“Stop treating me like a child. I’m not hungry and I’ll do what I please.” Eve strode out of the room and up the stairs. Dammit, she hadn’t expected Galen to turn on her. It had come as a surprise—but not as big a shock as the ugly story that Joe had told her. It seemed impossible that anyone would go to such diabolical lengths to get her here. That man had delved into the most painful area of her life and used Bonnie to manipulate her.
A surge of rage tore through her. Son of a bitch. And what about the story that had been told to her by Melton. How much was truth and how much was lies?
Marie and Pierre Letaux? They had been killed to keep her from doing the reconstruction. Where did they fit in?
Oh, she just didn’t know. She couldn’t think right now. She was confused and angry, and the shock and hurt she’d experienced when she’d seen Joe didn’t make it any better. For that first split second she’d felt such soaring joy that it had rocked her, and then she had remembered and the pain had come rushing back.
She had to get Joe to leave Baton Rouge. She couldn’t live with this kind of confusion, and she certainly couldn’t work.
Work? She felt a sudden icy chill as she realized that maybe she shouldn’t be as worried about finishing Victor as about just surviving.
Chapter 8
“Evidently you haven’t gotten to know Eve as well as I thought,” Joe said to Galen as they heard Eve’s door slam. “You should never treat her with condescension.”
“I hardly think you can qualify as an expert on the subject. You’ve put your ass on the line with her,” Galen said.
Joe stiffened. “She told you about the DNA report?”
“That bothers you, doesn’t it? No, Logan told me everything you told him. You took a big chance.” He changed the subject. “Now, do you want to know what’s been going on here or not?”
Joe was silent a moment. “I want to know.”
“That wasn’t too painful, was it?” Galen filled him in on the events since Eve had arrived in Baton Rouge.
Joe was cursing by the time he finished. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you let me know?”
“Logan hired me, not you. And the only way I could keep Eve willing to accept me here was to agree not to tell you anything. So it was really your fault.”
“And you’re enjoying telling me that.”
“Antagonism always brings out the worst in me. Did you turn over the sketch to the FBI to see if they could track anything down for you?”
“They couldn’t. No matches.”
“I’d like to see the sketch. The man who took Eve to the hospital that night fits the description. We can run it by the admittance personnel. Do you have it here?”
“I have several copies at the hotel. I’ll give you one.” Joe looked up the stairs. “She won’t listen to me. Can’t you talk her out of staying here?”
“I’ll try. She’ll be absolutely furious with Melton if she thinks he’s connected with the things you told her about. On the other hand, she’s caught up in the work on Victor. I had to drag her away tonight.”
“Dammit, it’s clear whoever is behind this isn’t playing for small stakes. One false step and she could be—” He broke off and took a deep breath. “I can’t take not being here to help her. It’s driving me crazy.”
“You’re not keeping it a secret,” Galen said. “I’ll do my best. In the meantime, give me your cell phone number and I’ll try to keep you informed.”
“I want to be more than informed.”
“It’s the best I can do. You lurk around here and Eve will explode. Trust me, I’ve taken good care of her. I’ll keep on doing it.”
“I don’t trust you, and I don’t want you to—” Joe jammed a card with his name and cell number at Galen, turned, and moved toward the door. “If you don’t let me know what’s going on, I’ll tear you apart.”
“I do hate threats. They offend my genteel nature.”
“Bullshit.”
“Now what can I do to get my own back? What would rub you raw?” Galen smiled maliciously. “Shall I tell you how well I’ve gotten to know Eve? We’ve exchanged viewpoints and past history. We’ve eaten together, and shared sadness and death. I’ve protected her and held her in my arms.”
“You bastard.”
“I thought that would do it.” He passed Joe and went toward the kitchen. “Now I have to go and get us a bite to eat.”
Joe was tempted to go after him and strangle him.
Galen looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “I’m her safety net, Quinn. Get rid of me and you’ll be up shit creek.”
Joe muttered a curse and jerked open the front door.
“Oh, I forgot to mention one small thing,” Galen said. “I was in her bedroom naked a few nights ago.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Joe could feel the pulse pound in his temple as he started to follow him. He stopped and drew a deep breath. Keep calm. Galen had wanted to score off him. He could have been lying.
And he could have been telling the truth. Okay, accept it. If he’d been telling the truth and Eve had taken Galen as a lover, then he’d just have to take it. His own hands were tied. He needed the bastard to keep Eve alive. He couldn’t touch him. Not now.
Later.
“I’ve brought you a sandwich,” Galen said when Eve opened the door to his knock. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you’ve got to stoke the furnace if you want to finish Victor.”
“I don’t like to be overruled, Galen,” she said coolly. “Particularly when it concerns my personal affairs.”
“But it doesn’t only concern your personal affairs. It concerns your life, and that’s what I’ve been hired to preserve. So you do what you please about Quinn, but if I need him, I’ll use him.” He set the tray down on the bedside table. “Logan tells me he’s an ex-SEAL, besides his FBI and police training. He may come in handy.”
“No one uses Joe.”
“That’s why it’s so much fun.” Galen took a string of silver bells out of his pocket and crossed the room toward the balcony. “That balcony’s been bothering me, and I’m tired of checking it a couple times a night.”
“I didn’t know you did.”
“That’s because I’m so good.” He went out on the balcony and tied the string of bells on one of the wrought-iron spokes. He grasped another spoke a few feet away and pulled at it. Immediately a shower of tinkling sound drifted on the night air. “There we go. Thank God for this shaky ironwork. Not exactly high tech, but it sounds pretty and it’s loud enough to alert me if we have a cat burglar.” He looked back over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Or if Quinn decides to pull a
Romeo and Juliet
scene. ‘Once more unto the breach . . .’ ”
“That last line is from
Henry V
.”
“I never let accuracy get in the way if a quote fits.”
“And Joe is too pragmatic to play Romeo.”
“He didn’t impress me as being that pragmatic. He was seething tonight, and he didn’t like me this close to you. It amused me at first, but then my defense mechanisms kicked in and I’m afraid I was a little naughty.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, this and that.” Galen jiggled the spoke again, instigating another shower of silver sound. “That
is
pretty.” He left the balcony, closed the doors, and locked them. “Eat your sandwich and try to get some sleep. I know what Quinn told you upset you.”
“Of course it did.” Eve shuddered. “I feel . . . violated. That bastard used my little girl and tried to twist my life to suit himself. And what he did to Capel . . .”
“I’m surprised that bothers you. Capel did some heavy manipulating of you himself.”
“No, that was Joe. He manipulated Capel
and
me. When Joe makes a decision, opposing him is like trying to stop a tornado.”
“I got that impression.” Galen moved toward the door. “But you may be being a little rough on him.”
“You don’t know anything about it, Galen.”
“You’re right, but that never stops me from offering an opinion.” He smiled back at her as he opened the door. “Good night, Eve. Be sure to eat that fantastic ham sandwich I made so you can praise me in the morning.”
She shook her head as the door shut behind him. He was completely impossible. She looked at the sandwich without enthusiasm, but picked it up and started to eat. He was right. She needed strength. Not only to work, but to get through this nightmare that was escalating whenever she turned around. She had to plow through all that Joe had told her and everything that had happened since she got here, and make a decision.
She should probably pack up and go back to Atlanta.
But Victor was waiting. She could feel him calling her. She was getting closer to bringing him home every day.
She had to think, and it was impossible with the emotional upheaval she’d been thrown into when she’d seen Joe again.
Jesus, she wished he hadn’t come.
The bells on the balcony jingled softly in the darkness.
Eve stiffened in bed, her gaze flying to the French doors.
The bells jingled again.
“Stay put.” Galen was at her bedroom door. “We have a visitor.” He moved in darkness toward the balcony. “And not too bright a one if he’s still trying after he heard that first jingle.”
“Be careful,” she whispered. She could barely see him in the darkness, but then the door was flung open and he was outside on the balcony. She heard a crash and jumped out of bed and ran after him.
Galen and another man were struggling on the floor of the balcony.
Galen’s arm lifted and his fist came down on the jaw of his antagonist.
The man went limp.
“Also not much of an opponent,” Galen said as he got off him and dragged the man past Eve into the bedroom. “This job is proving no challenge at all.”
She followed him into the room. “I’m sorry you don’t believe he’s worthy of your talents, but I find men crawling over my balcony threatening enough.” The man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, had heavy Slavic features and dark hair peppered with gray. “Did you hurt him?”
“Nah, he has a glass jaw.” Galen squatted beside the man and searched his pockets. “And a potbelly. He’s in lousy shape for this kind of—”
“Shit.” The man’s hazel eyes had opened; he was glaring up at Galen. “I think you broke every bone in my face. What the hell did you do that for?”
“It seemed appropriate.” Galen put a knee on the man’s chest. “Eve doesn’t like second-story men.” He opened the man’s wallet and checked the driver’s license. “Bill Nathan, age forty-seven. Eye color is right, but the weight’s wrong. He’s a good fifteen pounds heavier than it says here.”
“So I gained a little weight when I quit smoking.” Nathan’s glance shifted to Eve. “Will you call this . . . bastard off me so that I can talk to you?”
“My name is Sean Galen, and you’re in no position to call me anything but sir.” Galen finished searching him. “He’s clean.” He handed her a card. “Press ID. He’s with the
Times Picayune
. . . maybe.”
Nathan scowled. “Are you going to let me up?”
Galen glanced inquiringly at Eve.
She nodded.
“Maybe I shouldn’t—” Galen shrugged. “Oh, well, he’s not much threat either way.” He stood, pulled Nathan to his feet, and then pushed him into the chair beside the bed. “Talk to me. What are you doing here?”
“I’m on a rescue mission, dammit. And I don’t like being tossed around like this.”
“Why the balcony?”
“I wasn’t sure whether the front door was being watched. Do you think I like crawling up the side of a house like some nutty superhero comic-book character?”
“It’s definitely not your area of expertise,” Galen said.
“Let him talk, Galen,” Eve said. “What do you want from us, Nathan?”
“In the short term, I want to save your necks. In the long term, I’m hoping for a Pulitzer.”
“Save us from what?”
“From finishing your reconstruction.” Nathan gingerly touched his bruised cheek. “God, I need a cigarette.”
“You’re saying that finishing the reconstruction is dangerous.”
“I think so. If you finish, they don’t need you any-more, and you may know too much.”
Galen lifted his brows. “You
think
so?”
“That’s what I said,” he said sourly. “I can’t look into a crystal ball and know what they’ll do. I’m still digging. I don’t know what the hell’s happening yet.”
“You evidently know more than we do,” Eve said. “Who are ‘they’?”
“The Cabal.”
“Sounds like a witch’s coven,” Galen said.
“It’s not funny.” Nathan gave him a poisonous glance before turning back to Eve. “Don’t you think I was tempted to just let you go on with the reconstruction until I could find out who you were working on? If you don’t finish, I risk losing my story.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He grimaced. “Ethics. The bane of my existence.”
“Inspiring,” Galen murmured.
“The truth.”
The man’s reply was both bad-tempered and defiant, but Eve thought she could also sense honesty. “How did you know I was working on the skull?”
“I didn’t. I followed the skull and staked out the church.” He paused. “I’m not the only one. I almost stumbled over two guys near the church.”
“Guards. There are four, sometimes five,” Galen said. “And much more talented than you.”
“I’m a journalist, not a thug.”
“From where did you follow the skull?” Eve asked.
“Well, I didn’t exactly follow it. Etienne told me it was going to be taken to the church.”
“Etienne?”
“Etienne Hebert.” He drew a deep breath. “Look, I can’t have a cigarette, so will you at least give me a cup of coffee? I need the caffeine.”
“This isn’t a social occasion,” Galen said. “Conversation first.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. If I hadn’t intended to tell you everything I know, I wouldn’t have come here tonight. As you’ve pointed out, I’m no great shakes at this kind of thing.”
“True. But it could be a ploy.”
Eve made a decision. “We’ll go down to the kitchen and get some coffee. He looks like he could use it.”
Galen shrugged. “Whatever.” He stood aside as Nathan got up and headed for the door. “I hope you don’t regret it, Eve.”
“A cup of coffee?” She followed them out into the hall. “I don’t think that’s being particularly soft. I have questions to ask, and he may as well be comfortable while he answers them.” She gave Nathan a cool glance. “And I assure you that you will answer them.”
Ten minutes later she was pouring steaming coffee into Nathan’s cup. “And who is Etienne Hebert?”
“I don’t think the present tense applies to Etienne.” Nathan took a drink of coffee, and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. “I think Jules killed him.” He held up his hand at Eve’s exclamation. “Okay, okay. Let me do this in my own way. I’ll start at the beginning. About a month ago I received a phone call at my office from a man named Etienne Hebert. He said he knew what had happened to Harold Bently, and that Bently was the smallest part of the story. He asked me to meet him outside New Orleans, at a little crab shack on the Mississippi.”
“Why you?”
“How the hell do I know? Maybe because I covered the Bently disappearance for the newspaper.” He took another sip of coffee. “Anyway. I met him. He was a big guy, not over twenty-one or -two, and seemed a little simple at first glance.” He shook his head. “But he wasn’t that dumb. After I talked to him for a while, I realized he was smarter than I first thought. He was just troubled, and feeling guilty about talking to me. He had a big brother, Jules, and there was no way he wanted to get him in trouble. It was obvious he had a king-size case of hero worship. Etienne was only a fisherman, but Jules was the smart one in the family. He was the only one who made it to college.” He grimaced. “Maybe it would have been better for him if he hadn’t. He was a junior at Tulane when the Cabal recruited him.”