“My friend here says you wanted to talk with me about your marriage last night,” Annalese said, her voice as lovely and smooth as her skin.

“Yes,” Cort said. “We don’t know exactly what happened to us last night. In fact, we can’t remember much, or anything really about what happened, and we wanted to know if we are truly married.”

Annalese raised an eyebrow, but then nodded. “Yes. You are.”

Cort nodded, looking at Katie, trying to read her reaction to the news. She regarded him, clearly trying to do the very same thing.

But before he could state his feelings, the voodoo priestess continued, “But my marriage isn’t the bond that brings you together. You should know that. What has joined you is far more binding than a religious ritual.”

Cort frowned, not quite sure what she meant. Was this another mystery that would have them searching for more answers?

But to his surprise, Katie squeezed his hand. She seemed to understand what this lady meant.

“Thank you,” she said to the voodoo priestess and to the homeless man.

Both nodded and left them.

“Okay,” Cort said, frowning at Katie, “I’m totally lost. What just happened?”

“You were the one who crossed me over,” Katie said, and then explained the story of her accident and how he’d saved her by giving her immortality.

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“That has to be an unbreakable bond, right?” she said.

Cort nodded, suddenly realizing that was exactly why he’d been feeling so possessive and protective of her. They were bonded. They were a joined couple as surely as any wedded couple.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head, amazed.

“Are you freaked out by that idea?” she asked, worry still lingering in her eyes.

But he didn’t hesitate. “Not in the least.”

She smiled then.

They started down the sidewalk, heading back to his apartment.

“I have to say, I feel really awful about the loss of Johnny,” Cort said after a moment. “But that was sure one hell of a wake.”

Katie nodded. “I think Johnny would be happy for us.”

So true. That was one thing about Johnny, he enjoyed a good story with lots of twists and turns. And he would love this one.

“You are totally right,” Cort said. “I wish he was here to hear about this.”

Katie squeezed his hand again. “I’m sure he knows.”

Cort nodded. He’d miss his friend, but in a weird way, his passing had given him the love of his life.

And he couldn’t be sad about that.

“But we still don’t know why we blacked out,” Cort said.

“True, maybe we should go find Wyatt and the others. Maybe they have some answers.”

“Yeah.” Cort pulled out his cell phone and dialed Wyatt’s number. It went right to voicemail. He hung up and shoved it back in his pocket.

“You know what?” he said, moving closer to Katie. “I’ve had enough searching for clues tonight.”

“You have?” she said, smiling in a way that was sweet and seductive all at once.

“Yeah, I think we have more important things to do now.”

She raised an eyebrow, her sexy little smile not slipping. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Well,” he said slowly, pretending to think, “we do have a marriage to consummate.”

She laughed. “I think we already did that.”

“But not nearly enough.” He pulled her against him, and kissed her hard.

When they parted, she pursed her lips. “I suppose it is going to get light soon. Maybe we should head home.”

“Oh really, that’s the only reason, huh? The threat of impending sunrise?”

She tried to look serious as she nodded, but she couldn’t, instead laughing again.

“Okay, I might want to get my new husband naked, too.”

He caught her hand and started walking. He didn’t need to be told that twice.

“Do you think we should try to find the others?” she asked.

“I’m sure they are fine,” Cort said, being serious for a moment. “We’ll see them tomorrow.”

Katie nodded.

After a moment, Katie squeezed his hand and said, “I have to admit, no matter what happened to us, I think last night was the best night I don’t remember.”

He stopped and looked down at his amazing wife. “I think so, too.” He kissed her. “I think so, too.”

Chapter Twenty-four

A GOOD BARTENDER IS HARD TO FIND

(And They All Lived Happily Ever After. And After. And After.)

JOHNNY sat behind his drum kit and pounded away, watching his sister ogle Wyatt from the deejay booth and vice versa, glad his plan had worked. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the nicest thing in the universe to fake his own death, but hey, it had worked, hadn’t it? Stella had finally stopped ignoring the nose on her face and had fallen into Wyatt’s arms.

For years he’d been waiting for those two to make a move on each other and they hadn’t so Johnny had stepped in and taken matters into his own hands. Plus, it had neatly gotten him off the hook with Bambi. He hadn’t really been that worried about giving her his DNA because he knew he couldn’t be the father and he knew Bambi had a number of studs in her stable at any given time. He had been more worried about the fact that she seemed to have decided she wanted to be with him in some kind of family relationship and she was a tenacious chick. Who was good in bed, not so good otherwise.

So it had all worked out, if not exactly according to plan.

There had been no predicting everyone blacking out. He couldn’t explain that any more than they could and he wasn’t taking any flak for it.

The plus side of faking his death was that he had a renewed sense of how lucky he was to have the friends and sister that he did. Seeing that they had been genuinely torn up was touching. He figured he had an obligation to make sure he was a better friend and brother from here on out. He’d even paid Stella the fifty bucks he’d owed her.

At the end of the Bon Jovi song, Cort called a break. Johnny still couldn’t believe Cort had married the washboard girl. But they, too, were making eyes at each other and there was a lot of cuddling going on in the bar. Johnny put down his sticks and reflected that maybe they were on to something. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a woman who loved him to come home to every night.

Which meant maybe he was actually maturing. Crazy.

“I still can’t believe you’re alive,” Cort said, giving him a grin as they climbed down off the stage. “You’re such a bastard.”




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