Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (2 page)

“The man really doesn’t know when to shut up,” Lucie seethed.

“LeRoy, stuff a sock in it.” Alex stood, positioning herself between the two, providing a barrier neither dared cross. “Lucie, Jean wants you at the bar. I suggest you go before you do something you’ll regret.”

She stood her ground. “He deserves to be taught a lesson.”

“Be real,” Alex said. “He weighs three times what you do.”

“Move, Alex.” LeRoy licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “Me and Lucie’s gonna have us a little rumble.”

But Alex didn’t budge. “Go on, Lucie. Jean’s waiting.”

She glanced from Alex to LeRoy. The idiot was practically drooling, wanting her to respond to his taunts. And she wanted to, with all the bottled anger and disappointment she’d been collecting for over seven years. But Leroy wasn’t the problem. “You’re right, Alex
.
He isn’t worth the trouble.” She turned an icy glare at him. “I’ll let you slide this time. But don’t touch me again. Or else!”

“Ooooo, I’m scared.” LeRoy’s laugh implied that he was anything but. “Or else what? You’ll give me a lap dance?”

“I’ll kick your butt!” She lunged forward. “Then I’ll serve your balls as shooters to Mo’s alligator.”

Alex caught her in a clothesline snag around her shoulders. “Don’t go there. LeRoy isn’t worth it.”

A couple deep breaths, followed by a slow count to thirty, cooled Lucie’s temper, and she actually laughed. “Alex, you take all the fun out of waiting tables, do you know that?”

“You gonna be all right?” Alex peered into her eyes.

She still wanted to flatten the bag of hot air, but she had tables to wait and plans to make. With a parting glare at LeRoy, she got back to work.

While she distributed alcohol and snacks throughout the crowded room, worry built into an angry itch, simmering below the surface. What the hell was she still doing in this dead-end town? And how the hell was she going to earn enough money to pay off the mortgage and get the hell out?

Hard work hadn’t gotten her anywhere. The factory wasn’t hiring and tips were getting more scarce with the economic downturn. She’d have to resort to something she had never considered in her past. Something drastic, life-changing. Something she would never in a million years have considered if things weren’t as bad as they were now.

When she’d satisfied her customers for the moment, she returned to Alex and Calliope to pick up where she’d left off. “Okay. I’ve made a decision. If I can’t work my way out of this two-bit town, I’ll have to bite the bullet and resort to a little of the V-word.”

“V-word?” Calliope’s pretty brow wrinkled.

Alex hissed, “Voodoo, dummy!”

“Cool! I love Voodoo.” Calliope drank long and deep from her bottle of beer, apparently unconcerned by her friend’s rash declaration.

“Maybe Gran LeBieu’s Voodoo, but not…” Alex gave Lucie a sheepish grin. “Sorry, honey, but your brand of Voodoo never seems to work out just right. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

She flung out her hands. “I gotta do something soon, or I’ll explode.” And
Mamère
would lose the only real home she’s ever known.

“Yeah, but…” Alex pinned Lucie with an intense stare. “We’ve seen your…uh…Voodoo before. You’re likely to turn us all into two-headed toads. You may be willing to risk having toads for friends, but I’m not keen on eating flies the rest of my life.”

Calliope snorted beer through her nostrils, slammed the bottle back to the table, and choked, her eyes filling with tears. With a big gulp, she managed to gasp and then dissolve into a fit of the giggles. “I’ve got to agree with Alex on this one. I don’t want to end up being a frog like Craig Thibodeaux. Can you imagine hopping around Bayou Miste? If he and Elaine hadn’t fallen in love, poor Craig would have been a frog for life. Talk about your wicked Voodoo spell.”

Alex reached across the table and pinched Calliope’s arm.

“Ouch!” Calliope rubbed the spot, a frown denting her brow. “Why’d you go and do that?”

“Lucie didn’t cast that spell,” Alex said. “Madame LeBieu did. And she knew what the hell she was doing.”

“Oh, yeah.” Calliope rubbed her side and nodded across the crowded bar at a couple sitting in the far corner, their heads together and holding hands. “He seems to be just fine now.”

“That’s exactly my point. Madame LeBieu’s the Voodoo queen for a reason. Not so, our Lucie. No offense.”

“Alex is right.” Calliope smiled at Lucie and patted her arm. “Last time you tried to turn Maurice’s alligator into a dog, you only gave the poor beast a bad case of puppy love. T-Rex hasn’t been the same since.”

She winced. Part of the problem had been and would always be that she really hadn’t believed in Voodoo, her own at least, and still wasn’t quite sure it would really work. But desperate times and all that…

“Yeah, and Maurice’s grandmother has been beside herself trying to keep T-Rex from eating her poodle.” Alex squeezed Lucie’s hand. “You’d be crazy to try it.”

Calliope shook her head. “Poor FeFe.”

“FeFe, Schme-fe.” She stomped her foot. “That was only one spell gone wacky. Not all of them go wrong.”

“Lucie, be serious.” Alex set her lips into a straight line.

“Don’t give me that look,” Lucie warned. “I’m not one of your little brothers or sisters.”

“Then don’t act like one.” Alex crossed her arms over her chest. “Lucie, you can’t do it.”

Fighting the urge to stomp her foot again, she couldn’t stop her words. “I can, and I will.”

“Hey, didn’t I ask for oyster shooters with my beer?” LeRoy scraped his chair back. “I’m not paying for this beer until I get my shooters.”

In unison, all three women yelled at the man. “Shut up!”

“Lucie!” Bartender and owner of the Raccoon Saloon, Jean Dupree, as wide as he was tall and as bald as a cypress knee, slung a towel over his shoulder, grabbed a mug from below the counter, and filled it from the tap. “Quit pissin’ off de customers and get back to work.” He smacked the heavy drink on the counter, sloshing beer over the side.

She marched back to the bar. “I got the tables covered. LeRoy’s just bein’ his usual jerk self.”

“Well, you missed a table.” Jean nodded to a stranger dressed in a leather jacket, seated as far away from the music as possible. “If you have time in yer busy social calendar, could you deliver dis beer to dat table?”

“I don’t know, Jean, we swamp debutantes have appearances to keep up.” She loaded the heavy mug onto a tray and swung around. “I can’t be associating with the riffraff.”

“Darlin’, we only serve riffraff at de Raccoon Saloon.” Jean chuckled behind her. “And I wouldn’t be havin’ it any other way.”

“Someday real soon I’m gonna blow this town and leave you and your precious riffraff behind.” As the last word left her mouth, she set the beer on the stranger’s table and turned in time to see Eric Littington enter the bar alone.

Lucie’s eyes narrowed like a hawk’s as it homes in on its prey. Eric Littington, the blond-haired, blue-eyed attorney and son of the richest man in the parish. He and his family had enough money to pay off hundreds of mortgages like
Mamère
LeBieu’s.
And
he was running for the U.S. House of Representatives—a position that would take him away from Bayou Miste, away from the parish, and away from Louisiana altogether.

Bingo
.

She’d just found her ticket out of all her troubles.

“Oh, and Lucie?” Jean said behind her. “Before you blow town, don’t be forgettin’ ta give dese shooters to de jerk.”

After a long assessing look at her target, she worked her way back to the bar and piled the plate of oyster shooters onto her tray. With growing determination, she lifted the load onto her shoulder and wove her way back toward LeRoy. And just in case Eric should notice, she emphasized the sway of her hips. Wolf calls and shouts followed her through the crowded room.

“Hey, Lucie! If I had a swing like that, I’d put it in my front yard!”

How original
. Lucie snorted, but kept a smile plastered to her face. Same old Raccoon Saloon, same old patrons.

Except one.

To hell with financial worries and to hell with this town. I’m getting out
.

Laissez les bon temps rouler
. Let the good times roll!

Chapter Two

Benjamin Franklin Boyette noticed her the moment he slipped into the Raccoon Saloon. That sexy way her midnight-black hair hung down her back to brush across her butt, and the way her hips swayed, made her unforgettable. Damn, how in hell had she gotten even more beautiful in the past seven years?

Ben groaned inwardly. This assignment would be a lot harder than he’d anticipated with Lucie LeBieu around. As much as he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind. And wouldn’t, short of a strong dose of Madame LeBieu’s Voodoo. Lucie was not an easy woman to forget—all five-foot-three inches of Louisiana hot sauce.

As if in auto-drive, his jeans tightened to the point he had to readjust before he could take another step. Had he known the luscious Lucie would be there, he’d have ignored Alex’s advice and suggested another meeting place to conduct his business. He should never have trusted his sister. She’d always had the crazy idea that he and Lucie would end up together.

Didn’t she realize that Lucie had been the one to dump
him
seven years ago? When he’d gotten the letter of acceptance from the Louisiana Police Academy, he’d crumbled the paper and tossed it in the trash, telling himself he didn’t care anymore. Lucie had agreed to marry him and he was determined to stay in Bayou Miste and spend the rest of his life working to make her happy.

The next day, the world crashed in around his ears when Lucie had given his ring back and said she’d reconsidered. When he’d argued with her, she’d told him flat-out he wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted a man who could take care of her, provide for her every need.

He had been willing to try, but apparently trying wasn’t enough.

He’d been out of his mind, hurt, and angry, saying things he didn’t mean. Later, when he’d had time to cool down, he wished he could take back some of those awful things he’d said. But he’d realized the futility. Lucie hadn’t wanted him.

His chest tightened at the memory. He’d fallen hard when he’d fallen for Lucie. But he’d had seven years to get over her
.
Now he was immune to her brand of infection.

That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway. Somehow the idea never stuck.

Damned woman
. She shouldn’t have that kind of hold on him anymore. Not after all this time. Anger surged through him as, with a little more effort than he cared to admit, he pried his gaze from Lucie’s swaying hips. Here on business, he didn’t have time to reminisce about a flame blown out.

As planned, he’d arrived five minutes after Eric Littington, hoping to give their get-together a look of coincidence versus the planned meeting that it was. He scanned the interior of the bar. Despite being gone for seven years, he recognized just about everyone there. Except the woman in the corner with Craig Thibodeaux and the man in the leather jacket hunkered down in a seat in the shadows by the rear exit. He made a mental note to check out the strange woman and the leather-clad man.

Eventually, his gaze landed on the man he was looking for. Eric smiled as if seeing him for the first time in years, and waved a beckoning hand.

Ben covered the distance to the dark corner in a few easy strides. When he reached the table, he hid a grin.

If Eric planned to blend in at the bar, he’d missed the boat entirely. His khaki slacks and polo shirt were too sharp of a contrast to the standard jeans and t-shirts the rest of the crowd wore. Somehow khaki didn’t go with zydeco music and oyster shooters.

When they’d been growing up in Bayou Miste, Eric had already stuck out among the other children running barefoot through the bayous. He’d had the best of everything, while Ben had to be satisfied with secondhand clothes and toys. Now Ben shook his head, amazed at how the rich kid and the shrimper’s son had become the best of friends. As a teenager he’d envied Eric, until he’d realized that no matter how much Eric had, he’d always been lonely in the small community, isolated by his father’s wealth.

Ben wouldn’t have traded places with Eric for all the oil money in the swamp. Even with the constant noise and confusion in the cramped four-bedroom house he’d shared with his brothers and sisters, Ben loved his family and had felt sorry for Eric being an only child
.

He’d befriended the privileged teen and invited him home to dinner on more than one occasion. He could still picture Eric’s face the first time he’d entered the Boyette house. The poor little rich kid must have felt like he was at Mardi Gras, with all the Boyette children gathered around the table.

“Hey, Ben.” Eric stood and extended a hand. “Heard you moved back from Baton Rouge.” He winked.

“Eric.” Ben grabbed the extended hand and pulled him into a hug, like he was family. “It’s good to see you.” He scooted a chair up to the table opposite Eric, his detective instincts kicking into gear. He studied the fine lines around the other man’s eyes. “So what’s up?”

His boss had briefed him on the case before he left the Special Criminal Investigation Unit in Baton Rouge, but he wanted to hear the story from Eric himself.

His friend leaned closer. “I need you to be on the lookout for anyone trying to sabotage my campaign for Congress.”

“Why? I thought that’s how the game’s played.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw a flash of long black hair. Lucie bent to pick up a napkin off the floor and all his attention zeroed in on the frayed hem of her shorter-than-short skirt.

He gulped. She made it hard to concentrate.

He returned his attention to his friend. “Eric, you’re in politics. You should expect some problems with your campaign.”

“I understand that, but someone broke into my house in Baton Rouge and tapped all my phone lines. Not to mention, someone’s been stalking me for the past month. No attempts on my life. But I’d like to know who it is, who hired him and why.”

“And let me guess. You found that hard to figure out in a big city? Too many people, too many possibilities,” Ben finished for him.

“
Yeah,” Eric said. “I guess that’s why your boss thought it would be better if we did this here in Bayou Miste, where you know all the locals. We’ll have a better chance of finding the guy if he follows me here.”

With every fiber of his being on Lucie-alert, Ben fought the urge to glance around the bar again, knowing it would be for her, not potential suspects, no matter what he told himself. Instead, he concentrated on his friend. “So, what’s your excuse for being here when you should be out campaigning?”

“I’m here on the pretext of a quasi-vacation with my parents for the next two weeks. My campaign manager is setting up a few public speaking engagements while I’m home, complete with television coverage to keep me in the public eye.”

“What about the environmental groups? Aren’t you afraid they’ll raise a ruckus after the chemical dumping stink in these parts?”

Eric pushed a hand through his blond hair. “My father promised to pay for the cleanup. There might be a protest or two, but I don’t expect it to be major. The community knew it wasn’t totally the fault of Littington Enterprises.”

“Maybe so, but the tendency is for the media to make an example of the big industries.” Without realizing he’d been looking, Ben spied Lucie and all his attention shifted to her. And she was one hell of a distraction with her thick, dark curls hanging down to her waist and the neckline of her t-shirt dipping low, exposing the full, rounded tops of her breasts—

“The only people who are supposed to know you’re here on police work are my father and me.” Eric’s voice pulled Ben back to the business at hand.

“Beautiful.” Ben replied automatically. But his response could just as well have been a commentary on Lucie’s breasts or her rounded bottom. A derriere he’d known all too well, a lifetime ago.

“But what about you?” Eric asked. “Won’t it seem coincidental that you and I showed up at the same time?”

Lucie swatted a customer’s hand when he got too friendly. Just like her to look good enough to eat, but play hard to get.

Get back to business, Ben. She’s not interested. Nor are you
. Now what was Eric saying?
Oh yeah
. “I’ve got that covered.” Ben grinned. “I applied for a job with Bug Tugsley Extermination. He owed me a favor.”

“Do you think the townspeople will buy the story that you’re back to start over as a bug exterminator after being a state police detective?” Eric leaned across the table, his voice low enough not to carry to casual eavesdroppers but loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Huh?” He purposely avoided looking at Lucie and forced himself to focus on Eric. “Oh, yeah. All I have to do is tell a few folks that I’d had enough with playing cops and robbers and wanted to get back to family.” Which was true in a way. He needed a break from Baton Rouge. After his partner’s death, he’d been driving himself too hard. “Word will spread through the grapevine. And what’s not to believe? Everyone in Bayou Miste knows the importance we Boyettes place on family.”

Then why had it been years since he’d been home?

His gaze drifted to the reason. Lucie.

“That they do.” A wistful smile lifted Eric’s lips. “Whatever you have to tell them. I just don’t want the public to know that you’re here to help me. I don’t want the other candidates, including incumbent Dwayne Gasson, to think I’m getting paranoid. And I don’t want whoever’s doing this to me to know I’m actively pursuing them.”

Ben focused on his friend
.
“You can count on me.”

“Thanks.” Eric’s gaze swept around the room. “It’s good to be back.”

“Uh-huh.” Coming home had been a bittersweet ordeal. His mother had cried, along with half of his sisters. “Yeah, it’s good to be home.” He allowed himself another glance around, his gaze zeroing in on the dark-haired Cajun beauty.

With her head cocked at a haughty angle, Lucie swayed through the tables, stopping along the way to drop off full drinks and load the empties. When she reached LeRoy Le Due’s table, the man openly leered.

Ben’s hackles rose. From what his mother had told him, LeRoy was a married man now. He had no business eyeing Lucie like that.

“Got me my shooters?” LeRoy’s voice rose above the crowd and the zydeco band, his gaze on her breasts, not his order of oyster shooters.

Lucie set the plate on his table and shifted the big tray from her shoulder to directly in front of her, two full mugs blocking LeRoy’s view of her chest. “Here are your oysters. Now maybe you can be quiet and behave yourself.”

“I got anything but behavin’ on my mind.” The drunkard lunged and grabbed Lucie around the waist.

Thrown off-balance, Lucie’s tray tipped. The two full mugs and all the empty bottles slid off, landing with a loud crash on the hardwood floor, splattering beer and shattering glass in a million directions.

But that didn’t slow LeRoy down. He hauled Lucie into his lap and ran his pork chop hands over her body.

Lucie struggled to keep the octopus’s hands at bay. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

Ben was out of his chair and pushing his way across the crowded room before he could think through his reaction
.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, lending fuel to his anger.

“That’s it! That tops the charts,” Lucie shouted. She breathed deeply several times, but unfortunately the rise and fall of her chest only incited more fondling by the hulking fool. “Your wife doesn’t deserve this, LeRoy. Someone’s gotta teach you a little respect.”

Ben cringed. He’d never known Lucie to back down from a fight, even when the odds were stacked so heavily against her.

Unable to break loose from his roving hands, Lucie dove for the floor, toppling him from his chair.

A high-pitched screech pierced the air behind Ben. He turned in time to avoid being trampled by a crazed woman leaping from table to table to get to the center of the fray. Ben recognized her as Eunice, LeRoy’s wife.

Oh, boy
. The show was about to get even rowdier. He’d better snag Lucie before Eunice did.

While he shouldered his way through the amassing crowd of betting Cajuns, he lost sight of Lucie for a moment.

Eunice screeched again, followed by what he could only guess was Lucie’s yelp.

By the time he managed to get through, Eunice was on Lucie’s back, her arm crooked around the Cajun beauty’s neck, squeezing the breath out of her until Lucie’s face had turned a bright shade of blueberry.

“Stay away from my man, you two-bit hussy! I married him, fair and square, and you got no bidness jumpin’ his bones.”

“But—” Lucie wheezed around the wiry forearm clutching her throat.

“No buts! I didn’t give up the best years of my life with this bastard for no Cajun swamp princess to steal him away in a barroom.”

“Now, ladies. I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.” Ben reached over, hooked Eunice by her bony hips and pulled.

Eunice refused to relinquish her hold on Lucie’s neck.

Lucie would pass out soon if the other woman didn’t let her breathe. She was already going from blue to an alarming shade of purple.

As a cop, Ben had been called out to break up fights every bit as ugly as this one, but not ones involving Lucie. If he didn’t do something quick, Eunice could kill her.

He applied his best negotiating voice, honed from years of responding to domestic violence incidents. “Eunice, let go of Lucie. She doesn’t want to take LeRoy away from you.”

For a moment, the woman’s arm loosened.

He seized the opportunity to lift her off Lucie. Before he could set Eunice to the side, she grabbed onto Lucie’s hair and yanked her along with her
.
“This bayou bimbo has got to learn she can’t have someone else’s husband.”

Ben loosened his hold on Eunice to ease the strain on Lucie’s hair roots. But she wrapped her legs around Lucie’s waist and rode her back, holding onto the hank of hair for all she was worth. “You bitch! I should have known better than to let my man come to this shameful bar with the likes of you workin’ here.”

“He came on to me,” Lucie rasped. “And I’m not a bimbo.”

“My LeRoy wouldn’t do anything wrong when he’s got a wife sittin’ at home, wouldja, sweet thang?”