Hall, Jessica (26 page)

Sable was glad she didn't have a culling pole at that moment;
she'd have brained J. D. with it for sure. "I'm not holding anything
back."

"Aren't you? What were you talking to Colette about this
morning? Why did Remy argue with you about Caine and his best friend and your
mother?"

She couldn't tell him what Marc had said that had troubled her on
the night before the murder; he'd think it was ridiculous and she was crazy.
Remy had thought so. "We were talking about something else."

"What?" When she didn't answer, his hold on her changed.
"Then tell me, why does it have to be like this between us?" He
pulled her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair until she relaxed
against him. "I can't let you shut me out again, Sable. The last time
about killed me."

"I didn't do so great, either." Her throat hurt, and her
eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears.

"Then talk to me, baby. Please."

His anger she could handle, but his gentleness was going to drive
her insane. She had to put a stop to this, make him understand. "Jean-Del,
what we had in the past is over. We're different people now, older and I hope a
little wiser. I care about you, and I'm grateful to
you
for helping me, but I won't get involved with you again."

He tilted her face up to his. "Too late for that."

Sable willed herself to remain still as his mouth touched hers. If
she responded, he'd know she was lying, and that he could have as much of her
as he desired. Being skinned alive would have been less painful, but the
alternative would only lead to heartbreak and ruin. Like him, she couldn't
handle that again.

I don't want this. I don't want him.

It would have been easier if he'd been angry and rough, the way he
had after hauling her away from Caine Gantry. But J. D. drew her into a quiet
place full of darkness and heat where the world went away and there was only
the two of them. He deepened the kiss at the same time he put his hands to work
on her skin, stroking and gentling her, and the double assault made her head
swim.

He lifted his head and buried his face in her hair. "Do you
remember the first time I kissed you?"

How could she forget? They'd been caught in the rain outside her
dorm and huddled together under the scant protection of a narrow overhang,
trying to say good night without getting soaked.

That night he'd smiled down at her—
It's only a little water
—and
he'd pulled her out into the rain, whirling her off her feet. She had wriggled
and shrieked with laughter, covering her head. They'd both gotten soaked to the
skin within seconds, but then he'd stopped suddenly. Sable had slid down the
front of him, expecting to feel the ground beneath her feet again, but she'd
never reached it. Instead he'd held her suspended between his hands and looked
all over her
face in wonder before staring at her rain-wet lips.
God, you
just glow. Like you're lit up from the inside.

In that moment, she'd lost herself in his blue eyes.
You make
me feel like I am, Jean-Del.

J. D. looked at her the same way now. "I never saw anyone so beautiful,
the way you were that night." He bent his head, and murmured the last
words against her mouth. "And the next night, and the next, and every
other night I held you in my arms."

If there were a hell for lovers, it had to feel like this—she
wanted him and feared him and could not escape him. The old pain blended with
new as she felt herself reaching for him, threading her fingers through his
dense black hair, moving against the press of his hard body on hers. "Kiss
me again."

He did. The desire he'd drawn from her intensified, became as
scalding as his hands and mouth were urgent, scorched through her body until
she thought her skin would melt under the relentless heat. She moaned when he
took his mouth away, almost mindless with need.

"You want me?" His voice teased her left ear as he
stroked his hands from her shoulders to her hips.

He needed reassurance? "Yes." She turned her face,
wanting his mouth again, but he was doing something to her throat—something
with his tongue and his teeth that was going to make her scream. She must have
made some sound, because she felt his smile against her skin.

"You trust me?"

That hurt a little. She'd given him so much already—didn't he see
that? But if he needed the words, needed to hear them from her lips, she would
give him those, too. "Yes. Please, Jean-Del—"

"It's okay, baby. I know it hurts. I hurt, too." He was
walking
backward now, drawing her out of the kitchen. "I'm going to make it better
for both of us."

Her legs were starting to give out, and she clutched at him.
"Now?"

"Right now." He halted at the threshold of one of the
bedrooms to kiss her again. "Sable."

"Mmmm?..." She chased his mouth again. If he teased her
much longer, she'd rip all their clothes off herself and knock him to the
floor.

He started on the other side of her throat. "You are going to
tell me about Billy, aren't you?"

That softly murmured question was as effective as a bucket of
duckweed-slimy swamp water. Sable went immobile, locked in disbelief that he
would use her own response to him like this.

We
protect our own,
Hilaire had said,
and so do they.

She didn't hit him again, mainly because she was afraid she
wouldn't stop if she started. No, now she had to be clever, more clever than
Jean-Del was.

But he was already looking into her eyes, and there was
resignation in his. "I shouldn't have pushed. I'm sorry."

Actually she thought he'd done quite well. He'd almost gotten her
crazy enough to tell him whatever he wanted, just to have him. If she told him
what Marc had said, what she was thinking now that only made sense to her, he
would have to make a terrible choice.

And he won't choose me.

Carefully she extricated herself from his embrace. "I really
do have to take a shower." A long shower. A long,
cold
shower. She
made her expression soften. "It'll be okay, Jean-Del."

"I need to make some calls anyway, see about this APB."
He sighed and rested his brow against hers. "Don't take too long."

Not long. Only the rest of her life. "All right." She
kissed one of his dark eyebrows before she slipped out of his arms. "Make
us something cool to drink, will you? I think we're going to need it."

Sable could almost hear her heart breaking as he chuckled and
wandered back to the kitchen. She went into the bathroom and locked the door,
then studied the dimensions of the window. It was a simple, singlepaned crank
type, and large enough for her to fit through comfortably. She popped the
screen out and hoisted herself over the edge, looking in both directions before
dropping to the ground. She'd have to avoid the front of the house and the
lake, but she could hear the sound of traffic in the distance. She followed it
until she emerged from the scrub pine on the edge of a busy road leading from
the lakeside to New Orleans.

Before she'd even thought about where to go from there, a red
convertible filled with a pair of laughing college students pulled off the road
a few yards away from her. "Hey, sweetie!" One of the girls waved to
her. "You need a ride?"

J. D. emptied the ice he had crushed into the pitcher of lemonade,
and tried not to think about Sable naked in the shower. With a little more
patience he'd get her to tell him about Caine and Billy, and then he could
spend the rest of the night in bed with her.

Night, hell. We'll be lucky to come up for air, food, and water in
a week.

Sable's insistence that Remy was innocent didn't bother J. D.—she
was only being loyal to the man who
had raised her—but there
were too many coincidences. If he could find evidence that the fire at the
warehouse and the one that nearly killed Remy were somehow connected...

Cort would know.
His task force had been
collecting evidence and data on arson cases for years, entering them into the
database so that repeat offenders could be identified and stopped more quickly.
But Terri had already indicated that he was pissed off, so J. D. didn't want to
call him directly.

On impulse he dialed the private number to Krewe of Louis.

His easygoing father answered the restaurant phone with a snarled,
"What you want?"

"Some of your gumbo would hit the spot right now," J. D.
said. "How about you?"

"I'm out of my mind with worry about you and near ready to
divorce your damn mother. There ain't enough cognac in New Orleans to make me
happy." Louis exhaled heavily. "You want to come on home now,
boy?"

"I can't just yet. Dad, I need you to do something for
me." He explained the situation to Louis and how he needed Cort to get
whatever records he could on the old arson case. "Tell him to compare the
evidence from that one to the warehouse fire. I need to know if there were any
similarities at all."

"Your brother's out hunting for you all, but I'll see what I
can do." The old man sounded tired. "J. D., you watch yourself and
look out for that girl, you hear me?"

"I will, Dad. Talk to you soon." J. D. switched off the
phone and frowned. He knew from experience that the shower in Terri's bathroom
was strong and noisy, but he still hadn't heard any water running. Then he
recalled
how big the window was in there and ran from the kitchen.

She wouldn't.

He didn't bother to knock, but used his shoulder to force the
locked door in. The bathroom was empty and the window wide open. He swore as he
climbed through the window and dropped down, looking in all directions. The
sound of running feet through the pine needles made him take off toward the
side of the house, where Terri kept her motorcycle in a utility shed.

As Laure related what Terri Vincent had told her, Elizabet forgot
her mother's ironclad rule about ladies always governing what they said with
the utmost decorum. "I see. Ms. Duchesne has truly outdone herself this
time."

Moriah picked up the tea tray. "I'll put this away,
Laure." The girl hurried from the room.

"I don't know. I know Marc was involved with someone before
he and I..." The other woman seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
"Eliza, I don't know what to think or do. If she really is Marc's
daughter—I know he would want me to help her—"

"But don't you see, Laure? That's why she made up this whole
elaborate story, to gain your sympathy." Elizabet
gestured
at the portrait of Marc above the mantel. "I've known Marc since you two
were newly-weds, and not once was he unfaithful to you. For her story to be
true, Marc would have had to get her mother pregnant a month before your
wedding. Do you really think he would have had an affair while you were
engaged?"

Laure paled. "We weren't engaged all that long, but no, I
don't think so."

Gratified that she had settled that matter, Elizabet smiled.
"I've called all my friends and talked to them about what we can do. The
most important thing is to present a united front. Jacob has already scheduled
a press conference today to denounce this girl's claims. I think you should
give an interview to the
Daily News
and do the same."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Moriah, who had been
hovering in the doorway, walked slowly over and sat next to Laure. "I knew
Isabel in school, Laure. She wasn't as bad as everyone said she was. She was a
genuinely nice girl."

Elizabet gave her a hard look. "She has fooled a lot of
people into believing that, Moriah."

"I think I need some time to myself." Laure got to her
feet. "I appreciate you all looking after me, but you should go home to
your own families now."

Sable was relieved by the time her ride dropped her off in the
French Quarter. Besides insisting that she share in the bounty of their
lukewarm beer, the two students had pulled off the road several times to buy
souvenirs
and once to stop for lunch, where they spent nearly an hour gobbling up Cajun
fries soaked in ketchup and arguing about who was hotter, Elijah Wood or Justin
Timberlake.