heartburn and queasy stuff.” He flashed a smug, knowing grin.
“You are the most metrosexual male I’ve ever met.”
He took it as a compliment. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“If it’s about constipation, it’ll pass . . . eventually.” When he didn’t laugh, her mood grew cautious. “What?”
She wasn’t ready to have ‘the talk’ about her fitness for the job. She’d done her homework, gotten the thumbs up from Susanna and her superiors, stuck to the rules and the diet and exercises, and would soon be taking classes . . . hopefully not alone. She’d studied the common side-effects for a pregnant female at twenty-one weeks in prep for any possible scenario-from swollen feet to freaking stretch marks—the way she would an assault plan! Now she had to get clearance from MacCreedy?
“How about a neutral negotiator? Someone a step back from it being personal, who knows the stakes and is smart enough to tread carefully?”
She blinked, downshifting her thoughts into the proper gear. Yes, please! Anything to keep her from having to cross the tentative alliance she and Savoie tiptoed around where her work and his past were concerned.
“And who might this paragon be?”
Silas provided one of his annoyingly tight-lipped smiles. “Leave it to me.”
– – –
Colin Terriot’s first mistake was answering the phone. His second, letting Silas MacCreedy smooth talk him. He should have hung up but hadn’t. And now, it was too late to back out.
“Hey, got your message. What’s up?”
Colin forced a smile as he opened his door wide, issuing his guest in out of the late-day gloom. “Depends on you.”
Caution flashed in Alain Babineau’s gaze, but his easy posture didn’t reflect it as he came inside the small French Quarter home Colin shared with his mate, Mia Guedry, the Memphis clan leader’s cousin. He glanced around, taking in the original brick and hard woods along with the comfortable homey touches and massive sound system. “Nice place. Looks like you’re settling in for the long haul.”
“Not like I have any other options now.”
The detective let that flat remark slide as he followed the guiding gesture into a tidy kitchen area where a fresh pot beckoned. When Colin told him to help himself, Babineau poured a cup and one for his host as he asked, “How’s the family? Missed seeing Cale the other night. He doin’ okay?”
The honest concern allowed a slip in Colin’s purpose. “Better now that Kendra’s with him.”
His guest glanced back toward the bedroom. “Mia here?”
“Naw. She stepped out for a bit.”
It didn’t take an experienced investigator to figure out why. Private business on the agenda. They took opposite sides of the breakfast bar, coffee hot, moods cooling as Babineau got to it. “What’s on your mind, Terriot?”
The impersonal use of his family name opened the way to a conversation Colin didn’t want to have with his half-sister’s husband. Damn MacCreedy, anyway.
“I’m not much for playing games,” the big Shifter began, locking his sniper-scope stare on the detective’s. “Why the hell is a straight arrow like you cozying up to a piece of bad meat like Cummings?”
Baby blues widened. “What? Where’d you get that idea?” Slowly, innocent surprise faded into a murky pool of guilt.
Sonuvabitch.
“Never mind where. Now it’s my problem because you’re part of the family.” Before that term could invite his guest to relax, Colin growled, “Don’t even think of lying to me. Just because we shared some stuff doesn’t mean I won’t tear the heart from your chest and eat it before I’d let you hurt that boy and his mama.”
Babineau held his gaze without blinking. “One of the reasons I like you. No bullshit when it comes to business. Or relatives.” A deep breath shuddered from him as he reached for his cup, hand impressively steady. He sipped then put the coffee and his excuses aside. “He approached me.”
“Why?”
“To get rid of Savoie.”
A quick blink. “And why would he think a Mr. Law-and-Order like you would break the rules to help him do that?”
“To get him outta my partner’s life.” He dragged a quick hand through surfer-blond hair. “I knew what he’d done for Legere, and I knew what their association would do to her career. She wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t let him go. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You were in love with her.”
The direct summation took him aback, but after a quick swallow, Babineau admitted, “Maybe once, but not then. I had . . . have a good family, and I wanted that for her. I thought Savoie was using