Target (29 page)

Joan blinked at Eileen and said, “No. We came to see Aurelie. Vic's going to take a picture or two in here if it's okay with you.”

“It's not my shop,” Aurelie said.

“We want you in the shots,” Joan said to Aurelie. “You know about my book on antebellum houses and the people who live in them. You may not be in one now, but you qualify. I hope you'll let me interview you shortly.”

Eileen said, “I'm sure it's okay to take photographs in here if Aurelie wants you to.”

Vic unloaded his equipment without waiting for permission. Aurelie saw a Band-Aid on his cheek and redness turning to bruising just below. She said, “What did you do to your face?” and jumped when he straightened up fast and glared at Joan.

“He cut himself shaving,” Joan said quickly, but she covered her own Band-Aid, one stuck over the end of a finger on her right hand. She didn't cover it before Aurelie noted how long the woman's nails were—all but the broken one she'd obviously hidden.

Joan seemed a gentle, almost bumbling soul. The idea of her beating up on a man cast her in a different light. But Aurelie had to suspect Joan had thumped Vic's face.

“Let's get this done,” Vic said, his voice harsh. “Where d'you want her?”

Joan didn't look at him. “The bird feeders would be nice in the background. I want to show your life today, Aurelie.”

Vic grunted and said, “Too busy.”

“Then why ask me in the first place?” Joan asked, sounding furious. “You don't need me.”

“How right you are,” he said and waved Aurelie to the right, in front of a handmade quilt.

Aurelie didn't move. “Let's back up,” she said. “I didn't say you could take my picture. You haven't even asked if you can.”

Joan's attention had wandered. She looked across the street toward the two police cars outside Nick's condo. “Are they pestering that lovely man now?”

“Just routine stuff,” Aurelie said, and she'd back up what she'd said if she had to. “After all, Baily Morris did die at our lab and they don't even have a suspect.”

“Are you sure?” Joan asked. “They wouldn't think Nick was a suspect, would they?”

“They would not,” Eileen said sharply. “Nick wasn't even out there when it happened.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Joan asked.

“We're busy,” said Aurelie, grateful that the shop was empty of customers. “It's time to get on.” Hoover decided to exercise his growl just a little.

“I'm sorry,” Joan said, and looked it. “I don't think sometimes.”

“You can say that again,” Vic told her.

Joan began the rapid blinking again. “Forgive me. If we could just get a couple of good shots we'll leave you alone.”

“Why do you want them?” Aurelie asked.

“Oh.” Joan's expression turned blank. “I told you. Past and present generations. I want to know every little thing about you.”

“M
ake sure I don't have to go lookin'for you,” Matt Boudreaux said. “I want you right here where I can find you.”

Nick locked his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair and stared at Matt.

“I want an assurance,” Matt said.

“I'd like you all to leave now,” Nick said, his eyes flicking to Buck. “Unless you're charging me with something.” Young Sampson and another officer whose name hadn't registered with Nick, stood looking awkward with four brown paper bags of so-called evidence between them.

“We'll be going,” Matt said and Nick thought his old friend didn't look so happy. “I'm doing what I have to do. Thanks for lettin' us take a look around.”

Nick had seen no reason for a warrant just for Matt and his people to make a superficial search. The chicken foot had raised the most interest. Matt had subjected Nick to a lot of questioning about the entry being made without break-in. Did he lock his doors? Who had a key to the condo? Nick came close to telling Matt that he, Nick, must have made the whole thing up, planted the foot himself. For once he'd managed to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't shake the conviction that Matt really did suspect him in the case.

“It's too bad you didn't call us in yesterday,” Buck said. “They've dusted for prints but we don't expect much luck. You've been all over here for twenty-four hours.”

“I've had a lot on my mind,” Nick said, but he knew he'd been wrong to take so long to report the intrusion. “The only reason was to leave the foot. And I was supposed to find it. Delia told you about the legend or what little she can remember.”

Matt grunted.

Nick shrugged. “It's getting hard to take some of this stuff seriously. A friggin chicken foot and some crap about a vulture.”

“I suggest you take it very seriously,” Matt said. “Did I mention we went over the study at Lafource and came up empty-handed. That's another case of any evidence being tampered with. The tape on that bag of sand came from a roll on Delia's desk. Nada. Not a mark on it.”

“I regret we didn't come right to you on these things,” Nick said.

“I know it's hard for you not to be in charge,” Matt said to him. “But hold it back, okay? Don't get in the way. You don't have the training to help and you could make it harder for the people who do.”

Fury immobilized Nick. Fury and common sense. He didn't dare move, didn't dare let himself follow his instincts. He'd like to put a fist in Matt's face and tell him he, Nick, would decide what was best for him to do.

Buck opened the door and the two younger officers stepped outside, bumping into each other in their hurry to escape. Matt made to follow Buck but turned back. “Just a last question before I go,” he said. “Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?” Buck had stopped and stood in the doorway, observing.

Like what? How I've been running around town attacking and killing people?
“Can't think of anything, Matt,” Nick said.

“Why did you decide to take Baily Morris's briefcase away from the lab after she'd been killed?”

Nick ground his fingers together behind his back. “I already told you. The reason hasn't changed. It was automatic. It seemed as if I should look after it because it belonged to her.”

Matt snorted. “Were there some parts of an experiment she was running in the briefcase?”

“Who told you about that?”

“A friend of mine,” Matt said. “The stuff she was working on wasn't hers, was it? It was your invention. Your baby. See you around. Soon.”

The two men followed each other out.

“Shit!” Nick let his arms hang between his knees. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. That Matt would even think Nick had something to do with Baily's death, or the attacks that had followed, showed no progress had been made. To hell with them. He didn't have proof that Colin was behind the crimes, but if he was, Nick intended to get the evidence needed to back up his theory.

Could be time to lawyer-up. Aurelie would know.

Nick put his elbows on his knees and wrapped his hands and forearms over his head. He was tired. Apart from the times he'd spent in Aurelie's arms, he hadn't known a moment's peace since the news broke in California.

“Don't jump.”

He did jump, but Aurelie's voice was the best thing he'd heard since the last time they'd been together. She had opened the door without making a sound, and she closed it softly.

“Hi,” he said, not lifting his head. “Did my visitors see you coming here?”

“No.” She rubbed his forearms and the backs of his hands. “I waited for them to drive off. They were in a hurry to get away.”

“They've told me not to leave town and this time it wasn't so much a suggestion.”

She knelt down in front of him and rested her head on his thighs. “Matt doesn't have any leads,” she said. “Everything's fragmented.” She told him that Joan Reeves and her buddy Vic had stopped by the shop, and by the time she'd finished her story he was mad all over again.

He stroked her hair, and her back, exposed between thin straps on a coffee-colored sundress.

“I think I need a lawyer,” he said. “And Delia's family lawyer isn't what I have in mind. Sam's a good man, but he's never done any criminal stuff.”

“I want to scream,” Aurelie said. She slid her face higher up his thighs and put her arms around his waist. “I don't like to hear
criminal
used in the same sentence with a reference to you.”

He bent to kiss her back. “It's showtime, sweetheart. They want someone's head on a plate and mine looks tasty. Know a good lawyer?”

“Joe Gable in Toussaint. He's one of those guys who does everything well. If I could do it myself, I would, but it wouldn't be appropriate.”

“You know how to contact the man?”

“Finn and Emma know him. So does Eileen.”

“Divorce? Is that what he does?”

“Not solely. He's done some pretty big cases for a small-town lawyer. You could make an appointment to see him. If you wanted me to, I could come with you. Or we could ask him to come here. He might go for that.”

“I've got to think some more first,” Nick said. “Someone told Matt what was in Baily's briefcase. The stolen formula.”

“I thought you already told him about it,” Aurelie said.

“I didn't. It didn't seem that important and frankly, I didn't want to sound malicious.”

“Because that could make you look guilty?”

“No, damn it.” He pushed to his feet and Aurelie lost her balance. She fell back on Nick's blue Oriental carpet, slammed her elbows down for balance and said, “Ouch, Nick!”

“Sorry,” Nick said, his back to her. “Not a lot of people around here could give Matt that information. So I guess I'm going to have to weed out the worm.”

“I kind of think that's one of the things Matt's going to do.”

“Think, Aurelie! Matt already knows who told him, that's the problem. It was probably a Wilkes and Board employee. I suppose I shouldn't be upset about that. They wouldn't have volunteered the information.”

She smiled up at him and he felt like an overgrown, badly behaved kid. Leaning over, he scooped her off the floor and set her in his favorite, ugly, blue corduroy recliner. “I'm a pig,” he said. “But I didn't knock you over on purpose.”

“I know. If I didn't, I'd be downtown applying for a restraining order.”

He stared into her lovely, currently snapping, blue eyes and grinned. “What do we do about Joan Reeves prying into our business?”

“I'm not going to be in her book,” Aurelie said. “I don't like the idea of people making money on other people's lives, and she could run across something that would take her right to the middle of the time we spent at The Refuge. We have to freeze her out of town.”

“She's already shown she won't be easy to get rid of,” Nick said. “We'll manage. We'll get together with Sarah—and Delia—and work out a plan.”

“Are you okay?” Aurelie asked.

“Not at all,” he said and flopped into another chair again, trailed his hands over the sides. “I'm in terrible shape. I don't think it would be a good idea to leave me alone.”

Aurelie crossed her arms. “Well, I know it looks like our kind of weather, but I'm still a bit bruised from the last time you attacked me in the rain. In case you've forgotten, that was only yesterday. I've got to go.”

“Yesterday?” He widened his eyes. “Of course I'm dying here.
Yesterday?
This is today. You can't expect me to go a whole day without—”

“
Nick
. I'm leaving.”

“Too bad,” he said. “You don't know what you're missing.”

“I've got to get back to work.”

“Of course.”

Aurelie couldn't ignore what she felt, or what she'd really like to do right now, but she still had control of her actions. She waved and approached the door.

Nick got there first, falling against the wall in his crazy dash to cut her off.

“What are you doing?” she said. “You're mad.”

He shook his head. “No, I'm not.” He locked the door and put on the dead bolt. “We're not here.”

“Your car's outside and Eileen knows I'm here.”

His attention didn't leave her mouth. He watched her talk and gradually brought his face closer to hers.

“Nick, not now.”

“Now,” he murmured and pressed their lips together, slipped his tongue into her mouth. Very easily, he turned her back to the wall and braced a hand on either side of her head. For a second he raised his face and looked down at her, but only for a second. The next kiss felt like a softly dangerous attack laced with some sort of drug. Aurelie began to lose control. Her bones turned soft and useless, her legs weak.

You are a spineless woman.
She dodged under his arm and whirled away from him, held up her hands to ward him off. “We can't keep doing this,” she said. “It feels sneaky.”

“You couldn't be more wrong,” he told her. “There's nothing sneaky about the fact that we're locked in here and we're going to make love. It's open season, Rellie. If you run, I'll hunt you down.”

Excitement, a rush of tumult, sent her running anyway. She ran for the kitchen, but he got there neck and neck with her. She sprang around, set her eyes on the door, and escape.

Nick shot an arm around her, spread his hand over her back and slammed her against him.

“Nick,” she cried. “What's gotten into you?”

He caught her mouth with his again, kissed her breathless again. Trapping her against the counter, he undid the buttons on her bodice and slipped the straps from her shoulders. She tried to hold the front of the dress over her breasts but failed. Nick spread his hands over her and kissed her from brow to waist, over and over.

His eyes turned wild and he panted, held the tip of his tongue between his teeth. And he lost any battle for patience. She heard fabric tear and grimaced. The dress fell around her feet and he pulled her from the puddle of coffee-colored fabric.

“Mmm,” he said while she crossed her arms and covered her breasts. Wearing only a thong and high-heeled sandals, she felt wanton. She landed on the counter, the granite cold under her bottom, and Nick got himself out of his clothes. He kept a hand on her because he thought, correctly, that she might flee if he let her go. Wriggling and tearing, he ended up naked, his skin gleaming all over.

And he was so ready for her.

He pulled her arms from her chest and let his head fall back. “If I keep on looking at you, one of us is going to be frustrated because I won't be able to hold on.”

A thrill, something too close to fear to call, engulfed Aurelie. She stared at him, all of him, and wondered how she coped with a man like him. He ought to break her in two just entering her body.

“Why doesn't it feel weird when we're together?” she asked. “Anymore?”

He closed her mouth with his own, then mumbled, “This was always going to happen.”

She pulled her feet onto the counter, wrapped her arms around her knees and scooted sideways.

Nick laughed deep in his throat, a rumbling that spread to his chest. And he bent, pulled her ankles far apart, and gave her a forceful tongue sampling of what he intended to do to her next.

Aurelie was the one who didn't last, she started to slump onto the counter, but he put an arm around her back and held on, anchoring his grip by holding a breast. She bumped her bottom up and down and her knees flopped open. When the rage of pulsing started, and spread, she felt slick all over, drowning in self-made moisture and the film of sweat on Nick's body.