Degrees of Darkness, page 63
Remy’s hands slipped between Vic’s parted robe and he encircled her bare waist. She gasped as he thrust her against the kitchen wall. He deepened the kiss, savoring the lingering taste of wine on her tongue. Vic moaned and rubbed herself against him, fueling his desire. His hands trailed down to her thighs, gripping them, he hoisted her off the floor. Her lean legs wrapped around his waist and hooked behind him.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he nibbled a path down her neck to the erratically beating pulse, making her mutter in French. With a growl, he pushed them away from the wall and carried her toward the table. Remy swept the table clear and lay her down. His arms braced on each side of her body, he took her mouth once again. She arched against him and begged him to take her.
Remy drew back and reached for the flimsy strip of material at her hip, then made the mistake of looking at Vic’s face. But it wasn’t Vic he saw. It was Cody, just as he remembered her the only time they’d ever made love, with her fiery red hair flared out behind her on his pillow.
“Shit!” He untangled himself from Vic’s legs and backpedaled. What the hell was he doing?
Vic bolted upright. “Son of bitch, Remy.”
He turned away from her and staggered to the archway. His brain continued rapid-fire snapshots of Cody during their lovemaking. Roaring, he slammed the side of his fist against the wall. He couldn’t get her out of his head.
A hand on his scarred shoulder made him spin. He snatched the wrist and twisted it away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
“Damn it, LeBeau, let go. You’re hurting me.”
Vic’s voice penetrated the red haze filling his head. He released her.
Cradling her wrist in her hand, she glared at him. “What is wrong with you?”
“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.”
She recoiled from him. “I took the day off.”
The tremble in her chin unwound him. “Mon Dieu, Vic, I’m sorry.”
“I hope so. What the hell was that all about?”
“It’s . . . ”
“That woman you won’t tell me about.”
He sagged on a stool and stared at the countertop. After a moment, Vic sat next to him.
“She’s here, Vic. In New Orleans.” Remy rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the stinging. “I saw her with my partner.”
Silence met his admission. Then quietly: “You love her?”
Remy finger-combed his hair then cupped the back of his neck. “She’s the reason why I came back here to end this. I didn’t want to risk her life like I did Marie’s. And now . . . I don’t know what to think after seeing her hanging all over the one man I trusted my life with.”
“Maybe you’re reading too much into it?”
He shook his head. “I know what I saw last night. She broke up with me when I wouldn’t bring her with me. Claimed I was treating her like a ‘weak woman.’”
“Were you?”
“Hell no. I saw her do things I thought only you were capable of doing. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for, but she’s hung up on this idea that the men in her life see her as the damsel in distress they need to protect.”
“LeBeau, have you ever told her different?”
He looked at Vic. He mentally flipped back through his time with Cody, and couldn’t pinpoint a time when he had. “I don’t think I did.”
“Well, there ya go. Perhaps you should track her down and ask her what was really going on last night. If she wanted to come with you to begin with, then maybe she enlisted your partner’s help in finding you.”
“I’d rather not. I let her break up with me for a reason. I didn’t want her here to be used against me by Savard or Alphonse. Better I leave it as it is.”
“Have it your way.” Vic stood and moved to leave. “Well, don’t I feel like a man-stealing slut.”
He caught her hand and stopped her. “Far from it.” He sighed. “Vic, you’re beautiful, and I like you. Maybe if it had been another lifetime we could’ve been more than friends.”
“No, LeBeau, we couldn’t. There will always be the Maries and your mystery woman who will come before me. I just hope she’s worth you trying to get yourself killed.”
“More than you know.”
• • •
A lone black SUV sat next to one of the factory’s older buildings in the dimly lit gravel lot. He exited his own car, removed his jacket, and tossed it onto the passenger seat, scanning the area as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves. This factory had never reopened after Katrina, so he’d bought out the owners.
The place proved useful in many ways—keeping his other ventures outside of New Orleans private, and invoking a sense of fear in anyone who tried to double-cross him.
Shutting the car door, he headed for a stairwell that led up to a side entrance. Muggy swamp air produced beads of sweat on his exposed skin. By the time he reached the landing, damp areas had formed on the back of his shirt and under his pits. He despised the rural area and its lack of comfort.
When he entered the poorly lit, somewhat cooler, office, his right-hand man turned.
“Sir.”
“Well, Jason. Has he spoken?”
“Still refuses to answer until he sees you.” Jason cracked his knuckles. “I’d loosen his tongue, but I don’t think I could do any more damage.”
He crossed the floor and peered through the huge Plexiglas window that overlooked the factory floor. A lone light shone on Eddy Prejean lounging in an old recliner. From this distance, he could make out the bandages but not assess the man’s injuries.
“How would you like to proceed, sir?”
He noted the gun butt sticking out from under Jason’s shirt. Always eager for the direct solution, that man. “Let’s introduce me and see what kind of ghost could beat a man to within an inch of his life.”
Jason led the way through the door opening onto the factory floor and across the metal stairwell. The dark enveloped them as they descended the stairs.
Eddy Prejean squinted, craning his neck. “That you, Jason?”
“Who else would it be, Eddy?”
“Did he come?” Prejean tried to stand then sank into the chair.
“Yes, he did.”
Prejean raised his bandaged arm and wobbled a finger at them. “I knew he couldn’t resist. Not with what I—” He gasped and his hand flopped into his lap. “I know.”
Although Jason entered the circle of light, the other skirted the edge, keeping his face in the shadows. “You made me come all this way, Eddy. It better be worth my time and the effort it took for Jason to get you back to New Orleans.”
“Oh, it is, sir.” Eddy shifted in the chair. “An’ . . . and I think you’ll want to . . . ,” he patted his shirt front. “ . . . to see somet’ing I have.”
The name of Prejean’s attacker was all he wanted. Surprises were not welcomed.
Prejean produced a thin envelope and crushed it to his chest. “Jason was kind enough to stop at my place so I could get this.”
Anger boiled through his veins. Jason would feel the sting for his stupidity.
“Sir, could you step into the light, so’s I can see your face?”
His attention snapped back to Eddy. “I’ll do no such thing. You don’t call the shots.”
Eddy’s mouth quivered into a weak smile. “I thought as much. This here envelope contains something I think you’ll want.” He dipped his head. “Something Savard gave me.”
Nostrils flaring, he stiffened his spine. Could it be? Had Savard been that gullible? Jason moved to retrieve the envelope.
“No.” Eddy whipped out a lighter and flicked it to life. “You will get it once I see you, or I’ll set it on fire.”
Gun sliding easily into his hand, Jason aimed it at Eddy’s head.
“Kill me, and my information dies with me.” The flame licked at the corner of the envelope. “What’s it gonna be . . . sir?”
If Eddy had read whatever was inside that envelope, he would already know the truth. On the off chance Eddy was playing them, he could still gain the upper hand.
“Put the lighter away. I’ll step into the light.”
The flame died and Eddy set the lighter aside. Jason lowered his gun, but kept it in hand.
Taking a step forward, he breached the light’s edge, then took another step in until he was doused by the rays. Eddy’s swollen eyes widened.
“Holy shit! You’re Alphonse?”
He allowed a slight smile. “Never underestimate power, Eddy.” He held out his hand. “The envelope. Please.”
Hand shaking, Eddy held it out. “I’d never in my life imagined it was you.”
Jason stepped forward and snatched the envelope from Eddy’s hand, then passed it off.
He eyed the plain white envelope, crushing it in his fist. “Now. Who was the man who attacked you?”
Eddy’s gaze darted to Jason then back to him. An indecipherable emotion flashed across his face. He swallowed. “Just remember, I didn’ do a thing to provoke this guy. Not one thing.”
Irritation flared through him. “Out with it.”
Leaning into the recliner’s backrest, Eddy seemed to slump. His body grew still. “It was Remy LeBeau.”
His blood thickened and slowed. “Did you say Remy LeBeau?”
“Yeah.”
He gave a derisive laugh. “That man is dead. Killed during Katrina.”
“Naw. He’s alive and he did this to me. LeBeau’s after Savard.” He drew in a ragged breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. “Then he’s coming for you.”
Next to him, Jason stiffened. So the ghost was LeBeau. How had he found out about Alphonse? His name was never uttered to anyone outside of his select group. Who broke rank?
“There. I told you what you needed to know. Can I go home now?”
He glanced at Eddy, about-faced, and exited the pool of light. “Kill him.”
Eddy’s squeaked protest was blasted away by the gunshot.
Continuing to the stairs, he released his death grip on the envelope. “Dump his body in the bayou where the gators will find it. I want you to track down LeBeau and follow him.”
“Sir, what about Savard?”
He paused and looked at the envelope. Ripping it open, he yanked out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it.
You didn’t think I would give it away so easily to a two-bit narq like Prejean? Did you?
A furious roar erupted from his throat. He spun to face Jason. “Let LeBeau have Savard. Once he’s done with him, then you get LeBeau. I want to personally finish him off.”
Chapter Seventeen
A steady hum of conversation joined the drone of sports commentators on the huge TV screens scattered around the sports bar. The occasional burst of laughter grated on Cody’s nerves. Two nights scouring Bourbon and they were left with nothing but a lack of sleep to show for their efforts. Heath had decided on this spot for their final stop tonight simply to give Cody a break from all the men hitting on her. She might be grateful for the reprieve, but the lid on her impatience was rattling.
Curling her hands around her glass of iced tea, she tensed her tight shoulders, then relaxed. “Is this what a stakeout feels like?”
Heath chuckled. “Almost.” He tipped his beer bottle, took a drink, then set the bottle on the table.
She hadn’t chewed him out for getting the beer. He wasn’t the one with the problem. So far, she’d held up well with all the liquor surrounding her. But it was time to back it off and not enter another bar for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
She tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Why can’t we find Remy?”
“Don’t know, Cowgirl.”
The sports bar wasn’t as dim as most of the places they’d visited. So the glow of the TVs allowed Cody to make out the worry lines etched on Heath’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothin’.”
“No, it’s something. You, Heath Anderson, never look worried. Not even when a professional assassin is trying to blow your head off.”
His grin was barely contained to his face. “You don’t have much of a filter, do you?”
“Call it as I see it. Spill.”
He took another swig of his beer, moved as if to put the bottle down, then tipped it up for one more drink before he smacked it on the table. He stared at the wall across from them. “I think it best to keep my thoughts to myself, Cody.”
“Heath—”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He pushed away from the table and zig-zagged through the maze of tables toward the back of the bar.
Cody pressed her fingers against the spot between her eyebrows and gritted her teeth. Men were too damn tight-lipped for their own good sometimes. She reached for her tea glass and froze as a tanned hand gripped the back of the empty chair next to her. Her gaze traveled up the well-muscled arm to the rolled sleeve of a white shirt. The shirt gave way to the handsome face of a middle-aged man with coiled, dark brown hair. He flashed a toothy smile.
Her nerve endings lit on fire as his gaze ran the length of her body. Sour milk didn’t curdle as much as her stomach. “Ya lost?”
His smile widened. “Naw, cher.”
A strange sensation crawled along Cody’s skin. She’d never felt something so . . . sinister.
He started to slide the chair out from under the table. Cody’s foot shot out and hooked the closest leg, and she jerked the chair back. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. My date won’t like it one bit.”
His eyes narrowed. Leaning over the chair back, he stared at her. The piercing look created a firestorm of tremors in her body as her brain screamed: Warning!
“I don’t think your date means all that much to you, now does he, cher?”
Cody loved how cher sound when Remy said it, but this freak was tainting it for her. She grasped her tea glass, her arm muscles tensing for action. “Go crawl back into your dark corner and piss off.”
The faint growl from him sent a violent shiver through her core.
“You heard her, jackass. Piss off.”
Cody’s mouth went as dry as a Texas summer wind at the evil expression on the man’s face. Straightening, he released the chair and took a step back, his attention never leaving Heath.
“Pardon me.” He tipped his chin down as if to concede defeat and stalked away.
The moment she lost sight of him, Cody bailed from her chair and bolted out of the building, not bothering to wait for Heath. She staggered onto the sidewalk and let the crowds push her into the street. A safe distance from the open doors, she stopped and lifted her face to the sky. She convulsed, trying to rid herself of the vileness she picked up from that man.
Fingers brushed against her arm. She jerked about, searching. Too many people surged around her to catch the culprit. A hand grasped her rear end and squeezed. Cody’s hand shot backward and her fingers met flesh and bone. Clamping her hand on the wrist, she twisted it to the side and rotated herself to come face to face with an inebriated twenty-something. His bloodshot eyes flared open as his mouth gaped and a beer-soured yeow came out.
“Enjoy your free grope?” she hissed in his face.
“Hey . . . I . . . ” His cry sounded like a squeak as Cody jabbed her thumbnail into the pressure point on his wrist and twisted it. “Watch it!”
“Keep your hands to yourself, you li’l prick.”
“Hey, chica, what’s the deal?”
Three equally drunk guys materialized to flank their buddy. Oh, goodie, she felt like letting off some steam. She applied more pressure to the groper’s wrist. He let out another yelp.
“The deal, boys, is your pal needs a lesson in manners.”
They glanced at each other. They smirked, and one snorted.
“You think you’re gonna be the one to do it?” The apparent self-appointed leader took a step forward.
“If not her, then I will.”
Three heads snapped around. Heath gripped the leader’s shoulder. Buckling under the pressure, the leader winced and writhed as Heath guided him aside.
“I think you boys are done here.” He flashed a grim smile. “Right?”
“We’re leaving.”
Cody shoved the groper’s hand back at him. Cradling his wrist in his other hand, he skittered off with his pals. They cast a few furtive glances over their shoulders before disappearing into a nearby bar.
Blowing hard, Cody started to shake.
“You okay?”
“No.” Arms wrapped around her body, she rubbed her biceps. “That guy in there gave off some sick, freaky vibes. Then those four had to cop a feel.”
Heath shot a look at the sports bar, then hooked his arm around hers and steered her down the street. “Keep close,” he said in a low tone.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”
“We’re calling it a night. We’re not coming back to Bourbon.”
Cody put the brakes on and slipped out of Heath’s arm. “Come again?”
He drove his fingers through his damp hair. “As frustrating as this sounds, Cody, I can’t risk you being here any longer. If anything happens to you and Remy finds out, he’ll skin me alive.” He jerked his hand to his side. “As stupid as it sounds, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“Fine. Then what do you suggest we do?” She tucked her hands under her armpits.
“Remy’s not here. Which means we take this somewhere else.”
“Like where? We’ve searched all the other possible places during the day. We’re running out of options.”
“Maybe Luc and Kim got lucky,” he said.
“What?”
“I thought Kim told you?”
Cody snorted. “She’s not exactly happy with me right now.”
Weariness settled in the lines on Heath’s face, seemingly aging him. Hard to picture since they were the same age. “Luc said they found someone who might have known her birthmother. Maybe that’s the break we need to find LeBeau.”
“Maybe. Let’s go back to the hotel. I want some sleep.”
With a curt nod, Heath led her back to where they’d parked the truck. Cody hesitated and slowly looked over her shoulder. Scanning the crowd, her gaze skimmed along the top of the heads of the Bourbon Street revelers. No one seemed overly interested in her or Heath, but the sensation that someone watched crawled along her skin. Shivering, she hurried to catch up with Heath.
