Going All Out. Jeanie London

she sent lank white hair whirling around her face. “The curse gave you the ability to appear to two people. Only two people. It was your chance, pirate.”

      Two people?

      The twins.

      It made such coldly logical sense that Gabriel couldn’t believe he hadn’t guessed sooner. Instead he’d appeared to Tallis and her lover and had prided himself on gaining enough power to take a ghostly form again.

      Damn his pride!

      Nearly two hundred years spent haunting this court. Nearly two hundred years denied his eternal peace. Denied any peace when he stared at the horrible old crone who had been his only companion. Nearly two hundred years to atone for his sins.

      Nearly two hundred years and he’d learned nothing.

      “You tricked me,” he cried. “You set me up to fail.”

      “I only cursed you. Your failure is your own.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Do not despair, though. Perhaps if you practice materializing as hard as you practice your other parlor tricks, you may be able to manage the task in another century or two.”

      Which was how long it would take before another set of twins would be born into this family.

      She blew him a kiss and stepped back through the wall, and with her laughter still ringing in his ears, Gabriel stared down at the bed where Breanne moved restlessly. He was so close to breaking the curse, to ending this eternal limbo…and all he had to rely upon were parlor tricks.

      ALTHOUGH MONTHS HAD PASSED since Bree had joined Krewe du Chaud, she still hadn’t decided why she’d become a part of this organization. It certainly wasn’t to hand over her hard-earned money paying steep annual dues.

      But Josie hadn’t given her much of a choice. The acting president had been pretty strong-handed about the whole thing. A bully, really.

      When you move into a court that’s a huge part of French Quarter history, Josie had told Bree in a tone that left no room for debate, it’s your duty and responsibility to keep the legend alive….

      Blah, blah, blah.

      Tally, of course, had jumped in with both feet. No surprise there. Tally had been enamored with the krewe since they’d been kids, standing on the streets as the captain’s floats had passed by in the Mardi Gras parade.

      Bree had never understood her sister’s obsession with all this historic family tradition stuff. It was sort of cool to bring up the connection in party conversation, but Bree had never found it much use otherwise.

      Being descended from the captain certainly hadn’t done anything for their mother, who’d spent her life—was probably still spending her life, as far as any of them knew—trying to capitalize on the connection with her alcohol-induced get-rich-quick schemes.

      Only Tally had ever managed to change her fortune. And she’d been on quite a roll lately, and Bree wished some of her luck would rub off.

      After last night, Bree could use it.

      Scooping up her mail from the floor in her foyer, she locked up the house and headed out into the bright afternoon. She walked through the alley past Café Eros, inhaling deeply of all the wonderful smells emitting from within. Beignets. Coffee.

      After a night spent tossing and turning while visions of Jude Robicheaux and Lucas Russell warred through her subconscious, she’d awakened feeling as if she’d been run down by a riverboat.

      But she had a problem to solve, so she’d gone online to the sheriff department’s Web site to confirm Jude’s status.

      He did still have an active warrant, which meant he wouldn’t surface openly. She couldn’t decide if that would bode good or bad for her.

      Today wasn’t the best of days for a krewe meeting, but Bree knew the distraction would do her good. Otherwise she’d be sitting at home, alternately debating what to do about Jude and remembering how tingly she’d gotten when Lucas had touched her.

      So stepping into the busy street, she flagged a passing cab. She hopped in, gave the driver the address of the krewe’s den on the river and skimmed through her mail as they wove through Canal Street traffic.

      Bill, bill, overdue bill…hmm, what was this?

      Lifting up the plain white envelope, she scanned her name and address in computer-generated text. There was no return address or any postmark, which meant the sender must have hand delivered the letter to her door.

      A chill skittered up her spine, and she had the wild impulse to tear the envelope to shreds and toss the pieces out the window to scatter through the streets like so much confetti during a Mardi Gras parade.

      Oh, please don’t let Jude know where she lived!

      Lifting her gaze to glance at the cabbie, who didn’t seem to notice the earthshaking anxiety happening in his backseat, Bree inhaled deeply to dispel the sensation.

      With the thought of a ruined pair of seventeen-dollar hose steeling her resolve, Bree opened the envelope to find a single sheet of copy paper and more of the same computer text.

      A vanishing act, gorgeous? Is that any way to welcome back the love of your life?

      Blood rushed to her head only to drain away just as quickly, leaving her clammy, dizzy and nauseous.

      Two sentences, but the message was crystal clear.

      You can run but you can’t hide.

      Arrogant bastard probably thought she couldn’t resist him—prize catch that he was.

      And the humiliating part—once upon a time she couldn’t.

      Damn man looked like a dark angel with that inky black hair and those crystal eyes. He knew it and used his looks to disarm stupid young women who hadn’t yet learned that the inside of the man was a lot more important than his yummy chocolate coating.

      But in all fairness to her, while Jude’s looks had first attracted her, his looks hadn’t been what had sucked her deep into his life. That had been all about being taken care of. Jude had spotted her weak spot and had exploited it.

      Bree had been a shamefully easy mark.

      After their mother had gone MIA, Tally had stepped up to the plate and taken control of the situation. Bree had let her. That was the natural order of things. Always had been. They’d chosen to postpone college and rear Mark to keep him from being farmed off into foster care.

      But life hadn’t been easy, and when Jude had shown up, he’d seemed like an answer to her prayers. He’d flashed and dashed her big-time, bought her clothes and paid her bills and helped out with Mark’s expenses. He’d shown her a lifestyle of fancy restaurants and expensive shopping sprees that had dazzled her into blindness about his character.

      At eighteen, Bree had thought Lady Luck had been smiling all over her. By the time she’d started questioning whether that luck was good or bad, she’d already known the answer deep in her heart.

      And had been in way over her head.

      God, why had she ever been stupid enough to get involved with that man?

      Bree already knew the answer. But now she had the answer to another all-important question.

      Jude wasn’t here for revenge. He was playing the romance card. He wouldn’t have let her know he was back otherwise. Whatever he wanted from her—and he wanted something, no question—he intended to use their history to get it.

      Relief burst through her, so sudden and hot she grew flushed in the close confines of the taxi. She could scratch revenge off the list, and a part of her wasn’t surprised.

      Bree honestly didn’t believe Jude would ever hurt her. The man was an opportunist, a con man. Not an abuser. He expected to control her and would try to bully her if he didn’t get his way, but as dysfunctional as their relationship had been, he had once claimed to love