Beneath Dark Waters

Book 2: A New Orleans Novel

by Karen Rose

Genres: Police Procedurals; Romantic Suspense; Suspense

Synopsis

*Pre-order the second audiobook in Karen Rose's New Orleans series now*

Assistant District Attorney Kaj Cordozo's life is thrown upside down when two masked men attempt to kidnap his son, Elijah. Given the high-profile case Kaj is working on, he's not about to take any more risks.

When Val Sorensen of Burke Broussard Private Investigation Agency is assigned as Elijah's bodyguard, she realises she also has a very personal connection to the gang thought to be behind the attempted kidnap - a run in with Sixth Day cost her brother his life.

As Kaj and Val work together to prevent a second kidnap attempt, they uncover a trail of violence and deception leading back to brothers Aaron and Corey Gates. Aaron is in prison, but Corey is dangerous, at large and about to threaten everything Kaj holds dear.

Will the revelation of involvement from the other Gates brothers lead to answers, or by placing their trust in them will Kaj and Val be putting themselves in even more danger?

READERS LOVE KAREN ROSE:
'Karen Rose never disappoints!'

'The characters are so well described you feel as if they are real people'

'I love this author's writing. Each book is like meeting up with old friends'

'I just couldn't put it down, I'd definitely recommend this author'

'It is just painstaking waiting for her next novel'

(P)2023 Headline Publishing Group Ltd

Release date: August 15, 2023

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 592

Sample

Prologue

 

Mid-City, New Orleans, Louisiana

MONDAY, OCTOBER 24, 6:45 P.M.

WHY ARE WE here again?” Jace asked Rick, nervously checking traffic as he drove down a quiet street in a suburb he’d never been to before. Most of the buildings were small businesses that had already closed for the day. A few people walked the streets, most seeming to have been shopping at the corner store, which, other than a laundromat, was the only place still open. It didn’t feel dangerous, though. The streets were well lit and no one looked nervous walking around. “Rick?” he prodded when Rick didn’t answer.

Rick should have been behind the wheel, but he’d shoved the keys to their brother Corey’s van into Jace’s hand, telling him to shut up and drive. Jace knew how to drive, but he didn’t have a license because he was only fifteen. All he needed was to get stopped by a cop. He would have his license in six months, but he didn’t think a cop would accept that excuse.

Plus, the cops weren’t too happy with the Gates family right now. Jace couldn’t say that he blamed them. What his oldest brother Aaron had done . . .

Jace might have believed it of his brother Corey, because Corey beat the shit out of Jace and his other brother Rick on the regular. But he wouldn’t have thought Aaron capable of beating a man to death.

Except Jace had watched the video with his own eyes. Several times, because he hadn’t been able to believe what he’d seen at first. Aaron had beaten that doctor to death with his fists.

Jace understood Aaron’s grief. They’d all loved Aaron’s little boy, Liam. The doctor hadn’t cured Liam of his leukemia and the little boy had finally died.

But Jace didn’t understand Aaron’s rage. A week later, he was still in shock.

“Rick?” Jace asked again, because Rick still hadn’t answered. “Why are we here?”

Of his three brothers, Jace was closest to Rick. They were less than a year apart, and Rick took care of him. Had always taken care of him, ever since their mother had died.

Sure, Aaron and Corey had been made their legal guardians because they were a lot older—both in their early thirties—but it was Rick who’d looked out for Jace. They lived with Corey, but it was Rick who’d fixed his breakfast, made his lunch. Bandaged his skinned knees and tucked him into bed at night when he’d still been young enough. Rick had even done his homework because Jace couldn’t do it on his own.

Aaron’s arrest had hit Rick the hardest, Jace thought. Corey was furious with their oldest brother, but Rick had been devastated.

“We’re picking something up for Aaron,” Rick said.

“What?” Jace insisted.

“Slow down,” Rick ordered, pointing to the sidewalk. “See that woman there?”

Tapping the brake, Jace squinted at the woman who was about fifty feet ahead of them. “The pregnant one?” Because, wow, the woman was really pregnant.

“Yeah, her. Didn’t you read Corey’s email? Oh right,” Rick said sarcastically. He’d been sarcastic a lot lately. Mean, even. And more jittery than usual. But they were all stressed out. “You can’t, because you’re so stupid you can’t even read.”

Jace winced. It wasn’t like the words were lies. He was stupid and he couldn’t read. Corey told him that every day. But the words hurt a lot more coming from Rick.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Rick huffed. “Whatever. Just . . . do what I say, okay?”

Jace hunched in on himself, feeling small even though he was bigger than Rick. At six-one, he was only a few inches shorter than Corey, but it didn’t

matter. He couldn’t read and could barely write his own name. It sucked to be the stupid one in the family. “Okay. Can you tell me what we’re picking up for Aaron?”

Rick pointed at the pregnant lady. “Him.”

Jace frowned. There was a little boy walking next to the pregnant lady. He looked like he was only eight or nine years old. “Why?”

“Because he can get Aaron out of jail,” Rick spat. “He’s currency.”

Jace blinked, confused. “What?”

“Currency,” Rick repeated. “That fucking no-name public defender Aaron got can’t help him, so we need to do something. We need Aaron back. We need him.” Jace was struck by the desperation in his brother’s tone. “We can’t—” Rick cut himself off, shaking his head hard. “Somebody needs to do something. You’re either with me or you’re against me.”

Jace was still back on “currency.” “What are you talking—”

“Shut up and listen. If you don’t want to do this, then back the fuck out right now,” Rick snapped. “I need to be able to depend on you.”

“You can,” Jace said, hating his own desperation. “But—”

“Shut up,” Rick hissed. He shoved something black and soft into Jace’s hand.

Jace stared at it. A ski mask, just like the one Rick was pulling over his own head.

“Put it on,” Rick ordered. “Now.”

And then Rick pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

Jace gaped. “What the fuck?”

“Stop the van.” Wild-eyed, Rick grabbed at Jace’s arm, making him jerk the steering wheel to one side, and the van veered into the curb. “Put it on if you don’t want to live in prison with Aaron. I mean it, Jace. Now.”

Stunned into obedience, Jace pulled the ski mask over his head as Rick yanked the passenger-side door open and jumped out of the van. The kid on the sidewalk stopped abruptly, turning to look up at the pregnant woman. She looked around with a frown.

Don’t hurt her. She’s pregnant. Please don’t hurt her.

Dazed, Jace watched as Rick, still holding the gun in one hand, ran up to the pair and grabbed the boy, shoving him under his arm like a football. He’d made it two steps when everything went to shit.

Rick screamed and dropped to the ground a second before a siren began to wail.

Jace looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have to get out of here. Drive. Leave him.

But Jace couldn’t do that. Rick was his brother.

He’d leave you in a heartbeat.

True. But if Jace left Rick and the cops picked him up, two of his brothers would be behind bars. And Corey would be even madder.

Jace couldn’t make Corey even madder. He just couldn’t.

Making his decision, he burst from the driver’s seat and rounded the van. By the time he got to the curb, the kid had rolled out from under Rick’s arm and was kneeling on the sidewalk, visibly trembling—and holding Rick’s ski mask in his small hand.

Shit. Rick’s face was out there, for all the world to see. Corey’s going to kill us.

“Run, Elijah, run!” the woman shouted. She grabbed at the boy’s shoulder, yanking him to his feet, and Jace glimpsed the weapon in her hand.

A stun gun. She’d tased Rick.

The woman took off running faster than Jace thought a pregnant woman could run. “Elijah, come on!” she screamed. But the boy was frozen in place, staring down at Rick.

Jace rushed to where Rick lay and the little boy slowly looked up at him, eyes wide. Looking every bit as shocked as Jace felt.

“Elijah!” the pregnant lady shouted from the doorway of the laundromat. The look of horror on her face made Jace think that she’d thought the little boy was behind her. She started to run back toward them but slipped and fell back into the laundromat with another scream.

Jace could grab the kid. He could do it.

But . . . he couldn’t do it. It’s wrong. Meeting the boy’s terrified eyes, he made another decision. “Run,” he snapped. “I said run!”

It was when the kid finally started to run that Jace realized people were beginning to gather, to stare.

To take video. Things had just gone from bad to worse. Goddammit.

Rick was still on the ground, twitching and moaning. The smell of urine was thick. He was going to be so mad.

Don’t think about that. Just move.

Jace hauled his brother 

 onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, grateful that Rick was the smaller of the two of them. Jace threw him in the van, closed the side door, and ran to the driver’s side, revving the engine as he made their escape. What have I done?

Rick was gonna be pissed off. Jace had let the kid go.

No, he’d made the kid go.

Corey was . . . Jace shuddered at what Corey was going to do to them. Don’t think about that. Just drive.

 

Chapter 1

 

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 9:00 A.M.

MORNING, JOY,” VAL Sorensen singsonged.

Their office manager was at her desk in the lobby of Broussard Investigations, frowning at her computer monitor. “Welcome back, Val,” she said without looking up. “How was your assignment?”

“Boring. Some CEO said that someone was threatening his wife, but he was just worried that she was getting some from the pool boy on the side and wanted a chaperone.”

Joy glanced up. “Was she getting some from the pool boy?”

“Not my job to know,” Val said, then laughed. “But yeah, she totally was.” Waving the box she held, she was rewarded when Joy’s normally stoic expression became rapturous. Val gestured to the box like it was a game show prize. “See something you like?”

Joy’s lips twitched. “Depends. Does that box in your hands contain Marica’s cupcakes?”

Val smirked. Her pals MaryBeth and Jessica owned one of the best bakeries in the Quarter. “They were Marica’s, but then I paid for them, so now they’re mine.” She put the box on Joy’s desk, centering it carefully on the blotter, because a crookedly placed anything was annoying as hell. “And now they’re yours. Happy birthday, Joy.”

Joy grinned. “You stood in that ridiculous line for me?”

“I did indeed.” She propped her hip on the corner of Joy’s desk. “I didn’t have to, because MaryBeth already had these set aside for me and told me to just come to the front of the line to pick them up. But the crowd looked unruly, so I decided it would be safer to wait.”

Besides, it was a beautiful fall morning and she’d wanted to breathe it in before getting stuck behind her desk all day. She loved her job at Broussard Investigations—except for the paperwork, and she had a ton of it waiting for her.

“Well, thank you,” Joy said. “Although you could have hip-checked anyone who gave you any shit, Miss Roller Derby Queen.”

Val rolled her eyes. “I don’t hip-check random strangers. Plus, there were a few old ladies in front of me who must have come from morning mass. They were clutching rosaries and didn’t look scared to use them.”

“Such foolishness.” Joy lifted the box’s lid, sniffed deeply, then sighed. “Chocolate.”

“Of course. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not.” Joy tilted her head in a speculative way that had Val sliding off the desk and taking a wary step back.

“What?”

Joy smiled up at her. “Nothing.” She took two of the cupcakes from the box and handed them to Val. “One for you and one for the child.”

Val frowned. “What child?”

The door to their boss’s office opened and Burke Broussard appeared. A big and brawny retired Marine, Burke was somewhere in his midforties. A very handsome man, he turned heads everywhere.

Just not mine.

Burke was perfect as a friend, but she’d never even considered anything more. He was . . . too big. Way too big. Val had to swallow back the memories of the others who’d been too big, all while keeping a smile plastered on her face.

Burke knew her history, and he’d never been anything but kind and respectful of her boundaries. She trusted him implicitly, and that was a big deal for her. She’d been lucky the day he’d asked her to join his team. Broussard Investigations was a tightly knit group, and everyone was protective of the others. They were as close to a family as one

could get without blood ties, and Val found the love and comfort here that her own broken family could no longer provide.

“Morning, Val,” Burke rumbled in that deep Cajun drawl of his. “You have a new client. Bring a cupcake for him.”

Okaaaay. Holding the two cupcakes, Val walked to Burke’s office door, hearing the whir of Joy’s motorized wheelchair as the older woman followed her, unabashedly curious. A shiver of trepidation raced down Val’s spine.

A moment later, she knew why. Assistant District Attorney Jean-Pierre Cardozo was coming to his feet, having been seated in one of the chairs in front of Burke’s desk. She’d first met him at a party back in the summer. Burke and his staff had been celebrating with some clients after closing an all-hands-on-deck case when Cardozo had arrived, dressed in an expensive black suit that made him look like a Fortune 500 CEO.

He’d been charming as hell and impossible to ignore, despite her best efforts—that day and later. Unable to resist, she’d found herself googling him later that evening, learning surprisingly little personal information. Other than a few of the cases he’d tried up in the New York City courts, the man had no real internet presence, which took a lot of talent. Burke’s IT guy, Antoine, would surely have been able to dig up a lot more, but she’d been unwilling to ask. Unwilling to voice aloud that the man had fascinated her.

She knew only that he’d recently moved from New York and that his first name was spelled K-a-j but pronounced “Kai,” rhyming with “pie.” And she only knew those tidbits because she’d overheard Burke telling someone else in the firm.

After that day, she’d seen Cardozo twice. Once a couple weeks ago at another party at a friend’s restaurant, Le Petit Choux. He hadn’t stayed long, and she’d managed to avoid him. Their most recent crossing of paths had been in a courtroom the week before, a plea hearing for one of the criminals whose crimes Burke’s group had exposed. No words had been exchanged between them either time, but Val had noticed the man’s every movement.

He moved so very nicely. And he was a good guy, prosecuting bad guys, but that smile he’d worn . . . He could get her to trust that smile. Which meant he was dangerous.

He didn’t look anything like that now. He was as handsome as before, his dark brown hair neatly combed, his face freshly shaven. His khakis were unwrinkled, the sleeves of his casual button-up shirt rolled up, exposing tanned forearms. He even wore a tie printed with whimsical dinosaurs. But his expression appeared haggard, as if he

hadn’t slept at all.

And his dark eyes were full of fear.

Val glanced to the corner of the room, revealing the source of his fear. A boy of about nine or ten sat at Burke’s little meeting table. His hair was white-blond, unlike Cardozo’s. But their faces were too much alike for them not to be related. Father and son, she thought.

She hadn’t realized that Cardozo had a child, and she didn’t want to think about why that disappointed her. It didn’t matter that the child had a mother, that Cardozo had a significant other. It didn’t matter because she was not interested in ADA Cardozo, first name “Kaj” that rhymed with “pie.”

The child, however, had captured her attention. He clutched a tablet in his hands, staring down at it with a vacant look that Val recognized all too well.

She’d seen it in the mirror plenty of times.

He’d been traumatized. He didn’t look up, so Val turned back to his father.

“Hey,” Val said quietly, because the mood in the room was brittle. “It’s good to see you again, ADA Cardozo.”

The man’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Likewise. This is my son, Elijah. Elijah, this is Miss Sorensen.”

My new client? Val wondered. She looked at Burke, who inclined his head toward the boy, gesturing her to engage.

“Hi, Elijah,” she said, approaching the table. “I’m Val.”

The boy didn’t look up until Val put the cupcake in front of him. “Hi,” he whispered.

It was one tiny word, but said with a determination that won her respect. She pointed at the cupcake. “That’s yours.”

“And that one, too?” Elijah asked, pointing at the cupcake still in her hand.

“Pfft. No,” she said, using her best duh tone. “This one is mine. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” She smiled so that he would know she was teasing.

The boy’s lips quirked up before returning to a grim line. “Was worth a try.”

“It’s always worth a try when cupcakes are on the line. Are you my new client?”

Elijah pushed Harry Potter–style glasses up on his nose. “I guess so.”

“May I sit down?” She waited until Elijah nodded before taking the seat beside him. From this vantage point she could see the boy’s face as well

as that of his father.

Cardozo lowered himself back into his chair in front of Burke’s desk, his face still frozen in a rictus of fear.

Whatever had happened, it had been bad.

She peeled the wrapper from the cupcake she’d kept, watching as Elijah did the same.

He hummed his pleasure when he took the first bite.

“Good, huh?” Val said. “My bestie makes them fresh every morning.”

“Really good,” Elijah said, setting the rest of his treat aside. He gave his father a quick, sharp look across the room. “I’m saving the rest for later.” His tone was dry but not unkind. “You can get your own cupcake.”

Cardozo’s chuckle sounded forced. “I’ll get right on that.”

Elijah shrugged sassily, but then his shoulders sagged as he sighed, his playfulness clearly feigned. “Ask your questions, Miss Sorensen. I figure you have some.”

“Okay. Why are you here?”

“My dad said I had to come. He didn’t have anyone to leave me with, and it wasn’t safe for me in school.” There was a reluctance in his voice, and Val wasn’t sure if it was because he was here or because he wasn’t in school.

She wanted to ask where his mother was but held back. “Do you like school?”

Elijah’s expression became abruptly defiant. “I do. Is that a problem?”

“Nope. I’m a teacher. I like kids who like school.”

“I thought you were a bodyguard.”

“Now, yeah. And an investigator sometimes, too, but I still do some teaching.”

Elijah’s defiance melted away. “What do you teach?”

“Music. I teach kids at the community center. Piano, violin, flute, some guitar, and a little tambourine for those who don’t have success with the other instruments.”

“That’s really nice,” Elijah said with a small smile, then dropped his gaze to the cupcake. Silence followed, and Val waited patiently, keeping her attention on Elijah.

She had experience with traumatized kids and knew that he’d speak when he was ready.

Finally, he looked up, swallowing audibly. “Someone tried to kidnap me yesterday.”

Val drew a sharp breath, managing not to gasp. “That sucks.”

Elijah snorted, then looked surprised that he had. “It really did.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“It happened really fast. I was with my aunt, walking home after the math club competition at my school.” He dropped his gaze again. “There were two men in a white minivan. Both had on ski masks. One got out and grabbed me, then started carrying me to the van.”

He stopped and looked up, his eyes now as fearful as his father’s.

“That had to have been terrifying,” Val murmured. “How did you get away?”

His lips curved again, this time with pride. “My aunt Genie carries a Taser.”

“Excellent,” Val said with a nod. “She hit the guy with the ski mask?”

“Yep. And I have a noisemaker, one of those things that’s as loud as a siren. I pressed it right after she tased him.”

“Good job.” Val held out her fist, and Elijah bumped it.

“The guy dropped to the ground after Aunt Genie tased him, and she yelled for me to run. But . . .” He dropped his gaze to his hands once again. “I froze.”

The boy’s shame was palpable. That would not do.

“It happens,” she said quietly. “When you’re dropped into a situation you aren’t expecting or you haven’t been trained for, sometimes the brain can’t process.” Elijah only huffed his disgust, presumably at himself. She decided to come back to the shame later. “You’re sitting here enjoying a cupcake, so I’m guessing that you got away.”

“Yeah.”

“And because you’re here with your dad, I’m guessing the masked guys got away and you’re still in danger. What happened after your aunt tased the bad guy?”

“The driver got out of the van and started to come after me, but lots of people had started to gather around.”

Then the boy went quiet, his expression becoming puzzled.

“Did the driver try to get you?” Val asked.

“No.” And this seemed to be the source of his puzzlement. “He told me to run.”

Val blinked. “That’s . . . unexpected.”

“I know, right?”

“Then what did he do?”

“He picked up the guy who got tased and threw him over his shoulder, put him in the van, and drove away.”

Val had so many questions, but she figured she’d be following up with Cardozo and Burke once this interview was completed. And she had no doubt that this was an interview. Cardozo wanted to see how she interacted with his child, and she didn’t blame him at all.

But first things first. She settled in her chair, giving Elijah an up-and-down visual exam. “Were you hurt?”

“No, but Aunt Genie . . .” He shuddered. “She’s really pregnant and her doctor

put her on bed rest. She was crying and kept asking him if she’d lose the baby.” His throat worked as he swallowed hard again. His eyes had gone glassy with unshed tears. “I couldn’t stand it if she lost the baby because of me,” he finished in a whisper.

Val wouldn’t tell him that his aunt would be fine because she didn’t know that for sure, and she wouldn’t lie to him. “Feeling guilty sucks, too. Even when it’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

Elijah nodded miserably. “I get that. I do. But . . .” He blinked and sent fat tears sliding down his cheeks. “She thought I was behind her and she ran. But I froze and she started to come back for me. Then she tripped and fell and . . .”

Oh, honey. She wanted to hug him, but she kept her hands folded on the table. “What did her doctor say?” she asked, keeping her tone soft but firm.

He wiped his cheeks angrily. “That the baby was okay. That bed rest was just a precaution. That it wasn’t my fault.”

“Then those are the facts. You’re entitled to however you feel, but the facts are that the baby is okay, and your aunt is resting. So . . . what do you want from me, Elijah?”

He glanced at his father, their eyes holding for another long moment. “My dad wants me to have a bodyguard. Mr. Broussard says he thinks you’d be the best for the job.”

Val smiled at the boy. “And what do you think?”

Elijah sized her up, his eyes sober behind his glasses. “How tall are you?”

“Five-eleven in bare feet. Six-one with my boots on.” She’d hated being tall when she was Elijah’s age, but now she liked the view from six feet up.

“You look like you have muscles. And Mr. Broussard said you were in the Marines.”

“I do have muscles, and I did serve.” Although muscles weren’t always enough to keep one safe, she thought, then briskly swept the unwanted truth aside with a practiced mental swipe. “I’m also told that I’m decent with kids.”

“I guess you’d have to be, to be a teacher. Do you have a gun?”

“I do. But I’d prefer not to have to use it, because I’ve kept you safe and out of the grabby hands of people who want to hurt you.”

He snorted again. “Grabby hands?”

“I call ’em like I see ’em, kid.”

He sobered. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

She looked him square in the eye. “I have. I don’t recommend it, but I don’t regret it, either. The few times I’ve had to, the people I was protecting

remained safe and well because I did. Like I said, my preference is to avoid that kind of conflict, because it means I’ve kept you safe. What will my duties entail?”

Again, Elijah looked at his father before returning his gaze to Val. “Keeping me safe?”

“Well, yeah. But will I be going to school with you? Will I need to cook for you, do your laundry, that kind of thing?”

“I do my own laundry. But I can’t cook. Not really.”

She noted that Elijah hadn’t answered her question about school—and that his father had opened his mouth before abruptly closing it. There was disagreement there that she’d tackle later. “Luckily for you, I can cook. I’ve been taking lessons lately from another one of my friends who co-owns a restaurant here in the Quarter. My food’s not as good as hers, but we’ll be just fine.” She tilted her head. “Do I pass muster?”

“I might need help with my homework. Can you do math?”

This was another interview question, she was certain. A kid in the math club was unlikely to need help with his homework. “Yes. Before I was a bodyguard-slash-investigator-slash-part-time-music-teacher, I was a full-time middle school math teacher.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I can take a test later, if you need proof. In fact, we can take the same test and see who wins. Loser buys cupcakes. And I won’t let you win, I promise.”

He regarded her steadily, then stuck out his hand. “You’re hired.”

She shook his hand, pleased that she’d won him over. Elijah Cardozo fired up all her protective instincts. But, of course, the boy’s father had the final say. “Thank you. Let me work out the details with your dad and then we’ll see where we go from there.”

His tense shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Thank you, Miss Sorensen.”

“You’re welcome. And my friends call me Val.”

He nodded once. “Thank you, Val.”

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 9:15 A.M.

Thank you, Val.

Kaj Cardozo closed his eyes at his son’s sober gratitude, trying to control the fear that clawed at him from the inside out. Someone touched my son. Someone tried to take my son.

Val Sorensen came recommended by Burke Broussard, and Broussard Investigations

had a stellar record for closing cases. They got justice for those who’d been long denied. They also specialized in personal protection, which was why he was here.

Kaj had seen Burke in action, had witnessed his dedication and integrity.

Burke Broussard hires capable people. Which includes Val Sorensen.

Kaj had been chanting those words in his mind ever since he’d made the call to Broussard the night before, asking for this appointment. Right after he’d left his pregnant sister’s home, trying not to hold his son too tightly.

Genie had been amazing, protecting Elijah, incapacitating his would-be attacker. His son was still here because Genie had saved him with her quick thinking. And her Taser.

If Genie hadn’t been so vigilant . . . Kaj drew a deep breath, determined not to have a panic attack where Elijah could see him. He couldn’t think that way. It wasn’t good for Elijah.

Nor for me.

“Hey,” Val said softly right next to his ear, and the scent of vanilla filled his head. “Breathe, Mr. Cardozo.”

Kaj’s eyes flew open, and he shuddered out a breath when he saw the woman take the seat beside him, sweeping her hair over one shoulder in a practiced way. He’d noticed her hair the first time he’d seen her at a party back in the summer. It was long and white-blond, nearly the same color as his had been as a child, the same as Elijah’s was now. She was smiling at him, sympathy in her blue eyes.

“Elijah’s here,” she murmured. “He’s here and he’s okay. Scared, but okay.”

“And we’re going to keep it that way,” Burke added.

Kaj scrubbed his palms over his face. “Okay. What’s next?”

“That depends on you.” Val glanced at Elijah, who sat watching them warily.

Kaj tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t curve. “You okay over there, kiddo?”

Elijah rolled his eyes, and that very genuine preteen gesture finally prodded a smile onto Kaj’s face. “I’m fine, Dad,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Are you?”

Yes, Kaj started to say, then shook his head. “Not really. But I will be.”

Elijah sobered. “I know.”

Kaj returned his gaze to Val Sorensen, who sat patiently waiting, carefully watching.

“You’ve protected children in the past?”

Val nodded once. “Four times in the past three years.” She pursed her lips, as if remembering. “All are safe today.”

But they hadn’t been. He could see it in her eyes. Something had happened to one of her charges.

“What happened?” Elijah called over. “Which time did you have to use your gun to keep a child safe from grabby hands?”

Val’s smile was rueful. “Why are you so smart, kid?” she called back.

“It’s my cross to bear,” Elijah said dryly, and Kaj’s chest tightened. Heather used to say that. In that same dry tone. Damn, but he missed her.

Val coughed, hiding a laugh. “How old are you, Elijah? Twenty-five?”

“Only ten,” he said with a put-upon sigh.

She huffed. “I’m gonna need to see a birth certificate.” She eyed Kaj. “You might as well have your son sitting here with us, Mr. Cardozo. We’re not hiding anything from him.”

Kaj sighed. “I know. He really is too smart for my own good. C’mon over, Elijah. This is all about you, so you might as well be involved.”

“Which is what I told you when we got here,” Elijah muttered, dragging his chair from the small conference table over to Burke’s desk. He dropped into the chair, crossing his arms. “Well? Grabby hands?”

Val glanced at Burke, who shrugged. “Okay,” she said, her accent also New Orleans, Kaj noted, but not Cajun—and not very strong. It made him wonder how long she’d been in the city. “I was protecting a teenage girl and her brother, who was nine. I’m only telling you because it’s public record. It was covered by the media. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to share this.”

Elijah nodded very seriously. “I understand.”

“Good. The girl’s father had been threatened because of an upcoming corporate merger. Lots of people were losing their jobs and tempers were high. His children had been specifically targeted in the threats, so he hired me. The nine-year-old did everything I asked, but the teenager . . . not so much. She didn’t think all the fuss was necessary and had a boyfriend.” She looked at Elijah sadly. “She’s a smart young woman. She figured out how to disengage the alarm system and climbed out her window and shimmied down a tree to see her beau.”

“But she’s still alive?” Elijah asked, eyes wide.

“Yes. But her boyfriend is not. I was able to shield her, but the boyfriend got caught in the line of fire. He . . .” She sighed. “He’d been approached by one of the disgruntled employees to lure the young woman away from the house. He’d taken money to deliver her into the hands of those who would have harmed her to get back at her father

He was only seventeen.”

“And you feel guilty,” Elijah murmured.

My perceptive son. It was exactly what Kaj had been thinking because the emotion was clear on Val’s face.

“I do. I would have saved him, too, but he ran back to the kidnappers, thinking they’d protect him, that they’d take him with them when they ran away. But he was a loose end and they killed him.”

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said quietly. “That it happened, and that I made you talk about it.”

“You’re fine,” she said firmly. “If I’d been nearly kidnapped yesterday, I’d want to know that my bodyguard had the experience to keep me safe, too. You have every right to ask questions. If I can’t answer them, I’ll tell you so. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find out. If I can’t answer because I’m protecting someone else’s confidentiality, I’ll tell you that, too. Just like I’ll keep your circumstances confidential when we’re finished and you’re safe again.”

Elijah bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Val ran a hand over his son’s hair, her touch sweet, her expression fond. Which wasn’t a surprise. Elijah elicited that response in nearly everyone who met him. Except for the bastards who’d tried to kidnap him.

“It’s my job, but you’re welcome,” she said. “I need you to promise that you’ll follow any rules that I set. If you want to know why, then ask. If I have time to explain, I will. But don’t just disregard what I tell you to do. It could mean your life, Elijah.” Her eyes softened. “I know that this isn’t fair, but it’s the way it is—for now anyway.”

Elijah looked up, determined. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Kaj. “Do you know who was responsible?”

“He does,” Burke said, and there was something in his tone that had Val studying her boss. It was almost as if Burke were warning her.

Kaj would come back to that later. “Aaron Gates,” he stated baldly.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “He’s in jail. I’ve been out of town on a job, so I’m behind on the news, but I caught a clip. He murdered a doctor last week, right?”

“Beat him to death with his bare hands,” Elijah said grimly.

Val shot Elijah a surprised look, then shot Kaj one of censure that he probably deserved. His son was too young to know the details of violent crimes, but Elijah found ways to enrich his knowledge despite Kaj's

best efforts to limit his online exposure.

“You’re a kid,” she said. “You shouldn’t know about stuff like this.”

Elijah shrugged. “I read the newspaper online. Every day. Knowledge is power.”

Another one of Heather’s favorite isms. She’d be so delighted with how their son was turning out. Of course, she’d also be kicking Kaj’s ass for putting their boy in danger in the first place. I’m sorry, Heather.

Burke cleared his throat, bringing them back on topic. “It was Aaron’s younger brother Rick who tried to grab Elijah last night.”

Val sucked in a breath, realization stark in her blue eyes. “He . . . Holy sh—crap.” She stumbled over the barely missed swear word as she stared at Kaj. “They thought that kidnapping your son would get you to release Aaron Gates?”

“That’s the theory.” And Kaj liked to believe that he wouldn’t have even considered bowing to the kidnappers’ demands but knew that he would have. His son was everything.

“How was Rick identified?” she asked, running a comforting hand over Elijah’s back.

“Rick’s sixteen,” Burke said, “so he has a driver’s license. Elijah ID’d his DMV photo.”

“Sixteen,” she murmured then turned to Elijah with a frown. “Wait. You saw his face?”

“I did.” Elijah preened. “I ripped his mask off right before I got away.”

“Whoa,” Val said, clearly impressed. “On purpose?”

“Yep. All the people recording on their phones got his face, too.”

“Way to go, Elijah.” She held out her fist for him to bump, giving him a wink when he did so. “What about the other guy, the one driving the van? The one who told you to run?”

Elijah’s face fell. “I didn’t see his face. I should have ripped off his mask, but . . . I ran.”

“Hey.” She tipped Elijah’s face up with a finger under his chin. “You did good. You gave the cops a place to start their investigation. Otherwise, they’d be spinnin’ their wheels, because I’m betting the van had stolen plates.”

“True enough,” Burke confirmed in a lazy drawl.

Val was still holding Elijah’s gaze. “And running away was the very smartest

thing to do. If you have the choice, always run. There is nothing shameful in getting away from danger. Got it?” There was a ferocity in her words that suggested personal experience. Kaj would come back to that later, as well.

Elijah nodded, and Kaj felt a burst of gratitude for Val. Elijah had been obsessing that he hadn’t done enough. “Got it.”

“We don’t know who was driving the van—yet,” Kaj said, giving his son a proud nod. “There are four Gates brothers. Aaron’s the oldest, and in jail. Corey’s thirty-one, two years younger than Aaron. He runs a construction business here in town. He was very cooperative with the NOPD when they wanted to search Aaron’s home and office after the murder. Seemed shocked that Aaron would melt down like he did. Corey probably wasn’t the driver because he’s a few inches too tall. Rick is sixteen, and Jace is just fifteen. We don’t know much about Jace, but he was too young to be driving the van.”

“Legally, anyway,” Burke said quietly.

“True,” Kaj conceded. “But there is another possibility.”

Burke stiffened and, seeing him, Val did the same. “Which is?” she asked warily.

Kaj wanted to know what the hell the two of them knew, but he’d confront them in private. He wasn’t sure he wanted Elijah to know any more than he already did—which was way too much. “Have you heard of Sixth Day?”

If he hadn’t been watching Val’s face so closely, he’d have missed the infinitesimal flinch. That flinch might be bad or good, depending on why the name of the gang had affected her. This was what Burke had been warning her about. And I’ll definitely be following up.

“Yes,” she said evenly. “I have. They sold a lot of drugs, but they’re now defunct. Been so for about four years. Rico Nova, the old leader, was jailed for murder, and then the gang disintegrated. How is Aaron Gates connected to Sixth Day? I thought he was some kind of financial advisor.”

“He was,” Kaj said. “We found the connection when we were searching the home of the woman arrested with him.”

“Sandra Springfield,” Elijah broke in helpfully. “She was his personal assistant. She held Aaron’s coat while he killed the doctor. People watching said she was cheering him on.”

“So she’s a nice person,” Val said sarcastically.

“She’s also Aaron’s girlfriend,” Elijah added. “Even though Aaron already has a wife.”

Dear Lord. Kaj hadn’t realized Elijah knew that, too. He was going to have to totally block his son’s internet access.

“Drama in a drug gang. Who’d have thunk it?” she deadpanned. “What did you find when you were searching Sandra’s home?”

“A thumb drive,”

Kaj said, “containing photos of Aaron with one of the known Sixth Day members—Dewey Talley.”

Again she flinched, and it was, once again, infinitesimal. “Rico Nova’s second-in-command.”

Kaj nodded, still watching her. “I understand that most people dealt with Talley for day-to-day operations. Nova was a fairly silent partner.”

Her jaw tightened. “Most people didn’t know Rico Nova’s name until he was arrested for murder.”

Kaj noted her tension. It was very well covered, but it was there. “Everyone said that Talley went under after Sixth Day fell apart. Nobody’s seen him for almost four years.”

“Maybe he’s dead,” she said, her tone flat and grim.

Kaj sighed. “If he is, it’s a real recent thing.” He handed his phone to Val, one of Sandra Springfield’s photos they’d found on his screen.

She went perfectly still, her gaze locked on the off-center photo of Aaron Gates and Dewey Talley laughing. Her mouth tightened and she exhaled silently. “He looks different. Older. A lot more than four years older.” She glanced at Kaj. “The beard, the shaggy hair, and the ratty clothes are new. He used to be clean-shaven and well-dressed. I wouldn’t recognize him if I passed him on the street, which I suppose has helped him hide for the past four years. How do you know this is recent?”

“That’s Aaron Gates’s living room,” Kaj told her. “The movie on the TV was only released a few months ago. In all the photos, they appeared to be friends.”

She handed him his phone. “Is Talley still dealing?”

“I checked with an old friend from my days in Narcotics,” Burke said quietly. Almost warily. “Talley is rumored to still be the go-to guy for high-quality meth, heroin, and any pill a user could want. He’s just become smarter about not getting caught. His client list—again, this is rumor—is high-society types. Businessmen, trophy wives, that kind of thing. Aaron might not be part of Sixth Day, but he is somehow involved with Talley.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed begrudgingly. “The fact that Aaron’s girlfriend hid those photos indicates that they’re somehow important. My guess would be blackmail or some kind of insurance. Photos like that generally are. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Talley was involved in last night’s abduction attempt.”

“Rick dropped a gun at the scene last night,” Kaj said, and his blood ran cold once again. Rick Gates had a gun in one hand and my son in the other. “Ballistics matched it to a gun used to murder a low-level dealer last year.”

Val opened her mouth to say something, but Burke silenced her with a look. “Talley’s body type matches last night’s driver—who had a dragon tattoo

on his right upper arm.”

“Like Talley’s.” Val seemed to deflate before squaring her shoulders. “Y’all could have just led with that, y’know,” she grumbled. “But it still doesn’t make sense. The driver told Elijah to run. That’s the opposite of what Dewey Talley would do.”

“I agree,” Burke said. “But for now, these are the two leads we have. A definitive identification of Rick Gates working with someone who has a tattoo like Dewey Talley’s, who is at least friendly with Aaron Gates. Let’s see where that takes us.”

She nodded once. “All right, then. Where is Rick Gates now?”

“We don’t know,” Kaj admitted. “He and the driver got away. NOPD is searching.”

“What about their camp?” she asked. “Sixth Day has a place out on the bayou. Or at least they did four years ago.”

Val Sorensen was very knowledgeable about Sixth Day. She’d known about Talley’s tattoo and the existence of their bayou camp, neither of which had been released to the press. Kaj knew because he’d pored over the Sixth Day files all night long to learn whatever he could. More than her knowledge, Val’s interest seemed personal. He needed to find out why before hiring her to protect his son.

Burke cleared his throat. “The land was private property and the owners back then claimed to have no knowledge of Sixth Day squatting. NOPD believes that they have another camp, and they’re looking for it, but so far, no dice.”

Her mouth turned down. “So Dewey Talley’s out there somewhere, maybe planning another attempt. Do you want me to take Elijah out of the city?”

“No,” Elijah said forcefully. “I won’t leave my dad or Aunt Genie.”

Val started to say something to Elijah, but Kaj lifted his hand. “Actually, Elijah can’t leave. Not easily, anyway. He’s undergoing treatment for juvenile diabetes. His doctor is here in New Orleans. If we can keep him safe at home, that would be our preference.”

Elijah’s lips trembled, and Kaj’s frozen, terrified heart cracked. His son’s life wasn’t in immediate danger from his disease, but Elijah hated the constant monitoring.

Val darted a glance back at the little table, her gaze focusing in on the cupcake missing just one bite. “You should have said something,” she said

quietly, and Kaj wasn’t sure who she meant to gently chastise—him or his son.

Elijah bristled. “I didn’t because I’m not stupid. I know what I can eat and what I can’t. I did the carb math in my head before I took a bite. Gave myself a unit of bolus insulin once you’d left to sit over here. I don’t need a needle. I can control my insulin pump with my phone.”

Val glanced at Kaj before turning her full attention on Elijah. “Okay,” she said with a single nod. “I’ll do the research and you can help me plan our meals. What impact did the adrenaline from your scare yesterday have on your blood sugar?”

That she asked the question made Kaj relax a little. Despite being thrown off her game at the mention of Dewey Talley, this woman was a thinker and appeared to be a planner, which was exactly what they needed right now.

Elijah shrugged sullenly. “It spiked. I have a pump, and it did its thing. After a few hours it went back down. I’m not stupid.”

A simplistic explanation, because the spike had been frighteningly severe, made only worse by Elijah’s worry over Genie. The doctor had wanted to keep Elijah overnight to observe him, relenting when that made Elijah even more upset. But Kaj wouldn’t bruise his son’s ego in front of Val by pointing it out right now.

“I can see that you’re not stupid, so you don’t need to keep saying that.” She tilted her head, studying Elijah. “Who prepares your meals?”

“My aunt does.” Elijah flinched. “Did.”

“She’s been your caregiver while your dad’s at work?” Val asked carefully.

Kaj thought that she wanted to ask about Elijah’s mother but seemed hesitant. The woman could read a room. Another point in her favor.

“Yes,” Elijah said. “Since I was small.” He lifted his chin defiantly, as if daring her to say that he was still small.

He was, of course. His mother had been petite as well, barely five feet tall in her socks.

I’m sorry, Heather. I’m sorry that I’ve put him in danger. I’m so sorry.

His wife couldn’t hear him, of course. But it helped to talk to her, even if it was only in his mind. It helped him feel not so alone.

He was so damned tired of feeling alone.

Val smiled down at Elijah. “Then, if Aunt Genie’s up to it, we’ll Skype with her to get some tips.” She slid her arm around Elijah protectively. “We will keep him safe, Mr. Cardozo.”

Kaj exhaled, relieved when Elijah rested his head on the woman’s shoulder. They’d made a connection, and from everything Burke had told him, she’d protect Elijah with her life.

“Burke, I’d like to

see your contract for both investigative and bodyguard services.”

Val’s brows rose. “We’re investigating, too? The whole team?”

“You are,” Kaj answered. “I’ve asked Burke to put as many people as he can on this case. While I trust the NOPD to fully investigate, I’m taking no chances with Elijah’s safety.”

Which was a diplomatic way of saying that, after six months in his role, he still wasn’t sure who he could trust within the NOPD. ...