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Authors: Joanna Wayne Rita Herron and Mallory Kane

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BOOK: Cover Me
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Chapter Two

“It’s a nice night for a party,” Nicole murmured as she stopped next to the stranger.

When he turned to face her, a ridiculous zinging sensation danced along her nerve endings.

“A splendid night,” he agreed. “And it just got a whole lot better.”

A slow burn crept to her cheeks. Impulsively, she checked his ring finger. It was bare. “I love spring in New
Orleans,” she said, directing the subject back to the weather.

“So do I. But blink twice and it will have turned into the humid heat of summer.”

“Ah, you know the city. Do you live here?” she asked.

“I used to—a lifetime ago.”

Edginess crept into his voice, making him all the more intriguing.

“Are you a friend of Lee’s?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m sure he’ll
be glad you made the party.”

“If I ever run into him. I’m beginning to think he dodged his own celebration.”

“He’s here somewhere,” Nicole assured him, “probably surrounded by well-wishers or talking police business.”

“No doubt.”

She put out a hand. “I’m Nicole Smith. You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“No. If we had, I’m sure I’d remember.”

His hand wrapped
around her much smaller one and he held it. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m Andre,” he said, smiling and meeting her gaze before finally letting go of her. “Hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you do great things for that dress.”

“Thank you.”

“Do the Delacroixes always throw such lavish parties?”

“Always.”

He looked around. “They have the perfect mansion for it.”

“The
gardens are lovely, too,” Nicole said, “especially this time of the year. You should make time to see them.”

His brows arched. “Is that an offer of a tour?”

“No.... I mean...” She swallowed back a twinge of guilt and a rush of blood that made her positively light-headed. “I would offer, but I have to get back to the party.”

“That’s a gracious brush-off.” He leaned closer and slid
his hand across the railing until their fingers touched.

Awareness sizzled.

“I should get back to the party myself, but it was nice meeting you, Nicole.”

“Likewise,” she murmured. She leaned on the railing and watched as he walked away, still reeling from the effect he’d had on her and faced with an undeniable truth.

Lee Barnaby had never excited her senses like that.

* * *

R
EMY
WALKED
BACK
into the house determined to get his mind off the gorgeous redhead and back where it belonged. The woman had ignited so many sparks that he was still feeling the heat.

But he couldn’t act on the attraction. She reminded him far too much of Carlotta, and not just her laugh. It was her hair, her eyes, her enchanting Southern drawl.

Even if he weren’t about to
jump into a blazing fire of his making, contacting her would be a mistake. And not fair to either of them, even if she were willing to see him again.

After another ten minutes of searching, Remy spotted Lee at the far end of the ballroom. He looked much the same as he had eight years ago, except that he’d put on a few pounds and his hair had started to gray a bit at the temples. Still, he
looked younger than his age, which Remy knew was somewhere in the early fifties.

Remy cleared the few yards between them without Lee noticing him. He was seconds away from showing his face when Lee was joined by the seductive redhead.

Lee turned and slipped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into the cluster of people who surrounded him.

The gesture and the smile she flashed
for Lee appeared overly familiar, almost intimate. Remy felt a tightening in his gut. The woman had seemed far too nice to get romantically involved with a dirty rat like Lee—even if he hadn’t been too old for her. Not that it was any of Remy’s business.

Remy stayed out of sight, watching silently until Lee whispered something in the woman’s ear that made her smile. Then the illustrious new
NOPD chief turned and walked away.

Following quickly, Remy caught up with him just as he ducked into a small, hallway powder room.

Without breaking stride, Remy blocked the door with his foot before it could close completely. He pushed into the tiny room with Lee, then closed and locked the door behind them.

It was time to get reacquainted.

Chapter Three

“What the hell!”

“Hello, Lee. Nice to see you, too.”

Lee’s muscles flexed, and shock registered in every line of his ruddy face. “What the devil are you doing here, Comeaux?”

“Offering my congratulations. Isn’t that what this celebration is all about?”

“This party is for invited guests. You’re not one of them.”

“I figured the engraved request
for my presence got lost in the mail. But you do look surprised to see me.”

“I am. I figured you’d crawled off and died somewhere like the gutter rat you are.”

“No, I just moved on to a higher class of rodents.”

Someone turned the doorknob from the outside.

“Out in a second,” Remy called.

“Get out now,” Lee muttered as the footsteps receded. “If you’re still in town come
morning, I’ll have you arrested and thrown back in jail.”

“Same old Barnaby. But threats and intimidation won’t cut it this time. You’re the one who’s going down.”

“Like hell I am. You’re a criminal, Remy, a dirty cop who escaped from jail in the aftermath of a hurricane. No one will believe anything you say.”

“No, but they’ll believe the FBI and solid evidence.”

“None of you
have anything on me!”

Lee spit the words at him as if they were curses, but Remy could see the panic bleeding into his eyes. He’d accomplished what he’d come to do tonight—churn up enough anxiety inside Lee to put a serious damper on his moment of triumph.

The worst was yet to come.

“I guess we’ll find out. See you around, Chief. Oh, and don’t worry about the scintillating redhead.
I’ll see that she’s well taken care of while you’re behind bars and bonding with the guys you helped send to Angola.”

Lee’s face turned a violent red. Remy braced for a punch, but Lee merely called him a few choice names.

Remy had definitely pushed Lee’s buttons with the mention of the redhead. The possibility that they were lovers galled Remy. He fought to stop it from spoiling the
moment as he opened the bathroom door and left Lee to stew in his own well-deserved angst.

Lee had crossed enough lines of law and honor in his career to lock him away indefinitely. FBI agent Ray Storm, with the help of Remy and his former best friend, Detective Mack Rivet, had been close to proving Lee’s guilt before Katrina had smashed Remy’s world like a boot coming down on a rotten banana.

Before Katrina, Remy’s participation in the operation had been professional. Now it was personal. This time he wouldn’t quit until Lee Barnaby had a one-way pass to prison.

The only thing that would stop him would be moving into the Comeaux family mausoleum down in the bayou country where he’d grown up. Lee Barnaby was not beyond seeing that he made that move.

That was why Remy couldn’t
let down his guard for a second and why he had to work fast to gather the last shreds of proof. He wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than indisputable evidence that Lee was the most crooked cop to ever wear an NOPD badge.

* * *

N
ICOLE
WATCHED
FROM
THE
EDGE
of the bandstand as Lee began his speech, thanking everyone for their enthusiasm and support and vowing to make the streets
of New Orleans some of the safest of any big city in the nation.

Surprisingly, he seemed nervous, pausing frequently as if he’d lost the thought he wanted to convey. He wiped beads of perspiration from his brow more than once with a folded linen handkerchief, even though the room’s temperature was comfortable.

It was a side of Lee she’d never seen before. Normally, he reeked of confidence
and charisma on occasions such as this. Something had clearly upset him.

In spite of her concern for Lee, she found herself scanning the crowd, searching for the stranger. She wondered if he’d had the chance to talk to Lee and regretted she hadn’t asked his last name.

Not that it mattered. The rush of emotion she’d felt with him couldn’t be trusted. At best it was a lustful burst of
infatuation brought on by two glasses of champagne. She knew absolutely nothing about the man.

Lee quickly escaped the crush of well-wishers who surrounded him after the speech and made his way to her. Leaning close, his hand circled her waist and he put his mouth to her ear. “Let’s take a walk in the garden. I need some fresh air.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m great. I’d just like
some alone time in the moonlight with my beautiful date.”

Also not like Lee. He was thoughtful but never particularly romantic. And even as he led her away, he seemed distracted.

They crossed the veranda where she’d talked to Andre and then descended the wide steps to the maze of paths that meandered through watermelon-red azalea blooms, lush greenery and sparkling fountains.

Fake
stars diminished the silvery glow of moonlight but didn’t dim the serene beauty. But when Lee took her hand, his grip felt tense.

“You’re not acting like a man who’s just been showered with accolades,” she said. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“Just police business. Nothing to cause you worry.” Lee grew silent and a second later dropped her hand and picked up his
pace so that she almost had to run to keep up with his long stride.

They passed a couple who were so engrossed in each other that they barely wasted a glance on Lee and Nicole. Obviously, the garden’s magic was not lost on them as it was on Lee.

Nicole’s mind wandered back to the stranger. Her reaction to him was both disturbing and puzzling. It was if he’d tilted her world and loosed
titillating sensations that had lain dormant for the past eight years.

Everyone in New Orleans had their own Katrina story. Nicole was no exception. But she was still alive, and like most of the others, she’d picked up the pieces and moved on.

But there were still the occasional moments when she experienced a yearning for what she’d lost, an ache so strong it consumed her. But never
until this evening had she felt as sensually excited as she had with Andre.

That was surely a good sign, even if the feelings had been stirred by a man she’d likely never see again.

She was about to ask Lee if he’d talked to Andre, when Lee took her hand and tugged her to a stop in the dark shadows of a huge magnolia tree. The fragrance of the enchanting white blooms was intoxicating.

Lee’s arms circled her waist and he pulled her closer. She looked up and met his gaze. There was an intensity in his stare that she’d never seen before.

“What is it, Lee?”

“You know how I feel about you, Nicole.”

She swallowed hard, suddenly realizing why he seemed nervous and dreading what was coming next. She knew what he wanted from her. They’d talked all around the subject.
It wasn’t unreasonable. And yet...

“I don’t think we should go there again tonight, Lee.”

“I think we have to, Nicole. We’ve been friends for years. We’ve dated for months. It’s time to move our relationship to the next level. I can’t keep fighting my feelings for you.”

“I realize that.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I trust you, but I need more time, Lee.
You said you understood.”

“You’ve had eight years, Nicole. It’s not time you need. It’s just the courage to let someone into your life.”

She knew Lee could be right. Even Deanie kept insisting that she let go of the past and open herself to the future.

“Move in with me, Nicole. Give me a chance to make you happy.”

The proposition made her chest constrict until her breath seemed
to be trapped inside her. “I can’t make a decision like that on the spur of the moment.”

“Then at least go home with me tonight, Nicole. I need you. I want you with me.”

He put a thumb beneath her chin and tilted her face upward so that their lips were only inches apart. She stepped into the kiss, aching to feel a sensual onslaught that left her dizzy with passion. At this point she’d
settle for even a hint of what she’d felt with Andre.

There was nothing.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Lee, but I can’t.”

His arms dropped to his sides and her rejection drew his lips into thin, tight lines. When he spoke, his words had a clipped, cutting edge to them. “If that’s the way you want it, but you can’t expect me to wait forever.”

“I never asked that of you.” She’d never
asked anything of him.

He loosely linked his arm with hers. “I really should get back to the party now.”

They walked in silence. Well-wishers gathered around Lee even before they climbed the steps to the veranda.

She left him to his admirers, called a taxi and went back to her condo. For all she knew, she’d just killed her relationship with Lee.

But when she crawled into bed
alone, it was the stranger with the whiskey-colored eyes who tiptoed into her mind and stayed around for her dreams.

* * *

I
T
WAS
THIRTY
MINUTES
past midnight when Remy finally pushed away from the desk in his hotel room. He’d spent the past three hours staring at his findings, which never fully solved the puzzle of exactly how deep Lee Barnaby had been involved in the pre-Katrina police
corruption. Weary, Remy stood, stretched and then walked to the window.

He’d chosen an old hotel on the outskirts of the French Quarter, not for its quaintness or its reasonable price but because he liked the way the pace here slowed to a skulking crawl.

The bars were not as noisy as the ones on Bourbon Street. The inhabitants were an eclectic mix of cultures, socioeconomic levels and
gender preferences. He could easily go unnoticed here.

But it was another part of the city that called to him tonight. Remy headed to his truck and took the short drive to an area that had taken the brunt of the flooding when the levies were breached.

What-ifs tormented his mind as he drove the once-familiar streets, finally stopping in front of the hospital where Carlotta had worked
as a nurse. She’d loved her job.

She’d loved life. She’d loved him. She’d teased him about being a cop, calling him her armed protector.

But when she’d needed him most, he hadn’t been there. The memories returned full force and with them the crushing sense of loss that the passing years had barely dimmed.

But sinking back into the mire was the last thing he needed now. He turned
the key in the ignition and brought the pickup truck’s engine to life. He was about to pull into the street when a car with no lights on pulled up behind him and stopped, blocking his exit.

Instinctively, he braced for trouble and reached for the pistol he kept holstered beneath his seat. When he saw Charlie Gibbons behind the wheel, he knew his instincts were right on target.

BOOK: Cover Me
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ads

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