This Wicked Game Read Free Page A

let her eyes roam.
    Delphine and Armand Rousseau, who ran the regional store for the nearby suburb of Metairie and didn’t have any children, sat on the sofa at the center of the room. Next to them were Inez and Gabriel Morgan. They owned most of the stores at the outer reaches of the city. Claire had always liked their oldest daughter, Laura, a quiet redhead with a shy smile.
    There was Charles Valcour—a widower for as long as Claire could remember—and the Valcour twins, Charles Junior and William, who had just returned from college. Bridget Fortier was at the sideboard pouring herself a drink, probably still recovering from a messy divorce that had almost cost the Guild their much-coveted discretion. Bridget had inherited her father’s supply house after his death in a plane accident when she was just twenty-two years old. Despite her legendary temper, Claire couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman. Raising eight-year-old Daniel alone couldn’t be easy. He was a “pistol,” as Claire’s dad liked to say.
    The group was rounded out by Sasha’s parents, Christopher and Pauline Drummond, standing near the wall by the fireplace. They ran a members-only store not unlike the Kincaids. Claire smiled as they raised a hand in greeting.
    She didn’t know how many members the Guild actually had—probably hundreds if not thousands. But these eight families were the ones who managed, ran, and controlled the supply houses and made policy to guide the organization’s rules and practices.
    Claire had known them her whole life.
    Her eyes came to rest on Alexandre Toussaint, Sophie’s big brother, leaning against the wall by the piano. On him, the posture looked sexy instead of lazy. He gazed at her from under thick lashes, and Claire had the feeling that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking while his mother had scrutinized her. Like Claire, he was seventeen, but he’d bypassed the formal-invite-on-your-eighteenth-birthday rule by virtue of his last name and address. All the Guild meetings were held at the Toussaint house, and Claire had never heard anyone question Xander’s presence.
    Pilar moved over on one of the love seats and motioned to her daughter. “Sit, Claire.”
    Having no choice but to play the dutiful daughter, Claire did. Besides, she had to admit to a grudging sense of comfort from being near her mother.
    “Now, is everybody settled?” Estelle asked, looking around. She continued without waiting for an answer. “Good. Let’s get started then.” She turned to her husband. “Bernard.”
    Bernard Toussaint rose, standing in front of the fireplace. Looking at him, it was easy to see where Alexandre had gotten his good looks. Bernard’s father had come to Louisiana from Haiti and married a rebellious Spanish heiress, a gene pool that had endowed his progeny with imposing stature, skin the color of caramel, and slightly exotic features.
    But despite Bernard’s commanding presence, everyone knew it was Estelle who ran things behind the scenes. It wasn’t that unusual. The room was full of powerful women accustomed to sheathing their strength in velvet gloves. In the South—and in the world of voodoo—it was the women who really ruled.
    “Good evening,” Bernard started. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I know our next meeting isn’t scheduled for two more weeks, but a situation has arisen that requires our immediate attention.”
    Everyone shifted in their seats, a few casting glances at Claire. Given her attendance, it was only natural to think she had something to do with the impromptu gathering.
    “This afternoon, three of the Guild’s supply houses received orders for a blacklisted item. The orders came in at precisely the same time—one through the St. Martins’ warehouse, one through one of our stores, and one through the Kincaids’ house. In each case, the customers in question had a key that garnered them access through the private entrances, though a preliminary