The normally quiet park in downtown New Orleans was bursting with noise.
“You’re here!” Lillian exclaimed, jumping with excitement and embracing her three friends – all at the same time. “I’m so glad that you’re all here!”
Tallia, Becca, and Jane laughed as they returned their friend’s hug, ignoring the curious or amused glances of the strangers also strolling through the park.
The air was still a bit chilly since it was only mid-morning, but the forecast predicted a relatively balmy sixty degrees despite it being only three weeks until Christmas. And since this was the south, the humidity would rise into the eighty percent range, so that sixty degrees would feel even warmer.
Jane was the first to pull back and really look at Lillian. Still on Pacific Time, having flown from Seattle, Washington early this morning, Jane was a bit sleepier than Becca who had come in from New York or Tallia, whose schedule was off by only an hour since she’d flown in from Santa Fe, New Mexico.
As soon as they pulled back, everyone noticed the tension in Lillian’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” Jane asked. She was the most polite of the four women, so her question was gentle and obviously filled with concern.
Lillian pulled back as well, quickly wiping away the tears. “Nothing!” she replied with as much cheer as she could muster. “Everything is wonderful, especially now that you guys are here to help me!”
Jane’s eyes scanned Lillian’s features, then she shook her head. “No. Something isn’t right.” A group of people hurried past, tugging their luggage behind them as they hurried into the luxurious hotel. “We can’t talk here,” she sighed.
Becca and Tallia looked at Lillian, then at Jane and each other. Both agreed with Jane’s assessment. “No, something is definitely wrong,” Becca nodded with her normal New York City assertiveness.
Tallia’s hand fisted on her hip that was covered with a gauzy skirt and a wide, woven belt riding low on her hips. “Spill it, my friend. And don’t try to hide it. Your sweet, southern charm hasn’t been able to hide anything since our college days and you’re not fooling any of us now.”
Several more people rushed by, their arms loaded with bags filled with packages, some already wrapped in Christmas paper and other bags just stuffed with boxes still needing to be covered with holiday spirit.
Jane looked around. “There’s a group of benches over there,” she pointed to a small circle surrounded by street lamps, all of them merrily decorated as well. Christmas was only three weeks away, but Lillian had always been her dream to have a Christmas wedding, so her big event was next Saturday. “Why don’t we go over and sit down? We’ll be somewhat secluded and you can tell us what’s bothering you.”
Lillian laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing is wrong,” she asserted again.
Tallia simply linked her arm through Lillian’s and shook her head. “Lil, remember that differential equations class in college?”
Lillian groaned, but rallied quickly to hide the horrible memories of that class. “I got through it,” she remembered with a sigh, walking alongside her friends as they led her along the sidewalk of the small park.
Becca laughed as she linked arms with Jane, walking behind Lillian and Tallia. “Yeah, but for the first six weeks, you pretended that everything was fine. It took the three of us getting you drunk before you finally admitted that you had no idea what was going on in that class.”
“Thank goodness I didn’t have to take that class!” Tallia exclaimed, lifting her free arm up in the air. “Political science majors only need one math class and I wasn’t going to hurt my grade point average by taking something as horrible as differential equations. That was all you, Becca.”
Lillian laughed, shaking her head. “That was only one class.”
Jane laid a gentle hand on Lillian’s shoulder. “The point is, you wouldn’t admit that you were drowning in that class. But we already knew.”
“And something is wrong now,” Tallia urged. “So ‘fess up. What’s wrong?” They all took a seat on a bench which was surrounded by trees, completely decked out with twinkling, white lights that were on even at this time of the morning.
“Nothing!” Lillian replied, thinking she sounded pretty convincing.
Lillian looked at her friends, then at the crowds rushing along the sidewalks, hurrying to finish their Christmas shopping or hurrying back to work. Glancing nervously at the crowds, then at her friends, she sighed before folding her hands on her lap. With her legs elegantly crossed at the ankles, she faked a bright smile for her friends. “Everything is wonderful. You brought your dresses?”
The three friends looked at each other, sharing a knowing glance, then looked back at Lillian. “Lilly, we know something is wrong. Talk to us. We’ve known you since our first year at college. We know something is…”
“Stop!” Lillian whispered harshly, then anxiously looked around the beautifully landscaped park, the tall, black lampposts garnished with ivy and red ribbons. Everything looked ready for the Christmas season. Everything looked perfect. Everything should be perfect! And it would be if…
Shaking her head, she smiled again at her friends then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. “You know, there’s a gorgeous trail right across the street that leads to the waterfront. Why don’t I show you around?”
The other three immediately understood. Something was wrong, but Lillian wasn’t quite ready to talk about it.
“That sounds perfect!” Tallia agreed, jumping up and taking Lillian’s hand. “I’ve always wanted to ride one of those electric bulls. Since I’ve moved to Santa Fe, I haven’t had time to find one. Think they might have one around here somewhere?”
Lillian laughed and surreptitiously wiped a stray tear, silently grateful to her friend for the strange conversational topic. “I have no idea. New Orleans might have them, but they wouldn’t be in any of the bars or places in which I socialize. Sorry.”
Becca took Lillian’s other arm and the four of them locked elbows as they discussed the tourist attractions available to visitors of New Orleans. Jane spotted a quaint coffee shop right by the edge of the trail and separated herself from the group. “I’ll get us some coffee,” she announced.
Lillian’s shoulders relaxed slightly as she smiled gratefully at all of them. “We’ll meet you over there by the statue, okay?”
Jane looked in the direction Lillian had pointed, then nodded her head. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
With that, Jane turned on her heel and walked over to the coffee shop across the street. Pushing her sandy blond hair behind her ear, she enjoyed the feeling of the sunshine hitting her head and shoulders. Winter in Seattle was wet and cold. New Orleans was…well, it was beautiful, almost luxurious, with warmer temperatures and a more relaxed pace of life. She smiled, thinking about Lillian’s dream to have a Christmas wedding. Her friend had been raised in the south and was a true southern belle and it was wonderful that Lillian was getting her dream wedding, she thought as she meandered over to the coffee shop.
Living in Seattle, Jane had perfected the “hustle walk”, getting to a building before the rains started up again, or hurrying out of a building and diving into the next closest doorway. It wasn’t always rainy though. Most people thought that Seattle was a rainy city, but it had about an average number of rainy days compared to other cities.
It was the clouds that really got to her, she thought, as she smiled up at the sunshine filtering down through the still-green trees. Seattle was one of the cloudiest cities and she craved the sunshine. Maybe it was time for a move, she pondered, as she pulled the door to the coffee shop open and stepped into the line of people waiting to order. Moving might be good, but…she couldn’t leave her students. They were her life! As a teacher, she thrived on teaching, on seeing that spark light up a student’s eye when they finally understood the subject matter.
With a sigh, she rejected the idea of moving to a sunnier place. She loved Seattle. And most days, she didn’t think about the lack of sunshine. It was just…some days, like today when she was warm and the sun was shining brightly…that’s when she thought about a change.
Inside the coffee shop, she looked around, appreciating the smells of coffee and Christmas. There wasn’t anything like a cozy coffee shop during this time of the year. The line moved slowly, but she looked down at her phone, reading through an article on being the best bridesmaid possible.
A sudden shout brought her head up and she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Why would anyone yell inside such a cute coffee shop? It was a sunny day. How could anyone be angry about anything?
Then she saw the man walk into the shop and pull something out of his jacket. It was…no! Impossible! Why would he…?
The muted pop caused her to jerk and drop her phone. And even after her mind registered that the sound was gunfire, it still took her several moments to react. In those moments, the world seemed to slow down. Everyone around her fell to the floor but Jane stood there, looking around and trying to absorb what all the other customers had already realized.
Someone was firing a gun!
The man sitting in a chair against the brick wall…he was falling. His chest turning red! She looked over at the man by the door, still holding a gun.
Seriously? This couldn’t be happening!
No! Impossible! Things like this simply didn’t happen in this part of the French Quarter! This was the tourist area! The police…they were everywhere…why weren’t they…?!
And yet, she watched, still in slow motion, as the man holding the weapon turned to look at her, the gun barrel still smoking. In the back of her mind, she heard the terrified screams of the traumatized coffee-shop patrons as they realized what had just happened, but they sounded so far away. Oddly, the thought occurred to her that it was still a beautiful, sunny day, a warm one for December. In that fraction of a second, as the man swung his gun in her direction, she thought about changing her sweater because it was too hot and humid for a cashmere sweater.
But then she realized that the man was going to shoot her. And her next thought was…how rude! It couldn’t possibly qualify as polite to kill someone by pointing a gun in her face!
The loud shot caused her to cringe and Jane waited for the pain to hit her. Or the realization that she’d just been killed. Did a person realize that one had died? Or did they simply experience a floating sensation?
Her next thought was that she really didn’t want a bullet in her head. She doubted that the guy had washed his hands before he loaded the bullet into the gun that morning.
Opening her eyes, she looked around, waiting for the pain. Standing very still, Jane was shocked by the silence, a silence that continued for a long moment. She wasn’t sure what was going on. More screams and yet, everything still seemed oddly silent. When nothing seemed to hurt, she looked down at her body. There were no gaping holes in her chest or stomach. No blood spreading across her tidy skirt and blouse. She didn’t even have a headache. And even stranger, she looked down at her shoes, wondering why she’d chosen to wear kitten heels that morning. Yes, Jane knew that her thought about her shoes was…ridiculous but…nothing seemed real. This couldn’t be happening!
The strange moment continued, but she didn’t have any more questions about her attire. Very slowly, the world started to move again. She smelled the coffee and something more metallic that she couldn’t identify. People were yelling. Sirens were…somewhere.
When she looked up again, she realized that the man over against the wall, the one that really did have a gaping hole in his stomach and was bleeding all over the chair, table, and floor, had a gun in his hand. As she glanced at the man by the door, the one who had been about to shoot her, she saw that the gun was no longer in his hands. Instead, he was cradling his gun-hand, the gun no longer in his grip, his hand was bleeding profusely. The gun was on the floor, still looking menacing and terrifying, but…well, it was no longer pointed right at her. She hadn’t been shot?
Gasping, she looked around, still trying to assimilate everything.
There’d been a shooting! In this adorable coffee shop filled with customers and employees! A shooting! Everything had happened in perhaps seconds, and yet, she still stood there, trying to absorb what had just happened.
In the distance, she could hear sirens. The police were coming and, as she looked up, the man who’d been about to shoot her seemed to realize this as well. His gaze turned from the windows to glare at her and she shivered at the evil in his eyes. But a moment later, he rushed out of the coffee shop, his bleeding hand clutched to his chest, and disappeared into the street. Jane heard several people outside shout as if the bad guy had just accosted them, but no more gunfire.
Police cars came to a screeching halt outside of the coffee shop, blocking the entrance. Jane continued to stand there, stunned and terrified. As the police raced inside, she stood there, her mouth hanging open.
Thirty seconds? Surely two hours had just passed! Nothing that dramatic could have happened so quickly!
“Ma’am? Are you okay?”
She heard the words, but couldn’t understand their meaning.
“The guy who ran out of here almost shot her!” someone explained to the police officer in a teary voice.
“Ma’am? Are you hurt?”
She turned her head, staring at the police officer with his gun pointing in the air. He asked her again if she was okay, but she couldn’t seem to move. Her whole body was still frozen, her mind unable to take in the past few moments. Out the front window of the coffee shop, she saw Lillian, Tallia, and Becca as they tried to get inside, but police officers were holding them back. She saw their lips moving, noticed that Lillian seemed to be crying, again, but Jane couldn’t move, couldn’t tell everyone that she was alive and unhurt. Because she couldn’t believe it herself.
A man had just pointed a gun at her face. He’d been milliseconds away from pulling the trigger and…
“I’m fine,” she mumbled through numb lips.
“Are you sure?”
Was she sure? The only thing Jane was sure about at this particular moment was that she wasn’t dead. But was she fine? No. Not really.
“Why don’t you sit down?” the officer suggested.
Jane sat down, but only because the man put a hand on both of her arms and directed her into the chair. A hot cup of coffee was placed in her hands and she held it. At least, she hoped she was holding it. She wasn’t really sure.
Looking up, she saw her friends and something shifted inside of her head. “My friends just want to know that I’m okay,” she told the officer and tried to stand up.
The man turned, put his hands on her arms again and held her in the chair. “Don’t stand up quite yet, ma’am,” he suggested. Well, actually, he didn’t suggest anything. He just held her in place and Jane didn’t have the strength to argue with him.
“Please, tell my friends that I’m okay. Otherwise…”
The police officer turned and looked over his shoulder. “The three women about to punch out the officers outside? Are those your friends?”
Jane might have smiled as she nodded her head, but she wasn’t completely sure. “Yes. They just…they need to know that I’m okay. Just tell them and they’ll calm down.”
The officer walked away, whispered something into the other officer’s ear and the guy nodded and walked out. Jane watched as the officer moved over to where Tallia looked like she was going to deck the police officer holding back the crowd. With just a few words, the officer spoke to her friends and they stopped fighting. Becca asked something, the officer nodded and Lillian buried her face in her hands. Jane knew that she was sobbing and wanted to tell Lillian that it wasn’t her fault. But Jane was fairly certain that her legs weren’t going to cooperate in helping her stand up. Walking? Nope, out of the question.
Instead, her body betrayed her. The trembling started slowly and increased as her mind started to unfreeze, replaying that moment over and over again in her mind. The shot blast, the body crumbling to the floor. The other customers diving for cover and then….
Detective Tony Shaw was ready to fall over from exhaustion but he pushed himself to make it to a bed first, preferably his own bed. In his own bedroom so he could fall asleep for the next year.
Rubbing a hand over his scruffy jawline, he wondered if he could get out of submitting a report about last night’s activities to his commanding officer until later. It might be more legible if he could actually see what he was writing. He’d been awake for almost forty hours now, having sat in the stakeout truck listening to voices talk about poker games and porn for the last twelve hours.
Tony enjoyed porn just as much as the next guy, but good god, how could the five or six imbeciles in that warehouse watch twelve hours of it?! And damn, they’d lost about five thousand bucks each during that seemingly endless poker game! Who had that kind of money to throw around?
Drug dealers, he thought.
With a sigh, he wondered what had happened to Joe Mendoza, the guy they’d been tracking for the past six months. They had finally gotten a reliable tip that he’d be at the poker game last night. Unfortunately, the guy hadn’t shown up and now he was ready to…
Hell. Ten years ago, he might have been ready to start a brawl, but he was older now. Some might say wiser, but he’d just say ‘old’ and leave it at that. Because right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep for a week and pretend like the last two days hadn’t happened. A lot of hours were wasted last night on a bogus tip.
Damn it! Where the hell had Joe Mendoza gone into hiding? Who could hide for this long? The man was sewer trash, but even sewer trash had to surface eventually!
He supposed that if there was as much evidence on him as Tony had accumulated on Joe Mendoza, he might go into hiding as well. Maybe even leave the country!
But too many tips indicated that Joe hadn’t left the country. Word was, he hadn’t even left the city! The man was territorial and wasn’t willing to give up his turf. Joe Mendoza had built a criminal empire here in New Orleans that would rival the Mafia.
So, where the hell was he? How had he escaped so many times?
His phone buzzed and he considered ignoring it. He needed a shower before he showed himself in any sort of civilized society. And a shave. And sleep. Not necessarily in that order.
But in the end, he knew that he’d have to answer it.
“Shaw,” he snapped, unconcerned about hurting anyone’s feelings at this point. He was tired and furious that the ass he’d been tracking for months had once again slipped out of his…
“He surfaced. Get over to The Coffee Drop on Royal Street.” He recognized the cigarette-smoke damaged voice immediately as his boss, Lieutenant Rich Peterson.
Tony’s exhaustion disappeared as the words from his lieutenant filtered into his brain. “Mendoza surfaced? And he stopped to grab a cup of coffee?”
The laughter from his boss came across like sandpaper roughing up some glass. The guy really needed to lay off the smokes. “He just shot his rival, Benny Debrizio.”
Tony turned the sirens on in his SUV and made a wide, sweeping U turn in the middle of the street. “Last night?” he asked. His brain finally started working again as adrenaline pumped through his system. If Mendoza had been planning a hit, that would explain why he hadn’t shown up at the poker game last night.
“No. Three minutes ago.”
Tony was stunned for a long moment before he asked, “He shot Debrizio in broad daylight? That takes some balls!” The mid-morning traffic made for more difficult swerving, but his flashing blue and red lights helped as people pulled out of his way. Although, there were still some assholes that thought that a police emergency didn’t apply to them and they stayed right where they were. Tony ignored them, thinking that Mendoza couldn’t have gotten too far if the guy had just shot his rival in the middle of the ritziest tourist area of the city.
“Get over there and let me know what you find out.”
“I’m on it,” he ended the call, shoving his cell phone into his pocket. In the past, he would have simply tossed it onto the passenger seat, but he’d learned over the years to keep his cell phone close. Too many times, he’d almost forgotten it in the heat of the moment.
Coming to a screeching halt near the traffic jam created by the police presence blocking off the street, he pulled his badge out from under his shirt. He’d been wearing it around his neck lately instead of clipped to his belt because of his undercover work. But at this particular moment, it needed to be seen free and clear.
The police in the area immediately recognized him and waved him inside the taped off area. Tony ducked under the police tape and hurried into the shop.
The first thing he saw was a woman with soft blond hair leaning over as she breathed into a bag. “What’s with her?” he asked one of the officers.
“She’s your witness, Tony. She saw the whole thing.”
The soft strands of blond hair caught the sunlight, gleaming like shimmering gold. His eyes also noticed the pale skin and long, dark eyelashes, closed at the moment. Why was she wearing a cashmere sweater in this kind of humidity? It was bound to get scratchy but…well, it looked soft and sexy. “Everything?” he asked, pulling his eyes away from the woman as he looked at the officer. “She saw everything?” he clarified, surprised and not sure he believed his luck.
“Everything,” the guy replied gravely. “According to her, Mendoza walked in, turned a gun on Debrizio, shot him, then turned to shoot her in the face. But the way she explains it, she only saw the gun explode out of Mendoza’s hand. Apparently, Debrizio was taking a shot at Mendoza, missed, and shot the guy’s hand. Which was good for your witness, since Mendoza was pulling the trigger to kill the lady. Everyone else in the restaurant ducked down for the floor behind tables after the firsts shot, but she didn’t realize what was going on until it was too late.”
Tony looked over at the woman, absently noticing that she looked a bit too thin. But she had gorgeous honey-blonde hair that fell over her shoulders in a cascade of different colored locks. Some were a brighter blonde than the others, making an interesting pattern. That kind of highlighting took a lot of money, he knew. He’d dated a woman who spent three hours a month in a hair salon and paid about five hundred bucks to get those highlights. On the previous women, the highlights had looked okay. On this woman, they were stunning. Maybe it was her creamy complexion. Or perhaps it was the way her figure looked in that cute skirt and librarian-ish sweater set. The shoes…they didn’t fit the image though. Heels? Librarians wore flats, didn’t they? Hell, they might be low, but the heels definitely added to his librarian sex-fantasy.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear the image of the gorgeous, blonde woman in that skirt, her slender fingers slowly unbuttoning that soft, sexy sweater as she walked in those heels towards him. Yeah, he could….
Not polite, he reminded himself. Fantasizing about a witness…bad police work.
“Why isn’t she dead?” he asked.
The officer chuckled as he shook his head. “Because Debrizio had a gun and shot at Mendoza.”
Tony pulled his eyes away from the blond woman, staring at the officer as he tried to make sense of what had happened. “So…Mendoza is dead?”
“Nope. Apparently, Debrizio shot Mendoza’s hand.”
Tony looked down and saw the blood splattering on the floor. Right next to it was a gun. “Damn!” He looked back at the woman, shaking his head. “And she saw it all?”
“Described Mendoza right down to his eye color and the scar on his right cheek.”
Tony’s cell phone buzzed and he took it out, cursing as he read the reminder that had just popped up on his phone. He glanced at the time and calculated that he still had eight hours before he had to be ready. Tonight was important to his friend Phillip, although why they had to do something tonight for a wedding that wasn’t taking place until next week, he had no clue. All Tony knew was that he had to wear a tie and Phil demanded that he be on time.
Sliding his phone back in his pocket, he looked over at the woman. Walking closer, he thought he sensed something but…she still looked in control. After an experience such as what she’d just gone through, control was elusive. He knew that from experience. He also knew that she would crash pretty soon. The reality of what she’d just gone through, plus the dissipation of the adrenaline currently pumping through her system, would make her weak and shaky.
Walking over to where she was sitting down on one of the coffee shop chairs, he squatted down so that he could look into her eyes. “Are you okay, Ms. Sherwood?” he asked, taking her hand in his. Damn, she had gorgeous eyes! The dark green color hit him hard but the yellow circle surrounding the green was fascinating.
He had to remind himself she was a witness. No matter how much he wanted to lose himself in those pretty eyes, he had a job to do.
No trembling, he thought, as his thumb shifted over the soft skin on the back of her hand. So far, she was holding it together. But very soon, she was going to crash. He wanted to get this interview done before that happened.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat, and set the cup of coffee on the table again.
“I’m Detective Shaw. Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?”
She sighed, the fingers of her free hand rubbing her forehead. “I’m not sure what other details I can give you. I’ve told the police officers everything I remember.”
He nodded, still focused on her gorgeous eyes. Green and bright, but that was most likely from the adrenaline and they’d dim pretty soon.
“Yeah, you did a great job. I was just…” Those green eyes focused on his and he stumbled, forgetting what he was going to say. Long lashes, he thought, darker lashes than her hair. Was she a natural blond?
Shaking his head, he looked down at the police report. “You said that you saw this guy’s scar. Can you describe it to me?”
A flare of anger lit up those green orbs and he wanted to chuckle at her spunk. He liked spunk he thought. He liked it a lot!
“I’ve already described it to the other officer.”
He nodded, suppressing his interest. Witness, he silently reminded himself. “I know. But this is important. Could you just humor me?”
She sighed and pulled her fingers out of his hand, then wove her fingers together. “It was just above his eyebrow. About two inches long with a hook at the end.”
“That’s pretty detailed. Are you sure you’ve never seen this man anywhere else?”
She sighed and her delicate fingers rubbed her forehead. “I live in Seattle, Detective Shaw. I’ve never seen this man before in my life.”
“How did you notice so much detail on this scar?”
She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. I guess I was just staring at the man about to kill me pretty intently. The scar and his crooked teeth sort of stuck in my mind.”
Tony looked up sharply at her words. “Crooked teeth? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. I don’t really notice the color of people’s eyes. But I hate crooked, gross teeth.”
“Crooked teeth,” he repeated, thinking she was cute in a sassy kind of way. She’d just gone through a life or death situation and she was thinking of teeth.
“Good dental hygiene is important, Detective Shaw,” she said primly and he had to smother another chuckle at her indignant expression.
“You’re right, of course,” he replied. “So, crooked teeth. Any idea which way this guy went?”
She sat up straighter in the chair and he wondered if her spine ever snapped. “I would imagine that the trail of blood down the street from his bleeding hand would give you a pretty good idea of his direction. But I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching which way he left.”
Tony took her hand again, still thinking how soft her skin was. “Well, thank you so much for your help.”
“I hope my description was useful.”
“It was incredible. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
She stood up and nodded. “So, I can leave?”
“Yes. The officers have your contact information. Thanks again.”
She nodded and he watched her walk out of the coffee shop. Damn, even her walk was stiff, but…he might have laughed if she’d been any farther away. Her spine might be straight and prim like some sort of librarian, but her slim hips swayed like a sex goddess! He really shouldn’t have noticed. The woman was a witness, after all. But as Tony slipped his notebook back into the pockets of his canvas jacket, his eyes never strayed from the delicate sway of her body as she walked away. Three other women crowded around her, all of them trying to hug her at the same time and none of them really doing an adequate job of it.
One of the blonde women looked vaguely familiar, but he pushed her out of his mind and looked at his watch. Seven and a half hours still left.
He looked around, then back out to the four women. With a muttered curse, he walked out of the coffee shop. “Ms. Sherwood!” he called out.
The four women stopped and turned, facing him.
He rushed across the street and, with hands on his hips, he looked into her green eyes. Sass, he thought. Yeah, she might look sweet and delicate, but there was an undercurrent of sass about her. He really liked that. She was a bit too prim and proper for his taste, but she’d be okay. That was the important part.
“I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”
He knew that she’d had to restrain from rolling her eyes. “I’m fine, Detective, but I appreciate your concern.”
He continued to look at her for a long moment, and turned to her friends. “Watch her,” he ordered. “She’s still running on adrenaline, but as soon as that burns out, she’s going to crash. And,” he glanced back at her eyes and shook his head, “I suspect she’s going to crash hard. So just look out for her, okay?”
Jane gritted her teeth as the too-big, too muscular detective spoke to her friends instead of herself. “I’m fine!” she growled, emphasizing the last word and forcing the man to address her.
“Yes, you are,” he agreed and she would have sworn that the man was flirting with her. At a crime scene? Seriously?
But then he turned to look at the others. “Just watch her, okay? Call me if you need anything.”
Tallia took his offered card and nodded. “We will, thank you, Detective.”
With a sigh of disgust, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need coddling!”
He winked at her…the man actually winked at her! How rude!
“Just in case,” he said and nodded at her friends before turning to walk away.
The four of them were silent and Jane couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from his broad shoulders hidden by that horrible jacket. Why was he wearing something so atrocious anyway? It was warm enough here in New Orleans to not need a coat, why was he still wearing one even though the afternoon was still warming up. Even her blue sweater was making her itch now that she was sweating.
“He’s pretty hot,” Tallia commented.
Becca agreed. “Yes, ma’am! And did you get a look at his…pistol?”
Lillian and Tallia laughed even as Jane’s mouth fell open. “Becca!”
Becca shrugged and tried to hide her laughter as well. “What? It was hidden under that jacket, but hard to miss! Especially with those shoulders!” The three of them turned to face Jane. “Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t notice?”
Jane’s face blushed and she lifted her chin slightly. “I don’t…”
“Yeah, she noticed,” Tallia giggled.
Then they took her arm and led her across the park to the hotel again. “You need a drink,” Becca announced.
“Amen!” Lillian resounded so they walked into the hotel and headed straight for the bar.
Jane pulled back, horrified. “We can’t drink at eleven o’clock in the morning!” she argued.
The three of them wouldn’t release her arms and tugged her forward into the dim recesses of the beautiful bar. “You just witnessed a man being shot and another man almost shot you in the face. If ever there was a time when you can grab a drink in the morning, these circumstances are it!”
With a lift of her regal hand, Lillian had one of the waiters rushing over to their table. “Four lemon drop martinis please.”
The waiter nodded and bowed away, almost as if Lillian were royalty. And in a way, she was. At least, if New Orleans had been an empire, Lillian’s family would have been the royal family.
Becca watched her friends, and looked around at the bar, impressed with the décor even though it wasn’t really her style. As her eyes moved around the room, they clashed with a tall, dark haired man. He stared but she couldn’t see the color of his eyes from this distance. Perhaps the only reason she noticed him was because he was the only other man in the room besides the waiter and bartender. Then again, maybe the only reason she noticed him was because…he was beautiful. Startlingly beautiful. Tall, dark, handsome with classic good looks, and his eyes promised a woman everything in the bedroom.
Becca pulled her eyes away from him. She knew his type. She’d dated men like him before and walked away disappointed.
“You okay?” Tallia asked, laying a hand on Becca’s arm.
“I’m fine,” she sighed and was grateful when the waiter arrived with their drinks. When the waiter walked away, Becca looked around but the tall, beautiful stranger wasn’t there anymore. It was just the four of them and their lemon drop martinis.
Figures, she thought and took a long sip.
“So, tell us what happened,” Lillian demanded. “You went in there to grab coffee for everyone and the next thing we know, police cars are racing down the street.”
Jane explained the exact same scenario she’d told the police officers and the detective, trying to make sense of everything. “It all just happened so fast, it’s hard to believe that the man sitting against the wall really died while I just…stood there.”
She looked down at her martini, not sure what was going on.
The three others discussed the morning’s excitement, but the terrifying images continued to flash around in her mind. Over and over again, she replayed those thirty seconds. Or sixty seconds? Maybe five? It seemed like just a brief moment in time and yet, everything had slowed down as she’d watched. She wasn’t sure how long it had taken. One needed only a fraction of a second to kill someone, she realized. The ugly man had barely stepped into the coffee shop before he’d raised the gun and shot the man sitting at the table.
Jane continued to sip her martini, not realizing what was happening around her. Conversation swirled, she finished her martini, but when she looked down again, her glass was full. How that happened, she wasn’t completely sure, but she lifted the glass again, sipping it. The problem with lemon drop martinis was that they were so sweet, it was hard to keep track how much alcohol she was imbibing before it became too late. But the benefit of a lemon drop martini was that they were sweet and went down fast, soothing all the ragged edges left by a murderer and his…
She closed her eyes as the image flashed in her mind of the man’s hand. His bloody hand as both of them stared at each other. The bullet had come out of nowhere, but it had saved her life. Saved her life and ruined another man’s hand. Granted, he was a murderer, but still…!
Jane blinked, surprised when the conversation broke through to her consciousness.
“Okay, we need to get ready for your party tonight,” Tallia announced. “So…whoa!” she laughed as they all stood up and realized how much they’d been drinking. “Those martinis were strong!”
Lillian sighed and smoothed her skirt down over her hips. “Don’t worry about catching a cab to my mother’s house tonight. I’ve arranged for a driver to come here to pick you up and he’ll stay until the party is over and drive you back.”
Becca leaned over and kissed Lillian’s cheek. “You’re spoiling us. We’re going to have a horrible time when we go back to real life.”
“Jane, come with me,” Tallia announced and grabbed Jane’s arm. “Lillian, you’re okay to get home right? Your driver is here? We’ll meet you at your mother’s house at seven.”
“Don’t be late!” Lillian pleaded. “You know my mother and I will start snapping at each other if we’re left alone for too long.”
Jane laughed, shaking her head. “Mother’s shouldn’t be like that,” she whispered, but followed along with Tallia as she led her out of the bar and into one of the elevators. “What about the bar tab?” she asked, looking back to the bar. Becca was already heading towards the bar where the bartender was waiting. And who was that tall, gorgeous man standing off to the side? And why was he leading Becca out of the bar area?
Jane was distracted from trying to figure things out by the elevator doors closing.
“Becca will cover the bar tab this time,” Tallia announced, as she pressed the button for the floor on which all of them were staying for the week.
“You okay?” she asked.
Jane thought about that for a long moment as they stepped into the elevators, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. That detective said I’d feel the effects of the morning soon, but I’m fine.” Shrugging, she smiled at her friend. “I guess lemon drop martinis really are a cure-all.” Tallia looked at her as if she didn’t believe her, so Jane held up her hands, stopping her friend from arguing. “Trust me, I’m no hero. In fact, just the opposite. Remember, I’m the idiot who forgot to duck!”
Tallia laughed as the elevators opened up. Jane’s room was first. “I’ll see you in an hour down in the lobby, right?”
“Right,” Tallia called out, slipping into her own room.
Once inside, Jane walked over to her suitcase, but someone had mysteriously unpacked everything already. Looking into the closet, she was astounded to find that her cocktail dress for the evening had already been unpacked and even pressed for the night.
She hung the dress up on the back of the closet door to survey the pink cocktail dress she’d bought for tonight. She’d sent Lillian pictures of the dress before she’d bought it, not sure if the style was appropriate for the evening’s event. It was just the wedding party, parents, and “a few close friends” for a buffet dinner and drinks to kick off the week’s celebration.
Jane had a sneaking suspicion that “a few friends” meant more than just the neighbors on each side of Lillian’s parents’ house. She was pretty sure that she was facing a full out social event, complete with very important people in the New Orleans social circuit.
With a sigh, she accepted that tonight was all about Lillian and helping her get through the evening.