Night Game (18 page)

“You goin’ somewhere,
cher
?” Burrell asked as he stuck his head in the open doorway and whistled softly. “Cuz you look mighty good.”

She blew him a kiss. “You always cheer me up. I was just thinking I looked pale and uninteresting or worse, pale and zombielike.”

He paused. “Flame, did you meet someone last night?” His grin was teasing, but his gaze was worried. “I know all the boys in these parts. Who’d you meet?”

Her heart contracted. He sounded like a worried father. She’d never had a worried father and for a moment, tears were close. “I asked you about him last night. His name is Raoul Fontenot.” She couldn’t help it. She knew it was part of the fantasy she was acting out, a home, someone who cared, people she could call friends and neighbors, but she wanted his concern,
needed
to feel like she mattered to
somebody
.

“I heard he was home visitin’ his grandmother. He’s a good boy. Rough. He don’ be a man you mess around with.”

Flame burst out laughing. “What does that mean exactly? Is that some kind of warning that he’s a lady’s man and he’ll break my heart? Or does it mean he’s a fighter and likes a good brawl?”

He frowned at her, trying to look severe. “It means Raoul Fontenot is a man who will never turn away from trouble. Don’ be rilin’ him up, cuz he won’t stop comin’ after you.”

Flash grinned at him. “Should I be scared of him, do you think? Because he seemed sweet and cuddly to me.”

He snapped a towel at her. “That’s it, girl. You be teasin’ me one time too many.”

Flame allowed him to chase her around the houseboat, the two of them laughing together. She liked the captain. Burrell had never married; he’d been too much of a river rat, a man who needed to run the perils of the river as often as possible. Now, retired and living alone on his houseboat, he enjoyed Flame and her antics as much as she enjoyed his company and stories. She finally ripped the towel out of his hand and turned the tables on him. He sat in the tiny kitchen catching his breath as she leaned against the sink, her eyes bright with shared amusement.

“You went to the bank this morning, right,
Capitaine
?”

“Yes, ma’am. I called Saunders and offered to mail the payment. He’s always asked for payments in person, but I thought he might want me to save him the trouble. He told me to meet him late, so I’m going to visit Vivienne Chiasson for a couple of hours this afternoon, then I’ll meet with Saunders and maybe go see the widow tonight.”

Flame sighed. “I’m sorry I’m no closer to finding out what happened to Joy than anyone else. I still don’t believe she ran away, Burrell. Don’t say anything to the family. but I’ll keep looking into it.”

“I don’ want anything to happen to you,
cher
. Don’ do anything dangerous.”

Her slight frown turned into a small mischievous grin. “I’m going to meet Raoul’s grandmother this afternoon. That ought to be very safe, don’t you think?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Why are you going to see Nonny?”

“Apparently she asked her grandson to invite me and he was rather adamant that I go. He claims she has a heart condition.”

“I heard that a while back. All the Fontenot boys be very protective of her.” He tilted his head and studied her face. “That’s a big thing, having her ask you to visit, Flame She don’ just ask anyone, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that. I met her a couple of days ago briefly and I guess she wanted to finish our conversation.”

“Nonny Fontenot is a friend of mine.”

“Now you’re being protective. I’m not stealing from her.”

“Don’ go trying to break that boy’s heart, Flame, You’re a nomad, you said so yourself. Raoul don’ know it, but he’s a family man.”

She turned away, unexpectedly hurt although she knew he spoke the truth. “Maybe he’ll be breaking my heart, Burrell.”

“I have a shotgun. If he messes with your heart you just tell me and I’ll pay him a visit.”

In spite of herself, she laughed again at the idea of the captain trying to threaten Raoul Fontenot. “I think I can take care of myself. I’ll see you this evening.” She blew him a kiss and watched him leave before going back to the mirror and her makeup. She didn’t like dark circles under her eyes. Raoul would notice and he’d make some comment. And it would hurt.

Flame scowled at her reflection. “He has no power over you. None. He can’t hurt you even if he says you look like a zombie.” She felt like a zombie lately. Chasing Burrell around the small houseboat had worn her out. “Too many late nights,” she scolded and tidied up the houseboat. She waited to he certain Burrell was gone before she began to take care of her other business.

She’d already removed the contents of the four slim briefcases she’d stolen from Saunders. Most held cash, but one held a couple of discs hidden inside a large manila envelope. Everything had been dumped into a plastic bag the night before, and she’d stuffed the water proof bag inside her duffel bag. The four briefcases had been filled with rocks and dropped deep underwater in the middle of one of the canals. Other than the money she’d given to Burrell, there was nothing to connect her to the break-in once she hid the duffel bag.

Sound penetrated the thin walls of the houseboat. A squish followed by a sucking noise as if something was pulled from the mud. The sudden silence of insects. Birds rising fast from tree branches. She had company and it definitely wasn’t Burrell returning.

Without haste she went through the houseboat, making certain there was no incriminating evidence and nothing to reveal her real identity. Sliding open a window, Flame emitted a sound pitched far too high for the human ear to hear. The response was immediate. The buzz in the marsh grew loud fast as thousands of mosquitoes blackened the early afternoon sky. The moment she heard the sound of palms slapping at flesh, she slid out a window on the opposite side, landing lightly on the deck, duffel bag in hand. Using the furniture as cover, she made her way to the edge and stepped onto the small is and Burrell called his “yard.”

Flame slipped into the trees, staving low to keep from being seen as she sped through the marsh away from the sound of mosquitoes and curses. Using the trail leading around the outside edges of the marsh along the water way, heading back in the direction of the houseboat, Flame stayed close to the foliage in case she needed cover.

Several cars, including the Fontenot Jeep she’d commandeered, were parked near a rotting pier on the small strip of land that connected the bridge to the frontage road. Her airboat was tied up there along with two small fishing boats. She was relieved to see Burrell’s boat gone. Flame shoved the duffel bag in the back of the Jeep beneath a dirty tarp and a box of tools.

She drew a cap over her hair and emitted a second high-pitched sound to drive the mosquitoes away as she made her way back to the edge of the marsh. She needed to know who was after her. Raoul had admitted he’d slipped a homing device somewhere on her airboat and, although he’d sounded as if he’d been teasing her, she believed him. She certainly would have done it.

Flame skirted the edge of the cypress trees until she could hear the men shuffling back and forth, talking in whispers, crunching cans and muttering curses as insects bit and stung. One man scanned the canal continually with high-powered glasses while two others checked the interior of the swamp and the outer edges. None of them were very thorough, which led her to believe they weren’t military. She couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing or why they were there.

She had no choice but to head inland using the cover of brush and trees to get close enough to see them. With each step she sank into the mud nearly to her ankles. Behind her the dark water filled her tracks so it was impossible to see which direction she’d come from. She muted the sounds of her feet going through water and mud so there was no chance of giving away her presence to the intruders.

There were four men. Two shifted position continually, obviously uncomfortable in the humidity and spongelike surface of the marsh. Each time they moved, the mud made a squishing sound around them. The man with the binoculars would glare at them occasionally, annoyed by their constant motion. He objected when the fourth man lit a cigarette and it was put out instantly when he snapped the command to do so.

The men never approached the houseboat, simply observed the comings and goings on the water. They hadn’t staked out her airboat or the Jeep. In fact none of them checked on the vehicles in the parking area, or the boats tied to the pier. She watched them for a long time, unable to as certain what they were doing. After about a half an hour, the group of men entered the swamp, carrying what looked like supplies. They didn’t look like trappers or hunters, but it was possible they were scientists. She knew several studies of the marsh were being conducted. “It’s possible, Flame, even probable, that you are becoming paranoid.”

She scooted backward until it was safe enough to stand in the concealment of the trees. As she made her way back to the Jeep, she tried to rub some of the mud from her clothes and kick it out of her shoes, but it was impossible. Swearing under her breath, she drove along the frontage road until she saw an older woman walking along with her groceries. She offered her a ride and quickly accepted the offer of a shower and a change of : clothes. She drove very quickly to Gator’s house. She was fifteen minutes late and he jerked open the door before she could even knock.

“About time you showed up,” Gator greeted, stepping back to allow her into the house. “I was getting worried about you.”

“I had to take care of a little business. I’m not normally late.” Why had she said that? Flame nearly groaned aloud. She didn’t need to explain or apologize.

She followed him into the kitchen. The room smelled of corn bread and jambalaya. A large pot on the stove simmered and a tea towel covered a plate of cookies. She couldn’t help inhaling the scent of freshly baked bread and cookies she couldn’t identify, but her mouth watered.

Only then did she notice the house was strangely silent. Her muscles tensed with sudden suspicion. “Where is everyone?”

Gator didn’t answer. His gaze drifted over her, almost as if he were drinking her in. The intensity of his perusal caused a strange reaction in her body, her heart doing funny little flips and her womb clenching tightly. Up close, in broad daylight, she found him unbelievably attractive. There was a quirk to his mouth and a hint of laughter she found as sexy as all get out. His fingertips brushed her face, feather-light, his touch so gentle she was nearly disarmed on the spot.

“You’ve been doing recon.” She stood very still, holding her breath as he brushed at another spot on her chin. “You didn’t get this near my house.”

“No. Someone was nosing around the houseboat. I thought it might be you, or a team sent by Whitney to assassinate me.”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened perceptibly. “Who was it?”

She was inexplicably pleased with his reaction but forced herself to give a casual shrug. “You don’t want anyone stepping on your toes?”

“Absolutely not. If anyone gets to do you in, believe me. honey, it’s going to be me after all the grief you’ve given me. Who was it?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure. They didn’t look military or particularly skilled as fighters. Only one of them seemed competent in the bayou. The rest made too much noise. I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“What did they want?”

“I have no idea. I left them to a hot afternoon in the swamp. They’re sitting on

Burrell’s little island and it’s going to be uncomfortably muggy. If they’re looking for me…”

“Is it possible Saunders had homing devices in the briefcases?”

She scowled at him. “I’m not an amateur. That was the first thing I checked for. In any case, the briefcases are at the bottom of the canal.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I didn’t like it much either,” she admitted. “On the other hand, they didn’t seem interested in the houseboat or the cars so more than likely they were trappers and had nothing to do with me.”

“I’m coming home with you after you visit with
Grand-mere Nonny
to see what these bums are after.”

“No one invited you,” she pointed out.

“So invite me because I’m going home with you.”

“Be still my heart. I feel absolutely faint. Your charm is just overwhelming me.”

“Let me see your knife.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re obsessed.”

He was, but not with her knife. “Stop stalling. Put the weapon on the table.”

“Weapon?” Her eyebrow shot up. “Why would you think I only had one? I brought a freakin’ arsenal along just in case you wanted to go a round or two.” She leaned close so her breath was warm against his ear. “Does it turn you on?” She pulled a long knife from her boot and spun it in her hands, smirking a little at him. “Nice balance, but not the best for throwing.” She laid it on the table.

It wasn’t the same blade she’d had the night before, but he was beginning to think he had a kinky streak because something was turning him on. “Just how good are you with that?”

“I only carry it for show.” She reached behind her neck and withdrew a second blade. It was quite a bit smaller. “This is a great throwing knife. One of my favorites.” She placed the knife beside the larger one.

It wasn’t the one she’d had strapped to her thigh the night before either. “Is that all you’ve got,
cher
?” He quirked an eyebrow at her in challenge.

“Course not. I knew you might have a couple of friends along, you know, just in case things got a little too hot for you to handle. I’m not afraid of you, but you do so hate being alone with me.” She withdrew a thin wire, placed it beside the knives and added three small throwing stars. Her belt yielded a small tool kit that had two lethal-looking instruments beside the pick tools, and she pulled a small metallic round disk, innocent looking until she popped open the curved blades.

“Anything else?” The knife from the night before still wasn’t on the table. He scowled at her, but she simply flashed him her killer smile, totally unrepentant.