Only By Moonlight (22 page)

“Chase, listen...”

“No, I’m not going to let you or anyone stop
me from taking over. This parish needs a strong hand. Why are we
chasing down petty crooks anyway? Let ‘em kill each other. Who
cares if a bunch of whores are hanging out in those dump motels
along Indian Bayou? We got more important things to do like lettin’
everybody know who’s the damn boss in Vermilion Parish.” Chase
stopped, leaned forward and planted both hands on the sofa back on
either side of LaShaun. “Are you on my side or against me, with
them?”

LaShaun breathed hard at the aggression in
his dark eyes, and the demand in his question. She whispered a two
line prayer in Creole French that Monmon Odette had taught her.
Then she stood, forcing him to back up. “I’m always for you, cher.
When did you start doubting me?”

Chase blinked rapidly, and the color drained
from his face. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened
them again his breathing seemed labored. LaShaun braced her body
against his as he seemed about to topple over. Somehow she managed
to ease his six feet two frame onto the sofa. She rubbed his
cheeks. The cold feel of his skin terrified her.

“What the hell is...” Chase couldn’t go on.
He blew out air in sharp puffs as he tried to catch his breath.

“Think about your family. Remember who you
are, connect to good memories.”

LaShaun hated to leave him, but she needed
her grandmother’s rosary. She kissed his forehead and both sides of
his face. Then she hurried into the small parlor. There she
retrieved a Catholic prayer book published in nineteen twelve.
Monmon Odette had found it at a plantation estate sale. She’d told
the six year old LaShaun that it had power. If ever she needed the
power of goodness, LaShaun needed it now. In two seconds she
retrieved her grandmother’s rosary from its resting place beside
the family Bible. When she returned to the den, Chase sat doubled
over. LaShaun ran to him and dropped to her knees.

“I bind this evil one with the same bonds our
merciful Lord bound the gates of hell. I call on our protector, our
creator to deliver his child from the chains of this demon, for he
has no power in the face of our Lord,” LaShaun spoke the words
rapidly as she cradled Chase’s head against her neck.

“What in the world are you mumbling? Stop
it!” Chase said with effort. The stranger in his voice had
returned.

“No,” LaShaun replied and continued praying.
She stayed on her knees holding Chase for what seemed like hours.
Yet when she finally looked at the wall clock only ten minutes had
gone by.

Chase pulled LaShaun into a tight embrace.
“I’m okay now. I promise to eat better and get more rest.”

LaShaun burst into tears and molded her body
against him in relief. The tender voice, gaze and touch belonged to
Chase alone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Shh...” Chase rocked her in his arms, no
trace of the stranger left. “I didn’t mean to worry you so much,
cher.”

He kissed the top of her thick hair. When she
looked into his eyes, Chase kissed her forehead, and then captured
her lips completely. LaShaun felt all the fear drain from her body
as his hands caressed her. He stepped back, took her hand and they
went to her bedroom. There they slowly undressed each other in
between kisses. When all the clothes had been stripped away, they
stood holding each other and savored the sensation of flesh on
flesh. Finally, Chase backed LaShaun up until they reached the bed.
Without bothering to take off the covering, he eased LaShaun onto
her back. For a few moments, he gazed at her as his hands traveled
the length of her body. With an assured touch, he stroked her
breast. Long fingers trailed down her stomach and teased LaShaun
until she gasped. Unwilling to wait, LaShaun pulled him to her. She
guided him inside her and moaned at the pleasure of how he filled
her up so completely. As they moved in a steady rhythm of passion,
LaShaun let go of any thought, their bodies becoming one. His
hardness pushed her close to the edge, but then he’d gently
decrease the pace. With unhurried motions, Chase pleasured her into
oblivion. As her hunger for him increased, he lovingly intensified
his movements as she pleaded for him to go faster and deeper. Their
union absolute, they cried out together as both crashed into an
explosion of ecstasy. LaShaun dug her fingers into his back,
clawing for every bit of his body and soul he offered up. Their
cries echoed in the room. After what seemed like a blissfully long
time, they lay still.

Chase pressed his face against hers. “Will
you marry me, cher?”

LaShaun gave a throaty chuckle. “Haven’t you
asked me that twice already?”

“I want to make sure you still want me,”
Chase whispered.

“Of course I...” LaShaun realized that what
she thought was sweat were really tears on his cheeks. She held him
tightly, her own tears coming. “Darlin’? Oh baby, what’s the
matter?”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,
LaShaun. I couldn’t admit to you for a long time, but M.J. is
right. Maybe it’s this rash of crimes and long hours. I’m thinking
of ways to hurt people when they cross me. I never thought wanting
to be Sheriff would make me that kind of man. Sometimes I... maybe
I need to withdraw from the race.” Chase’s words tumbled out in a
trail of misery.

Unsure what to say, LaShaun cradled him in
her arms for a few moments. She hummed a Cajun song about finding
happiness in the simple things of life. Eyes closed, LaShaun
planted kisses on his face every few moments. Deep inside she knew
that to speak too soon would be a mistake. She wanted his words to
sink into them both, and truthfully give her time to regroup. The
dramatic shifts in his mood and behavior had left her just as
confused as well. Chase should know, shouldn’t he? She owed the man
she loved the truth about the danger he faced.

“Honey, I need to tell you something,”
LaShaun started. Her voice less shaky, she searched for a way to
say the unspeakable.

A soft tapping made her open her eyes and
look at one of the bedroom windows. Through the sheer curtains a
large white moth fluttered against the glass. A soft silvery glow
like moonlight seemed to surround its delicate wings.

“He is not equipped for this battle. You must
use faith, love, and resolve to fight for his soul,” the words
floated around her like wind brushing through dry winter leaves.
LaShaun watched the moth as it floated in circles, the movement
hypnotic in a way that stilled her tongue.

“Um-hum,” Chase mumbled.

“I didn’t say anything. Are you okay?”

She pulled away to gaze at him. Chase rolled
onto his side and nestled against her, his face dry and his
expression peaceful in sleep. LaShaun eased out of his embrace.
With soft murmurs she encouraged him to get beneath the covers. She
slipped between the flannel sheets and spooned him. Without waking,
Chase pulled her back against his body. His breathing was
steady.

“Thank you again,” LaShaun said. She sighed
and drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning, LaShaun jerked awake by the
ringing landline phone on the nightstand. She mumbled for Chase to
answer it, then turned over and realized he wasn’t there. A note on
the table lamp said he’d gotten a call to report for duty early.
The soft blue numbers of her digital clock read just before six
o’clock. LaShaun said a prayer that more bad things weren’t
happening. She stumbled out of bed, shivering at the chill against
her bare skin. In one motion, she snatched the cordless handset,
hit the button, and then rummaged in a dresser drawer. She pulled a
sports bra over her head.

“Hello,” she blurted out and went to her
closet. She grabbed her favorite old red plaid flannel shirt. With
the phone in one hand, she put an arm in one shirt sleeve.

“Hey, I have to talk to you,” Azalei said.
“All kinds of shit is about to hit the fan. So...”

“Azalei, I’m in no mood to hear gossip,”
LaShaun said, her mind still on Chase. “I’ve got things to do,
important things. So if you’ll excuse me, now is not a good time
for a chat.”

“What I got to say you need to hear in
person. Besides, I don’t trust these phones,” Azalei said with
melodramatic flair as she dropped her voice low. As usual, her
cousin only thought of what she wanted.

“This isn’t a good time for a visit either.”
LaShaun pushed her other arm into the shirt. With the phone tucked
in the crook of her neck she worked on getting into a pair of
corduroy jeans. “Where the heck is my belt,” she muttered.

“Say again?”

LaShaun huffed in frustration a few seconds
longer until she found the belt on the shelf. She tucked in her
shirt and slid the belt through the loops of her jeans. “I’m going
to get some things done. I’m not waiting almost an hour for you to
drive over here and rant about Quentin Trosclair.”

“What I have to say won’t take long, LaShaun.
Trust me, you need to know what a certain person is up to,” Azalei
replied.

“Did you hear me? I’m not waiting for you to
drive all the way from...” LaShaun paused. She couldn’t remember
where Azalei lived. “Wherever you are now.”

“You won’t have to wait. I’m in your
driveway,” Azalei said dryly. “Now open the door and put on some
coffee.”

“What the?”

LaShaun stuck her feet into fuzzy slippers
and went down the hall to the kitchen. She jerked back the curtains
of one window. Sure enough, Azalei sat outside in her yellow
mustang. When she opened the driver’s side door, LaShaun let go of
the curtain and muttered a curse word. Before she completed the
turn toward the back door, the doorbell was ringing. LaShaun
stomped to it, clicked back the locks and jerked it open.

“Don’t press your luck.” LaShaun opened the
latch on the screened storm door.

“Well good morning to you, too. Excuse me for
dragging out here almost before the crack of dawn to help you out,”
Azalei said. She followed LaShaun down the short hallway and into
the wide kitchen. “Hmm, you’ve updated the place. Granite counter
tops, big den opening up from the kitchen. Stainless steel
appliances. Guess you’re making good use of Monmon Odette’s
money.”

“Say what you came to tell me, Azalei,”
LaShaun said. She clenched her teeth to keep from spitting out a
more colorful comment. She measured fragrant coffee grounds into a
filter. Many in the unruly Rousselle clan still felt raw about her
inheriting the bulk of Monmon Odette’s estate. She had no intention
of rehashing that drama.

“Monmon knew you would take care of her
legacy in more ways than one. I probably would have ended up broke.
But I would’ve had a damn good time doing it,” Azalei
wisecracked.

LaShaun glanced at her over one shoulder
briefly, and then finished pouring water into the coffee maker.
“Okay, just remember I wasn’t the one who said it.”

“You could have. I wouldn’t argue.” Azalei
dropped her purse on the counter and sat on one of the bar stools.
“You know the judge ordered me to get therapy?”

“No, I didn’t.” LaShaun faced Azalei. She
could only pity the poor therapist that had to deal with her
hostile, sarcastic cousin.

“After a bumpy start, I got into it. I’ve
learned a lot actually,” Azalei said and nodded. “You got something
to eat?”

“Yeah.” LaShaun found a bag of croissants and
buttered two. She took bacon from the fridge. In seconds she had it
sizzling in her one of her grandmother’s small case iron skillets.
Soon the rich smell of coffee and bacon filled the kitchen. “So
what have you learned?”

“Hmm. Now this reminds me of being over here
when Monmon was cooking. Remember those days? We’d all be in here
with her telling stories, singing while she whipped up the best
food in Vermilion Parish.” Azalei seemed lost in memories for a few
moments. She shook her head slightly as though coming back to the
present. “I should have picked up more of my daddy’s habits than
mama’s.”

“He tries to do right by folks,” LaShaun
replied. She could have added that it was a mystery what her
uncle-in-law ever saw in Azalei’s razor-tongued mother. Maybe it
was true that opposites attract. Shy and polite Uncle Henry hung in
the background while Aunt Leah demanded to be the center
attraction.

“Daddy is quiet, but he’s always liked Mama’s
fiery side. I guess it gets hard to take after so many years,”
Azalei said, leaving unspoken that her mother’s temper flared
against her quiet husband. “Well, I can’t help it. I’m like mama.
Look how it worked out for me. I’m on probation and earning minimum
wage.”

“At least you’re alive,” LaShaun said.

Azalei winced, and seconds later tears pooled
in her hazel eyes. “If I’d ever thought they were going to kill
Rita... I swear I didn’t know.”

LaShaun wanted to blast into her, but her own
past was a reminder not to cast stones. Azalei’s tears seemed
genuine. LaShaun put food on two plates and sat next to Azalei on a
stool at the long counter.

“I made a few mistakes back in the day.”

Azalei went from remorseful and back to her
usual obnoxious self in a hot second. “Did you! Folks still talk
about you and Quentin Trosclair. Did you really help him hide his
granddaddy’s body like they say? C’mon, give me the real
story.”

All sympathy dried up as LaShaun scowled at
her. She briefly considered snatching back the plate of hospitality
and dumping it in the garbage. “Get to the point of your
visit.”

“I got up with the chickens and drove all the
way out here ‘cause I’m trying to help you. I have to go into work
once I leave here, and I can’t be late again. That bitch of a
supervisor is looking for a reason to get me fired. She’d love to
see my probation revoked.” Azalei gave an angry hiss.

“I told you not to take a job working for
Quentin, Azalei. You’re just asking for trouble,” LaShaun shot
back.