Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (8 page)

Jason slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.

His lips pressed into a thin line, Eric snatched up the page and scanned the contents. A smile slid up the sides of Eric’s face. “So?” He laid the paper back on the desk.

Ben rose from his chair and strode across to pick up the thin white sheet.

“So,” Eric repeated. “I helped pull a woman out of the swamp today. I should think that would help my campaign, not hurt it.”

The page had a badly reproduced black-and-white photo of Eric helping a sopping wet woman from the swamp by what looked like the dock at Thibodeaux Marina. Despite her hair hanging limply in her face, Ben would recognize that figure anywhere.

Lucie.

And, obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes and one of these flyers, her blouse wasn’t hiding much, if any, of her luscious, fully endowed features. The caption at the bottom of the picture read, “Congressional Candidate Eric Littington in Wet t-shirt Contest With Hometown Hottie.”

“You’ll be the next Washington scandal if you keep seeing that woman.” Not a hint of humor graced Jason Littington’s countenance. A little twitch on his left jaw was the only indication of any emotion whatsoever.

“Why shouldn’t I see her?” Eric stopped pacing to stand directly in front of his father’s desk. “Lucie LeBieu is a very nice young lady.”

“With the reputation of being a little on the loose side. She’s flirted with every man in the county, and rumor has it she’s slept with them all.”

The back of Ben’s collar heated. Although he and Lucie didn’t have a future, he couldn’t stand back and let Jason Littington repeat nasty gossip about her. “Lucie has a twin sister, Lisa, who has that unfortunate reputation. Lucie isn’t anything like her sister.”

“If I can get the rumors confused, the media will make an even bigger mess of the situation.” Jason Littington picked up the page and waved it at his son. “Stay away from her if you know what’s good for you and your campaign for congress.”

Ben could have predicted Eric’s response. He’d seen it at least a dozen times when he’d witnessed Eric go up against his father’s demanding presence. Eric always managed to come off looking like the more reasonable of the two. A quality he admired in his friend, and one that made Eric an excellent candidate for government. The man could keep calm in the most unnerving situations and make sound decisions based on facts. When he believed in something, he didn’t back down.

And apparently, he believed in Lucie.

Ben remembered a time when he’d believed in Lucie, too. Until she’d shown her true colors. She’d only been interested in status.

Growing up as one of nineteen kids, Ben never much cared for status. Nor did he let the lack of status slow him down.

“Dad, I’m not a teenager anymore, and you can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.” Eric didn’t whine, he just stated the facts in a clear and concise manner.

“If you insist on seeing that woman, you’ll only ruin your chances of getting elected,” the elder Littington persisted.

“Now, wait a minute, Mr. Littington.” Ben raised a hand to stop further testimony against his ex-girlfriend. “Lucie isn’t a bad person.”

“Maybe so, maybe not.” Jason flicked his hand toward Ben, although his attention remained on his son. “Eric can’t afford to let her bring him down.”

“Lucie is a beautiful woman who’s smart and determined.”
Determined to marry well
. He didn’t add that part. He just couldn’t stand by and let Jason bad-mouth her. Lucie may have done some rotten things in the past to him, but nothing that deserved such censure.

“It’s too late, anyway, Dad.” Eric crossed his arms over his chest. “I like her and I want to see her again. I’ve asked her to be my date for the campaign barbecue Friday night.”

Eric’s announcement was a punch in the gut Ben hadn’t been prepared for. He’d thought for sure Eric would make the right decision and stay clear of Lucie. At least, deep down, Ben had
hoped
his friend would stay clear of Lucie. Not that he wanted to start something up with her again. But, well…

What the heck
did
he want?

Jason shook his head, his mouth in a serious downturn. “Every decision you make will have a profound effect on how your constituency views you. Going out with this Lucie LeBieu woman will only bring scandal and make your voters question your judgment.”

“I’ll take that chance.” Eric’s jaw tightened and determination showed in the hard glance he directed at his father. “Lucie’s worth it.”

Jason stood, the color rising in his tanned cheeks. “Is she worth making her your wife?”

Ben staggered backward. Neither Eric nor Jason paid any attention to him, so wrapped up were they in their little power struggle.

Lucie, Eric’s
wife
? Wow, that would be a coup on her part.

She’d turned Ben down flat when he’d asked her seven years ago.

He studied Eric across the room. His blond good looks were a stark contrast to Ben’s bayou Cajun dark skin and hair. And Eric dressed for success with every item of clothing he put on, probably down to designer boxers. The man wore his success like a second skin. Hell, it probably came easy to him
.
Manners and diplomacy had been ingrained in him from birth. And what he hadn’t inherited, Jason Littington made sure he’d learned by sending him to the best tutors and universities.

Lucie would do well to marry a man like Eric. Ben could never measure up to someone so classy.

Nor did he want to. He’d leave it to his politician friend to carry that ball and chain. He enjoyed living in the comfort of jeans and well-worn work boots. And tact was something he’d never quite mastered, neither here in Bayou Miste nor on the force in Baton Rouge.

Eric hesitated over his father’s bald question. Finally, he looked straight at Jason Littington. “If I fall in love with her, I’d be more than willing to ask her to be my wife.”

“It’s a good thing. You might want to take a look at the New Orleans
Times-Picayune
.” The older man lifted a newspaper off his desk and handed it to his son. “Your opposing candidate is blasting you about not being married, claiming you have no stability in your life and your views.”

“My marital status has nothing to do whatsoever with my political views.” Eric snapped the paper open and scanned the front page.

“Dwayne Gasson says it does.” Jason tapped the biggest article splashed across the page. “He also capitalizes on his Cajun heritage and your lack of the same.”

Ben almost laughed at the irony. For once Eric’s money wasn’t enough, and he had what Eric never could.

Eric’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Not that I put any stock in Gasson’s mudslinging, but it just serves to reinforce my stand that Lucie might just be good all around for my campaign.”

Ben held his breath, not liking the way this conversation was going.

“How so?” Jason asked.

“If I need a wife, which I don’t concede that I do, Lucie would make the ideal one. She’s beautiful, she’s independent, and she’s Cajun. As far as I’m concerned, she’s perfect. And I don’t care who objects.”

Jason glared at his son.

As the quiet stretched into a full minute, Ben shifted on his feet, ready to leave father and son to their argument.

Then a loud crash shattered the silence—and the huge picture window in the study. Ben spun around as the porcelain vase on the end table beside him exploded into a thousand tiny shards. A rock the size of a baseball rolled to a stop on the carpet inches from his big toe, a crumpled piece of paper tied around the middle.

“Good Lord!” Mr. Littington dropped to a crouch near the floor behind his desk.

Eric squatted low, his gaze riveted to the broken window.

All of Ben’s police training and a strong dose of adrenaline kicked in to his bloodstream. He ran to the window, flattening his back to the wall beside it, then eased around the frame to stare out into the night.

Across the open lawn, a figure sped past, his legs exposed by accent lights, his face in the shadows of the giant oak trees. The man disappeared into the bushes leading toward the boat ramp where Ben and Eric had played during the summers growing up.

He jerked open the double doors leading out to the garden and leaped over the low porch railing. When his feet hit the grass, he threw every ounce of energy into gaining ground on the vandal.

Before he cleared the bushes blocking the view of the private pier beyond, a motor revved, blasting through the raucous noises of the frogs and insects serenading one another in the still night air.

A few more steps and Ben moved out into the open, charging to the end of the short wooden dock. A small skiff left a V-shaped wake as it disappeared into the dark.

“Damn.” He leaped into the nearest high-powered boat and fumbled for the ignition
.
“Double-damn.” No key. How was a person supposed to chase the bad guys when they took the keys out?

His only other choice was a rowboat flipped upside down on the shore
.
He’d never catch him in that.

Angry for not moving faster to begin with, he walked back to the house and stepped through the double French doors he’d exited moments before.

“Look at this,” Jason Littington shoved a crumpled paper into Ben’s hands before he cleared the threshold.

As his eyes adjusted to the glare of the lights, he stared down at the block lettering.

“
Go away!
”

Holding the paper by the corner, he flipped the page over but it was blank on the other side
.
“That’s it?”

A grin spread across Eric’s face. “Got to give the guy credit. He’s concise in what he wants.

“Unlike, say, a politician?” Ben returned the smile until the elder Littington’s creased forehead caught his attention.

“My property has just been attacked and you two are making jokes? I fail to see the humor in the situation.”

“Lighten up, Dad.” Eric draped an arm around his father’s shoulders. “It was just a rock, thrown by someone with a bone to pick.”

“A rock today, a bullet tomorrow.” Jason strode across to the shattered window. “This time I only lost a window—”

“And a vase.” Ben interjected.

“Yes, and an expensive vase.” Mr. Littington paused as if to remember where he was in his tirade. “What if this person starts shooting? Lives may be lost.”

“Dad, it was only a rock.” Eric glanced down at the offending stone. “But you’re right. I’d like to know who threw it.”

Ben grabbed a tissue from a box on Littington’s desk, scooped the rock up with it, and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’ll see if I can lift prints off it and the paper.”

“Do you suppose it was the man who’s been following Eric?” Eric’s father asked Ben.

“Could be. Could also be the protesters.” Ben frowned. “But since the guy got away clean into the swamp, I’d say he’s someone local who knows his way around the tributaries well enough to navigate in the dark.”

“Great.” Mr. Littington waved his hand in the air. “Campaign crashers, protesters, and local goons. Want to add something else to that list?”

How about a very determined woman intent on marrying your son
? Ben added silently to himself. No, he couldn’t say that to Mr. Littington. The man was probably an alligator’s hair away from running Lucie out of town, as it was. “Look, there’s not much we can do tonight. I’ll take the paper and see if there’s anything I can glean from it. And tomorrow, we’ll install additional security cameras that will take in more of the yard. In the meantime, get this window boarded up before you call it a night, if you don’t want another one of these crashing through.”

Jason and Eric Littington nodded.

“I’ll see Mr. Boyette to the door and have the maid clean up this mess.” Eric hooked a hand around Ben’s elbow and led him out of the study.

He paused at the front entry, dropped his hand away from Ben’s arm, and shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Ben, do you think the message was intended for all Littingtons, or just me?”

“Hard to tell.” Careful not to contaminate the evidence, he folded the paper into the tissue and slid it into his back packet. “The message was so short.”

“Dad wasn’t getting rocks through the window until I showed up.” Not a trace of humor graced Eric’s face now, only a deep frown.

“Something to be considered.”

“I’m worried about my father. He doesn’t need this kind of stress.” Eric shoved a hand through his blond hair. “Maybe I should leave.”

Ben understood family concerns. He loved his mother and every one of his siblings. Eric’s apprehension was warranted. “We don’t know who did this or whether you or your father, or both, were the object of the warning. Let me do some more digging—maybe something will turn up. In the meantime, keep your eyes open.”

Eric’s lips twisted into a sardonic half-smile. “Okay. I trust you, man. I know you won’t let me down.”

As Ben climbed into his exterminator truck, his thoughts ran the gamut of possible suspects. Who the hell threw that rock? Or a better question was, what would he do next?

And if Lucie continued seeing Eric, would she be the next target?

Chapter Eight

“Jean, do you think I’m a screw-up?” Lucie slid her round serving tray onto the bar and hiked one butt cheek onto a stool. Business wouldn’t pick up for another thirty minutes, and she was feeling pretty bummed and in need of a friend.

He handed her a dry towel and a glass. “No, I don’t think you’re a screwup. You’re the best waitress I got.”

Absently polishing the glass, Lucie thought of the mess she’d made of everything. All she’d wanted was to save her
Mamère
’s house and get out of Bayou Miste. “Have you ever done something you thought was right at the time, even though your friends told you that you were out of your mind, and despite all their arguments, you did it anyway?”

Jean chuckled. “Yeah, I once ate a hundred goldfish on a dare.”

“Ewwww!”

“Half my friends tried to talk me out of it. The other half egged me on. Had a bellyache for a week. These days, I can’t even go to the fish store without wantin’ to puke.”

“That is so disgusting.” Her stomach burbled in sympathy. “Did you ever feel right again?”

“No.” He took the glass from her and placed it on the shelf behind him. “What I learned from the fish is that I really should have listened to my friends.”

“But half of them were telling you to do it and the other half not.”

“No. My
real
friends were telling me not to do it.”

She sighed. He was right. Her friends had tried to stop her, but she hadn’t listened. If Ben hadn’t come back she might have backed down on her determination to leave. She might have looked for another way to help out Gran LeBieu. Now she was committed. “Jean, have you ever been in love?”

“Lucie.” He shook his head. “You got a customer on table three.”

End of conversation. What had she hoped to discover with his answer? Lucie waited the table and when she returned to the counter, Maurice Saulnier had taken up residence on the stool.

Lucie stood next to him and leaned on the counter. Jean had his back to her, pulling beer bottles from cartons, stacking them in the cooler. He glanced back once, but found something else to do that required his attention.

Definitely the end of the conversation with Jean.

“Hi, Lucie,” Mo said. He tipped his bottle and swallowed a long gulp. Still in his coveralls with the Littington logo embroidered on the right front pocket, he must have come straight from work.

“Where’s Larry?”

“Had to babysit his little sisters tonight. He be makin’ a good wife to someone one day.” Mo chuckled at his own joke.

“What about you?” If Jean wouldn’t answer her question, Lucie may as well poll the only other person within hearing range. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Not Mo. Who gonna love dis big, bad boy?” His words were stated without self-pity, like a man simply asking a rhetorical question.

“Why Mo, any young lady would be happy to have you as her husband.” She slid onto the stool next to him.

His shaggy black eyebrows rose an inch. “Would you?”

Gulp. She should have seen that one coming. How to let him down gently? “I’d be proud to be your wife…”

“But. Dey always be buts.” Mo shrugged. “No matter, I be happy to live wit’ Granny. She cooks, she cleans. What more do I need?”

“Love?”

“Who needs it? It only gives you pain.” He clenched his fist over his heart. “Right here.”

“Maurice, there’s someone out there for everyone. Don’t give up.” Her heart hurt as if Mo’s burly fist had squeezed it. Just as she’d felt when Ben had thrown his harsh words in her face seven years ago. “What if you could come up with a love potion to make someone fall in love with you? Would you use it?”

Maurice tipped his head to one side and squinted as if seeing into a hazy future. “No.”

“No?” Was everyone of the same opinion about love potions? First Alex and Calliope, and now Maurice. “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t love Mo for Mo.” He tipped his beer and downed the last bit in one swallow. “I couldn’t live wit’ de lie.”

What could Lucie say to that? Maurice, who didn’t have many thoughts crowded into his head, was deeper than she’d imagined. Or the answer was too obvious for even her to see. Love by way of magic was a lie. Plain as Pinocchio’s nose—a big fat lie.

Even if she managed to get Eric to pop the question, would she accept? Could she be happy as his wife knowing she’d orchestrated the outcome?

“Hey, guys. ‘Sup?” Alex, with Calliope close behind, stepped up to the bar.

“What’s yer poison, ladies?” Jean tossed his bar towel over his shoulder and leaned his elbows on the counter.

“I’ll have my usual,” Alex said.

“One Miller Lite coming up.” Jean yanked a bottle out of the cooler, tipped it under the bottle opener and set it in front of Alex. “What about you, Red?”

Calliope, bless her soul, had a finger touching her chin, and her gaze shot to the far corner.

“Give her the same, Jean, or we’ll be here all night,” Alex said.

“But I might have wanted something frozen or fruity.” Calliope pouted, but smiled when Jean set the beer in front of her. “Thanks, Jean.”

“So,” Lucie said. “Are you two staking out the bar tonight or do you want me to find you a table?”

“Table, definitely.” Alex shot a brief glance around the room. “I’m not man-hunting tonight.”

“Honey,” Lucie said, “you’re never man-hunting. You’ve got your mother to do that for you.”

“You know what they say, don’t you?” Calliope lifted her bottle to her lips and swallowed.

Lucie glanced at Alex. “I give up, what do they say?”

A drop of beer trickled out the side of Calliope’s mouth and she reached up to wipe it clean. “You’ll only find true love when you’re not looking.”

Again, that little squeezing action attacked Lucie’s heart. Maybe she was having a cardio-something. She hadn’t been looking for love in a long, long time and certainly not now. Maybe Lucie LeBieu didn’t want love—stability was more her goal—but that didn’t mean she should dash someone else’s hopes.

She leaned back toward the bar and whispered in Mo’s ear, “Better be careful. You’re not looking for love, so someone’s gonna show up and knock your socks off.” She kissed his cheek and turned toward her friends. “Come on. Let me find you the perfect table.”

After crossing the dance floor, Calliope draped herself across her seat and nodded at Lucie. “So, what’s with you and Maurice?”

“Oh, nothin’ much.” She dusted an imaginary speck off her black tank top to avoid eye contact. Not a chance she’d tell her friends about either one of her earlier conversations. Likely, they’d give her a whopping big, “I told ya so!”

“Someone tell you that you shouldn’t have done it, or something?” Alex asked.

Damn her, damn Alex to Hell Bayou. You’d think the girl was psychic, the way she read her mind. Telltale heat crept up her neck to flood into her cheeks, right out to the tips of her ears. “No, that isn’t it at all.” Her ears were so hot they sizzled.

“Liar.”

Busted
.

“Who was it? Jean?” Calliope leaned forward. “I love playing the guessing game. I bet five bucks it was Maurice.”

“Look, I haven’t told anyone else about the love bug.” At least that was true. “And I don’t plan to.”

“Have you done anything yet to reverse the spell?” Alex asked.

She scuffed the toe of her high heel against the wooden flooring. “Not yet.”

Alex’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Did you even find the bug?”

Lucie paced a tight line in front of the table, her hands waving in the air. “I spent the best part of my day looking all over Bayou Miste for that damned bug. I found dragonflies, beetles, flies, mosquitoes, and other really disgusting bugs, but not once did I see that hexed ladybug. It would be easier to find a needle in a haystack.”

“
Coo-wee!
” Calliope sat back her eyes wide. “Do you realize how many bugs there are in the swamp? You could spend your lifetime looking for that one.”

She spun toward Calliope. “Exactly!”

While she’d been talking, customers had entered the bar, seating themselves around the room. A lucky break. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Don’t think you’re off my shit list, girlfriend. Until you un-hex my brother, you’re mud.” Alex’s words were harsh but she tempered them with a wink. “We’ll talk later.”

Lucie hurried to fill orders, barely stopping to chat with anyone for very long. The usual customers had already claimed their favorite tables, and for a Thursday night, the bar was crowded. She recognized a few of the protesters gathered around tables near the door, as if they might have to make a hasty escape from the riled-up locals.

She swerved around a burly Cajun speaking with his hands. As she passed by another table, someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Lucie, ain’t you even gonna say hello?”

In all the bustle, she hadn’t seen Pascal Pasquale enter the bar. “I’m sorry, Pascal. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a Bud.”

“Anything else? You want some oyster shooters or pretzels to go with that beer?”

“No, thank you.”

She swung back toward the bar only to be snagged again. With a pointed glance down at the arm Pascal held in his grip, she asked, “Did you change your mind?”

Pascal held tight, ducking his chin. “Lucie, would you consider going out with me?”

“Huh?” The question was so out of the blue, she hadn’t seen it coming. Go out with Pascal? After he’d stalked her in fifth grade?

He looked up, his expression that of a puppy in the pet store.
Choose me! Choose me!

Always a sucker for the pathetic pooch in the window, Lucie had a hard time coming up with the right words to let Pascal down easy. “No.” Okay, so that wasn’t so hard. Definitely blunt though, and not the least sugarcoated.

Pascal’s puppy-dog plea morphed into an angry Cajun scowl. “Is it that I’m not good enough?”

“No, not at all.” She twisted her arm a little trying to dislodge Pascal’s hand. “I’m just not interested in going out with you.”

“It’s Eric, isn’t it? Eric Littington. He’s good enough for you, isn’t he?” Pascal squeezed her arm harder.

“Is there a problem here?” A man’s stern tone sounded behind her.

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. How did Ben Boyette always manage to find her in an awkward situation? She refused to turn and see his superior expression. “Thank you, Ben. I can handle this.”

“I see that.” His words said one thing, his inflection implied,
Like hell you can
.

Lucie bristled and struggled even harder to pry Pascal’s fingers off her arm. She’d be damned if she let Ben rescue her yet again. She could get
herself
out of any tangle thrown her way. Her fingers started to cramp. Pascal’s grip was like a friggin’ vise.

“Pascal, let the girl go.” Ben spoke in a quiet, commanding manner.
No, no, no!
She couldn’t let Ben be the hero here. It would be one more reason to fall back in love with the bastard, and she wasn’t going there. Ever again. It hurt too damned much.

Pascal hesitated a moment and then eased up on his grip.

Lucie yanked loose and stepped out of reach. She could have extricated herself from the situation. Just because Ben stepped in didn’t mean she couldn’t save herself. He wasn’t some tall, dark and handsome hero she’d ever swoon over. Been there, done that, could write a really sappy love song about it. “Thanks,” she spit out. To herself, she added,
But that doesn’t change a thing.

…

Ben would bet his paycheck she hated that “thanks.”

“I only wanted to ask her out,” Pascal grumbled. “But no, I’m not good enough. She’d rather go out with that pansy, Eric.”

“Know the feeling,” Ben muttered beneath his breath.

Lucie darted a fierce look at him. “Ben Boyette, you don’t know anything, so shut your trap.” With that, she stormed away, tray and all.

Her anger enhanced the sway of her fanny in the cutoff shorts that were paired with that ridiculous black tank top. He drew a hand down his face. Lucie’s figure would start a riot before quitting time.

“What did I miss?” Eric walked up to stand beside him. “Ah, I see. Did you two have another spat?”

“No, not at all.” Ben pried his gaze from Lucie’s bodacious buns and attempted a poker face. “Let’s sit.”

They found a table in a far corner and both men sat with their backs to the wall. Ben almost laughed out loud. Part of the reason they sat that way was because of the rock through the window the night before. But mostly because of one Cajun swamp siren. From their position, they could easily see Lucie moving between the tables.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Eric’s question didn’t require a response. His gaze followed Lucie’s every move to the exclusion of everything else in the bar, including Ben.

“I reviewed the security cameras from the house. As I expected, the vandal was outside range when he threw the rock.”

“Huh?” Eric turned to face Ben, his eyes glazed. He shook his head and smiled. “Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself. She intrigues me.”

“She has that effect on most men.” Could Eric just shut up about Lucie already? The muscles in Ben’s neck were already tight from the Pascal incident. He didn’t need more Lucie-related stress. And having other men panting after her didn’t help one bit.

“I asked Alex about her favorite flower.” Eric’s gaze strayed back to Lucie.

“White roses, without those little white filler flowers. Baby’s breath, I think.” As soon as he said the words, he could have kicked himself. His statement was way more information than Eric needed to know.

“She looks like a roses kind of girl. But why no baby’s breath? And while we’re on the topic, why do you know all that about her?” Eric finally pulled himself from ogling Lucie and focused on Ben.

Like a worm pinned to the dissecting tray, he fought to keep from squirming. “Lucie and I used to date.”

Eric’s eyebrows rose. “But you told me you weren’t interested.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you are now?”

“No, I’m not.” Ben pushed a hand through his hair and reached for his beer. Oh yeah, Lucie hadn’t come by to take their order. “Want a beer? I’ll get one from the bar.”