It was well played. Mendini jerked around.
And there was Dallas, his gun aimed straight at Dirk’s face. He was flanked by Yerby Catalano and Jose Rodriguez.
“I think you should have paid attention to the curse, Mendini,” Logan said quietly.
Dallas fired.
And Hannah screamed again as, right next to her, Dirk Mendini’s head exploded into a mist of blood and brain matter.
Epilogue
Hannah was the first one downstairs on the Monday morning after the death of Dirk Mendini and the de facto dissolution of Los Lobos. She started the coffee and went outside for the newspaper. She smiled as she came back in, waited on the coffee, poured a cup and went out back to drink it while she read the paper.
She’d always enjoyed sitting by the pool while morning broke, enjoying a cup of coffee and with a real newspaper in her hand.
It was even sweeter when the headline and half the front page were dedicated to explaining the mess in her backyard: 1715 Treasure Chest Found.
It had, indeed, been there. They’d unearthed it not long after they’d started digging, about ten feet past where they’d excavated when they put in the pool.
Liam had been there to see it happen, and he’d tried to reach her to tell her the news. He’d gotten a call from Dirk just after dialing Hannah and, thinking he might have come up with valuable information, he’d cut off the call to her and taken the M.E.’s. Liam had mentioned that Dallas and the others were headed up to Marathon following a lead, at which point Dirk’s entire tone changed and he’d started pumping Liam for more information. Then he made an excuse for getting off the phone without ever explaining why he had called in the first place. Liam had been called away by one of his men at that point, but he’d tried Hannah again, planning to mention Dirk’s strange behavior. He’d never gotten the chance to talk to her, of course.
After that, everything was conjecture. Their best guess was that Mendini had already been on his way to the cabin, so he’d simply changed his plans and decided to kill the agents if they were already there and wait for them to show up if they weren’t. As to whether he might also have killed Tio and the women to prevent them from revealing anything about him if everything fell apart, who knew?
Tio, it turned out, was Mendini’s actual uncle on his mother’s side. The best they’d been able to fathom about the island and the women was that Mendini kept them there because he could and he liked the rush of power that gave him, and because there were times when he could exchange a woman for a treasure he wanted from some less-than-honorable seller in the Middle East or South America.
They would never have all the answers, of course. The FBI and local law enforcement would probably be cleaning up the remnants of Los Lobos for years.
But, as Dallas put it when the shooting was over, the head was off the snake.
As for the treasure...
The priceless Zafiro de Seguridad had been in the chest, and it was now being cleaned and prepared for display at the Smithsonian while ownership of the treasure was settled between Spain, America—and Hannah.
Truthfully, she didn’t want any of it. Too many people had died for it. And she had never been interested in things, anyway.
Just people.
She was startled when she heard someone calling her name from out front.
She rose and walked slowly around the house. She moved warily, still a little paranoid after all the things that had happened.
There she found a tall, very distinguished white-haired man studying the house with true appreciation for the architecture. He was dressed in a suit—a light, handsome, charcoal-gray suit, but a suit nonetheless.
FBI, she thought.
He was old for an agent. But there was a younger man at his side, pointing up to some architectural detail on the widow’s walk. Hannah realized that the younger man looked a lot like the older one—and that he was dead.
“Miss O’Brien? Yes, you have the look of your cousin about you,” the older man said. “Different hair color, of course, but there’s a definite resemblance,” he said.
“Yes, I’m Hannah O’Brien. May I help you?”
“I’m Adam Harrison,” he said, stepping forward to study her further with a smile.
“Oh, Kelsey and Logan’s boss.”
He nodded. “Though I tend to let Logan handle the Texas Krewe without interference. I don’t go into the field much anymore. Not the micromanager type.”
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m the first one up today. If you’ll come in, I’ll get the others for you.”
“Actually...would you mind if we walk around back?”
“If you wish.”
“I’d like to speak with you.”
“Oh?” she asked, surprised, and led the way.
He smiled, taking a seat on one of the lawn chairs. She joined him, noticing that the younger man was still with them and looking around the yard—the pristine pool area contrasting with the raw dirt where the treasure had been found—with interest. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asked Adam.
“In a minute.” He smiled. “I’ve received some interesting reports regarding your abilities.”
Ignoring that for the moment, she looked at him sympathetically and asked softly. “Is that your son?”
“So you do see Josh,” he said.
The ghost turned to smile at her. “She’s got it, Dad. She’s really got it.”
“I can see Josh now, though I couldn’t at first. But love is strong, as I’m sure you know. I don’t see others, however. But you—well, they tell me that you were able to communicate with Maria Lopez when no one else could even see her... And without her help...well, the outcome would have been quite different, I imagine.”
“I don’t know about that. Your agents are very good.”
“Yes, they are. I also hear that you took a ten-minute course in handling a Glock and then took down a murderer with your first shot.”
She reached for her coffee and shook her head. “I was just lucky,” she said.
“I think it’s more than that. And I’d like you to think about joining us,” Adam Harrison said.
She nearly dropped her cup.
“Just think about it, no need to decide this minute. It’s a difficult decision. It’s a tough job, and some days it’s life or death, but we have good days, really good days, especially when we take down someone like the Wolf.”
She certainly understood that. It had been a really good day when they’d saved Alicia and Alma, a real emotional high seeing Jose standing by his sister, knowing he’d been instrumental in saving her life.
“Adam!”
Kelsey hurried over to Adam and hugged him as though he were her grandfather, and then she welcomed Josh, although her hug went right through him. A minute later Dallas and Logan joined them. Kelsey made the introductions.
“So, are you joining us, son?” Adam asked Dallas. “I know Logan told you I’m eager to have you.”
“I don’t know,” Dallas said, and he looked at Hannah.
She felt poleaxed by the entire situation, torn in two as to what she wanted. But she knew what the look he had given her meant.
Yes, he wanted to go.
But he wasn’t going anywhere without her.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Valeriya and her mother could manage this place. I’ll never sell it, and it will always be my home. But, frankly, I’d like to get away from everything that’s happened and all the crazy attention that’s coming, at least for a bit.”
Dallas smiled at her. Lord, but the man had a great smile.
“Let’s go in and have breakfast,” Hannah said. “The Siren of the Sea is a bed-and-breakfast, after all, and we’re known for our breakfasts.”
They all talked over breakfast, though it quickly became clear that Dallas would be accepting Adam’s offer while she still wanted to think for a bit before she committed to a career change. Going with him, however, had never been in doubt. Still, there were things that had to be done first; a move would take some time.
Hannah didn’t know yet whether she was right for the academy, but she did know that Dallas was right for the Krewe of Hunters and she was right for him.
Adam and Josh left around twelve.
When they had gone, all the Siren’s ghosts, the old and the new, gathered with the living in the back.
There Melody announced to Hannah that she wanted to visit her father’s grave. Because his stone was old and weathered and no longer legible, no one even realized that it was his, but she knew where it was.
“We’ll all go with you,” Dallas said.
“Jose, Yerby and Maria wish to move on,” Melody said.
“What about you and Hagen?” Hannah asked. She wanted them to move on, too. She wanted them to find peace and happiness. But seeing them go would be like losing beloved relatives.
Melody smiled. “We’re not quite ready. Valeriya might need us for a while. But when we’re ready, I promise, wherever you may be, Hannah, we will find you and say goodbye.”
They went to the cemetery. Hannah was surprised to find Alicia Rodriguez—who had decided to make the island her home—sitting on a bench there. She heard Jose gasp, and Alicia looked around, almost as if she had heard him.
She looked at Hannah. “It’s almost as if my brother were here. I wish I could thank him. I know he died because he came here, and I know he came here because of me. I was always afraid he would think I betrayed him, that I joined Los Lobos, but I would never have done that. I loved my brother—he was always the one constant in my life, the one good thing I could hold on to.”
“He knows you didn’t betray him, Alicia,” Hannah assured her.
The young woman smiled. “I’m going to have him buried here,” she said. “He loved Key West.”
“I think he’d like that,” Hannah replied.
Jose stood next to his sister. For a minute they were silent as they looked out over the cemetery with its many above-ground vaults, its stones, its strange mausoleums, and even one grave that looked like a redbrick fire pit.
“It’s almost as if I can feel him,” Alicia whispered.
“You do feel him,” Kelsey said gently.
“Love doesn’t die, it lives in the heart,” Hannah assured her.
Hannah felt the other ghosts behind her. She heard Melody whisper encouragingly to Yerby.
Jose stepped away from his sister at last and reached for Yerby’s hand.
She took it, meeting his eyes. “I’m afraid,” she said.
Jose smiled. “So am I.”
She moved closer to him. Then, together, they turned around and Jose took Maria’s hand, as well. The three of them turned toward the north.
Hannah could have sworn she saw a soft golden light streaking across the sky in a glimmering arc, but when she tried to look closer, the fierce Florida sun was in her eyes.
She tried to watch them move away, but one moment they were there, and then they were just...gone.
The sun continued to beam down.
It was just another Florida day.
* * *
That night they went to Mallory Square. They watched the balloon man and the statue lady, laughed as the cat man had his felines perform their delightful antics. They watched the sunset, and it was glorious, filling the sky with streaks of gold and red and mauve, like a preview of heaven.
As they sat there, Dallas slipped an arm around Hannah and asked her, “Can you really leave all this?”
“I’ll always be a Conch,” she told him. “Always. And so will you. But can I live somewhere else? Yes. I’ve never been a big believer in things or even in places. I’m just a believer in people.”
He nodded, whispering, “Am I a person you believe in?”
“To me, you’re that sunset we just saw.”
“I love you,” he told her.
She kissed him and whispered the words in return.
And she knew that she would follow him anywhere.
* * * * *
Look for the next
KREWE OF HUNTERS novel,
THE HEXED,
by New York Times bestselling author
Heather Graham,
coming soon from Harlequin MIRA.
Keep reaading for an excerpt from WAKING THE DEAD by Heather Graham.
“Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep the reader guessing at the true nature of the killer’s evil.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Unseen
If you loved The Curse, be sure to also catch all the titles in the popular and dark Krewe of Hunters series by New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham. Available now wherever ebooks are sold!
The Night Is Forever
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Watching
The Uninvited
The Unspoken
The Unholy
The Unseen
The Evil Inside
Sacred Evil
Heart of Evil
Phantom Evil
Looking for more Heather Graham? Then don’t miss Waking the Dead and all the titles in the Cafferty & Quinn series.
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Chapter One
THE HOUSE WAS off Frenchman Street, not a mansion and not derelict. It sat in a neighborhood of middle-class homes from which men and women went to work every day and children went off to school. The yard was well-kept but not overmanicured; the paint wasn’t peeling, but it was a few years old. In short, to all appearances, it was the average family home in the average family neighborhood.
Or had been.
Until a neighbor had spotted the body of the woman on the kitchen floor that morning and called the police. They’d entered the house and found a scene of devastating chaos.
Michael Quinn hadn’t been among the first to arrive. He wasn’t a cop, not anymore. He was a private investigator and took on clients, working for no one but himself. However, he maintained a friendly relationship with the police. It was necessary—and, in general, made life a hell of a lot easier.
It also brought about mornings like this, when Jake Larue, his ex-partner, called him in, which was fine, since he was paid a consultant’s fee for his work with the police...and his personal pursuits could sometimes be expensive.
“You know, Quinn,” Jake said, meeting him outside, “I’ve seen bad times. The days after the storm, gang struggles in our city and the usual human cruelty every cop faces. But I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Jake—Detective Larue—was sent on the worst and/or most explosive cases in the city...or when something bordered on the bizarre.
Jake was good at his job. He was good at it, Quinn had long ago discovered, because he’d never thought of himself as the be-all and end-all. He took whatever help he could get, no matter where he got it. That was how cases were solved, and that was why he was willing to call Quinn.
Good thing he was back in the city, Quinn thought. He’d just arrived a few hours earlier. Danni didn’t even know he was back after his weeks in Texas—he’d meant to surprise her this morning.
Quinn looked curiously at the house. “Drug deal gone bad?” he asked. It didn’t seem like the type of home whe
re such a thing happened, but there was no telling in that market.
“I’ll be damned if I know, but I doubt it. Get gloves and booties. We’re trying to keep it down to a small parade going through,” Larue said.
Quinn raised his brows. It was almost impossible to protect evidence from being compromised when that many people were involved. But Larue was a stickler; he’d set up a cordoned path to the porch. There were officers in the yard, and they were holding back the onlookers who’d gathered nearby. The van belonging to the crime scene techs was half on the sidewalk and cop cars crowded the streets, along with the medical examiner’s SUV. The only people who had passed him were wearing jumpsuits that identified them as crime scene investigators.
“Dr. Hubert is on,” Larue said.
Quinn liked Ron Hubert; he was excellent at his job and looked beyond the norm when necessary. He wasn’t offended when another test was suggested or when he was questioned. As he’d said himself, he was human; humans made mistakes and could overlook something important. His job was to speak for the dead, but hell, if the dead were whispering to someone else, that was fine with him.
“First things first, I guess. The entry hallway,” Larue said.
There was no way to avoid the body in the entry hall. The large man lay sprawled across the floor in death. Hubert was crouched by the body, speaking softly into his phone as he made notes.
“The victim is male, forty-five to fifty years. Time of death was approximately two hours ago or sometime between 6:00 and 7:00 a.m. Cause of death appears to be multiple stab wounds, several of which on their own would prove fatal. Death seems to have taken place where the victim has fallen. There are abundant pools of blood in the immediate vicinity.” He switched off his phone, stopped speaking and glanced up. “Please watch out for the blood. The lab folks are busy taking pictures, but we’re trying to preserve the scene as best we can. Ah, Quinn, glad to see you here, son.” Pretty much anyone could be “son” to Dr. Ron Hubert. He was originally from Minnesota and his Viking heritage was apparent. His hair was whitening, but where it wasn’t white, it was platinum. His eyes were so pale a blue they were almost transparent. His dignity and reserve made him seem ageless, but realistically, Quinn knew he was somewhere in his mid-sixties.