Soldiers of Fortune (7 page)

I took a closer look at her. Her eyes were half closed and she was swaying slightly in place. “You’ve had a long day. Do you work tomorrow?”

“No. Francine changed the schedule to give me the day off since I worked at the café this morning and the pie booth at the festival.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can sleep in.”

Ally smiled. “I always try to, but it never works. I finally accepted that I’m one of those awful morning people. But I do think I’m going to head up now. I hope I can stay awake long enough to shower the street dust off of me. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” I said and watched her trudge out of the kitchen and down the hallway. As I opened the refrigerator, I heard a crash in the living room and rushed down the hallway. Ally and one of the decorative tables in the living room had apparently had a run-in. The lamp was the big loser. Ally was struggling to get up from the floor and I grabbed her hand just before she got a fistful of drapes. As I hauled her to her feet, her knees started to buckle.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, trying to lock in on a logical explanation for her collapse. One that didn’t involve anything serious.

“Someone sneaked champagne to the festival, but I only had one glass,” she said, her voice slurred.

“That must have been one helluva glass. Let’s get you into bed.”
 

I half carried her up the stairs and let her drop onto the bed, then I swung her legs over onto the mattress and pulled off her tennis shoes. She was already snoring when I pulled the blanket over her. I shook my head and headed out of the room. Ally had always been a lightweight when it came to drinking, but this seemed extreme after only a glass.
 

I knew she’d been working a lot and worrying over her house construction. Sometimes I heard her moving around her bedroom in the middle of the night, so I knew her sleep wasn’t all that great. Neither was mine, for that matter, since her restlessness always had me leaping out of bed and scrambling for my gun. Secretly, I was proud of myself for not having accidentally shot anything in one of my recent midnight grabs. I hadn’t always been so lucky since I’d arrived in Sinful.
 

I tromped back to the kitchen and grabbed my usual bedtime snack of chocolate milk and cookies, then headed back upstairs to my bedroom, ready to crawl into bed myself. I was halfway through a thriller novel and it was a doozy. With any luck, I could get in a couple more chapters before my eyes started drooping.

I put the chocolate milk and cookies on the nightstand next to the book, turned on the lamp, and turned off the bedroom lights. Then I pulled off my shorts, propped the pillows up and slid into bed. Merlin hopped up next to me and curled himself into a tight, purring ball. I leaned back against the pillows for a bit, sighing as the cool sheets made my whole body tingle. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until I’d gotten into bed.
 

Two chapters.
 

I opened my eyes and reached for the book and a cookie. The private investigator heroine had just chased a killer into a dark alleyway and was now sneaking among the Dumpsters and crates, ready to fire if necessary. I could easily picture the dim light from the yellow bulb at the top of the building and the chill she felt from the drizzling rain. As she inched closer to a Dumpster at the end of the alley, I clenched the pages. Just a couple more steps and she’d be there, looking behind the Dumpster.
 

I turned the page, ready for the big showdown…and heard a noise downstairs.

I froze. Merlin’s head flew up and his ears went back. Damn it. That meant I hadn’t imagined it. I dropped the book and slid out of bed, lifting my pistol from the nightstand as I went. I crept out of the bedroom and across the hall. Ally was still in the same position I’d left her in and I could hear her softly snoring. I reached for the door to close it, then hesitated. Sometimes, it squeaked. Best to leave it alone.

I looked over the stair railing into the living room. A sliver of light crept into the room from the hallway to the kitchen. I frowned, fairly certain I’d turned off all the kitchen lights. I held position for several seconds, listening for any sign of movement. I was just about to chalk it all up to something shifting in the refrigerator or falling in the pantry when I heard the sound of a chair sliding across the kitchen floor. A couple seconds later, I heard someone opening the refrigerator.
 

What the hell? What kind of intruder broke in to raid your food supply?

I considered my options. Conventional wisdom said I should call the police, and if Carter were at full capacity, I might have actually considered doing so. But with the options for response being Deputy Breaux or even worse, Nelson, I wasn’t convinced that calling the police would result in anything more effective than crawling in bed and letting him eat me out of house and home would accomplish.
 

I sighed. Regardless of the current lack of ability of law enforcement, I needed to try harder to stay off the radar, especially as long as Celia was running the show. She’d take any opportunity to make an example of me. I headed back into my bedroom to make the call, but my cell phone wasn’t on my nightstand. Then I recalled seeing it on the kitchen counter as I’d poured my glass of milk…sitting right next to Ally’s purse, which contained her cell phone. Great. The first time I’d actually intended to do the normal-person responsible thing, and the phones were right next to the bad guys.
 

Right next to the remainder of the chocolate chip cookies.
 

I gripped my gun, my resolve firm. No way was someone getting away with the last of my cookies, but I couldn’t possibly catch the intruder if I used the stairs. They made too much noise. Before I could change my mind, I made my way over to my bedroom window and lifted it up. I eased over the ledge and onto the porch roof, then hurried to the edge of the porch and jumped off the side, rolling as I hit the ground. Dried leaves and twigs from the shrubs bordering the front of the house dug into my bare feet, but I didn’t give them more than a second’s thought as I set out around the side of the house for the back. I would be able to see inside the kitchen from the window. If I could manage to get up the steps without alerting the intruder to my presence, my plan was to burst in through the back door and take him by surprise.
 

When I reached the corner of the house, I peered around, looking for any sign of movement in the backyard. Moonlight provided decent illumination from the house all the way to the bayou, but the backyard and the waterfront were clear. Whoever it was hadn’t arrived by boat, or hadn’t docked behind my house. I slipped around the corner and skirted the back of the house behind the shrubs until I reached the kitchen window. I peered over the edge and held in a curse when I saw that the blinds were drawn.
 

I never closed the blinds.
 

I dropped back down and considered my options. I could knock on a neighbor’s door and ask to use their phone, but then I’d have to explain how I got out of my house without the intruder hearing me and why I was prancing around my lawn in a T-shirt and underwear, packing a nine-millimeter. The T-shirt was long enough to cover my rear, but just barely, and more than likely, it was illegal to be outside without pants on Thursday nights. I couldn’t believe I’d left the house without putting my shorts back on. This whole domestic living thing had completely ruined me.
 

I tapped my fingers on my pistol and considered my other limited options. I could jog to Gertie’s, but then I risked being seen jogging in a T-shirt and underwear and packing a nine-millimeter, not to mention, the intruder might leave before I could get to Gertie’s and get the police to my house. And that would still leave me explaining my state of undress and gun-toting to law enforcement and anyone else who happened to see me half streaking down the block. Besides, I couldn’t leave Ally inside unprotected.

Crap.

Seemed as if only one option was available, and that was bursting into the kitchen with no knowledge of what awaited me on the other side of the door. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t done it before, and to people who were likely far more dangerous than the refrigerator raider. But then, crazy people were unpredictable, and breaking into someone’s house to eat was decidedly crazy. Mind made up, I crept out of the bushes and up the back steps. I expected to find the back door jimmied, but neither the lock nor the door appeared damaged at all.
 

How the heck had he gotten inside?

I placed my shoulder against the door, then took a step back and leaped as hard as I could against it.
 

Sorta.

At least, it would have been against the door if someone hadn’t opened it at the exact time I launched.
 

I flew into the kitchen, my bare feet not even connecting with the tile floor before I went sprawling down on it. I gripped my gun with both hands to avoid dropping it, rolled over to get my feet underneath me, and leaped up ready to fire. And found myself looking directly at Big and Little Hebert. I glanced over at the door and saw Mannie standing there still holding the knob.
 

Big, who was sitting across two of my kitchen chairs, lifted a chocolate chip cookie and took a bite. “You have an interesting way of welcoming guests into your home.”

I lowered my gun and stared. “Have you lost your mind? You broke into my house, and for the record, this is exactly the way I deal with intruders.”

Big looked over at Little, who smiled. “Interesting,” Big said. “You have some odd habits for a librarian, Ms. Morrow. I find you fascinating.”

Little nodded. “She’s quite muscular as well. Hauling books around must be great for the physique.”

Crap!

As I dashed to the laundry room, I heard Mannie chuckling behind me. I yanked on a pair of shorts, then stalked back to the kitchen and glared at the three of them. “How did you get in here?”

Mannie looked amused. “Are you kidding me? I could have picked that lock when I was three. You should get a dead bolt.”

“It’s at the top of my list,” I said. “What are you doing in my house? You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

“We can see that now,” Big said. “We thought taking your roommate out of the equation meant you’d be easier to handle, but we didn’t count on this much vigor and stealth, even though we’ve seen some of your work.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What did you do to Ally? Oh my God. I have to call the paramedics!”

“Your friend is fine,” Big said. “She simply had a long day that ended with a lovely glass of champagne laced with a bit of a sleeping pill. She’ll wake up in the morning feeling more rested than she has in ages.”

I closed my eyes and clutched the top of my head. This had to be a dream, because none of it made a lick of sense. But when I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, they were all still there. “You drugged Ally? What in the world for?”

“Because we needed to talk to you in private,” Big said.

“You couldn’t just call? Or show up at a decent hour and ring the doorbell?”

Big cocked his head to one side. “We were unable to locate a telephone number for you, so that wasn’t an option. Would it really have been a better choice for us to show up at your door in broad daylight…perhaps when that deputy boyfriend of yours was here?”

Just the thought had me cringing. No way could I have explained that one. “Okay, you’ve made your point, but you still could have sent a note or something and had me meet you somewhere.”

“What we need to discuss couldn’t wait. Time is always of the essence with such matters. Even a single day can make the difference between success and failure.”

“What matters are you talking about? Can you just spit it out already?”

The smile vanished from Little’s face, and Big looked somber. “We have a ‘friend’ at the hospital who told us about an interesting body part received for testing.”

Holy crap! The meth lab belonged to Big and Little Hebert and they were going to kill me here in my kitchen. Whatever they gave Ally would probably kill her as well.

My face must have shown exactly what I was thinking, because Big raised one hand in the air. “Ms. Morrow, I assure you we are not here to harm you. And we certainly don’t involve ourselves in such sordid business as the production of meth.” He waved a hand at Mannie. “Step outside while we finish up. You make people nervous.”

Mannie grinned and slipped outside, but I had no doubt he could be back inside, guns blazing, at the slightest call from Big. Not to mention that I didn’t think for one minute that Big and Little couldn’t be as deadly as Mannie if required. But I also knew how to read people, and everything about Big’s demeanor and body positioning told me he wasn’t a threat. My breath came out in a whoosh, and the tension began to evaporate from my back and neck. “Then what is your interest?”

“Before we get down to business,” Little said, “can you please sit down? It’s straining my neck to look up at you.”

I pulled out the remaining kitchen chair and sat across from them.

“Meth is bad business,” Big said. “It kills people and destroys towns.”

I stared. Was he serious?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Big said. “Our business ventures aren’t exactly the kind that you report to the IRS, but running books or acquiring the occasional odd object for a client doesn’t bring the kind of issues that hard drugs do. We like Sinful, and we don’t want to see anything like that moving through this town.”