Dark Lily by Jenna Ryan

Author:Jenna Ryan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: curse, romance, Voodoo, ghosts, murders, dark lily
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2016-06-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It amused Mitchell to discover that Gaby had introduced Ryder, a skeptic at best, to his grandmother’s ghost.

His grandmother had died fifteen years before his grandfather. Mitchell figured she’d probably hung around the mansion to piss the old man off. According to Gaby, she’d done her level best to bump and bang him awake at all hours of the night. And, yeah, he believed it because antagonistic had been the best way to describe his grandparents’ relationship.

As for Gaby’s family issues, Phoebe was still really pissed he’d brought her little girl to New Orleans. And Mitchell had to admit that two days of nothing on the Leshad front didn’t sit as well as it might have without Phoebe’s dire warning clanging like a mission bell in his head.

“I swear to God, Mitchell,” she’d threatened in parting the night they’d met. “If my baby winds up in Leshad’s clutches, I’ll either kill you before I die, or haunt the living crap out of you after I pass. You keep her safe.”

What she’d really meant was that he should take Gaby back to Bokur Island, build a metaphorical tower and lock her inside it. For all her concern, Phoebe didn’t know a single damn thing about the child she’d given birth to twenty-six years ago.

Mitchell had a different plan in mind, an edgier one. Risky on too many levels to count, but preferable in his opinion to towers and locks.

Unfortunately, after two days of nothing more sinister than a visit to Ryder’s wife’s club, the Rose Noire, and a mumbo-jumbo palm reading by her resident clairvoyant, doubts were beginning to creep in. On both sides, he suspected.

He hadn’t touched Gaby again. He’d wanted to, had fantasized about having sex with her day and night, but delving into something that was bound to end badly no longer worked for him. She wasn’t just a woman he could wake up with the next morning, then dust off when the nightmare they were mired in concluded.

If it concluded.

If either of them was alive when it did.

Heavy mist crawled through the garden where he’d settled both himself and a bottle of his grandfather’s ill-gotten bathtub gin. It was whiskey actually, and strong enough to remove lead-based paint. But it would do the job of keeping his hormones in check while he waited for one of his rogue lures to snag something worthwhile.

“Your grandmother told me you were out here brooding.”

Gaby’s voice from the French doors had him directing an ironic smile into his glass. “She’s afraid I’ll turn into my grandfather.” He tossed back the raw hooch. “She warned me before she died that if I started sliding in that direction she’d harangue me day and night. Guess she meant what she said.”

Mitchell heard movement and braced for a good long look at Gaby’s legs.

“Your grandparents were an odd couple,” she remarked. “I sense an arranged marriage.”

“You sense correctly. My grandmother’s people had money. My grandfather wanted it. He worked a deal to get it. Gran lived with the old bastard for fifty-plus years.

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