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She glanced down the block, frowning so hard her beautiful brows almost met. Mitch waited, not sure what she would say next. He’d either fail completely or she’d drop her shield. Her icy blues fixed on him. “Come on. Ask me.”
“Where would your brother run?”
A laugh exploded from her. A full-throated, sheer-release burst that somehow reverberated inside his own chest. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”
“Why not?” Mitch spread his hands. “He was staying at your place. For at least twenty-four hours by my calculation. You expect me to believe you never exchanged a word with him in all that time?”
She wiped her eyes, smudging her mascara, and took a breath. “Like I said before, my baby brother doesn’t tell me half the things I need to know. But even if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t tell you.”
She thought that was a legitimate answer? “Why not?”
“You’ll arrest him and throw him in jail.”
Damn straight. “I’m taking the dregs of society off the streets. Putting criminals where they belong. Behind bars.”
“He’s not a criminal.” She crossed the street.
“He’s a wanted fugitive. Same thing in my book.” Mitch clenched his jaw so tight, the hinge hurt. Hurley had a hearing loss. A few years ago, he would have been called disabled. Mitch ran a hand over his head. Terrible word. Terrible condition, but dammit, the kid still needed to obey the law. So did his sister.
Her pace slackened all of a sudden. One hand dove into the pocket of her dress and extracted a buzzing cell phone.
Hot damn, he’d been right to hang around after all. “Your brother?”
“I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not telepathic.”
“Just with ghosts, huh?”
She ignored him to tap on the screen and lift the device. “Hello?”
Mitch studied the balconies wrapping the houses across the street, one ear listening for her voice. The brush of her shawl against his arm released her scent. His body tensed. If merely standing beside a woman could light his fire, he needed to get laid. Bad.
“I’m coming home now.” Cath wandered into the empty street, shoulders hunched and a finger plugged in her free ear. Mitch followed her, watching and listening for vehicles.
Despite the late hour, vehicles still swished through the night several blocks away. Mitch hadn’t seen much traffic on the back streets earlier, but the area wasn’t off-limits. A car could tear around the corner at any minute. Sure enough, a set of headlights beamed down on them now.
Mitch held up a hand to stop the driver, waving thanks once Cath disconnected her call and scooted to the sidewalk. Fast. She lifted her skirt and ran flat out.
He trotted to catch up with her. “What’s happening?” She didn’t spare him a look or a comeback. “Was that your brother?”
“No, someone else.”
The fog hadn’t reached this far into the Quarter, and the music from the bar across the intersection pulsed clearly in the night. Several couples stood outside, sending cigarette smoke their way. Cath coughed and dashed to the opposite side of the street. “Goodbye, Mr. Guidry.”
Mitch caught up with her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She waved him off. “Go away. I don’t need you anymore.”
She never had. The need came from him. His gut told him Cath Hurley could make or break his future. “You’re no good at lying. Give it up and tell me what’s going on.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t even look his way. Within minutes, they reached her block. She halted so unexpectedly in the shadows of a balcony, Mitch had to backpedal.
“I thought she said there was a light on.” Cath stared at her house cloaked in darkness. “Why don’t I see any through the shutters?”
Her whispered shock pinched his shoulders. Did she expect her caller to be inside?
Music came from the bar three blocks away now, but nothing else had changed here in the last few hours. “You didn’t have any lights on earlier.”
She stared at him. “I turned them off when I left, but how do you know that?”
