Creole Kingpin Read online

  “My remodel has been a nightmare, but it’s almost done. Less than a week to go, and I can finally move in. I can’t wait for you to see it all finished.”

  “Finally! I can give you the housewarming gift I got you. I’ve been holding on to it since the week after you closed on the place.”

  That means she bought whatever it is almost ten months ago, when I purchased my very own house in the French Quarter. It’s a small two-bedroom place whose charm had long since worn off or been covered up, but the moment I saw it, I knew it was mine.

  I shake my head, because really, Keira’s too fucking good for me. “Of course you went out and bought something, even when it was just a pit.”

  She brings her shoulders up to her ears. “Like you expect anything different from me.”

  “No, I guess I don’t. I imagine you’ll bring whiskey too, so I won’t need to stock up for us.”

  This comment launches an exaggerated eye roll. “You never need to buy another bottle of Seven Sinners. You know that.”

  The taste of the whiskey is still on my tongue from Mount’s office. “Much appreciated.” When Aurora reaches out to grab some puffed cereal and shoves it in her mouth, I say, “Well, I should let you get back to what you’re doing. I’ve gotta make a pass at Bernadette’s before I head back to meet with the contractor about the punch list for the finish work.”

  “Already? But you just got here.” Keira catches Aurora’s hand before she flips her container of cereal onto the ground.

  “You know me. I never stay still for long.”

  A gentle and warm expression crosses her face. “Whatever it is that’s really going on with you . . . I can handle it, Mags. When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be ready to listen.”

  The memory of Moses’s glowing eyes flashes through my brain, and it takes everything I have to offer her a thin smile. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Take care. We love you.”

  “And I love you right back.” I lean in and press a kiss to Aurora’s wild hair. “I’ll see you two later.”

  As I turn to where V stands at the doorway, Aurora yells, “Yeeee!”

  A pang of longing stabs me in my chest, where my heart should be. I’ll never have that. I’ll never know what it feels like to bring life into this world.

  Then again, it’s a fucked-up place, and God knows I’m not fit to be a mother anyway.

  V shows me out of the inner sanctum a different way than we came in. Shockingly, he doesn’t blindfold me so I can’t see where we’re going. I must have passed some kind of trust test since the last time I was here. He proves that further by handing my pink revolver and knife back to me before he opens the huge metal door.

  The exit he takes me out leads to a different street than the one the bar is on. Sunshine beats down on my face, and I take a deep breath.

  Moses is in that building, and I don’t care. I won’t let myself care.

  As I walk past a shiny black Rolls Royce parked at the curb, I remind myself I’m an emotional fucking fortress. I only feel what I want to feel, and not a damn thing more.

  Put that man out of your mind, Mags. He’s got no business taking up your time or your thoughts.

  Even though I know it’s true, I struggle to not look back.

  Four

  Magnolia

  “I don’t know why you keep coming here.” Bitchy Bernadette spits words at me from her recliner across the room, where she sits with a blanket over her lap as she watches her stories on TV.

  “Glutton for punishment, I suppose. But then again, I really enjoy seeing how many new wrinkles you’ve gotten since the last time I stopped by. Run out of night cream, Aunt Bernie?”

  She hisses, as in actually hisses like a snake. Considering she’s as mean as one, it doesn’t surprise me. “You were an ungrateful child, and now you’re a perfectly awful woman. Get your whore ass out of my house.”

  That knocks loose the first real laugh I’ve had all day. “Bitch, I own this house, so my whore ass can come and go as I please.”

  She bares her teeth at me as Norma, the former maid who Bernadette treated horribly when she worked for her, comes to bring the bag of bones a tray for lunch. Or maybe dinner. Who the hell knows what schedule old people eat on anyway?

  Bernadette’s face pinches as she looks at the food and then back up at Norma. “Did you poison it? Is that why she’s here? To finally watch me die? Because I’m ready. Been ready for years.”

  “Not today, Bernie,” Norma says with a genuine smile. “Maybe tomorrow.” The tables have turned, and Norma and I both find it fucking hilarious.

  Bernadette had a fancy house and high standards. So high that she kicked me out when I was sixteen and got expelled from school after getting caught giving the history teacher a blowie in the supply closet. Not that anyone ever asked me why I did it or thought maybe he was the one in the wrong. I was out on my ass as soon as Bernadette got the call from the school.

  She told me all along I was going to end up a whore like my mother, and I proved her right. What else was a homeless teenage girl going to do to support herself on the streets?

  Fast forward nearly twenty years, and Bernadette got sucked into a series of phone scams that preyed on the elderly. She lost everything.

  It must have been the worst day of her life when she had to call and ask me for money.

  Bernadette glares at Norma’s retreating back. “You love to torture me. Both of you.”

  I glance around the room of the house where she lives. “Yes, so much that I make sure you have everything you need and you never go hungry. You’re lucky I don’t restrict your food like you did mine when you thought I was getting fat at fourteen.”

  She grabs a carrot stick and crunches down hard on the end. “You should thank me for that. Look at you now.”

  I run my hands down my sides, letting them curve over my hips. “You’re right. No thanks to you, I look fucking great.”

  “Get out of here with your filthy language. I shouldn’t have to listen to this. It has to be elder abuse. I’m gonna get a lawyer and tell them everything. Just you wait.”

  I pluck a cherry tomato from her plate and pop it into my mouth. “Yeah, and what’re you gonna pay him with? Your Social Security check barely keeps the lights on or buys groceries.”

  She shakes her head and hovers over her food so I can’t steal more.

  “It’s good to see you’re still kicking, Bernie. Just like the stubborn mule you are. I’ll be back next week to check on you. Let Norma know if you need anything.”

  She ignores me as I strut out of the living room and into the small kitchen where Norma is washing silverware.

  I cut the shit and get right to it. “How’s she doing?”

  Norma’s frail shoulders rise and fall. “She’s lonely, whether she’ll admit it or not. She makes up reasons to complain so she’ll have something to say to me. So . . . pretty much the same as always.” She turns the water off and places the last spoon in the dish rack. “She’s always full of energy after you come to visit, though. She doesn’t mean what she says, you know?”

  My eyebrows lift to my hairline. “Oh yes, she does. She was born mean, and she’ll stay mean until the day she dies.”

  “You two best not be talking about me!” Bernadette calls from the other room. Being wheelchair bound after the last fall that broke her hip, she can’t come find out.

  I poke my head through the doorway. “Of course we’re talking about you. Norma’s telling me that there’s hope of you being a decent human yet. I don’t buy it.”

  “Go to hell.” My great-aunt’s slender middle finger flips me the bird.

  “Already been there, Bernie. Try not to choke. No need to add ambulance bills to your upkeep.”

  I move back into the kitchen and give Norma a kiss on her papery cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of her. You’re a saint.”

  “You’ve done right by her, Ms. Magnolia, whether she’ll admit it or no
t.” Bernadette’s caregiver squeezes my arm. “Have a blessed day.”

  “You too. Both of you.”

  Five

  Moses

  I see you, mama. And I know you saw me earlier.

  I tap my thumb against the leather seat of the Rolls Royce Phantom, a car I picked up in New York for the drive down to NOLA, as the woman I haven’t been able to get out of my mind in fifteen years picks her way down the cracked sidewalk of her French Quarter street. She stops in front of the gate of a bright yellow house with blue shutters to fish a set of keys out of her purse.

  Sunshine for the home of a former woman of the night. Others might think it’s an odd choice, but they don’t understand her. Magnolia Marie Maison is a complex woman that no average man would ever be able to unravel.

  Lucky for me, I’m far from average. I also plan to spend the rest of my life learning every last one of her secrets.

  Magnolia inserts a key into the black metal gate that connects her property to the brick wall of the one beside it. It swings wide and she slips through the opening, glancing behind her as she pulls it shut. I savor the last glimpse of her as she disappears from view—a dress hugging those hot-as-hell curves and her shiny hair blowing in the breeze.

  Anticipation rises within me, filling me with purpose, the likes of which I haven’t felt in years. And, fuck, does that feel right. Like I’m finally alive for the first time since I walked away and left her behind.

  I never planned to leave her alone for this long.

  My fingers flex around the piece of alabaster in my hand.

  A less certain man might wonder if she’d know who was sending it when she gets it, but I don’t need to. Magnolia is a scarily intelligent woman. There will be no doubt in her mind where it came from, no matter who delivers it.

  My blood pumps faster at the thought of what’s coming next. War, most likely. But not over the streets like I’ve waged before. This time, it’s going to be a battle for a barricaded heart.

  Never before has anything been so fucking important.

  I won’t rest until she’s mine.

  Brace yourself, Magnolia. Another hurricane is coming.

  Six

  Magnolia

  Every time I set foot in my new house, I feel like I can breathe easier. It’s not big, but it’s all mine, and there’s not a single hint of promiscuity attached to it.

  No client will ever come knocking.

  No man will ever see the inside of my finished bedroom.

  Leaving my condo behind is a fresh start in more ways than anyone could ever understand. Not that anyone has spent much time trying to understand me, beyond how they could get me to rescind my I don’t take clients anymore edict.

  My contractor is strangely absent, despite the fact that we’re supposed to meet in five minutes to discuss the list of things he needs to complete before I hand him the final check. But that’s okay. It gives me time to walk through the space and allow myself to daydream for a few minutes about what it’s going to be like to live here.

  An address in the French Quarter. Not too bad for a girl who’s had to fight like a warrior to survive.

  I spin on my heels, taking in the white subway tile of the kitchen backsplash above the massive copper farm sink. I can picture myself standing here, washing up after cooking a fantastic dinner for one.

  It exudes peace, and that’s something I haven’t had nearly enough of so far in my life, but I’m banking on having it now. At least, I was until I saw him.

  Thoughts of Moses spin through my brain, and I grit my teeth.

  “What the hell is he doing back after all this time? And why the hell is he meeting with Mount?” I shake my head and look around the room, but the white walls don’t have any answers for me. At least they’ll keep all my secrets.

  I’m upstairs, stepping over drop cloths to check out the progress in my small but luxe bathroom, when I finally hear the bell at the gate.

  “It’s about time, Rocco. You’re late.”

  Tardiness isn’t something I tolerate well, but I’ve learned my contractor doesn’t work on my schedule. He works on his. Still, his price was right, and he hasn’t tried to fuck me.

  Points for him.

  My heels click on the refinished hardwood as I make my way down the stairs and outside to the gate. I reach for the handle, not bothering to check the peephole. No one but Keira and Mount know I bought this place, which means I don’t have to be constantly on guard. Thank God for that.

  “What the fuck?” I mumble as I open the gate to find a street kid standing outside, bouncing from foot to foot.

  “This is for you.” He shoves something at me, and acting solely on instinct, I reach out to take the small but heavy object from him. As soon as he makes the transfer, he spins to leave.

  “Hey!” I yell, but he sprints away. I look down at what he dropped into my hand. It’s pure white, cool, and smooth to the touch.

  Wait. Is that a pawn? From a chess set?

  I shoot out the gate, letting it slam shut behind me as I take off after the kid, running with as much care as I can so I don’t bite it in my designer pumps. He takes a right at the first corner, a couple of buildings down.

  Why the fuck is he running? Who sent him?

  I get three steps before I collide with a man turning the corner the kid just disappeared around.

  He’s startled too. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to slam into you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to dodge around him, but he steps the same way, like we’re freaking dancing. “Excuse me.”

  I move the other way, and he does too.

  “Oh, jeez. Sorry. Really, I—”

  By the time I get around him, the kid is gone.

  “Fuck.” I breathe the word out with a sigh.

  The guy searches behind himself where I’m looking. “Shit. What’d I do? Are you okay?”

  I finally look at his face, and just my luck, he’s all golden blond and attractive as hell. Such a waste.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I wipe the hair out of my face and try to catch my breath. I’m no runner, that’s for sure.

  He looks down at me, concern in his predictably blue eyes. “Were you trying to catch that kid who bolted around the corner? Did he steal your purse or something? I can go after him.”

  I shake my head. “No. My purse is . . . inside my fucking house.” I release another long groan. “Shit.”

  The poster boy for the All-American man winces. “Crap. You locked yourself out?” he asks and scratches the back of his neck. “Damn. I would offer to help you get inside, but . . . I don’t know how to use a lock pick or where you’d even get one. Clearly, my education is incomplete, because helping beautiful women should always be a top priority.”

  His comment is also way too predictable. The obvious flirting is nearly too much. “Don’t worry about me, big shot. I’ll be fine. Have a good one.”

  I turn to walk back to my gate, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to break into my own damn house, when he grabs my arm.

  That’s a no-no. I jerk back immediately. “What the—”

  As I glare at him, his hands go up in the air in surrender. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I’m screwing this all up. I’m new here, and I’m lost. I’m looking for a café, but I left my phone at home, thinking I’d be more present and in the moment. Guess I forgot how much I need GPS to tell me where the hell to go.”

  My patience thinning, I roll my eyes. “Which café?”

  “Café Envie.”

  I nod. “You’re not far. Go to the next intersection and take a left. It’s on the next corner, also on the left.”

  “It was really nice to meet you . . .” He trails off, clearly waiting for my name.

  “A helpful stranger,” I say, squeezing the chess piece in my hand and wanting this guy to get a move on.

  His affable expression doesn’t change much at my evasion. If anything, his smile widens. �
�All right, stranger. Thank you.”

  With a wink, he strides off down the street, and I wait until he turns the corner before I walk back to my gate, clutching the pawn. I don’t need handsome men who think they’re charming knowing where I live. My door is closed to them.

  Thankfully, as I stop in front of my place, my contractor, Rocco, pulls up in his white pickup.

  “Sorry I’m late. Got hung up in traffic. This fucking city.”

  At least one thing is going my way. “Good timing. I locked myself out.”

  “Ah, shit. That’s no good. Come on, I’ll let you in. Did you look around? What do you think?” He launches into a stream of chatter about what he’s going to work on today, and everything he’s finished since we last spoke.

  I only listen to half of it. My mind is on the chess piece I tip over in my hand and the three initials on the bottom. M. B. G.

  A flash from the past bursts into my brain, and I have to clutch the counter to stay upright as the vivid memory unfolds in my mind.

  The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life sits cross-legged on the floor of the house I was willing to die to save, across a chessboard from me, wearing a smile on his face guaranteed to melt even the blackest of hearts.

  “A beautiful woman who plays chess like a master. I never guessed that’d be so damn sexy or my greatest weakness.”

  Moses.

  Moses sent me a pawn.

  What the fuck does it mean?

  I’m his pawn? He’s my pawn?

  No . . .

  He’s making the first move.

  Seven

  Magnolia

  “Get it all done, and we won’t have a problem.” I give the order to Rocco with a firm voice, all business right now.

  He smiles in return, with that appreciative look in his eye that plenty of men have had before him. But he ain’t getting none of me. Not a single one of them are.