Bayou My Love: A Novel (26 page)

Jack
came to the edge of the water, the waves lapping at his ankles. “Would you come
back? The gators in there’ll eat you up.”

I
laughed, staring up at the big round moon, loving the way the light bounced
across the water and skimmed across my skin. “Then you’d better come eat me up
first.”

“Enza,
I’m not kidding.”

I
paddled farther away. “Come and get me, you big chicken.”

He
stood with his hands on his hips, like he might will me back to shore.

It
was heaven, that warm water under the moon. Like being in some other time, some
other place, where the things that shouldn’t matter didn’t.

I
turned when I heard a splash, thinking for a second it might actually be an
alligator, but then I saw the ripple of waves, the flash of skin. Jack surfaced
next to me, smirking as he moved closer.

“Nice,
isn’t it?” I said.

His
eyes narrowed. “Do I have to haul you away on my shoulder again?”

I
laughed, splashing him.

“Oh,
now you’ve done it,” he said, and lunged toward me, wrapping his arms around me
before I could swim away. I slid my hands down his back, below his waist,
delighted to discover he’d left his clothes on the bank. He tightened his grip
as he kissed my neck. I squirmed, giggling, but it was impossible to wriggle
out of his grip. Not that I wanted to anyway. I let him pull me back toward the
bank as he waded through the dark water.

“Oh,
come on, Jack. Swim with me.”

“You
do like to tease me.” He slid down into the water, pulling me with him, his
hands drifting to my hips.

I
wound myself around him. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His
eyes were wide, nearly black in the moonlight. Standing in the waist-deep
water, he pulled me against him, my body cool in the water, warm where his skin
met mine. He kissed me hard as drops of water fell from the ends of his hair,
rolling down my cheeks and my neck, drawing a thin tingling line. My hands
traced the curve of his back, then rested on his hips. The pinch of his teeth
made me grip him tighter, stroking him until he whispered my name, his voice
ragged.

He
slid his fingers up from my waist, his thumbs drawing a line to my breasts. His
lips trailed down, down, as he nudged me toward the bank.

“Time
to get you out of here,” he said, his lips moving against the hollow of my
throat. “I don’t want anything nibbling you but me.”

He
gripped the backs of my thighs as he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his
waist. His body tensed as I tightened myself around him, winding my arms around
his shoulders as he pressed his lips to my neck. He traced every contour with
his tongue, his teeth, until I could hardly stand it. I kissed him harder then,
tugging at his hair. I dug my fingers into his back, trying to coax out the rougher
side of him, and when at last he called my name, I knew he was trying to do the
same. His breath was hot against my skin; his hands held me with a firmness
that made me shiver. I could never have enough of him.

“Why
are you holding back?” I said, my lips brushing his ear. “I’m not so delicate.”

His
breaths came deep and fast, his hands gripping me harder. “Thank God for that,”
he said, moving toward the bank.

He
carried me the last few steps to the shore, and we fell into the grass. My body
ached to feel his weight, and I arched my back, drawing him closer as he
settled on top of me. His hands pinned mine in the damp grass as he kissed me,
harder now, as if something inside him was fighting to escape. I locked my legs
around him, but he slid out of my grasp, smiling wickedly. He traced his tongue
along my ribs, inching his way down, and then sat back on his knees as he
pulled my ankle to his lips. He stared at me as he slid his teeth along the
line of my calf, my thigh. My breath caught in my chest as his hands rested on
my hips. He caressed me with his thumbs, saying, “Relax, cher,” and then slid
his tongue along my softest skin. I cried out as he traced tiny circles with
his tongue, tasting and teasing. I loved the way he took his time, making me long
for more of his touch. Helpless, I dug my fingers into the grass as I felt the
pull of his lips, the slight pinch of his teeth. I closed my eyes, dizzy, and
whispered his name as my breath turned ragged. He pushed me further and
further, his hands kneading my hips. My heart pounded so hard it hurt to
breathe, and then I buckled, trembling beneath him. His palm traced a line from
my hip to my neck as I struggled to catch my breath, and then he was on top of
me, his hands on either side of my shoulders, his taut body sinking into mine.

“Jack,”
I said, my voice wavering.

He
kissed one corner of my mouth and said, “Say my name again.”

“Jack,”
I moaned, and repeated it again and again.

His
grin made me shiver. He shifted his weight, pinning my hips with his, and I
thought for sure I would come apart again.

“I
can’t get enough of you,” I murmured.

He
slid his cheek along my neck, down to my shoulder, and said, “I’m not done with
you yet, cher. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” The darkness of his
voice drove me wild, and I ached to feel him inside me again.

I
tightened my legs around him, and he said, “Darlin’, when you do that, I want
to take you a hundred different ways.”

Squeezing,
I said, “I wish you would.”

“Mmm,”
he said, closing his eyes for an instant, and then his mouth returned to mine
in a kiss that I felt all the way to my heels. With one long, slow motion he
was inside me, and I gripped his shoulders tight. He groaned as I pulled at his
hair and called his name, and he moved deeper, achingly slow. My hands drifted
down his back, and he quickly rolled me in the grass, leaving me straddling
him, my knees by his sides.

He
grinned, wriggling under me, his hands gripping my hips, steering me into
place. “Your turn,” he said, his voice bewitching. As his fingers slid along my
skin, I closed my eyes, tilted my face toward the stars, and smiled as my name
fell from his lips again and again, piercing the stillness of the salty air.

When
I felt him getting close, I eased off him and slid my hands along his chest. He
sighed as I traced a line to his navel, his hip. “Wicked, you,” he said.

“Just
thought you needed to catch your breath.”

“We’ll
see about that.” He rolled on top of me, and I laughed as he pinned me down,
tickling my hips with his fingers. I wiggled beneath him as he rubbed his cheek
along my neck but stopped when his hands gripped me like a vise—one in my hair
and one at my hip. He held me firmly in place, the way he knew I liked, and
slid inside me in a move that made my whole body shiver.

“Jack,”
I said, breathless.

“You
make me so absolutely crazy,” he said.

I
felt wild as he moved faster, harder, urging me on. His body tightened, and his
muscles tensed against mine. I dug my fingers into his back, feeling myself
unravel.

“Don’t
stop,” I whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

He
grinned, his hands sliding along my skin, stroking and squeezing. He slowed for
a minute, teasing me, until I groaned. He laughed his wicked laugh, sliding his
cheek along my jaw. With so many sensations at once, I thought I would surely
explode, but he held me as he moved harder again. “Is this what you want,
cher?”

My
body quaked beneath his. He tensed again, then shifted his weight. I locked my
arms around him and said, “Just stay like this. I love feeling you all over me.”

He
slid his hand along my cheek as he whispered, “I think you like it almost as
much as I do, darlin’.”

~~~~

If
someone had told me a few weeks before that I’d be rolling around on a
riverbank in the middle of the night with a guy like Jack, I would have told
them they were certifiable. But I was beginning to think I was the crazy one
for keeping a distance between us.

“Shit,”
I said. “Our dinner’s probably blackened.”

He
stood up, grabbing his jeans, and offered his hand to help me up. “I left it
warming in the oven for us.”

As
I gathered up the rest of our clothes, I heard movement in the brush. A cloud
passed over the moon, making it nearly impossible to see in the darkness. There
was more rustling in the scrub brush, and a twig snapped. Something was out
there.

“Did
you hear that?” I asked, struggling to get my shirt buttoned.

“Told
you the gators would get you,” he said, nipping at my shoulder. He pulled his
jeans on and led me toward the house.

I
clutched the clothes against my body and followed him, my heart thumping. We
were halfway to the house when the moon came out from behind a cloud, and I saw
the shape of a person moving through the cypresses, just on the other side of
the river.

I
stopped. It couldn’t be real. I blinked and looked again, and there was
nothing.

“Hey,”
Jack said, “You all right?”

“Yeah,”
I said. I scanned the tree line but saw nothing unusual. The moon shone
brightly again, casting everything around us in blue.

It
wasn’t hard to imagine Remy’s lanky silhouette passing between the trees as he
crept along the edge of the water. He could be out in that curtain of cypress,
waiting. I shivered. Could it really be Remy, or was I being paranoid? The
thought of him getting to me like that made me sick to my stomach.

“You
sure you’re OK?” Jack asked.

“Come
on,” I said, taking his hand. “I’m starving.”

Chapter
20

The
next morning, I stumbled into the kitchen to find Jack making omelets with an
ungodly amount of sausage and cheese. He didn’t have to go in to work until
noon, but he was never one to roll out of bed and split anyway. This was
something I appreciated about him: his ability to be fully functional first
thing in the morning. Mostly because I was nothing like him in that regard.

“How
did I manage to find a man who can repair houses
and
cook?” I said.

“Guess
you just wandered into the right swamp.” He poured a cup of coffee, then
tousled my hair and kissed me. “Did you find anything interesting in the hat
box yesterday?”

“Didn’t
you look inside it?” I asked.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Well,
aside from just peeking inside when I first found it… I wasn’t going to read
Vergie’s letters.”

“I’m
not sure I can read them yet either,” I said. “It looks like most of them are
from my mother.”

He
stared at me, stone-faced. “I had no idea.”

I
shrugged. “It’s OK. I don’t think about her a lot.”

“You
must be curious, though.”

“Yes
and no. Someday I’ll read them.” I smiled, sipping my coffee. “Just not today.”

His
eyebrows turned upward in a sad arc.

“There
were also journals that Vergie kept,” I said. “And it means the world to have
those.”

He
smiled then. There was really no way I could ever repay him for giving that box
to me.

“So
listen,” he said when he was halfway through his eggs. “I’m leaving in a little
while, but I’ve arranged for a friend to come stay with you until my shift’s
over.”

“That’s
not necessary.”

He
shot me his don’t-start-with-me stare. “I told you I’m not leaving you alone
again, and I meant it, Enza.”

“Jack,
I’m a big girl.”

“I
already called. He owes me a favor.”

I
gave him my hardest glare.

He
stared right back and said, “This isn’t up for negotiation. You’ll like Andre.
He’s got a ton of good stories and cooks up a mean jambalaya. And he’ll protect
you from any unwanted houseguests.” He waved his fork at me, like it might
drive his point home.

“Fine.”

He
smiled. He was even more stubborn than me. But it wasn’t so bad having him
looking out for me. I wasn’t used to having someone care so much.

~~~~

As
it turned out, Andre was a fabulous cook. He was also the sheriff. Since he was
off-duty, he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. That, combined with his wild red
hair and stubbly beard, made him look like any ordinary guy in the parish. He
was shorter and heavier than Jack, with broad shoulders and muscular arms.
The
better to catch the bad guys with,
I thought. He wasn’t much older than me
and had a sense of humor so dry that I couldn’t ever quite tell when he was
joking.

“Almost
done,” he said, tossing some sausage in a skillet.

“You
didn’t have to do all this.”

“You’ve
been working outside all day. Makes you hungry,
non
?”

His
accent was even stronger than Jack’s. I felt like we had a ten-second delay,
where I needed time to decode his words. He got a big kick out of that, I could
tell.

Earlier,
he’d stayed downstairs in the kitchen (front of the house, where he could see
anyone entering the drive from the woods) and read the local paper, while I
worked on finishing the spare room upstairs. I’d emptied the closet where Jack
had found Vergie’s hat box of mementos and found little else I wanted to keep.
My progress was slow, but I had to keep myself busy both to stay on track and
to stop my mind from churning over Martine, my dad and Jack.

That
afternoon, after standing guard in the kitchen, Andre had wandered around the
yard, looking for any clues that might explain the weirdness that seemed to
hover over us. When I’d started stripping the cracking paint off the porch
rails, he’d grabbed a putty knife out of my toolbox and began working right
alongside me. Every time he leaned way over, I caught a glimpse of the pistol
tucked in a holster in the back of his jeans. Even without it, he looked like
he could take just about anybody down in a fight.

Now
he whistled quietly, stirring something in a tiny pot and taking a taste.

“Thanks
for the help,” I said. “You didn’t have to paint, either.”

“What,
you think I’m going to lie in the hammock all day and watch a lady work? Come
now.” He winked in that way that must be reflex down here. He’d no doubt left
his own trail of broken hearts. “Sit,” he said.

I
wasn’t used to having men cook for me and look out for me, and frankly I was
getting a little spoiled. Every once in a while, I’d forget he was there on
guard duty—but then I’d catch him peeking out the window with a look on his
face that showed, despite his friendly banter, he was on high alert.

Maybe
he and Jack knew something I didn’t.

Andre
put a plate in front of me and sat down with one for himself. “Hope you like it
hot,” he said, deadpan as ever.

“You
got any leads on the arsonist?” I asked. I’d spent all day fighting my
curiosity.

“I
probably shouldn’t discuss it,” he said. “But don’t you worry. We’ll catch
him.”

“This
is delicious,” I said, trying to muster all the charm I could. It seemed to get
you a long way in these parts. “Might be the best I ever had.”

“Well
I never get tired of hearing a lady say that,” he said. His smile suggested he
might have spent some time on the other side of the law, back in the day.

“Come
on. Can’t you tell me anything?”

He
pushed the sausage around on his plate. “Don’t you think you’re in this deep
enough?”

“I
just wondered if you had any suspects, that’s all.”

He
stared at me, his eyebrow raised, and I almost told him to forget I asked. This
was probably the same face he made in the interrogation room.

“Unofficially,”
he said, “we’ve got a few folks we’re keeping an eye on.”

His
phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket while I poured myself a glass of
water.

“OK,”
he said, turning away from me. “Where’s Theo?”

I
strained to hear the voice on the other end of the line, but Andre stood and
walked into the hall.

“Is
anybody else around?” His voice was gruff. Sheriff mode.

Although
I liked being cared for, I hated being baby-sat. I wasn’t this fragile little
thing that couldn’t be let out of anyone’s sight for fear of getting broken,
and I didn’t like men making me feel that way.

Andre
came back in, sliding the phone into his pocket.

“Duty
calls?” I said.

“There’s
been an incident. But I can’t leave you here by yourself.”

“For
heaven’s sake. I’ll be fine.”

“I
swore I’d look out for you,” he said. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Then
I guess you have to take me with you.”

“I
can’t take you to a crime scene,” he said.

“Unless
you can split yourself in two, you’re gonna have to.”

He
grabbed one last sausage link and glared at me, his brown eyes narrowed. He
tossed the fork in the sink and said, “You stay in the car.”

“Deal,”
I said. It was certainly better than sitting all alone in the house, worrying
about my deadline, my budget and the situation with my father.

He
walked outside first, scanning the yard as I locked the front door. He led me
to his cruiser and said, “I’m sure I’ll regret this, but it won’t be the first
time a woman impaired my judgment.”

He
opened the back car door for me, and I scoffed.

“Sorry,”
he said. “Habit.”

He
opened the front passenger door and stopped himself.

“How
about we don’t tell Mayronne about this little field trip,” he said.

“Deal.”

~~~~

We
pulled into a parking lot shrouded by trees. The ramshackle bar was for locals
only—not a place outsiders would easily find. It looked like a shack with a
porch. A hand-painted sign in the window read “liquor, cigarettes, bait,”
illuminated by a couple of dim porch lights. I could barely make out the
silhouettes of men standing around outside. A patrol car was already there, its
lights still flashing. And an ambulance.

“Wait
in the car,” Andre said. He tucked a bit of his shirt into his jeans, just
enough so the badge clipped to his belt was visible.

“Yes,
sir.”

I
slouched down in the seat as he strode into the bar. A deputy was outside,
talking to bystanders as he scribbled on a pad. I rolled the window down a
couple of inches, straining to hear what they were saying, but I only caught
bits and snatches—nothing that explained what was going on. The folks outside
took turns lighting cigarettes and scuffing their toes in the dirt, clearly
bored and hammered.

I
sat up when two medics wheeled a gurney out with a body covered by a sheet. At
first I thought I wasn’t seeing right, but when they pushed it closer, over to
the ambulance, there was no doubt. This was a murder scene.

I
was so focused on the sheet that I didn’t see Andre until he was a few feet
away, ushering a roughed-up Remy right past me toward the other patrol car.
Remy’s hair was tousled, his shirt ripped, his hands cuffed behind his back. He
paused by the window, looking confused for a minute as it seemed to register
that I was sitting in a police car. A familiar sneer spread across his face, and
he gave me a salacious wink.

Andre
shoved him onward, and I jumped out of the car, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“You
son of a bitch!” I yelled, stomping across the parking lot.

Remy
half-smiled, and I wanted to knock that smirk right off his face.

“You
think you can terrorize us?” I said.

Andre
spun around. “What do you think you’re doing? I told you to stay in the car.”

The
other officer took Remy while Andre steered me back to the cruiser. “It’s him!”
I said. “He tried to burn my house down.” I sidestepped Andre and moved toward
Remy. I’d have given anything to be six inches taller so I could stare at him
nose to nose. “I know it was you, and so help me, I swear—”

Andre
grabbed my elbow and pulled.

“Don’t
know what you mean, sugar.” Remy’s voice was so calm it was sickening. “But
that temper of yours is awfully cute.”

I
yanked my arm free and swung with my other, and my fist caught Remy right in
the nose. It hurt like hell, and I thought I’d broken my hand for sure.

Remy
chuckled, a thin trail of blood trickling from his nose. “Sheriff,” he said
coolly, “are you going to stand there and let this woman assault me?”

I
shook my hand by my side, cringing at the sight of Remy’s blood on it.

“I
didn’t see any assault,” Andre said flatly, turning back to me. “But Miss
Parker, I think you ought to go back and wait in the car while I talk with
Broussard here.”

“He
tried to kill me!” I said. “And Jack! You’ve been tearing this town up looking
for the arsonist, and he’s standing right here!”

Remy
stared at me, his eyes darkening. “I think they call that slander, Miss
Parker.”

“And
I suppose you don’t know anything about the slashed tires and people creeping
around the house, either.”

“That’s
real sad somebody tried to hurt your boyfriend,” Remy said, his voice still
cool. “But he’s made enemies around here.”

“You
bastard,” I said, stepping closer.

Andre
grabbed my arm again and said, “Come here, Enza.” This time there was no
getting out of his grip. He walked me over to the car and said only loud enough
for me to hear, “Don’t make me lock you in the back.”

“You
have to arrest him! You can’t just let him walk away. I know it’s him, Andre. I
know it.”

His
jaw was rigid. “Do I need to remind you, Miss Parker, that I am the sheriff?
When I tell you to wait in the car, that’s not a suggestion.” His eyes were
cold, not like they’d been the rest of the day, and it made the hair on the
back of my neck stand up. He was all business now. I’d pushed him too far.

I
climbed in the front seat and closed the door, still glaring at Remy. He
puckered his lips in a mock kiss, and I felt the blood rush to my head again.

Andre
wrote in a small notepad as they talked. Remy occasionally shrugged as if to
say,
Who, me?
It made me want to jump out of the car again because I
knew he was lying. But if I did, Andre would probably handcuff me and drive me
to jail himself. So I sat, fuming, hoping Andre was smart enough to see through
this act.