Secrets in the Moon (Crescent City Werewolves #1)

Chapter Fifteen

"Violet, you snake!" The words were underscored by the crinkle of newspaper pages being strangled in a tight grip.

"Miss Marshall?"

"You rat." Now they were being torn apart.

"Miss Marshall."

"You two-faced, pinch-mouthed, spiteful little shrew!" Cora threw the ragged paper to the floor. Then she snatched it up to read the final lines of the article, ignoring the flicker of movement across from her as Hayes rose to his feet.

"And if you see this, Cora dear, let me add, 'congratulations.' Having the favor of a god must feel wonderful after being rejected by your pet detective. You're once more the center of all attention. Love and kisses, ducky."

Her shriek rattled the coffee cups in their saucers. When she tried ripping the newspaper into even smaller shreds, Hayes caught her hands. "Easy. Try to calm down. She wrote that just to rattle you."

"It certainly worked! It's bad enough she tricked me into becoming a sacrifice for a disgusting blob. Now she's insulting me from beyond the grave, and everyone can see it." Cora flung herself back in her seat, cheeks stinging with heat. Her heart pounded like it was about to pop.

In front of her waited a grapefruit half she'd picked from the array of food on the table. She shoved it aside and went after a box of donuts, devouring two in the time it took Hayes to draw his chair next to hers. When he pulled his plate over as well, she grabbed the sandwich on it—a huge thing stuffed with fried eggs, cheese, and ham—and took the biggest bite she could manage.

Grease ran down her fingers as she swallowed, but she took a second bite that was just as ferocious. It was then that she grew aware of his attention. "I always eat like a man when I'm furious. All self-control flies right out the window."

Hayes shrugged. "I never understood having a piece of fruit for breakfast. That's not a meal. It's a garnish."

"Try telling that to my tailor." She took the sugar bowl and emptied it into her coffee. Then she gulped it all down.

For several moments afterward, she panted for breath while the urge to scream and throw things faded beneath the shock of so much grease and sugar. "I can't believe reporters got their grubby little hands on her note. I'm sure they'll go for her diary next. She always kept one."

Her fingers remained tight against the coffee cup until Hayes once more coaxed them to relax against his. "Even if the police keep the rest out of reach, you're front and center as the one victim of the cult who survived. When Davenport and the others go to trial, you'll be the most important witness testifying about them. It's unfortunate, but the newspapers won't leave you alone anytime soon. Last night's ritual was the topic of conversation wherever I went this morning."

She sighed, the warmth of his touch melting her anger. "It's not really the lack of privacy. At this point, it feels normal for strangers to know more about my life than I do. As for Violet, well, she always had to have the last word. Always. I'm just fed up with people thinking I'm dumb and useless. I don't like it, you know. I really don't. But once I realized no one ever took me seriously, I learned how to use it to my advantage. It almost made their assumptions fun... at least until Father disappeared."

Then she glanced up, aware of the answer even before she asked the question. "It's going to happen again, isn't it? All these people will comb through my life and question whatever they find in the most condescending way possible. And I'll have to sit there with a smile when all I really want to do is tell them off. Or at least strangle them with their ties."

"At least one thing will be different. You won't be facing them alone." He studied her glum expression and then added, "Tell you what. Since we'll both be busy and stuck inside for the next few days, how about something to look forward to in the evenings?"