sounds right."

"Any identifying marks? A mole or birthmark?"

"Didn't see any."

Ry glanced up. "I thought you were going to give me a description."

"She was covered in black from head to toe. You've seen a nun, haven't you? They wear black ...

everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

Blu refused to let Ry get under his skin. "I'll let you know once I find her."

"So what we've got is a pair ofthe d.a.m.nedest brown eyes, and she'smaybe four inches over five feet.

And she's wearing black ...everywhere."

Blu wished he had something more to offer. "Ah, her mouth..."

Ry was waiting with his pen poised. "Yeah?"

"Ah, she's got... She's got great teeth."

"Teeth?" Ry tossed the pen onto the desk. "Well, h.e.l.l, that makes all the difference in the world. We'll

see her coming, then."

"I'm out of here." Blu was on his way up once more.

"Sit down," Ry growled. "I need some coffee. You want some?"

"No." Blu watched his brother-in-law stand and head for the coffeepot in the corner. Ry was an inch

shorter than Blu's six-three, and where Blu's eyes were a deep chocolate, almost black, Ry's were as blue as the morning sky. His sandy-brown hair was cropped close to his head, and the comfortable jeans and boots he refused to give up after making detective, fit the rugged Texan perfectly.

At thirty-four, Ry's status with the NOPD had steadily climbed. He was not only considered a fine homicide detective, but the next in line for a promotion. But more importantly was his claim to being the luckiest man alive since he'd married Blu's sister-a beautiful nightclub singer twelve years younger than him, who kept the Toucan Lounge in the French Quarter packed to full-house capacity three nights a week.

"She gave me another name, too," Blu drawled. "She asked if I knew a woman by the name of Kristen Harris."

"And do you?"

"No."

Ry returned to his chair with a cup of coffee. He jotted the name down beneath Salvador Maland's. "So how did you and our little nun part company? How did you disarm her? Did you get the gun? We could trace-"

"No gun." Blu confessed.

Ry eyed the cut and fresh bruise on Blu's forehead. "What's that from?"

Blu hadn't intended to go into the details of how she'd gotten away from him, but if he didn't... "She, uh,

she told me to..." "She told you to what?" Ry prompted. "To strip,"Blu confessed grudgingly. Rywas in the process of taking a sip of his coffee. He promptly choked and messed his shirt. "Dammit."

He eyed the brown stain spreading on his broad chest, then, still scowling, looked back at Blu. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Strip?"

"I took my boots off." Blu rubbed his temple, remembering the way she'd smashed the heel into his head.

"I toppled her before I lost my pants. But then she hit me over the head with my boot."

While Ry laughed, and patted dry the stain on his shirt, Blu climbed out of the chair, jammed his hand into his jeans' pocket and paced back to the window. "It wasn't that d.a.m.n funny."

"Normally I'd agree if it had happened to someone else. But you've got to admit it's not every day a nun asks the Blu Devil to strip at gunpoint, then knocks him out. With his own boot, no less."

When Blu only grunted, Ry sobered-a little. "Okay, let me run these names through the computer and give Jackson a call. When he finds out something he'll be in touch."

Before Blu could agree, his sister opened the door and stuck her head inside. Surprise filled Margo's eyes when she saw who stood in her husband's office.

"Blu? What are you doing here?" When she spied the cut on her brother's head, she gasped. "Oh, my G.o.d! What happened?"

Blu touched his temple. "It's not worth mentioning, so don't ask." He shot Ry a look that told him to keep his mouth shut. His sister was as protective as a mama bear over a newborn cub. If she thought Blu needed her, she would likely cancel her trip to Texas.

Margo frowned at him, then glanced at Ry. "Is he telling the truth or is he hiding something?"

When Ry hesitated, Margo faced Blu, her hands landing on her trim waist. Her dark eyes-a matched pair to her brother's-narrowed with suspicion. "All right, let's hear it. You promised me and Mama that you were done working for Patch Pollaro."

"I am," Blu insisted.

"Then what's this?" She gestured to the cut on his head. "And why are you here? I can count on one hand how many times you've willingly set foot in this office."

"Margo." It was Ry's voice that brought her up short. "You promised you would back off and give it a rest. Harping ain't pretty, baby."

"Harping? I don't harp. It's called, I'm - your - sister - and - I - have - a - right - to - be - concerned." In a visible huff, she planted her b.u.t.t in the chair opposite her husband and crossed her long legs.

Blu gestured toward Ry. "I was hoping once you married him, Chili, he'd take up all your worrying time."

His pet nickname for his sister didn't soften her. "I have plenty of 'worrying time' for all of my family. But in your case-"

"Easy, baby," Ry warned.

Margo brushed her black hair off her shoulders, her gaze locked on Blu as she talked to her husband. "I can't help it, Ry. He promised me he would take better care of himself after nearly getting killed last year. And as far as I can see, he doesn't look like he's keeping his promise. I'll just bet Patch Pollaro is behind this."

"I told you, I quit him. Go down to the Red Lizard and ask Patch if he's seen me lately. He'll tell you he hasn't laid eyes on me in a year. I'm officially retired. I'm no longer breaking arms or fingers at a hundred dollars a pop."

Blu watched his sister squeeze her eyes shut in disgust.

"Don't talk about it."

"You brought it up."

"Then let's drop it."

Blu was about to agree when his stomach growled.

"Don't tell me you haven't eaten yet today? A shrimper who goes hungry." Margo shook her head.

"Honestly, Blu, it's not like food is hard to come by. You just throw the nets out and-"

Blu threw up his hands and looked to Ry for help. "Now she's attacking the way I eat. And this is the woman you chose to wake up next to for the rest of your life?"

"And they say men don't whine." Margo stood and gave Ry her full attention. "I guess I'm off to feed

him. Do you want- What's that on your shirt, honey?"

"Coffee."

"Coffee? Ry, coffee stains. I just bought you that shirt. Last night it was b.u.t.ter. This morning it's coffee.

Do you think I should make an eye appointment for you?"

Ry scowled at his wife. "Because your old man's eyesight is failing?"

The mischief in Margo duFray ran deep. And, like her brother, if she chose to remain stone sober a

crowbar couldn't make her crack a smile. "It's not my fault you're cresting thehill,honey. If you need gla.s.ses-"

"I can still pick a lock, can't I?"

"Yes. Last night you actually-"

"This is sweet," Blu interjected, "but could we-"

Margo rounded on her brother. "How would you know anything about sweet? Who have you been practicing on lately?"

"No one. I don't date, remember?"

"No, but you should. There's this new waitress at the Toucan who-"

"Is very nice," Blu finished. "Forget it."

"What's wrong with nice?"