made him feel like he was going to be ill.

“Hell no!” he said vehemently. “It’s nothing like that. Triana is just a friend. Period…dot…end of sentence.”

Across from Remy, Brooks regarded him with a knowing look. He knew Remy was hiding something for sure. Some of the more mature werewolves in the Pack, like Brooks and Gage, were walking lie detectors. By picking up on subtle changes in heart and respiratory rate, body scent, and even random muscle twitches, they could tell when other people were trying to feed them a line. Brooks almost certainly knew Remy was talking BS, but thankfully he didn’t call him on it.

Zane, on the other hand, wasn’t so reserved. “Did you stand too close to the breaching charge when it exploded this morning? Because unless you have a concussion, I have a hard time believing the words coming out of your mouth. I’ve never seen you not go after a woman you’re attracted to, and don’t try to convince us you’re not panting like a hound for Triana. I saw you two dancing—and smelled you. Pheromones don’t lie.”

Remy considered arguing, but then figured he’d not only lose, but probably embarrass himself too. There was no way in hell he was going to sit here and have a discussion about the scent he might put off when he was aroused. That was simply not a conversation he wanted to have. So, he went in a completely different direction instead.

“Yeah, okay, I’m attracted to her. So what? Triana has been a friend for a really long time. I don’t want to mess up that friendship.”

Beside him, Zane nodded. “I can understand that. But I should probably point out that you and Triana weren’t exactly dancing like friends last night—at least, not like any friends I’ve ever danced with.”

Remy snorted. “That’s because you’re too uptight and British to know how to relax and have a good time. Friends in New Orleans dance like that all the time.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Max said. “Zane and I are friends, and we weren’t dancing like that last night.”

Remy looked back and forth at his two pack mates. “Maybe you should. You two would look good together.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, but that’s because I look good with anyone. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to get a shot at him. For reasons that are beyond me, Triana’s friend Kim seemed to take a liking to Zane. I don’t think she’s going to let anyone else get near him the whole time we’re here.”

Desperate for any topic that would get his pack mates’ attention off him and Triana, Remy jumped on it. “Now that you mention it, I did notice you and Kim were getting close. You do realize she’s on the rebound, right? You sure you want to get in the middle of that?”

Zane swigged some Gatorade. “Kim and I aren’t getting into anything. We danced and snogged a bit, but mostly all we did was talk. She’s not looking for anything serious but admitted she wouldn’t mind hanging out with someone who’d help take her mind off her ex for a while. I graciously agreed to do that. We’re two intelligent adults with no hidden agendas. She’s looking for a distraction, and I’m cool with that. She’s funny, easy to talk to, and sexy as hell. And before you ask, no, she’s not The One for me.”

“How do you know that?” Max asked.

“You have talked to Gage and the other guys who found their mates, right?” Zane countered. “According to them, they knew they’d found The One before they ever kissed. It might have taken them a while to realize what it was, but it was there. Based on that, I can state with certainty that Kim isn’t my mate.”

Max and Zane were still arguing about that and the possibility you could meet your soul mate and not even know it when Drew came out of the main building.

“Is lunch finally ready?” Remy asked the NOPD SWAT commander with a grin. “Hope so, because I’m starving.”

Drew didn’t return his smile. “Gumbo’s made, but unfortunately it’s going in the fridge. We’ve been called in to support the Narcotics Major Case Squad. They need backup to serve a high-risk search warrant on a target so sensitive they couldn’t even talk about it over the phone. But if it’s the guy I think it is, this one could get ugly. The four of you feel up to doing some real SWAT work instead of just training for it?”

* * *

Triana frowned at the chaotic mess of voodoo dolls on the huge table in the middle of her mother’s shop—what was left of them anyway. Sometimes when the tourists came through, it seemed like a hurricane had hit the place. Things were everywhere.

“Mom, I think you need to make some more voodoo dolls,” Triana shouted toward the back room, where her mom was doing her thing. “The big tour group from New York that came through yesterday just about wiped you out.”

“Already on it,” her mother called.

Triana couldn’t help smiling. Her mother was amazing. Most of the voodoo shops in town bought their stuff from overseas these days, but not her mom. While the T-shirts and knickknacks were from out of town, her mother hand made all the authentic voodoo items like the spells, oils, herbs, charms, candles, dolls, and gris-gris bags.

“So when was the last time you heard from this PI you’re paying so much money for?” Kim asked, dragging Triana’s attention back to the subject they’d been discussing before the critical voodoo doll shortage had been identified.

Kim had taken off from work to hang out with Triana and help restock the shelves and straighten up the place.

“It’s been five weeks,” Triana admitted with a shrug. “But he warned me this could take a while. The case was ice-cold by the time I hired him, and the detective who handled the case hasn’t exactly been very interested in talking to a private investigator about what he learned, probably because he never learned a damn thing.”

“So you’re getting nothing out of this guy but a bill?” Kim attempted to reattach a voodoo doll’s arm that had been savagely ripped off. After a couple of attempts, she gave up and instead simply ripped off the other arm in what Triana assumed was an effort to make the doll look symmetrical. “How long are you going to keep paying the guy?”

“I have no doubt he’s probably milking me for everything he can get, but I have to try something. I can’t let the man who murdered my dad get away with it…not without at least trying to find him.”

Kim hid the dismembered voodoo doll in the back of the pile. Triana took note of where it was, so she could dig it out later. Kim was a great friend but lousy at stocking shelves.

“I know,” Kim said. “All I’m saying is that you need to watch yourself. There are people in the world who will see your loss as their gain. Just be smart, okay?”

“I will.”

Triana understood what her friend was trying to say, but at the end of the day, she didn’t care about the money. If there was even a minuscule chance of finding the person who killed her father, she’d pay any price.

They worked in silence for a while, and as much as Triana tried to prevent it, her mind went to that dark place it tended to go whenever she thought about how much she missed her father and how much she hated the person who’d taken him away.

Kim tossed her blond curls over her shoulder and turned to her, one hand on her hip. “All right, enough of this depressing stuff. I’m not going to let you get into a funk over this. Time to change the subject.”

“Okay.” Triana pasted on a smile for her friend’s benefit. “What do you suggest we talk about to lighten the mood?”

Kim grinned, her green eyes dancing. “Why don’t we talk about Remy and the way you two were getting down and dirty last night?”

Triana laughed. If Kim had been looking for a topic that would brighten her mood, she’d definitely picked a good one. It was impossible to think about Remy and not smile.

“We weren’t getting down and dirty last night,” she insisted as she put the last doll in place. “We were just dancing.”

Kim gave her a dubious look. “Please. There were some wicked-hot sparks flying off you guys. I thought you and Remy might burst into flames right there on the dance floor. You sure there was never anything between the two of you in high school?”

“No, there was never anything between us, but I always wished there had been,” Triana said, unable to keep the wistful tone out of her voice. “Man, did I have a serious crush on him back then.”

Her friend’s lips curved. “I can definitely see why. The guy is a hunk.”

“He’s definitely a hunk, all right—and then some.”

Triana smiled, remembering the feel of all those muscles under her fingers as they danced…and kissed. She’d been so aroused after Remy had left her mother’s shop last night, it had taken almost an hour for her body to return to normal. Just thinking about those kisses had her tummy quivering all over again.

“How the heck did you let a guy like that get away in high school?” Kim asked. “Especially since it’s obvious he’s completely enamored with you.”

A warm blush crept into her cheeks at the thought of Remy being attracted to her. “That’s the funny part,” she admitted. “Remy wasn’t like this in high school. I mean, he was definitely hot, but nothing like he is now. It’s hard to even stand beside him without getting turned on.”

“Damn,” Kim breathed. “If you got turned on simply from standing beside him, I can only imagine what it was like when you guys were dancing. I’m surprised you didn’t orgasm right there in the club.”

Triana stifled a moan, then threw a quick glance at the back room to make sure her mother was still in there before giving Kim a grin. “Me too.”

“When are you seeing him again?” Kim arched a brow. “You are seeing him again, right?”

Triana laughed. “Duh! Of course I am. We’re going out tonight.” Crap, the other day she’d promised Kim they’d go see a movie tonight. How the heck could she have forgotten that? “Oh God. I completely forgot you and I had plans. I’ll call Remy and tell him we need to do dinner another night.”

“Don’t you dare!” Kim said. “Remy’s only in town for the week. I know you think I’m falling apart since Shawn dumped me, but I’m fine. Really.”

Triana wasn’t sure she believed her friend. The jerk formerly known as Shawn had dumped Kim on the same night she’d expected him to pop the question. Any woman would have been thrown for a loop after that.

“Kim, you and Shawn dated for four years,” she said gently. “You have every right to be down.”

“I was for a while,” Kim admitted. “Worse, I was down on myself because I thought the whole breakup was my fault. But after we left the club last night, Zane told me something that put everything into perspective.”

“What’s that?”

“He pointed out that Shawn walking out had nothing to do with me,” she said. “It was one hundred percent about Shawn and his inability to grow up and accept our future together. Zane made me realize I wasn’t the reason Shawn left. Shawn threw away what we had because he’s an immature coward.”

Triana knew there was a reason she’d felt good about leaving Kim in Zane’s company. Then something Kim said earlier caught her attention.

“So…wait a second. You and Zane left the club together?”

Kim’s smile was dreamy. “Yeah. We walked around the Quarter until four o’clock in the morning, talking…and making out a little. We could have easily ended up in bed, but we didn’t. It was fun hanging out with a guy who’s so comfortable in his own skin that there’s no reason to rush anything.”

The comfortable way Kim implied there could have been sex surprised Triana a little. She didn’t expect Kim to even be interested in jumping into bed with a guy so soon after breaking up with Shawn.

“Are you planning to sleep with Zane?”

Kim shrugged. “Maybe. If it feels right. Is there any reason I shouldn’t? We’re two consenting adults with no other commitments. As much as I cared about Shawn, and still do, he left me. I don’t even know where he is right now. And Zane isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.” She straightened a voodoo doll. “We talked honestly about it last night. If we sleep together, it will be plain and simple, no-strings sex with no expectations. I’m thinking at this point in my life that might be the very best thing for me.” She smiled. “I’d be lying if I said the idea of a little rebound sex with someone as perfect as Zane isn’t awfully tempting.”

Triana stood there, stunned to complete silence. In one night, her confused, hurt, and devastated best friend had been transformed into a completely different person after simply spending an evening with a handsome guy she’d just met. Triana had been trying to console her since getting into town and hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“What about you and Remy?” Kim asked.

Triana shrugged. “We’ll probably grab dinner someplace, then walk around the French Quarter. Maybe go dancing.”

Kim smiled. “Sounds like fun, but that’s not exactly what I meant. I was asking if you’re going to sleep with him. You know, make up for lost time and all that.”

Triana opened her mouth to reply, but then realized she didn’t have a clue how to answer what should have been a simple question. She was attracted to Remy. Okay, understatement there. She’d come damn close to dragging him up to her room last night. The intensity of the sensation would be scary if it wasn’t so intoxicating at the same time.

But now that she was out of his hypnotizing presence—and thinking more clearly—she was glad nothing had happened last night. She wasn’t the type to jump into something with a guy without thinking it through. She had her love of all things scientific to thank for that. It made her cautious, linear, and kind of practical. None of those made a woman want to jump in the sack with a guy she’d crushed on in high school, especially one who was only going to be around for a week.

“Earth to Triana,” Kim said, waving her hand in Triana’s face. “I wasn’t asking you to do calculus in your head. Stop thinking so much all the time and just go after the guy you’ve wanted since you were old enough to have those kinds of thoughts. From what you just said, you and Remy had it bad for each other all the way back in high school, and if what I saw last night is any indication, it’s obvious the spark is still there. Why don’t you take a leap of faith and see where the heck it takes you?”

Triana gave her a look. “You’re honestly saying you think I should jump in the sack with him and not worry about what happens when he goes back to Dallas and I go home to Houston?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Just treat this next week as a chance to make up for all that time you wasted back in high school.” Kim grinned. “Worst case, you have a week of unbelievable sex. Because trust me, after watching that man move on the dance floor, there’s no chance in hell he isn’t an Olympian between the sheets.”

“And best case?” Triana prompted, figuring she already knew where Kim was going with this.

Kim’s smile broadened. “Best case, you two fall madly in love and figure out the three-and-a-half-hour drive from Dallas to Houston isn’t that much of an obstacle to overcome. Heck, who knows? Maybe you get so swept up in each other that you chuck it all and run off to live with Remy in Dallas.”

“Or he could chuck it all and run off to Houston to live with me,” Triana countered with a laugh.

“Exactly!” Kim said. “Now you’re talking.”

All Triana could do was shake her head. After everything Kim had been through with Shawn, she was thinking Triana and Remy were going to have some kind of storybook romance. Her mother would be thrilled if that happened. She hadn’t said as much, but Triana knew her mother wanted her to find something special, like her mother had found with Triana’s dad.

Triana wasn’t sure if Remy was that guy, but maybe Kim was right about going with her feelings and seeing where it led. Like Kim said, worst case, there’d be some great sex involved. What kind of girl turned her nose up at that?

She opened her mouth to tell Kim she’d let things take their natural course with Remy when the bell on the door to the shop tinkled.

Triana turned to see an older man in a white linen suit and fancy dress shoes shamble into the shop. He looked around the store with an air of disdain, but his expression brightened when he saw her and Kim. Triana wasn’t fooled for a second. She knew a bullshit facade when she saw it. This guy was full of it.

He walked over and extended his hand. Even though she didn’t want to, Triana shook it nonetheless. She regretted the decision when she got a palm full of cold, clammy hand. Ick, she hated men with limp, sweaty hands. Then she caught sight of the man’s buffed and polished nails. Crap, his manicure probably cost more than her shoes. That was the final nail in the coffin as far as she was concerned.

“Kenneth Murphy, attorney with Taylor and Burr,” the man said in an officious tone. “Is your mother in?”

A shiver ran down Triana’s back. She’d never seen this man in her life, yet he obviously knew her. How else had he known to ask for her mother?

She opened her mouth to ask him as much when her mom stepped out of the back room and leveled a piercing stare at the man.

“You didn’t need to come here, Mr. Murphy. I already told you over the phone that I couldn’t help you.”

The man gave her mother another fake smile. “I completely understand, Mrs. Bellamy. But I thought that if we talked in person and you took a look at the offer I’m making, it might change your mind.”

Reaching into the inside pocket on his suit jacket, Murphy took out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, then held it out. It was a drawing of a necklace in the shape of a wolf’s head. “It’s a copper pendant, and the eyes of the wolf are made of yellow topaz.”

Her mother didn’t say anything. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an irritated look on her face.

“As I mentioned when we talked on the phone, my client is offering a very reasonable sum of money for a trinket such as the one I’m describing,” Murphy said.

“And who is this client of yours, Mr. Murphy?” her mother asked in an icy voice.

Triana frowned. Her mother was never abrupt or cold with anyone. If her mom didn’t like this guy, there was a reason.

The man gave her a syrupy smile. “He prefers to remain anonymous in this transaction, but I can assure you, Mrs. Bellamy, I’m fully authorized to negotiate on his behalf. As I said, five thousand dollars is a very reasonable offer.”

Triana did a double take. That wasn’t chump change for a shopkeeper who sold voodoo merchandise to tourists and some of the locals. That kind of money could pay the taxes on this place for a year, maybe more.

“That’s very generous,” her mother said. “But as I told you over the phone, I don’t have any necklace like that in my shop.”

“Of course you don’t,” Murphy said in a tone that made Triana think the man thought her mother was lying. “But perhaps you know where my client could find one exactly like it—and I do mean exactly.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Murphy, but I can’t help you,” her mother said in a tone that brooked no compromise.

Triana was confused. She remembered her father wearing a wolf-head pendant just like the one Murphy was looking for. She’d even played with it as a child when he’d held her in his great big arms. He’d never taken it off. And she did mean never. No way had her mother gotten rid of it.

“Perhaps if the offer was more substantial, it might help your memory?” Murphy proposed sweetly.

Her mom smacked that idea down like a june bug. “Apparently I haven’t made myself completely clear. Let me do so now. There is no necklace like that anywhere in my possession, but even if I did have it, I would never sell it to you or this anonymous client of yours. Please leave and don’t come back here again. Good day, Mr. Murphy.”

The man’s face turned red as he glowered, but her mother returned his glare with one of her own. Triana thought for a moment she might have to step in and do something, but to her surprise, Murphy sullenly gave her mother a nod, then turned and walked out of the shop.

Triana opened her mouth to ask what all that had been about, but her mother had already disappeared into the back room and closed the door.

“That was weird,” Kim said.

“That’s one word for it,” Triana agreed.