Revenge

Avon, Massachusetts

This edition published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

www.crimsonromance.com

Copyright © 2013 by Winter Austin

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 10: 1-4405-6447-7

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6447-5

eISBN 10: 1-4405-6448-5

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6448-2

Cover art © 123rf: Anna Yakimova and 123rf: Natalia Bratslavsky

For Rachel, who took this journey with me during a dark time in her life. Her joy over reading a real Cajun is what brought Remy's story to life. We truly are “Siamese twins joined at the brain cell level.”

All glory, laud, and honor to my Redeemer King. Without Him, none of this would have been possible. Thanks be to God.

There are so many people that go into the making of a book and so little time to thank them all. To my agent, Amanda Luedeke, for being the best agent in the biz. As always, thanks to Deputy Sue Krause for keeping my police talk legit.

To the Smith family, for letting me crash for four days at your house after Rachel dragged me all over New Orleans and Houma, Louisiana, on probably one of my best research trips to date. I can't wait to come back down and make my awesome mashed potatoes for ya'll again. Mama, you're the best! And Dr. Gary Smith, thanks for answering all my medical questions via Rachel.

To my family for being utterly patient with me while I wrote this book and then edited it—during the middle of a tight volleyball game schedule. Shawn, I love you for stepping it up and cooking.

And finally, thanks to Julie Sturgeon, a great editor who worked tirelessly and up to the wee hours of the night to help me to crank up the romance in this book. I loved this story, and I know we made an even better book.

The pair of eyes staring at him over the top of a pair of reading glasses wanted to drill him into the wall. And he dared to stare them down.

Detective Remy LeBeau knew the pile of infractions were against him. Knew his lieutenant had the choice to continue his suspension or not. Lieutenant Carlos “Iron Man” Moreno wanted to make an example out of him, yet he would give Remy a chance to explain his actions and convince him otherwise.

Remy didn't plan on doing it.

“Detective LeBeau,” the hard edge to Moreno's voice mimicked his nickname. “Internal Affairs has settled this matter, and according to them, they've decided the charges brought against you are unfounded.”

Remy stiffened at the ruling. Unfounded. It meant they didn't have enough evidence to prove he had been withholding evidence in his last case. It also meant they weren't letting him off the hook completely. He'd prepared for all options.

Intertwining his fingers, Moreno bent forward, his brown eyes turning to flint. “Is there anything you'd like to say?”

Swallowing, Remy drew in a breath and let it out slowly. He stood. “Sir, I believe I said it all to IA.” He straightened his shoulders; Moreno got his last ounce of submission. “I will say this. My partner took no part in my actions. If anything, he was the better man in this situation.”

“Damn interesting you should say that.” Moreno rocked back in his chair and glared at Remy. “Detective, you had a clean record prior to the insubordination infractions. What am I supposed to do with you?”

“It's your decision, sir.”

Shaking his head, Moreno pushed up out of his chair. “You have anything more to say?”

“No.” He remained at attention, never daring to take his eyes off the lieutenant. If he did, Moreno won the war of wills. Remy wouldn't back down.

With a grunt, Moreno broke eye contact and shuffled through the IA reports, drumming his fingers on his desk. He seemed to grapple for a decision.

Remy chanced a look at the window that separated Moreno's office from the bullpen. Outside the closed room, his partner, Detective Heath Anderson, waited. Anderson stared at him through the open blind slats. From the beginning, their partnership had been strained—Remy keeping Anderson at arm's length due to his deep-seated trust issues—but this internal affairs investigation came about because Anderson panicked. He mentally sighed. While his partner knew more now about Remy's reasons for leaving New Orleans for Dallas, it still had to bug him that a professional assassin targeted him as well. Because someone wanted to make sure Remy died.

Everyone connected to him—chief among them the woman he loved, Cody Lewis—wanted to know the dark secrets he hid about his life in New Orleans. Anderson may have alluded to knowing what had gone down with Remy, but he wasn't sure if his partner was blowing smoke or telling the truth. For the sake of Anderson and Cody's lives, they had to remain in the dark.

“Detective LeBeau.”

His gaze darted back to the Moreno.

The lieutenant crossed his arms and stared at Remy over the top of his glasses again, the posture reminiscent of a teacher scolding a disruptive child. “Since you've actually served out what is the recommended punishment for your actions, I find the time for your suspension sufficient and consider it completed. However, due to the high stress nature of this job, it's my decision to put you on mandatory vacation for the next month. You haven't taken a personal vacation in the last four years with the Dallas Police Department's homicide division. You will not be allowed to return to duty until the month is up. Agreed?”

He couldn't have asked for a better punishment. “Agreed.”

• • •

Returning from the department, Remy entered his condo, shed his suit jacket, and draped it on the kitchen counter. In the last three weeks, he'd moved all of his belongings into storage, leaving the place bare. Everything was prepared for his departure from Dallas to New Orleans. His Corvette had gone into long-term parking where no one would think to look for it.

Loosening his tie, he hurried up the steps, taking two at a time. He changed out of the suit, placed it inside a garment bag, and pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and his boots. In the bathroom, he double-checked the shower to make sure he had everything out of there. Then, with the garment bag slung over his shoulder, he left the bedroom. Downstairs, he stuffed the jacket into the bag and palmed his Harley keys.

At the rear door he paused and looked back. Of all the memories of the past six years, two particular ones stuck out: Kissing a redhead with a fiery temper and sassy mouth for the first time. The other was making love to her for the first and only time. She had graced this place with her presence and seared his lips with her kisses.

Remy closed his eyes and turned to the door. This was not his home. Home was not far from here and was with the woman he loved. The condo had been given to him by another, a place he'd been banished to while he attempted to regain control of his life.

He let the door swing shut behind him. The alarm system engaged. Remy strode across the lot to his Harley, folded the garment bag into a special box on the side and locked it. He glanced at the condo.

Everything was ready for him to leave. If he never returned, the alarm code and the location of his Corvette were in good hands.

He had one thing left to do.

It would be the hardest thing he'd ever do.

The rapid succession of gunfire echoed through the firing range. When the last crack faded away, Cody Lewis flipped the safety lock and lowered her pistol. The Kimber Custom II Model 1911 .45 caliber had been heavy for her at first, but with regular practice she was now able to withstand the weight and the slight kick when firing. She swiped a loose red curl from her goggles then removed the plastic eyewear to squint at the furthest target.

“Did I get it?”

Bringing the binoculars down, her firearms trainer glanced at her. “Damn, Cowgirl, you're a fast learner. You put several right through the chest.”

She grinned at Detective Heath Anderson, who had agreed to be her firearms trainer, as he lowered his binoculars. “I've got unresolved anger issues.”

“I'd say so.” He let the binoculars hang from his neck and gave a thumb's up to the range supervisor. The humor disappeared from Heath's features as he waited for the supervisor to give the all clear.

Releasing the empty clip from the Kimber, Cody inserted a full clip, chambered a bullet as she'd been taught, and then holstered the pistol on her hip. “You never told me what happened with Remy's meeting at the department this morning.”

Silence greeted her probing. A grim line appeared across Heath's mouth. He'd avoided saying anything to her about Remy's meeting with their lieutenant. And so had Remy. Cody didn't know what the meeting was about, why the two men were being so secretive about it, and if it involved her in any way.

The signal for all clear went out, and Heath motioned for her to follow him across the grassy field to the targets. Keeping in step with him proved difficult. At the first paper silhouette, she grabbed the short sleeve of his shirt and jerked.

“That's enough.”

He turned on her, his features were bland, but Cody caught the spark of irritation in his blue eyes. “What's enough?”

“You and Remy delaying me. This ain't the Civil War, and you two sure as hell ain't Stonewall Jackson. Why was Remy suspended, and is it over?”

“Cody, I can't talk about it. It was part of a case and—”

“If you say it's a police matter only, I'll smack you.”

Blinking, he gaped at her. It had been a few weeks since Cody's childhood home had been blown to bits by a determined professional assassin and Cody had learned of Heath's stint as a Marine Recon sniper before he became a cop. In that short time, she'd grown close to him as a friend. Not as close as she was to her best friends—roommate Kimberly Anne Gregory and rodeo buddy JC Manning—but enough to read his moods. Right now, he couldn't make heads or tails of her warning.