Bayou Heat

Georgia Tribell

There’s a killer lurking in the
shadows of the French Quarter and he’s already killed Eris’ friend and mentor.
With her unique psychic gift, Eris can follow trails that have long grown cold
for the police. But first she must ditch the sexy bodyguard hired to protect
her because he’s cramping her style and messing with her concentration.

Rob has seen a lot of oddballs in
his life, but nothing could prepare him for his latest assignment. Eris DuBose
is as crazy as she is beautiful, and despite Rob’s best intentions to keep
their relationship strictly business, he can’t resist the attraction burning
between them. She manages to pull him into her crazy world and soon he finds
himself dreaming of things he’d never considered possible. Now it’s going to
take a miracle and a huge leap of faith on his part to make his dreams come
true.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Bayou Heat

ISBN 9781419920110

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Bayou Heat Copyright © 2009 Georgia Tribell

Edited by Jaynie Ritchie

Cover art by Dar Albert

Electronic book publication December 2009

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered
trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not
be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written
permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue,
Akron, OH 44310-3502.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The
characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Dedication

For my husband and kids, who never complain and are always
willing to help out around the house. Thanks, guys. Remember I love you three,
even when I’m glued to the computer.

Acknowledgements

I have to thank Mary, Donna and Robin for always listening
to me and gently steering me back to the right path when I stray. Without them,
none of this would be possible.

Trademark Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

Buick: General Motors Corporation

California State University: California State University

CSI
: CBS Broadcasting Inc.

Ding Dong: Interstate Brands West Corporation

Dumpster: Dempster Brothers Inc. Corporation

Jaguar XJ: Jaguar Cars Limited Corporation United Kingdom

Sleeping Beauty: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Tulane: Administrators of the Tulane Educational Fund

Nights like these reminded Rob of his mother, may the sorry
bitch rot in hell.

He sat alone, nursing his drink as he surveyed the crowded
bar. People smiled, laughed and outright flirted with each other, but none of
them were real. There had to be more to life than this. Then again, maybe there
wasn’t. Maybe life was just one assignment after another. And in between, there
were one-night stands and Indulgence.

Indulgence was one of his favorite haunts and one of the
older, more established bars in the French Quarter. It was also within walking
distance of his loft, which was a plus tonight because he planned on enjoying,
to excess, his last night of freedom before starting a new assignment tomorrow
morning.

LD Carmouche, his partner at Titan Security Services, had
called him earlier in the day and told him to be at the office by ten the next
morning. Apparently there was another high-profile client who felt he needed
personal protection. Rob enjoyed his job for the most part. It was these
particular types of assignments that left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. He
always ended up feeling like a highly paid escort instead of the highly skilled
bodyguard he actually was. When he told LD this, the man had started laughing
and then hung up without giving Rob a single detail.

The front door opened and a group of women entered the bar,
distracting him. There was a time, not so long ago, he would have considered
qualities such as “gorgeous” and obviously “ready to party” as his type. He
watched them sit at a table close to the stage and then turned his attention
back to the drink in his hand.

Taking a swallow of his bourbon on the rocks, he closed his
eyes and wondered why the women didn’t interest him anymore. Eight months ago
he would have been all over them like icing on a cake. Today they didn’t even
tweak his interest, mentally or sexually. He glanced at them one more time.

No. Nothing.

Damn, even the man downstairs didn’t stir.

He drained his glass, stood and crossed the room to the bar.
He needed some type of distraction tonight so he didn’t spend all his time
thinking about his current state of celibacy.

“How’s it going?” Larry, the bartender, placed a fresh drink
in front of him and started wiping the bar.

“Could be worse.” Rob wasn’t in the mood for long
discussions so he kept his answer short, hoping Larry would move on.

Larry chuckled and jerked a thumb toward the back of the
room. “Yeah, you could be like that one.”

Rob turned and spotted a boyishly slim woman dressed in
low-rise jeans, black biker boots, a cropped black top, assorted
leather-studded jewelry and spiky hot pink hair. Her Gothic-inspired style
clashed with the casual eveningwear of the other patrons.

“All the girl does is stand there,” Larry went on, “staring
at that wall.”

Rob sat and sipped his drink and watched as a man approached
the woman. When the man was directly behind her, he circled her bare waist with
his hands and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. The woman turned to look
at the man, but not enough so Rob could see her face, and said something in
response.

The man dropped his hands and stepped back so fast he almost
toppled a tray carried by a passing waitress. From the look on the man’s face,
he didn’t receive the answer he’d expected. Rob chuckled to himself and found
his interest piqued as the woman turned her attention back to the blank wall.
It was obvious she didn’t care what the man or anyone else thought.

She stood there motionless for several minutes then took
what appeared to be a tentative step to the right. He watched as she then moved
two additional steps to the right then four steps to the left. Once, she
actually vacated her post long enough to wander the bar in a helter-skelter pattern
that made no sense to Rob’s analytical mind. Another time she stepped forward,
placing her hand flat against the wall and dragging it along the rough brick
surface as she walked the length of the room.

Half an hour later, thumbs tucked into the front pockets of
her jeans, she was still studying the wall. And Rob was still studying her.

“Whatever your problems are,” Larry said, coming back to
stand opposite Rob at the counter. “At least you haven’t succumbed to that.”

Rob glanced at Larry, who stood polishing a glass. “So
what’s her story?”

Larry tilted his head in the direction of Goth-girl. “She’s
been coming in here every night for the past week and it’s always the same
thing. She talks to no one except that damn wall. Really wish people wouldn’t
send their mental cases and homeless to our town.”

Rob was about to argue that the woman looked too well put
together to be mentally unstable or homeless when Larry was summoned away by
another customer. Turning his attention back to Goth-girl, he found himself
intrigued by her actions.

Without thinking, he stood and crossed the room to stand
next to her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempted to examine the wall
but spent more time scrutinizing the woman next to him.

This close, it was obvious she was not a transient. Even
though she was punked out, it was apparent she took great care in the way she
dressed. She was clean, her clothes pressed and she smelled of vanilla and
cinnamon.

He read the words splashed across the front of her shirt in
bold hot pink letters.

Party Favor.

The woman was defiantly unconventional in her ways.

“What?”

Rob lifted his gaze and focused on the dark green eyes that
were silently daring him to make a comment. The one word had been issued as a
challenge and he was just bored enough with his life to take her up on it. “The
Contemporary Arts Center has some wonderful walls. They even have the novel
idea of hanging pictures on theirs. You might want to give it a try for
variety.”

She smiled—a wickedly innocent smile. “Yes, they often show
great works, but my personal favorite is the Ogden Museum of Southern Art,
which is featuring Martin Gray. He’s a fabulous photographer. If you haven’t
seen his work, you really should, but maybe the Children’s Museum is geared
more toward your intellectual level.”

Goth-girl turned and walked out without a backward glance.

Rob laughed as he returned to his barstool. It wasn’t often
he met a woman who was capable of handling his dry sense of humor. Usually his
jokes earned him a cold laugh or a “don’t do that again”glare. He’d
never met anyone who’d responded so quickly intellectually or hit the mark the
first time out. The woman zinged him good.

He finished his drink and stood. With Goth-girl gone, there
was no reason for him to hang around. Besides, it was well after midnight and
he did have a morning meeting.

Out on the sidewalk, Rob soaked up the sounds and smells of
the French Quarter. At one time, he had wanted nothing more from life than a
one-way ticket out of this town. He finally accepted the fact this was where he
was meant to be and he was content with that decision. Now if he could just
figure out how to get rid of the empty feeling plaguing him day and night, he’d
be one happy camper.

Turning toward home, he dodged pedestrian traffic and kept
an eye out for pickpockets. He grew up running these streets, even relieving a
few of the less observant tourists of their heavy billfolds a time or two—maybe
more. It was a skill that still came in handy.

He stopped a couple of steps back from the corner to let a
large group of people pass by. He’d been seven when he’d learned not to get
caught next to an alley without a means of escape. There’d been a group of
innocent-appearing boys walking past him as he crossed in front of a dark
alley. Two of the boys had grabbed him and dragged him into the darkness to
take his money. He was lucky to come out of the alley with only a broken nose,
but he’d learned his lesson.

He continued his journey, and as he crossed in front of the
alley, movement in the shadows of the dark street caught his attention. He
paused and wondered if an unsuspecting tourist had been lured into a trap.

The sound of shuffling feet, a heartfelt moan and a few
colorful curses from two people reached him. The voices were young, male and no
concern of his, Rob thought as he took a step forward.

“You boys need to run along home before one of you gets
hurt.”

The third voice that drifted out of the alleyway caused Rob
to pause midstride. Surely Goth-girl wasn’t stupid enough to go down a dark
side street alone and in the dead of night.

“You’re the one who’s going to get hurt, lady,” a young male
voice responded.

“I don’t think so.” Goth-girl’s voice was confident and
strong.

Oh yeah, that deep, sultry voice could only belong to the
pink-haired lady. Her actions in the bar had made him wonder if she was a brick
or two short of a load. This stunt confirmed it. He wasn’t in the mood to
rescue a damsel in distress, but his conscience wouldn’t let him walk away
either.

He made his way down the alley, careful to stay in the
shadows. As he approached, he noticed the teen with green hair was trying to
distract her while the other young male, adorned with chains and a studded dog
collar, was attempting to circle behind her. The pair was failing miserably
because despite her heavy boots, Goth-girl was quick on her feet and in
constant motion, making it impossible for the boys to flank her. He was too far
away to help when the teen wearing the chains and studs rushed her, but she
nimbly sidestepped the attack and watched as the boy tumbled to the ground.

Stud-boy rolled to his feet and glared at her. “Look, lady,
all we want is your money.”

“Money that I worked hard for? You expect me to just hand it
over to you? Don’t think so.”

Before Rob could say or do anything, the green-haired punk
charged her from the left as the other thief came at her from the right.
Instinct took over and Rob lunged forward, attempting to put himself between
Goth-girl and the two hoodlums.

Green-hair got by him, but Rob punched Stud-boy, sending him
to the ground hard. Rob heard a scuffle behind him and only had time for a
quick glance. Goth-girl appeared to be holding her own for the moment, which
was a good thing because Stud-boy came up fast, wielding a knife. Keeping an
eye on it, Rob reached into his own pocket and pulled out his blade. With a
flick of his wrist, Rob opened the six-inch butterfly knife and saw the flash
of doubt cross the kid’s face.

It was moments like these when Rob really enjoyed not being
in the FBI anymore. He gave a short, bitter laugh and moved forward. “It’s been
a long time since I was in a good street fight. Let’s party.”

From beside him, Rob saw a lightning-fast kick then heard a
sharp cry of pain as a knife flew past him and landed on the pavement. The teen
he was facing blanched then turned and ran, leaving his partner in crime behind
to take the heat. With that threat gone, Rob turned his attention to the pair
beside him, expecting to have to intervene. He was more than a little surprised
to see Goth-girl standing and Green-hair down on the ground cradling one wrist.

“I think you broke my wrist!”

Goth-girl stood there with hands on hips, looking down at
the boy. She reminded him of a goddess, with pink hair that is, who’d been
wronged.

“Good. I hope I did. Maybe while it’s healing, you’ll think
about how stupid this was. The next time you try to rob someone, they might
just pull a gun and blow you away.”

The kid looked over at Rob as if he’d just noticed him and,
as he did, Rob slid a hand under his jacket. The kid’s eyes bulged out as he
tried to scoot away on his butt.

“I’m sorry. Really. Don’t hurt me.”

“Get out of here.” Rob’s words were hard and cold. “If I
catch you doing this again, I won’t be so kind.”

The kid scrambled to his feet and started to run in the
direction his friend had escaped. Rob closed his knife and returned it to his
pocket as he walked over and retrieved the kid’s forgotten weapon.

“What did you think you were doing?”

Rob dropped the closed knife into his pocket as he turned
and tamped down his temper. “Saving your hide, that’s what.”

“If that’s your idea of help, then please, next time, don’t
help me. Because of you, I took a hit.” She rubbed her jaw as she condemned him
to hell with her eyes.

“A ‘thanks’ would be nice.” His words only made her glare
harder. Then she turned and started walking away.

“By the way, I saw that kick and it was good and solid, but
luck won’t always be on your side. It was stupid not to give them what they
wanted.”

He watched as she stopped and turned back to stare at him,
shoulders squared. “That kick wasn’t luck and I’m not stupid.”

He closed the distance between them. “That’s debatable.”

He shadowed her moves as she took a step back and to the
left. Her gaze roamed over him and he saw a flicker of unease cross her face.
Her body language let him know that he’d gone from friend to foe in the blink
of an eye. Good, she needed to learn a lesson.

He moved in close enough that she was forced to tilt her
head back to look him in the eyes. The dim light reflected what might have been
fear in her eyes, but she held her ground.

He could once again smell her vanilla and cinnamon scent and
it pulled at him. His eyes fell to her mouth, now temptingly close. “You need
to be more careful walking these streets without a companion. You never know
what dangers might cross your path.”

Rob dipped his head, planning to show her how vulnerable she
was. Then his lips met hers and, for a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was
the one truly at risk. Then he stopped thinking at all as he deepened the kiss.

“Ouch! You bit my lip.”

The handsome stranger jerked away and his hand moved to his
mouth. Eris DuBose clenched her fists at her sides to keep from crossing them
in front of her and forced herself not to move away from him. She didn’t want
to let this man know he unnerved her more than the two hoodlum wannabes. She
was confident she could have taken both of them, but she wasn’t so sure about
this guy.