Page 69
Story: Duncan
“I want to speak to Darby tomorrow,” Sal said, sobering the moment of levity. “We need to find Kelley before Tyran, or whoever was sent here to kill him, does.”
“Alright, enough business. I need to get laid,” Sal said as he stood and moved around the room. There was a redhead sitting at the bar that had caught his eye.
I shook my head at him.
“I’m heading back,” I told Mac.
“I’ll go with you.”
I nodded and grabbed my suit jacket off the back of the chair. We left the others at the bar and stepped out into the stifling heat of the French Quarter. It was late at night, and the humidity was suffocating, but the streets of New Orleans rivaled New York City this time of year.
Mardi Gras was a monthlong festival of parties, culminating with Fat Tuesday. Months of excessive food, drink, sex, and mayhem were experienced, before Lent took over and everything that brought joy to life was given up for forty fucking days.
Mac and I pushed our way through the throngs of people. Keeping our wits about us. Not only were we looking for Kelley at every opportunity, but anytime a city had this many people in one place, you had to watch out for pickpockets.
I turned my head as someone brushed against me, and I saw a woman with long dark hair hurrying after someone.
Freyja?
I waited for the woman to turn around, but she never did. She disappeared among the people. I had only seen the back of her head, and the long flowing skirt that swished around her ankles.
Was it her?
Or was I imagining a vision of my desire coming to life?
“Hey, you see something?” Mac asked, grabbing my arm to get my attention.
“No.” I stared in the direction of where the woman went. I wanted to follow. Something floated in the air around me. The scent of something familiar.
Lavender, and something I couldn’t name. But I knew where it came from.
It was her.
She was here, in New Orleans.
A memory drifted through my mind, and I remembered what she had first said to me.
“In six weeks, I have a commitment that will change my life forever. So, all I could offer you would be a temporary fling.”
Six weeks had passed since my night with Freyja.
“There’s someone else.”
“Fuck,” I cursed. She was here with another fucking man. I stepped forward in the direction she disappeared. I needed to find her. The desire to kill someone raged within me, and when Mac stepped in front of me, that rage was directed at him.
“Move,” I hissed.
“What the fuck is going on? Where are you going?”
“To fuckin’ kill someone,” I muttered as I pushed past him. I shoved my way through crowds of people. I knew there was no hope of finding her among the mobs of people dancing in the streets. But I had to try.
I ignored the man behind me calling out my name. He could follow if he wanted, but nothing would stop me.
And then suddenly there she was. Her back to me. Talking to a large black man with dreads. He was shirtless, and when he reached for her, my hand went to the gun at my hip.
With my right hand on my hip, my left reached out for her arm. Grasping her bicep, I spun her around and whispered, “Mo bandia.”
Only when she turned, green eyes stared back at me.
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