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    The Fox's Wager: Save Tomorrow, #14
    The Fox's Wager: Save Tomorrow, #14
    The Fox's Wager: Save Tomorrow, #14
    Ebook129 pages2 hours

    The Fox's Wager: Save Tomorrow, #14

    By Tawdra Kandle and Tamara Kendall

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    About this ebook

    There are two things standing in the way of Sionnach Creven's much-needed vacation: a promised favor for an old friend and Daeglan O'Casey. He's the annoying guy with an intriguing ability who's come to Hotel Paranormal to recruit her help in the epic battle against evil that looms in the near future. But being a kitsune, Sionnach is resourceful, and using this irresistible Irishman to help her with the job at hand means combining business with pleasure. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTawdra Kandle Romance
    Release dateFeb 2, 2017
    ISBN9781386725565
    The Fox's Wager: Save Tomorrow, #14
    Author

    Tawdra Kandle

    Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.

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      Book preview

      The Fox's Wager - Tawdra Kandle

      Chapter

      One

      DAEGLAN

      H ey, mister. You gotta minute? I can play you a song. Anything you like. You want to hear Sinatra? The Beatles? Satchmo? Ed Sheeran? I can do whatever you want.

      I slowed to a stop on the narrow sidewalk that ran alongside the cobblestone street in the French Quarter. The man who’d called out to me was slouched against the worn brick wall of an old bookstore. He was older, with long, graying hair and a grizzled beard, but the eyes that gazed up at me were bright with humor, as though he knew the punch line to a joke I hadn’t even heard yet. His open guitar case was littered with crumpled bills, and I was impressed to see how many of them were tens or higher.

      You must be good. I jerked my chin toward the money. Seems you’re doing quite well.

      He grinned. I am good. And people are generous, God bless ‘em. His fingers strummed a chord. You’re a long way from home, Irish.

      That I am. I scanned the area around us, taking in the growing crowds of people strolling on the street, the faded buildings with their decorative ironwork and the pink twilight sky. But this isn’t a bad place to be, if a man can’t be at home.

      Ah, that’s true enough. For me, this place is home, and there’s none other I’d want. I’ve traveled a bit myself, but the city’s siren call is one I can’t seem to ignore. Keeps pulling me back.

      There’re worse things than feeling that tug. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my loose khakis. Have you always been a musician?

      Yes, indeed. My daddy taught me, like his daddy taught him. I play around here at some of the bars, but on the nights when I’m off, seems like the music just won’t let me go, so I sit here and entertain folks as they pass. I get to meet a whole bunch of nice people. Like you, for example. He lifted the guitar again. But you didn’t answer me. What can I play for you?

      Ah, let me think. I cast my eyes upward, considering. "Back home, I own a pub, with my two brothers. We have music just about every night. Do you happen to know Ballyshannon Lane?"

      The musician pursed his lips. "Can’t say I do. But how about The Boys of Wexford?"

      Are you joking? You can play that one? My smile broadened. Go on, then. Show me your stuff.

      The man stretched to stand, moving more nimbly than I’d expected, and he gave his instrument a few experimental strums. And then, with no further prelude, he launched into the stout and lively tune I’d heard all of my life.

      It was a song about freedom, about men who would do anything to save their land. I hummed along softly; I’d never had the voice that both Seamus and Cillian boasted, but it didn’t stop me from knowing every word and chorus.

      To free my land I'd gladly give

      The red drops of my heart.

      When he’d finished, my new friend executed a small bow. The small group that had joined me in gathering around him broke into applause, but he only looked at me inquiringly.

      I clasped my hands and held them up in a gesture of appreciation and respect. Thank you. Your music took me back home for a time. I dug into my pocket, took out my wallet and dropped a bill into the guitar case.

      The man gaped, his mouth dropping open a bit. Son, either you’re not quite familiar with our money system yet, or you’re pretty damn generous.

      A song well-sung deserves that and more. I’m honored. Sensing the guitar player had something more to say, I paused for a moment as the people around us began to move on. And thank you once again.

      He extended his hand to me. The honor is mine. Name’s Zebulon, and I’m proud to make your acquaintance.

      I shook his hand. I’m Daeglan O’Casey. It’s been a pleasure.

      How long you been here, Daeglan? Zebulon imitated my accent, his cheeks dimpling. In New Orleans, I mean.

      I’ve been in the States for all of two weeks, and here in the city just about a day now. The last month had been whirlwind, and I hardly knew which continent my feet stood upon anymore.

      Huh. Welcome, then. Are you in town for business or pleasure?

      I sighed. I’m looking for a woman.

      Zebulon chortled. Hey, man, aren’t we all?

      Well, you’re not wrong, I suppose, but this is a particular woman, and it’s more about business than pleasure. I have to talk to her, but finding the lady is proving to be a little harder than I’d expected.

      Really? Zebulon leaned back against the wall again. You know, there’s not much goes on around here that I don’t hear about. Why don’t you tell me about this dame?

      I lifted one shoulder. I’ve not met her in person yet, but I was told she was staying here in the Quarter, at a hotel called . . . Mazarin. But when I stopped in there, the clerk said there wasn’t anyone registered under her name.

      The man shook and wheezed with laughter. No one’s going to give you that information, especially if she’s a regular. She’s not local, then?

      Not that I know of. I shook my head. But maybe she is. As I understand it, her . . . work . . . keeps her on the move, but I was told by the people who sent me that she was definitely here.

      But you didn’t call her ahead of time? Arrange a place to meet? He frowned at me. You don’t have nefarious purposes for wanting to find this lady, do you, son? Just why are you trying to find her?

      No. I scowled, too. This mission, assigned to me by my new boss or leader or whatever the hell Cathryn Whitmore was to me just now, had sounded so simple a few weeks ago back at home. I’d blustered to the cool blonde who’d waltzed into our pub and turned our lives upside down, telling her that I didn’t want to be sitting around doing nothing once Cillian and I arrived at the Carruthers headquarters in Florida. She’d taken me at my word and offered me the chance to handle a special recruiting mission.

      I could admit now that it had been mostly pride that led me to claim I could handle the job. Cathryn had just spun a tale about approaching doom, the end of the world and a powerful evil threatening to destroy us all—a story that somehow seemed to be true. Along with my two younger brothers, Seamus and Cillian, I’d agreed that we’d lend our special abilities to fight against the wicked Hive, a group made up of paranormally-gifted people and a powerful demon. Something intriguing seemed to be brewing between Seamus and Cathryn, who must’ve burned a little hotter than she appeared, and he’d accompanied her to eastern Europe, where she was recruiting someone else. I hadn’t liked the idea of Cill and I arriving in Florida ahead of them and sitting around instead of getting in on the action, and that was why I was here in New Orleans, looking for a woman who was apparently more than she appeared to be, too.

      I thought briefly of Cillian, who’d been perfectly content to stay at Harper Creek, the Carruthers headquarters in Florida. He had made a fast friend with Zoe, the psychologist who worked for the Institute, and the two of them were working on what my brother referred to vaguely as contingency plans.

      Maybe I should have stayed, too. But it was too late now for second thoughts. I’d made a promise to Cathryn, and I wasn’t going to fail in the very first assignment she’d given me.

      Shaking my head again, I elaborated on my answer to Zebulon’s question. I work for an organization who needs her help, and they sent me to New Orleans to . . . gauge her interest.

      Zebulon’s eyes narrowed. Aha. So you don’t have ill intentions. You just need to talk to this woman. What’s her name, anyway? Could be that I can help you.

      This part I did know. Sionnach Creven. The name, being Gaelic, rolled off my tongue easily enough. I was told she’s a little younger than me—mid-twenties—medium height, with red hair and dark eyes.

      Hmmm. Zebulon studied me in silence a bit longer. Yeah, I know Sionnach. We have a mutual friend.

      I jolted forward. "You know her? Are you fucking kidding me? What’re the chances I’d run into a man who plays the guitar on the street and knows the person I’m looking to find?"

      Oh, man. He chuckled again. Chance is a funny thing, and I can tell you for certain that coincidence is nothing but a convenient excuse to explain away the unexplainable. But that’s not why you’re here. He heaved a long exhale as his brow furrowed. Look. I don’t know you, even though you seem like a decent guy. But I can’t tell you where to find Sionnach in case she just doesn’t want to be found right now. Tell you what, though. I’ll let her know you’re in town, and if she wants to see you, she will.

      I had a hunch about what her answer was going to be, but seeing as how I didn’t know a soul in this town, and Zebulon was offering me at least a little help, I didn’t have a choice.

      Sure. That would be kind of you. Shall I give you my number or where I’m staying?

      His face split into a grin again. Nah. If Sionnach wants to see you, she won’t have a problem tracking you down. And if she doesn’t, she won’t. He laid down his guitar carefully in the case before glancing up at me again. Will she know who you are and why you’re here? Or should I pass on a message?

      I’d thought about this. Just tell her it’s about a job. A . . . mission, if you will. I can fill in the details when we meet.

      "You mean if you meet. Zebulon winked. Okay, man. I’ll pass it along. Meanwhile, if you want to find me, I’m either here or playing at the Sundown the next two weeks. Come on in and have a drink on me."

      I bobbed my head. "I’ll

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