Night Game (25 page)

Flame was weeping. Gator’s belly knotted. The sound was soft and muffled, probably by a blanket, but he could hear her even through the pounding rain and it broke his heart. He tied his skiff to a post beside the airboat and jumped onto shore. The ground was spongy and his boots sank a couple of inches into muck. In his life, he had never imagined the sound of a woman quietly crying would tear him up the way it was doing. He should have come to her immediately instead of taking the time to shower and pick up a few supplies.

He paused outside the door. What was he going to say to her? Kadan, Tucker, and Ian had all agreed with him that it was possible that Peter Whitney was still alive. They had no idea why Burrell had been murdered. If the one obviously enhanced sniper hadn’t been with the others, Gator would never have suspected that Burrell’s death had anything to do with Flame or the GhostWalkers—now he just didn’t know.

The other GhostWalkers were with his grandmother and he felt far better about her having protection after Burrell’s death—especially as he needed to be with Flame. A shower had helped stave off exhaustion for a short time while he packed a few supplies, but he was feeling the effects of psychic and physical fatigue.

Gator pushed open the door to find Flame straight ahead, leaning against the wall, a throwing knife in her hand. She looked as if she’d been crying for hours, but she faced him with determination. Her hair was still damp from her shower and she wore jeans that were too big and an oversized men’s plaid shirt he recognized as belonging to Wyatt.

“I’m alone,” he assured her.

The tension went out of her and she relaxed visibly. At least she hadn’t thrown the knife at him. That was some progress.

“What did you find out?”

“Not much. A couple of men from my squad showed up and helped Ian and me clean things up. Burrell’s been reported missing and I told the police you were with
Grand-mere
and me all afternoon and when we came back, we heard shots coming from the island and while we were investigating the shots, someone started the house boat on fire. I stuck to the truth as closely as possible.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes again. “I can’t believe he’s dead. That someone would murder him. All he wanted to do was live on the waterfront and listen to the music in the bayou while he smoked his pipe. He never hurt any one in his life. This isn’t right, Raoul. It just isn’t right.”

“No, it isn’t right,” he agreed, the lump in his throat j threatening to choke him.

“We just left him there in the alligator hole.”

“He would have wanted us to cover for you. We don’t know who we’re dealing with yet, Flame. I was going to track for the forensic people tomorrow if they hadn’t figured it out. It’s been raining heavily and the rain may have wiped out most of the tracks. Burrell’s island is a good distance from where we took down the killers and nothing will lead them to the preserve. The bodies are gone. Even if they find the wrecked Jeep, none of us touched it.”

Another sob escaped, but she choked it back, turning away from him. “I hate this. I hate being out of control.”

He didn’t know how to comfort her. Strange when he’d always been so good with women, but now, when it mattered to him, he didn’t know the right thing to say or do. He rubbed her arm awkwardly. “You have every reason to cry.”

She shrank away from him, glaring. “I’m not crying.”

“
Cher.”
His tone was incredibly tender and her eyes filled up all over again. He watched her wipe at them with the back of her hand. “It’s okay to cry. It’s good to cry.”

“No it’s not. Why do people say that? Crying is a complete waste of time. It doesn’t do any good whatsoever. Your face swells up and turns red. Your eyes burn and you get the headache from hell. Will crying bring Burrell back?” She sank down onto the bed, back against the wall, drawing her knees up. “I cried once in a while after I learned to screw up Whitney’s camera and recorders. It didn’t make me well. It didn’t get me out of the cage he put me in. It didn’t do a damn thing but give him satisfaction when he found out. I’m
not
crying.”

Gator shoved a bag, the one he recognized from the first night he’d met Flame, into a corner of the cabin out of the way before stripping off his shirt and tossing it onto the back of a chair. He pulled a bottle of water from his pack. “Here, drink this.”

“Thanks.” She took the bottle, watching as he tugged off his boots and tossed them into the corner of the room beside the large bag. “I’m not sleeping with you so you may as well take the bed. I can sleep on the floor.”

Gator sat down beside her. She flinched when he jarred her leg. “I didn’t ask you nor was I going to seduce you, not, mind you, that it wouldn’t work.”

“You were going to ask me. And seduction wouldn’t have worked.”

“I wasn’t going to try,” he repeated.

She frowned. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? I think you’d try with an alligator so why not me?”

“An alligator? I draw the line at reptiles.”

“Fine, I take it back. Why aren’t you going to try to seduce me?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You mean why aren’t I
going
to seduce you?
Grand-mere
raised a gentleman. You’re too upset for me to take advantage of you right at this moment. We can both sleep on the bed and I’ll be have myself.”

Her gaze moved over his face. “But you
would
have tried to seduce me if I wasn’t so upset, right?”

“W-e-1-l,” he drawled. “I don’ know if I would have or not. You have a thing about knives.”

She made a face at him. “You like my knives and you know you do. It turns you on every time you think about them.”

He didn’t deny the obvious. “Did you huck one at me the other night after you left the club? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Huck? Is huck a word? No, I don’t
huck
knives; I throw them with deadly accuracy. If I threw a knife at you, you’d be in the bottom of the bayou. I saved your ass, actually.” She wiped at her eyes again, took a drink of water, and twisted the cap back into place.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you aren’t quite the Mr. Invincible you like to think you are. You got someone mad at you the other night and he was just drunk enough and mean enough to try to take you out. You’ve grown complacent, and complacency can get you killed.”

“You were following me?”

“I was
baby-sitting
. You and your drunken idiot brother and friend. Someone had to do it and I didn’t see anyone else volunteering. Personally, I don’t think you have all that many friends.”

“It was Vicq, wasn’t it? He waited for his chance and threw the knife.”

She shrugged. “I was pretty certain he wasn’t going to just walk away quietly. He isn’t the quiet type. Did you know that he dated Joy? They went out twice. She called it off when he gave her a black eye for looking at another man.”

Anger churned close to the surface. “How the hell did you find that out? If Wyatt had known he would have been gunning for Vicq.”

“Word is, everyone is afraid of the man.”

“I’m not.”

“Which is why I was baby-sitting you.” She sent him a look of censure. “Just because you’re enhanced doesn’t mean you can’t be killed. You dismissed him because he isn’t combat trained. He’s dangerous, Raoul, and you should have known that. I could see it in his eyes. He likes violence and he gets away with it. I’ll bet he’s very abusive toward women as a rule. He’s going to beat his wife and children and he’ll have fights all the time hoping to hurt or do worse to the men he picks the fight with. He
likes
it. He likes hurting people and probably animals as well.”

“How’d you find out he went out with Joy?”

“I talked to her mother. She told me Joy came home crying and had bruises on her face. They didn’t want her father or brothers to find out because Vicq has such a bad reputation. Joy’s mother mentioned it to the police but they didn’t even question him.”

“It wasn’t in the police report, I read the report myself.”

“What a shocker. You said Vicq’s last name was Comeaux. Did you notice the police officer’s last name on the report? Everyone is related to everyone.”

Gator swore softly in Cajun. “I should have caught that. So Vicq Comeaux is actually a suspect. You haven’t tried to question him, have you?”

She frowned at the sharpness in his voice. “I’m not that stupid. I don’t think anyone would get anything out of him by questioning him, and certainly not a woman. The best way is for someone to get drunk with him and talk trash about women. He’s going to brag.”

“You know a lot about people, don’t you?”

“It’s a survival technique. I learned it early on. Whitney was a hell of a teacher.” She turned her face away from him, but not before he caught the glimpse of pain in her eyes. “My bet is on the boyfriend. Parsons’s son,” she continued, leaning her head against the wall and stretching her right leg out in front of her. “Something isn’t right about him.”

“I had the same feeling. Take the jeans off.”

Her gaze leapt to his, held there. “You said you weren’t going to try anything.”

“I’m not. For God’s sake, woman, you’re beautiful, but don’t flatter yourself. I’m not after your body. I’m after your leg. That’s a single body part.”

“You are too after my body. There’s heat in your eyes and”—she waved her hands around—“
evidence
elsewhere.”

He leaned close until his breath was warm on her lips. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,
cher
. I’m a man. When I get near you, there’s going to be a lot of evidence that I

want you. Now get rid of the jeans. I want to see your leg.”

“I’m not showing you my leg.”

“Do you have any idea how stubborn you can look? Our children better never give me that look, although I won’t mind if they give it to you. You’d deserve it.”

“Where’s my motorcycle?”

He groaned and leaned back, hands behind his head. “Don’ be askin’ me questions that are going to get you all riled up. You’re tryin’ to get out of strippin’ for me and it won’t work. I’m going to look at your leg so you might as well just get it over and take the damned jeans off. They’re too big for you anyway.”

“I don’t have anything else to wear. My clothes were on Burrell’s houseboat.”

The little catch in her voice made his stomach flip. “Don’ start crying again. I

can’t take it.”

“You just got through telling me it was good for me.”

“I was being manly and comforting you. Now it’s just plain self-preservation. I’ll buy you clothes tomorrow. You can get ten pairs of jeans for all I care.”

A faint smile curved her mouth. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He continued to look at her pointedly.

Flame heaved a sigh. “I don’t have any underwear on. I wasn’t going to wear your brother’s. My leg is sore. I kicked the driver to make him wreck. Well,” she hedged, “I was hoping to break his neck and eliminate him altogether.”

He reached for the waistband of her jeans. “We’re going to have to do something about that temper of yours. You can’t go around killing people because they piss you off, not even when you have reason to be pissed off.” His fingers brushed bare skin. Soft skin. Her belly was firm, but so damned soft he wanted to lean forward and press his mouth against it.

She stiffened, her hands covering his, stopping the movement but holding his fingers against her stomach. He could feel the tremor running through her. “I’ll do it myself.”

“And I was having such fun.”

“Look the other way. I’m not putting on a show for you, perv.”

He closed his eyes obediently and lay back on the bed again, suddenly tired. It had been a long, frustrating day. He had more questions than answers. Burrell was dead. He was no closer to finding Joy Chiasson than the day he’d arrived in New Orleans, and he was certain when Flame peeled off her jeans, and he got a good look at her injured leg, he wasn’t going to like what he saw.

She wiggled against him as she dragged off the jeans. Twice he heard a gasp escape as she tried to be careful removing the garment. He opened his eyes just as she dragged a sheet around her.

“
Fils de putin
!” He bent closer to inspect her leg. “
Maudit
!”

“You’re looking.”

“Hell yes, I’m looking.”

“Stop swearing. It’s not that bad. A few bruises, a little swelling. What did you expect? The bike was going fast, so was the Jeep and I kicked him as hard as I could. It wasn’t all that soft when I landed either.”

“How did you manage to make it back through the swamp on this leg? You were running full-out, I saw you.”

She shrugged. “I found out a long time ago, you can endure anything if you have to. Whitney didn’t defeat me, Raoul. I learned a lot of very valuable lessons.” She looked him straight in the eye. “He isn’t going to get me back. I’d rather die. If you or anyone else managed to get me there, I’d take down his house and everyone in it. I mean it. Think long and hard on that before you decide to try bringing me back.”

He looked down at her mottled leg. From knee to hip her thigh was black and blue with ugly swollen blotches that might indicate internal bleeding. “
Fils de putin.”
He swore again under his breath, his hands going to her leg, lifting it onto his lap as if he could magically take the pan away.

“Are you listening to me?”

“I heard you. You need to see a doctor, Flame.”

“I meant it. I can’t go through that again. I really meant it.”

“I know. What the hell are we going to do about your leg?” His palm stroked down her skin, his touch feather-light, barely there, but she felt it all the way to her bones. I’m taking you to
Grand-mere
. She knows the
treateur
—the healer. They’ve been best friends for years.”

“Take me tomorrow. I can’t be around anyone tonight.” Her chest hurt. She felt as if someone had dropped a hundred pound weight on her. A part of her wanted to scream and scream, another part wanted to flood the world with tears, but the worst part of her, something cold and dark and ugly, wanted to go hunting. “Did you tell Lily you found me? She’s the one who sent you after me, didn’t she? If you or your friend told her…”