Bayou Heat (19 page)

He stepped behind her and ran a finger along her nape. She loved it when he did that.
The shiver was automatic, the pleasure instant and real.
God, what was she going to do?

“Are you sure that’s all it is? I’ve never seen you this distracted.” He chuckled
and pressed a kiss to her neck. “At least by work anyway.”

She almost leapt away from him. His touch, his scent, the sound of his voice, the
heat of him, all of it effectively destroying whatever mental capacity she had left.

“Hungry, I guess.” She took as many slow deep breaths as she could without being obvious
and moved across the room to the bag he’d left on the table by the door. “I haven’t
eaten all day.” She couldn’t eat a bite if her life was at stake; her stomach was
a tight ball. But it was something to do. To keep them busy. To keep his hands off
her.

She turned with the bag and caught him watching her. And realized that his touch wasn’t
restricted to his hands.

Could she really feel like this about him and not know him?

Ask him
. The voice in her head was sudden and very persistent.
Just ask him
.

She broke eye contact and busied herself emptying the contents of the bag.

Like what, she asked herself.
Oh, by the way, you’re not a drug dealer or gunrunner, are you?

He pulled a stool over to where she stood, and sat down. She tried hard to keep her
hands from trembling. “Want me to fix you some?”

“We’ve got to talk, Erin,” he said seriously.

She bit down on her lip to keep the hysterical urge to laugh from escaping.
If you only knew
.

“About tomorrow night.”

She stiffened. Oh, God, she wasn’t ready for this. She never would be, she realized
quickly. Very carefully spooning out portions of crawfish étouffé and gumbo, she fought
her warring thoughts.
Ask him. Deceive him
.

Betray him
.

Her chest ached. Her head was pounding. The steam from the food was making her sick.

No. The idea of betraying him made her sick.

“I know you have your heart set on going to the ritual.”

She grabbed on to the one thing she could respond to with complete honesty. “Yes,
I do. The headway I’m making on my research is phenomenal, and this opportunity will
put me so far ahead of schedule I can get the grant, no questions asked. I don’t know
when Belisaire will invite me again. I don’t want to risk the wait.” She didn’t even
want to consider that there might never be another time. Not for any of them.

“Erin,” he began, then paused. He took a deep breath and started again. “I really
think you should stay at Beaumarchais tomorrow night.”

Erin gave up any pretense of preparing their meal and turned to face him squarely.
“Why?”

“Just certain things I’ve heard. I’d feel better if you weren’t down there tomorrow
night.”

“I’ll ask again, Teague. Why?” Her voice was remarkably steady considering how badly
her legs were shaking. “What’s happening down there? Does it have something to do
with the note and the
gris-gris?
With the conversation I overheard?”

“Erin—”

“Does it have something to do with you?” There. She’d said it.

He stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime. She folded her arms across her abdomen,
trying to brace the shakes rattling her entire body. But she held his gaze.

A dozen questions were in his eyes. His expression was fierce, but open. “Yes,” he
finally said.

She blew out a hard breath, sure she’d be sick. She pressed a fist against her stomach.
Until that moment she hadn’t realized how strongly she still believed in him.

“What’s going on down there, Teague?”

“I can’t tell you, Erin.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Anger was beginning to kick in. It felt good. Too good. She didn’t
care.

“Can’t. Don’t you think I would if I could? Erin, there are so many things—” He muttered
several curses in Cajun French.

When he turned to her again, his eyes were cold, guarded. That hurt more than anything
else. He might as well have slapped her.

“It will all be done tomorrow night. After that—”

“What will be done? What?” She worked to lower her voice. “And what if I don’t want
to listen after that?”
What if I can’t forgive you for whatever it is you’ve done?
she asked silently.

Or, God help me, what if I do anyway?

It was that possibility that frightened her most. Because even now she couldn’t look
at him without wanting him. All of him. Body, heart, and soul.

“You aren’t going to stay away, are you.” It wasn’t a question. He sighed, then shook
his head. “It’s your choice, Erin.” He shoved off the stool and headed to the door.

“Just as it’s your choice not to tell me the truth,” she called after him.

He slammed one hand on the doorframe, then spun on his heel and stalked back across
the room.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

When there wasn’t but an inch of air between them, he said, “I’m asking for your trust.”

“That goes both ways, Teague.”

He bit off an oath. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Well, you’re asking for a lot too.”

The tension and frustration drained out of him in one long breath. It was the first
time she’d ever seen him look … defeated.

“
Mais yeah, ange
.” There was no mistaking the hurt in his voice, or his eyes. “I guess I was asking
for it all.”

Teague slipped from the bateau, tying it to an exposed cypress root before making
his way silently up the small trail. The pulsing sound of
maman
drums filled the air. He dipped his chin and spoke softly.

“I’m in, Skeet. Out in ten.”

“Roger,” came the quiet voice in his ear. “Two boats at Marie’s. Haitians. I’ve got
Murdock there moving them to the alternate meet site like you requested.” There was
a pause. “I sure hope they don’t get spooked.”

“They won’t. Too much is at stake. I want to meet Arnaud and his boss alone first.”

“I hear you. No sign of them yet. Better make it fast, Teague.”

“Trust me, Skeet.” Teague signed off, then crouched down off the trail as he nered
the clearing just behind the
hounfour. Trust
. The word burned in his gut. He searched the crowd gathered there. The ceremony had
just begun.

“Where are you?” he whispered under his breath. He spied her a second later, standing
near the house. He took a deep breath but felt no relief. Not yet. Verifying she was
there and okay went a long way toward easing the niggling sense that something was
horribly wrong with tonight’s setup.

He’d been over it and over it, but everything was in place. If all went as planned,
it would go down in less
than an hour. He’d be tied up for the rest of the night, and possibly longer depending
on how things shook down with Arnaud’s boss.

He had to see her now.
One last time
.

No. He refused to think that way. He’d been angry and hurt when he left her office
the day before. But in time he was able to see her side of it. He couldn’t change
his responsibilities, and that meant he had to keep his true identity a secret—from
everyone—until it was over.

But no matter how long it took him to tie up loose ends, he would come back to her.
For her. He’d tell her anything she wanted to know. And she’d listen to what he had
to say.

A shadow moved next to Erin. Teague tensed and was almost out of the underbrush when
the light of the ceremonial fire highlighted the man’s face.

Marshall.

What in the hell was he doing here?

Teague tried to tell himself that Marshall’s obvious concern for Erin’s welfare and
safety was a good thing. He should feel better knowing she was being looked after.

His hands tightened into fists. He’d never been possessive. Possessions had a way
of disappearing. Better not to get attached. A creed he’d followed all his life.

But Erin was different. His jaw flexed when Marshall moved closer. She was so damn
independent, she’d never be truly owned by anyone. And that was her greatest allure.
To possess any part of her was to be possessed in return.

And he’d give everything he was to be hers. Already had in fact.

Shutting out useless frustration and debilitating anger, he focused on her exclusively,
studying every inch of her. “One night, Erin. One more night, then I’m coming for
you. No more running away. For either of us.”

He moved backward until he reached the track, then slipped silently back to the bateau.
He lowered his chin and spoke. “Update.”

“One boat sighted upriver. Arrival time ten minutes, twelve at the outside.”

“Okay. It’s party time.”

Marshall had been hovering all night. Erin was pleased that he’d accompanied her.
Not because she felt the need for a chaperone, but because this way she could keep
her eye on him. He’d questioned her at length about her talk with Teague, but she’d
finally convinced him she hadn’t learned anything.

Nothing she was willing to share.

She’d asked Marshall what he planned to do, but he’d been very closemouthed. Her instincts
were clamoring. She had a very bad feeling about tonight. She just wanted it to be
over.

One way or another.

Belisaire stepped into the small clearing. Two dozen or more
hounsis
surrounded her. The
cata
and
seconde
drums continued, only now the
hounsis
began to sing and dance.

Her attention was riveted on the scene unfolding before her, and it wasn’t until the
drums abruptly stopped that she realized Marshall had slipped away.

Her heart pounded like the pulsing rhythm filling the air, as she quickly scanned
the area. Nothing.

She had promised Belisaire she would stay near the house. Or go inside if things got
out of hand in any way that made her uncomfortable.

The
maman
drums began their thundering pulse. Torn between the unfolding ceremony and a strong
sense of unease about Marshall’s plans for the night, she finally caved in to the
latter and stepped inside the house. Any hopes about him going for a glass of water
or something equally innocuous were quickly dashed.

She stepped outside again and did another, more thorough examination of the peristyle.
Still nothing. Then she caught a flash of movement, a shadow disappearing down the
trail to the rear boathouse.

She followed instinctively, making it to the boathouse in time to see a small
joug
slide from the dock into the dark waters of the bayou.

As quietly as she could, she climbed into a bateau and set out after it.

She couldn’t see for sure, but she knew it was Marshall.

Had he learned where Teague was?

It didn’t take long for her to realize where they were headed. The direction couldn’t
be a coincidence. Marie’s house.

Erin stayed to the side, as close to the tangled snarl of roots along the banks as
she could. She stopped and
waited for Marshall to get to the small dock. After several minutes passed, she followed.
She was caught off guard by the sight of several small boats and one air boat tied
to the now crowded dock.

The thought of the dangers in taking an air boat through the bayou at night made her
shiver. Was it Teague’s?

She made her way slowly along the trail. The moon was full and bright, but the shadows
still dominated the tangled path.

She estimated she still had a few dozen yards to go when she heard voices.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

Erin’s heart began to pound. Teague.

“Surprised to see me?”

“Get out of here, Marshall, before you get us both killed.”

“Where’s the rest of the party?”

Erin couldn’t believe how calm Marshall sounded. Confident. She crept closer, until
she could peek into the small clearing in front of the charred remains of the house.

“Marshall, I have no idea why you’re here, but do as I say and get out now. I’ll answer
your questions later.”

“You’re good at saying that, Teague. Erin wasn’t too happy with you the other day.”

She stopped breathing for a second.

“I’ll deal with Erin later. And you. Leave.”

“You really have no idea why I’m here, do you?”

Erin watched Teague’s entire body tense as he
stepped from the shadows, the moonlight filtering down to illuminate his face. They
were less than ten feet apart now, facing each other.

“Why don’t you tell me?” His quiet tone was both threat and challenge.

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in what you are doing here.”

“And how is that?”

“You’re my brother. I don’t want to see you get into any trouble you can’t handle.”

“And I suppose you know all about trouble, huh, Marshall? You’re life is so filled
with danger and intrigue.”

“You have no idea what my life is or isn’t, Teague.”

“And neither do you know mine. Now, unless you have something important to tell me,
I need you to get the hell out of the way and let me conduct my own business.”

“It’s your business that concerns me. I think you ought to give some thought to leaving
yourself.”

On a muttered oath, Teague took another step toward Marshall.

The gun appeared in Marshall’s hand so quickly, Erin had to blink twice to make sure
she wasn’t seeing things.

“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret, Teague.”

Teague froze. “What in the hell is going on here, Marshall?”

“Erin, I want you to step from the bushes and come over here.”

She froze.

“Now, Erin.”

“Erin, get out of here.” Teague’s voice was harder, colder than Marshall’s.

“She’s the one that led me to you.”

Erin stepped into the clearing. “Marshall, stop. Someone is going to get hurt.”

Teague’s attention swung to her. “Did you, Erin?”

She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” She closed the distance
between herself and Marshall. “Marshall just wants to keep you from making a mistake
here, Teague. So do I.”