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independent streak had continuedinto adulthood. Perhaps for good reason. Marsh had ultimately gotten what he wanted.
    Maybe Teague was reading more into this unusual request for help than actually existed.
     They were both adults. Perhaps Marshall was just trying to behave as if they were
     a normal family.
    It was all Teague could do not to choke on the thought.
    “I’ll contact her just as soon as the time is right,” he said shortly.
    “Thanks, Teague. I really do appreciate it.” Tension filled the short silence that
     followed, until Marsh rose, absently brushing at his pants.
    “Sure you can’t stay for a beer?” Teague had no idea where that came from, except
     that he suddenly didn’t want to sever this new bond. Stupid. He’d made it a policy
     not to offer anything of himself to anyone. Ever. He did what he did because he wanted
     to. No one owed him. He owed no one.
    Except Grand-mere. And soon even that debt would be paid. If it ever truly could be.
    “No, I have to get back.”
    Teague swallowed the sigh of relief and ignored the small sense of hurt in the easy
     rejection. Like he said, stupid.
    Stupid to want. Even more foolish to need.
    The silence spun out a bit awkwardly, and Teague sensed Marshall wasn’t quite sure
     how to end the conversation either. Teague noticed his fingers curling into his hand.
     Against the impulse to shake hands?
    Teague’s own fingers tightened into fists beneath the desk. “Yeah, another time maybe.”
    Now it was Marshall’s turn to look relieved. “Sure.”
    And then he was gone.
    Teague stared at the doorway, hating the empty feeling inside his chest.
    Swearing harshly, he yanked up the phone. He was here to do a job. Nothing else. Including
     getting mixed up with his half brother and a wild-haired scientist.
    One job. After that he’d never have to step foot in Bruneaux or Louisiana again.
    Erin rubbed the grit from her eyes as she opened the door to her apartment. Another
     all-nighter at the campus lab, and archives had turned up nothing she hadn’t already
     documented. Not that she’d expected it to. But she wouldn’t be a responsible scientist
     if she didn’t examine all of the data the college had collected.
    And, boy, were they avid collectors. She had been fascinated by the firsthand recounting
     of various
Rada
and
Petro
ceremonies dating as far back as the late 1800s. The reactions of some of the participants
     in these wild, untamed rituals had varied. But she had no new insights as to what
     caused the responses. At least nothing pharmacological.
    She knew from experience in Haiti and Africa with her father years ago that it would
     be next to impossible to get the local initiates, or
hounsis
, as the followers of the voudoun religion were called, to agree that there was a
     scientific reason for participants’ ability to performsuch seemingly impossible feats during their rituals.
    Mac had been convinced, as were others before him, that there was a medical reason
     for this. And after their extensive research, Erin had become fascinated by the possibilities
     as well.
    But she wasn’t there to convince the
hounsis
, or change their perspective on their religion. She would come to her own scientific
     conclusions. They were free to agree or disagree with her findings. All she needed
     from them was trust, to share with her the specific plants and derivatives used in
     these ceremonies.
    “And my ticket in is a bad-tempered Cajun with a gun,” she muttered as she dumped
     her file-stuffed backpack on the chair inside the door. She groaned in relief.
    “I didn’t bring the gun tonight,
ange
,” came a dark voice from the depths of her apartment.
    Erin froze for a split second. That voice had plagued her thoughts for almost a week.
     Thoughts that hadn’t always been about their business relationship. She tried to tell
     herself that the thrill stealing over her was due to her anticipation of what her
     visitor might have come to tell