Free Deadly Night by Heather Graham Page B

readings. She was clearly some kind of a quack. He felt strangely disappointed, a feeling he chose not to examine too closely.
    “We handle the work of a lot of local artists,” she said coldly, obviously reading him quite clearly.
    “I’m sure you do,” he said politely.
    “Listen, forgive me, I’m really going to call it a night,” Kendall said determinedly.
    “Vinnie will be heartbroken. He was going to sing a new song he wrote,” Mason warned her. “He wanted you to be here for it.”
    “I’ll hear it next time. I have to go. Good night.”
    She turned and strode toward the door. Aidan was surprised to find himself on his feet.
    “Does she live far?” he asked Mason.
    “No, she lives down on Royal, too, toward Esplanade. It’s safe,” Mason assured him. The man was definitely curious, but there didn’t seem to be anything going on between him and Kendall other than friendship. No man acted that nonchalantly about a woman with whom he had something going.
    “I think I’ll just make sure she gets past the drunks out there okay,” Aidan said.
    Mason nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I think I’ll go introduce myself to your brothers.”
    Whether Mason did or didn’t go over to the table, Aidan didn’t know, because he hurried out of the bar in Kendall’s wake.
    Bourbon Street. Early on a Monday night, it was fairly quiet. Shills were out in the street, trying to entice passersby into their establishments. Good old country music was pouring from one place, while across the street, neon legs kicked up and down on a sign advertising a strip club. A group of fraternity boys, arms entwined, plastic cups sloshing, was walking past singing an unfathomable song. Two women with balloon hats on their heads giggled as they passed the frat boys.
    He didn’t see Kendall anywhere on Bourbon, so he took the side street over to Royal.
    Royal was almost dead quiet. An elderly couple was walking a small terrier. Aidan could see someone just beyond them, moving quickly. Kendall.
    He hurried to catch up with her. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, but she must have been deep in thought, because when he touched her shoulder, she started, spinning around quickly with a little gasp.
    “Oh!” she said, when she recognized him.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    “You didn’t scare me, you startled me. It’s not the same thing.”
    She was indignant again. Defenses all in place. Well, it was true. He didn’t think much of palm readers, tarot readers, whatever readers. He didn’t believe in any of it. And he was pretty sure she didn’t believe in any of it, either, though he couldn’t have explained why. Maybe she just seemed too levelheaded, too real-world.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    She inhaled. He could tell from the visible pulse in her throat that her heart was beating too quickly. He had scared her, no matter what she said.
    “So. What do you want?”
    “I just thought you…I wasn’t sure…hell. I thought I should walk you home.”
    She stared at him hard. “You thought I needed someone to walk me home?” Indignation and disbelief were fighting for dominance in her tone.
    “It’s night. It’s dark,” he said lamely.
    She looked up at him. Her tone was dry when she said, “I read tarot cards. And palms. I’m supposed to be some kind of psychic. Don’t you think I would see danger?”
    “I don’t know. The Psychic Network went bankrupt. You would have thought one of them would have seen it coming.”
    “I live here. I have lived here all my life. I know where I can walk without being in danger. And this really isn’t a bad city, no matter what people think. We have problems, sure. All cities have problems. I can see myself safely down the next two blocks to my home. And I thank you for your concern, but I’m not really sure that’s the reason you followed me.”
    “No?”
    “No,” she said flatly. She sighed, as if genuinely weary. “So I’ll ask you again. What