Degrees of Darkness, page 62
No, he couldn’t put his family through that.
Remy had to stop this constant second-guessing himself and his motives. It slowed his defenses, and it would get him killed.
Restarting the Harley, he rolled it forward and left the parking spot.
Back at Vic’s, he parked his bike inside the garage but waited to shed his jacket until he passed through the kitchen. He was about to mount the stairs to his room when a cold voice stopped him.
“You left without me.”
He grimaced. Framed by the doorway leading into her den, Vic stood with her arms crossed, wearing what looked like the clothes she had worn the previous day. Anger burned in her eyes.
“Left me here and didn’t bother to leave an explanation.”
“I can’t take you out there every night.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? You never go in alone; you always have backup.”
“I don’t need backup.”
She stalked across the floor and stood toe to toe with him. “In this city, you always go in with backup. You’re not sneaking out and leaving me behind. Clear?” Her gaze flicked down. One eyebrow peaked. “You found another one.”
“Low schmuck on the totem pole.”
“Did you send that one up river, too?”
Remy lifted one shoulder. “Where else?” Draping his jacket over his shoulder, he turned to the stairs once more. “Are you finished lecturing me?”
Vic hooked his elbow and stilled his movements. “Not quite, Cajun.”
A vibe permeated the air between them. Pinpricks crawled along Remy’s arm at the skin-to-skin contact. A sweet scent like roses drifted from Vic. There it was again. The subtle sensation that Vic was trying to come on to him.
Mais non! He wasn’t in the mood for this crap. Seeing Cody hang over any guy who’d have her was enough for one night. Remy deftly flicked Vic’s hand off and sidestepped out of her path. “It’s been a long night. I’m going to bed.”
“Deflecting me won’t make the conversation stop. You’re not going out there alone again.”
Waving her off, he mounted the steps. “Don’t you have a job to go to?”
“You’re an ass.”
“Glad to be of service. Bonne nuit.”
Once out of her sight, he staggered to his room. He kicked off his boots, peeled off his shirt, and dropped it and his jacket on the floor. Door locked, he stumbled to the bed and fell across it face first.
As he pulled a pillow over his head, Cody’s face flashed in his head. Her last words to him reverberated as sleep dragged him under.
You want to go play hero and leave me home to worry? Then go. But I won’t be here waiting for you.
Chapter Fifteen
Most would not enrage The Voodoo Queen further by making a such a public appearance in one of her sacred places when they hadn’t made good on their obligations. But the events that occurred in the past few days made Jared Savard rethink his plan to keep a low profile. Since he’d been hiding out, two of his men had disappeared. And Eddy Prejean wasn’t one Jared liked to lose.
Not only had he pissed off The Queen, he had Alphonse breathing down his neck. Earlier today, while patrolling Jackson Square, Jared spotted Alphonse’s second-in-command. Seeing the thug out in the open meant one thing—Alphonse was making a move to eliminate Jared. He had crossed the line. He threatened the most powerful criminal kingpin.
Slinking through the crowd gathered around Congo Square, Jared worked his way to the center of the throng. His patrol uniform made people clamp their mouths shut when he butted them aside. Rich voices and the rhythmic beating of bongos filled the square. A group of black women in white dresses spun and danced to the music over the spot where their slave ancestors had spent many Sunday afternoons.
Normally the voodoo ritual eased Jared’s troubled mind. It did nothing for him while being on The Voodoo Queen’s shit list. Black eyes followed his movements through the crowd. Some of the dancers and the drummers scowled; no one made a move toward him. They all knew what he’d done.
Grinding his molars back and forth, he left the press of bodies and eased back to St. Peter Street. From there, he watched the assembly, his mind mulling over the problems he faced. Bored with the ritual, Jared turned and stalked back to his car. Inside his squad car, he pulled away from the curb and headed to the department. It was almost time for shift change anyway.
He had to locate Eddy. The man carried too much information to disappear. It would be just like Alphonse to slowly weed out Jared’s barriers and get him with his defenses down. Still, Alphonse taking Eddy didn’t make sense; the confidential informant had proven himself useful over and over, for both sides. If the spirits left to aid him were correct and LeBeau had returned to New Orleans, Jared needed Eddy on the lookout.
Jared needed to close ranks and inform his guys of the new developments. Last thing he could afford were more missing men.
He parked across the street from the New Orleans Police Department building. As he turned off the engine, a figure emerged from the building. His hand stilled as the plainclothes woman passed through the wrought-iron gates and strode to the curb, donning her sunglasses. She glanced up and down then crossed the street to a black truck parked two cars ahead.
What was Detective Victoria Slater doing here?
She pulled open the door and slid inside. Beads of sweat slid along his jawline as Jared watched her pull the truck onto the street and drive off. For years the woman had worked on the force and never once had Jared felt a tug of panic. With the powers-that-be pressing in on him at all sides, seeing Vic Slater didn’t reassure him. He’d felt cocksure wrapped in the realization that she’d never learn how or where her parents had died. Or that their deaths came by his hand. Back when LeBeau began digging—a development Jared didn’t expect when he’d mentioned the case to the then-rookie partner—Vic Slater became interested in her parents’ disappearance again. Somehow LeBeau managed to get further than any of the detectives before him, with her help. Jared had started to sweat then, too. Until Alphonse made the call to eliminate LeBeau and his young wife.
He should have never taken that job. Yet recalling how much he’d enjoyed having his way with Marie Dumond LeBeau made his stomach muscles jump.
Maybe he should take out Victoria Slater? The Queen might lift his punishment for more blood. The thought appealed to him.
Jared gathered his gear and empty cups then exited the car. He dumped the trash in a bin sitting along the street and entered the department. Scuttlebutt flew through the air. His fellow patrol officers buzzed about something. Jared ignored them and went about his business to prepare for going off-duty. He settled in the back of the debriefing room.
Once everyone filled the seats, the shift sergeant entered. Red-faced, he slapped his shift book on the podium. “Listen up, people. There’s been a new development. I just spent the entire afternoon arguing with the DA over this.” He rubbed his jaw. “DA Dumond is enacting a policy that is going to strip this city of more cash and steal from the department coffers. A damn waste just to weed out corrupt officers on the force.”
Jared stiffened as the chaos of protests filled the room. For as long he’d been working on the force and Paul Dumond had been DA, Jared suspected the man knew about his criminal leanings. It hadn’t helped matters that LeBeau knew Jared had tried to kill him and murdered Dumond’s daughter. After all this time, no one had touched him, but only because the proof wasn’t there.
What had changed? Was this how Alphonse planned to clean up the trash? By having the DA spear Jared’s head and march it through the streets of New Orleans?
The shift sergeant calmed everyone. “Hey, I did my best. Let’s be realistic, people. After those three dumbasses were stupid enough to feed the flames of corruption in the NOPD by aiding looters and killing people who tried to stop them after Katrina, the politicians in this city are out for blood. Especially Dumond. All I can tell you is to keep your noses clean if you want to keep your job.”
His announcement over, the shift sergeant moved on to regular business. During the half-hour debriefing, Jared calculated his risks. Guess it was time to show Dumond he was untouchable. If the DA wanted to play for keeps, then Jared would play through. Once the group was dismissed, Jared made a quick stop at the desk sergeant’s to file his reports, then he headed for the locker room. His fellow officers watched him as he strode down the hall. They knew he was one of the reasons Dumond made his crackdown, but not one of them would voice it. What Jared had done to LeBeau and his wife was a stark reminder that they could be next.
This was New Orleans corruption at its best. If you knew how to play the system well enough, you could instill enough fear in others that they wouldn’t dare risk their lives for the truth.
Shoving the door open, he entered into a thick cloud of steam and conversation. He slipped along the line of lockers to his row.
“Called him a ghost.”
Jared hesitated and strained an ear toward the showers.
“Say what?”
“Yeah, we pulled the scumbag off the freighter, and he bawled about some ghost beating the shit out of him.”
“Good God, they’ll come up with anything to get outta being arrested.”
“A ghost, eh? Did this ghost have a name?”
Jared’s legs trembled as he inched closer to the showers. Someone snorted. “Couldn’t say. Had him pissing his pants. Asswipe couldn’t stop blubbering.”
“What I wanna know is what was he doing on the freighter?”
“An old dirty cop trick. Hide the body on a freighter right before it’s shipped upriver. Get it outta the city and give you time to clean up your trail. Easier than trying to find the time to dump them in the Pontchartrain.”
“Yet this guy was alive?”
“Guess the ghost doesn’t have a stomach for killing.” The men laughed.
Jared turned and abruptly exited the locker room. He leaned against the wall, eyes glued to the ceiling. It wasn’t Alphonse going after his guys.
LeBeau was the ghost. Had to be. Everyone in the city believed he’d died during Katrina and his body washed away. Even Jared’s men didn’t know the truth. One by one, LeBeau would pick off his posse until he had Jared cornered.
Son of a bitch. He banged the side of his fist into the wall. Forget the shower. He shouldered his duffel and stalked out of the department. He needed a release. Tonight.
• • •
A cool early evening breeze rolled off the river and passed through the open seating in Café du Monde, relief after a hot, humid day. From the small plaza next to the café, a lone guitar man’s soulful song about losing his love drifted over the patron chatter and clinking of dishes. Cody sipped the rich café au lait, trying to not compare her current love-life predicament with the song and let the atmosphere soothe her. Tonight she and Heath would make another search for Remy on Bourbon.
When she placed her cup back on the saucer, it clattered. Clenching her hand into a fist, she hid it under the table.
Kim’s peered over the rim of her cup. Setting the cup down, she crossed her arms on the table and bent forward. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
“We’ve been over this already and I’m not arguing about it again. And I’m still not happy with you telling Heath.”
“He deserved to know. Cody, you fell off the wagon. All that alcohol on Bourbon wasn’t a temptation you needed.”
Scanning the groups of people around them, Cody scooted closer to the table. “What is this really about? You get snippy when something is bothering you.”
“I told you what’s wrong. I don’t like the two of you going out there at night, and I especially don’t like you being there when you’re not strong enough.”
Cody flicked powdered sugar off the last beignet. “Liar.” She drank the cooled café au lait.
“Fine.” Kim tossed her napkin on the table. “I don’t see how my opinion is worth a hill of beans with you anymore.” She grabbed her purse and vacated her seat.
Cursing, Cody pushed out of her chair, snatched her bag off the back, and hurried after Kim. She caught up with her at the small amphitheater across from Jackson Square where a group of hip-hop dancers were preparing for their next performance. Snagging Kim’s elbow, Cody dragged her to a stop. “What is wrong with you?”
Kim shook free of her grip and crossed her arms. “I made myself pretty clear back there. You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening.” Yet Cody doubted that was what Kim was really saying. “Are you mad that Heath and I aren’t taking you along?”
“No.” The terse word confirmed the suspicion.
“Try saying that again without biting my head off.”
Kim’s shoulders sagged, her hands flopped to her sides. “Cody, I’m worried, okay? I don’t think Heath understands how this will affect you. Maybe if I’m with you—”
“And have Heath punching every guy who touches you? Out of the question. He needs to be focused on looking for Remy and protecting me in case we run into trouble. Having you there is dangerous for all of us.”
As the words sank in, the darker Kim’s expression turned. “Maybe that’s not the whole reason you don’t want me there.”
“What?”
“Oh, knock off the innocent act. I’m not stupid. There’s something going on between the two of you.”
Heat rushed into Cody’s face and her chest hurt. “No there’s not.”
“Damn it, stop lying to me. Heath gets close to me while you and Remy are having problems, then you break up with Remy. You get this harebrained idea to come here looking for him and bring Heath along,” Kim ticked off each statement with her fingers. “Now the two of you run off at night alone. What the hell do you expect me to believe?”
Cody recovered her wits. “I think you’ve lost your freaking mind. I love Remy, not Heath.”
“Coulda fooled me. Oh, wait! You did.”
“Kim, you’re flying off the handle. There’s nothing going on with me and Heath. Never has.”
“Oh, is that why you ran to him for ‘training’ when Remy was right there? And why was Heath the one who had to teach you hand-to-hand combat?” Kim slashed the air with her hand. “Forget it. I’m done.” She shoved past Cody and marched for the parking lot where they’d left Heath’s truck.
“Kim!”
Her friend kept going. Cody wanted to kick something.
“Girl, tell her I’ll solve your man issues right here.”
Recoiling at the blatant innuendo from one of the hip-hop performers, Cody shouldered her bag and hurried away. Kim was wrong. There was nothing going on between her and Heath.
Right?
Cody’s face flushed with warmth as she remembered what happened last night while they were dancing. She shook away the thought. It was all an act. Nothing more.
Chapter Sixteen
Nightmares startled him awake. Sweat slicked his arms and face, drenching the sheets. Remy’s gaze bounced around the room. Safe, protected. No one there with a knife. Tendrils of light from the setting sun filtered through the blinds’ wood slates.
His chest heaving, Remy forced his body into an upright position. Once his heart settled back into its regular rhythm, he crawled out of the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. After a quick shower, towel tucked around his waist, he wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at his unshaven face.
Eight days of new facial growth and he was a different man. The corner of his mouth tugged up at the thought of how much he looked like his père. Not many people would recognize him now.
Wearing only jeans, he headed downstairs. Silence greeted him as he slipped through the house on bare feet. Not even the cat showed its hissing face. Remy tousled his damp hair to free the last few drops and scratched his cheek. Longer hair and scruff still took some getting used to.
He padded into the kitchen and froze. Warmth and blood left his face and drained south. His heart seized in place.
Her dark auburn hair down in soft waves around her shoulder, Vic stood next to the island counter wearing only black undergarments and a black silk robe. She held a glass of wine to her lips and drank. Remy’s gaze lingered on the smooth lines of her neck as she swallowed. The blood in his veins thickened. His eyes traveled south to her bare legs. The lifted hem of the robe exposed a red fleur-de-lis tattoo on her left thigh.
Heat surged back into his face. “Mon Dieu, Victoria.” He put his back to her. “What the hell?”
The clinking of the wine glass on the counter made him flinch.
“Good God, Remy. You act like you ain’t seen a half-naked woman before.”
“Aiyee, femme, t’es folle!”
The air shifted behind him. Her scent wafted around him, and he resisted the urge to breathe in the pleasure. A nail grazed his skin. Ripples cascaded down his back, and his leg muscles went numb.
“I’m not crazy, Remy. Celibacy make you a prude?” Vic’s fingers trailed along his bare shoulder, tracing the scar.
He lost his willpower as her finger traveled down his back. His eyes drifted shut as he relished a woman’s touch on his skin. Cupping his side, Vic’s hand slid around to his abdomen. His rebellious stomach quivered. Remy swallowed and then drew in her scent. Mon Dieu, she smelled good. Her body pressed to his felt good.
Her lips brushed against his ear, her breath feathered his cheek. “I was beginning to think you’d switched sides.”
When her fingers brushed the button of his jeans, Remy’s eyes snapped open. He shuddered free of Vic’s spell and faced her. “Qu’est-ce que tu fais?”
“I’m doing what I’ve waited a long time to do.” She captured his mouth.
Every muscle in his body stiffened. Gradually, her wine-sweetened lips worked their magic. Damn it to hell. If Cody could run around on him, then what did he have to worry about? She wasn’t waiting for him in Fort Worth. Hell, she wasn’t even waiting on him at all. She’d found his replacement. And she could have him.
