Night Game (40 page)

Wyatt nudged his brother, winking. “
Grand-mere
wants you to take her back to bed.”

“Thas no way for a gentleman to talk, Wyatt,” Nonny reprimanded.

Wyatt grinned at her, clearly unrepentant. 

Flame let out her breath in a long hiss promising retaliation. It had to be Wyatt who provided her night attire and the sex toys. She’d find a way to get even, but at least it enabled her to relax a little around Nonny.

“The kitchen is a mite crowded. The boys have been eating since they got here, Raoul. I don’ think those boys have had a good home-cooked meal in a long while.”

Flame stiffened. This was getting worse and worse. She had a feeling the “boys” weren’t Gator’s other two brothers.

“Grand-mere,”
Gator said, kissing his grandmother on the forehead, “those boys have never had cookin’ like yours. You’re the best of the best and everyone in the bayou knows it. I can’t blame them for eating so much.”

“They’re good, polite boys,” Nonny said. “I don’ mind cookin’ for them.”

“That’s a good thing, Nonny, because Tucker never gets filled up,” Gator said.

Kadan and Tucker stood up as the women entered room, Tucker grinning at Nonny a little sheepishly.

“I finished up the gumbo, ma’am. I’ve never had anything so good.”

Kadan nodded his agreement. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need for that, boys,” Nonny said, looking pleased. Flame felt the impact of the two GhostWalkers’s gazes. Hard. Penetrating. As if they were looking straight through her to see
inside
of her. She became aware of Raoul’s hand then, his fingers stroking hers, covering her fist curled around the hilt of her knife. He was very close to her again, his body deliberately crowding hers so it would be difficult to draw the knife and throw in one smooth motion.

“They’re my family,
cher
,” he reminded, his lips close to her ear.

Flame felt the stirring of his warm breath, heard the reassurance in his voice, but her gaze immediately covered the room, noting all exits, windows, and every single item she could use as a weapon should she need it.

“Flame, this is Kadan Montague and Tucker Addison. Both are my friends and work with me,” Gator said.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tucker greeted.

Kadan registered the fact that she hadn’t loosened ha grip on her knife and Gator’s hand held hers stationary. “I hope you’re feeling better. Gator told us you won a fight with an alligator.”

She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and made a conscious effort to open her fingers and let go of her lifeline. “Well, I don’t know about that. He lost an eye and I nearly lost an arm, so I’d say it was a draw.”

“Rye called this morning and said the man you identified as Rick Fielding died four years ago running an ops in Columbia,” Kadan announced.

“That’s impossible. He took the psychic test the same time I did. I’m not mistaken,” Gator protested. “It was the same man.”

“You probably aren’t mistaken,” Flame said. “If I had access to a good computer I’d run a list of names of soldiers who took that test, supposedly didn’t make it in but were listed as dead or missing a few months later. My guess would be they’ve become part of another team and someone with a lot of money and a lot of contacts is running them.” Kadan’s gaze had such an impact she hunched, but refused to look away from him. She brushed palm over the hilt of her knife for reassurance.

“I’d agree that running that list of names and comparing them to men who are supposed to be dead is a very smart idea,” Kadan agreed. “I’ll pass it on to Rye and see what he comes up with. He also mentioned that a couple of days ago a U.S. registered Falcon 2000 executive jet landed at the airport here and remained until yesterday. The jet is owned by a company called Lansing International Consulting.”

“Where’s this company based?” Gator asked.

“They’re out of Nevada.”

“I don’t understand,” Wyatt said. “Why would a jet be important?”

“Those men we encountered in the swamp,” Gator said, choosing his words carefully, “had to have been flown in.”

Kadan cleared his throat and continued, “One signature appears on the company’s annual report, an Earl Thomas Bartlett. Ryland ran a search of all commercial databases and there is no record whatsoever of Mr. Bartlett. No residence, driver’s license, Social Security number, or even evidence of a vehicle, yet Mr. Bartlett signs reports and sends jets to various locations all over the world.”

“Who was the jet purchased from?” Flame asked.

Kadan’s strange, glittering gaze met hers, sending another chill through her. “You’re smart. That was the first thing Lily asked too. The jet was purchased from another company, one called International Investments. Like Bartlett, the owner of that company doesn’t seem to exist in any public records.”

“He’s alive,” Flame whispered. She looked at Gator, stricken. “He is alive. I was right all along.”

Gator held out his hand to her and after a moment, she took it.

“Unfortunately, Flame,” Kadan said, “I’m beginning to think you could be right. This aircraft, as well as a few others like it, owned by private international consulting, investing, or marketing companies, appears to be able to fly into restricted areas and that takes clearance. The companies Rye’s looked into all have the same low profile, claim to make small profits, turn in their annual reports, and each has one man who doesn’t appear to exist at the helm. Ryland’s still investigating and it will be a while before we know anything else, but in the meantime it would be a smart move to be on high alert.”

“Any news out of the Congo on Ken Norton?” Gator asked.

“Not yet. No one’s heard anything,” Tucker said.

“Come sit down,” Nonny said, pulling out a chair at the table. “The tea’s done and we could all use a cup.” They complied quickly, although Tucker hung out by the stove, inhaling the aroma of the fish stew slowly cooking. Gator sat between Flame and his grandmother, afraid the next subject would distress her. “Flame and I have a theory about Joy’s disappearance,” he announced. “And we’d like to run it by you.” While his grandmother poured tea, he filled the others in on the details. Flame liked the fact that Gator didn’t try to hide anything from his grandmother. She had a strong feeling that Nonny could help them given the right information. She was shrewd and very knowledgeable regarding the bayou as she’d lived her entire life there. “I think Joy’s still alive and being held somewhere. Now that they’re worried about me blowing it for them, they very well could move her—or even kill her,” she concluded.

There was a small silence. Tucker paced across the length of the kitchen. “Emanuel Parsons is a huge political nightmare. If we move on him, we’ve got to have proof beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“James Parsons is a follower,” Gator said. “No way is he the brains. I’m guessing someone fed his need to be important. He has a deep sense of entitlement and obviously feels superior to everyone, particularly women, so it wouldn’t be all that difficult to entice him into deviant behavior. Once they had him on camera, they’d not only have him, but his father as well.”

“Emanuel has a good reputation in his department,” Kadar pointed out. “Lily checked him out thoroughly when his name came up and we knew there was a connection to Saunders.”

“All the more reason for Saunders to compromise him,” Gator said. “We brought a couple of discs Flame found in Saunders’s safe.”

“Saunders’s safe?” Kadan echoed. “You just happened to be browsing there?”

“Something like that,” Flame said, sipping at her steaming tea. She glanced at Gator and sure enough he was grinning. “I’m a little uncomfortable having every one watch the discs. I suspect we’re going to see Joy being raped in Parsons’s car. For her sake and that of her family, I just think it would be better if we kept the viewers to a minimum.”

“I agree,” Nonny backed her up. “I’ve known Joy since she was a baby and she’d be horrified and humiliated to know anyone saw a movie of her. Her parents would feel the same.”

Wyatt stood up fast, knocking the kitchen chair over. “You really think that disc shows Joy being raped?”

Gator leaned over and righted the chair, his movements slow and deliberate. “I think there’s a good chance of it, yes. Worse, they probably put a drug in her drink so there’s a possibility she cooperated without knowing what she was doing.” He might as well get the worst out in the open. He’d long suspected Wyatt was concealing feelings for Joy. It had been Wyatt who insisted Nonny call Gator home.

Nonny wrung her hands together. “Guess I should do it. but I don’ know if I’ve got the heart for it.”

Gator swept his arm around her. “Not you,
Grand-mere
. Kadan, Flame, and I will watch it. Kadan can sometimes see things we miss. Flame might be able to remember details from the other day when she was assaulted, and I’m hoping to recognize where they might have taken her.” He looked up at his brother’s set features. “We could be wrong about all this, Wyatt.”

Gator’s hand found Flame’s and he gripped her fingers hard. They weren’t wrong. Flame was too certain of what had been in the car. She recognized evil when she saw it

—she’d certainly been exposed to what a madman, who believed himself above the law, could do.

“I feel like I should be helping,” Nonny said.

“Me too,” Wyatt added, coming up behind his grandmother and circling her waist with his arm.

Flame had the feeling it was as much for his comfort as for comforting his grandmother. “Well, I brought the photographs with me. Some of them are pictures taken from Joy’s camera and they’re of various places in the bayou. Maybe if the two of you looked at them, you’d be able to figure out where the photos were taken.”

“That would help?” Nonny asked, patting Wyatt’s arm.

“Absolutely,” Flame said and passed the manila envelope to her.

Gator led Flame and Kadan into a small room they used for a television room. Nonny was very strict about entertaining versus entertainment. One didn’t view television with company present. She believed in visiting. Gator popped the first disc into the player and turned it on. No one sat down. Kadan leaned against the wall and Flame stood close to Gator near the screen. She had a wild idea if she was right and the disc exposed Joy’s humiliation and the crimes against her, then she would jump in front of the television to shield her.

The sound of a door closing opened the homemade movie. Joy Chiasson slid onto the backseat of the car. She looked startled to see James and actually reached for the door handle. It was locked. “I thought your father was meeting me to take me to see his friend.” Her voice was rich and smooth.

“He couldn’t make it,” James said. “He asked me to get you to the meeting. He thinks there’s a good chance you’ll come away from this with a recording contract.” The tinkling of ice could be heard. “Here, drink this. It will help calm you down. I’ll bet you’re nervous thinking about auditioning.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Joy admitted. The camera panned the backseat allowing them a view of Joy taking the tumbler of iced liquid from James—allowing them to see the smirk on his face and the bulge building in his lap.

“Sleazy little bastard,” Flame muttered. “I should have killed him when I had the chance. They must have been coming back from being with her all night judging by their clothes and the smell.” She pressed her hand to her stomach in a small protest. “I remember now James smelled of sex. It was early morning. Why did it take me so freakin’ long to remember the details?”

“Give yourself a break,
cher
. You’d lost a lot of blood and then you were operated on,” Gator soothed.

Flame tried to see the details objectively. The camera never panned to the windows, but focused on the back seat. Once Joy’s hands and ankles were tied and she lay helplessly sprawled out, James was particularly vicious, slapping and humiliating her, telling her he would never consider marrying such a slut.

When the walls of the room began to undulate and the floor shifted, she wasn’t certain if she was doing it or if it was Raoul.

“You both need to step out of the room,” Kadan advised, his voice calm.

Flame didn’t wait for a second invitation. She rushed out of the room, through the hall and stepped outside, drawing fresh air deep into her lungs. She heard foot steps, but didn’t turn around.

“Did he rape her?” The tone was low, but extraordinarily deadly. For the first time, Wyatt sounded exactly like his brother.

“We have to find her,” Flame replied. “We have to find her right away.”

There was a long silence. She didn’t look at Wyatt, not wanting to intrude when he was so obviously struggling for control. The scene from inside the car had been bad enough. She was terrified to think what might be recorded on the other two discs.

“
Grand-mere
recognized one of the photographs as having been taken in a small clearing on one of the islets. She said the Comeaux family has an old trapper cabin out there somewhere. She knew the old man, and he trapped and fished the bayou. He often stayed there for months on end and his wife would finally send one of the boys after him to bring him home.”

“The Comeaux family?” Flame repeated. “But if she’s being held there, why would they take her out there, let her take pictures, and then bring her back? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“You think one of the Comeaux brothers would touch Joy? They’re our people. They’d never lay a finger on that girl.”

“What about Vicq? I’ve heard he’s as mean as a snake and brutal with women.”

“Vicq? He’s mean all right, but he…” Wyatt trailed off.

Flame did turn then, catching the sudden rage on his face. “Don’t go running off on your own before we know what we’re doing. If we tip them off, they’ll kill her and we’ll never find her body. We have to be very certain and go at this the right way. Come on.” She caught his arm. “Let’s go back inside and tell the others what your grandmother said.”

Wyatt went with her reluctantly, but at least she got him in the house. They interrupted a heated argument between Ian and Gator. Ian wanted to bring in the police and Gator absolutely refused, afraid Parsons would be tipped off.