Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,14
right before it landed on me, the feel of him inside me, the fire he set in my heart. It’s all too clear now, almost like he’s still here with me. I shake my head, forcing the memories to go away as I tap out a response on my phone.
Me: Not since last night.
That’s an honest enough answer.
T-BO: He’s missing.
I frown at my phone. It’s 9:30 in the morning. Today is Saturday and there were no plans for us to go to work this weekend. How could Lucky possibly be missing?
Me: Shut up Thibault. Ur drunk. Go back to bed.
T-BO: I’m coming over.
Me: I just got up. Give me 10.
T-BO: I’m coming over now.
When my brother gets his head stuck on something, there’s no changing it. I stumble around my room grabbing my dirty jeans and a pair of short boots with small heels, pulling them all on in record time. I throw on a ratty T-shirt and am running a brush through my hair just as the front door opens and then slams shut downstairs.
“You up there?” Thibault shouts.
“I’ll be down in a sec. Start a pot of coffee!” It’s too late for Thibault’s no-hangover mix to have any effect; I should have drunk some last night. I’m just going to have to take the pain of my headache and bad choices like a woman. I’d take them like a man, but then I’d have to whine all day, and I don’t like whining.
I slide a toothbrush and some paste around my mouth a few times before abandoning my efforts at looking halfway decent to go downstairs and meet my brother in the kitchen. He’s seen me look way worse than this.
I find Thibault standing over an empty pot he’s just starting to brew. I walk over and pull two mugs out of the cabinet to his right. I can’t face him. What if he knows?
“You haven’t seen Lucky?” Thibault asks.
“I told you, I saw him last night. Just like you.” My pulse is racing again. I hate lying to my brother, but I hate even more the idea that I was so weak last night. I shouldn’t have let Lucky in. He played me like a fiddle just so he could get some. Asshole. I’m definitely kicking him in the nuts when I see him again. He’d better not tell anyone what we did.
“Did you know he was at my place last night?” Thibault asks.
I shake my head. I don’t trust my voice to sound honest.
“He left me a note. Said he was gonna be out of touch for a little while. What the hell does he mean by that?”
“I have no idea.”
I’m panicking. Did he leave because of me? Of course he did. Why else would he disappear? I hate that I was so coldhearted last night. I should’ve let him stay. He could’ve slept on my couch, at least. I’m so messed up right now. I want to punch him and hug him at the same time. Maybe he’s more messed up about his sister than we realized.
Thibault turns around and leans his lower back against the counter. “Why was he over here?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I busy myself with gathering sugar and cream that neither of us ever uses. I’m angry now. Angry that I’m being forced to lie to Thibault.
“Why are you so touchy? It’s just a question.”
I shrug. “I’m worried about him, just like you are. Is that a crime?”
Thibault stares at me for a few long seconds. I ignore him, walking over to the pantry to find something to eat. I’m not really hungry now, though; more than anything, I’m avoiding his penetrating stare. I swear, sometimes he sees right through me.
“Did he share a cab back here with you?”
I answer from inside the pantry. “Maybe. I don’t remember much of last night, actually. I had too many teas.”
Thibault grunts his response. The coffee starts to percolate and the smell filters through the kitchen. I pretend to be very busy hunting up breakfast when what I’m really doing is avoiding facing the music. He knows. I know he does.
“I hope he can be back for work on Monday. We really need him on the next case.”
“Oh yeah?” I stick my head out of the pantry. “What’s going on?”
“Ozzie got a call late last night from Captain Tremaine. They’re having a problem up in the Sixth Ward again.”
I grab a random box of cereal and come out. “What are we going