Kiss of Temptation: A Deadly Angels Book (17 page)

“Hell if I know, but wait ’til you hear Ivak sing. You’ll believe in angels then, that’s for damn sure.”

“Huh?”
He sure wasn’t angelic in that harem-scarem

dream.

“Your weirdo minister sings like an angel.”

“He is not
my
weirdo anything.”
Except in my dreams.

“Whatever.”

She told Leroy about the work she’d been doing to prepare for another parole board hearing, assuming there was no recantation by Hebert before that time.

“It feels like such chaos here,” Leroy said finally. “Even confined to cells or dorms, there’s an air of danger or uncertainty making everybody antsy. Nerves are on edge. The least little thing sparks a fight.”

Red flags went up for Gabrielle. “Don’t you dare get involved in a fight when you have so much riding on your good behavior.”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“I was wondering about something, Leroy. Someone asked me recently what I was going to do once you were released . . . what my dreams are. What are yours?”

“I’m afraid to speak them out loud, for fear I’ll jinx them.”

She nodded her understanding.

“Maybe go to college and get a degree with some skill attached. Maybe some work involved with kids at risk, possibly in those juvie detention centers. Try to catch them before they’re prison bait.”

She sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t want to get as far away from prisons as possible?”

He cocked his head to the side. “As long as I’m on the outside, I don’t see how it matters.”

How different he was from her.

“Shit! I’ve gotta find some way to make all these prison years count for something. Don’t you wonder how many families there are, just like ours was? Abusive, alcoholic, drugged-up, negligent parents are more common than anyone realizes.” He ducked his head sheepishly. “Hell, I’m starting to sound like a preacher myself.”

She smiled. Aside from the bad language, she liked this new side of her brother.

“Maybe we should go inside and help with the auditions,” Leroy suggested. “You’ll get a laugh or two, at least.”

Her face heated up. “I think Ivak barred me from participating.”

“Yeah, I remember that. Let me go inside and sic Tante Lulu on him,” Leroy said with a wink.

A short time later, a guard walked up to her and said, “Miss Sonnier? I’ve been directed to take you to the auditorium.” They went through several checkpoints on The Walk through the Main Prison complex. Despite the lockdown having been lifted, there were way more precautions being taken, she noticed. Even she was screened more than usual.

Once they got to the auditorium, if the shabby room with a raised platform in front and folding chairs throughout could be called an auditorium, Gabrielle thanked the guard, who’d remained silent on their fifteen-minute walk. She chose a chair at the back, not wanting to call attention to herself.

The room was packed with inmates and staff watching the last of the talent show tryouts, no doubt due to Charmaine’s presence. She and René had driven here together, Bayou Black being out of the way for them today.

Leroy gave her a little wave, motioning for her to come up front to join him, but she decided to stay in back, for now. She noticed a large number of guards in the room, including one red-haired one whose eyes seemed to be fixed on Leroy. She would have to warn her brother. Sometimes those in authority developed a dislike for a particular convict and just waited for the smallest infraction to bust him.

Charmaine stood on the low stage teaching a three-man inmate group a dance routine to accompany their pantomimed rendition of that doo-wop standard, “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” It involved a dip and three steps to the right, a dip and three steps to the left, then bending the knees for a pelvic thrust forward, the whole time wailing out the lyrics. It was the dips and thrusts that had all eyes on the self-proclaimed bimbo with class. Or it might be the tight silver capri pants with a shimmery black T-shirt and silver wedge sandals. Her long black hair was a mass of curls piled on top of her head. A convict’s wet dream!

Speaking—rather, thinking—of dreams, Ivak must have sensed her presence because he turned from where he was leaning against the piano talking to René. At first, he looked chagrined that she would disobey his order to stay away, but then he nodded a greeting at her. Their eyes held for a long moment.

And she knew . . . she just knew . . . that he was seeing the same thing she was. The dream. In that instant, she forgot all about her resolve to keep her distance from the lout. He might not think she was his soul mate anymore, as indicated by his silence of the past week, but she was not so sure now.

How could just looking at a man feel so good?

But wait. Had he planted these dreams in her head as a way to seduce her to his way of thinking? Assuming she believed his fantastical story—and she was increasingly leaning in that direction, or else she was finally going crazy—she remembered him telling her that he was guilty “in a big way” of the sin of lust. Add to that some supernatural powers he might have gained when he was turned into a vampire angel.
Did I really say—rather, think—that? Good Lord! I do believe him. Yikes!
And maybe all these feelings that were overwhelming her were not real, or at the least she’d been manipulated.

Oooh, she had a few words to say to the lusty lout.

Fourteen

His dream lover was a pissed-off lover . . .

I
vak felt Gabrielle’s presence before he saw her.

At first, an incredible joy suffused him, just from looking at her. But then, he recalled his order for her to stay put at the cottage, and irritation bordering on fury replaced the joy. When God created the world, had He deliberately planted a disobedient gene in women to plague men? They were always doing the opposite of what they were told to do, even when it was for their own good. Just like Eve, who was the model for rebellious women throughout time.

Well, thank God Ivak had thought to assign two vangels to watch over Gabrielle. He would have words for them later. They should have informed him that she’d left Bayou Black and was headed in this direction. Even now, Lucies could be after her, if he was reading Mike’s words correctly: “Save the girl.”

“Will you take over for me?” he asked René. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Sure,” René said.

Tante Lulu had joined Charmaine up on the stage and was demonstrating the right way to do a shuffle step. And she was good. In fact, some of the crowd gave her a clapping ovation. To which the old lady gave a little bow and said, “You oughta see me jitterbug.”

He walked back and sat down next to Gabrielle. Right away, her scent came up to envelop him in hair-trigger arousal. And it wasn’t her perfume, either. It was her woman scent intended to lure a mate.

Seeking a more neutral subject than, oh, let’s say, S.E.X., he remarked, “Did you have anything to do with Tante Lulu’s outfit today?”

The old lady was wearing cowgirl attire, including a hat and boots.

“She thought you’d be doing a dress rehearsal over at the rodeo arena.”

“That won’t come for another few weeks.”

She crossed one leg over the other and tried to ignore him.

I wonder if she shaved her legs today. They look so smooth and shiny. Dare I touch her knee? Hmmm. Mayhap later.

“What do boots, and chaps, and a hat have to do with a talent show dress rehearsal?”

“It would be at the rodeo arena. I think she was hoping that if she dressed appropriately, someone would let her ride a bull . . . or at least a bronco.”

“God forbid!”
Her lips are peach-colored today. I’d wager a fortune that she tastes sweet and juicy.
“The bull would run away at sight of her.”

She didn’t even smile at that. In fact, she turned her body slightly away from him. What did she have to be annoyed about? She was the one who’d disobeyed orders intended for her own safety. “Spit it out, wench. What has your thong in a twist?”
Oh, that is just great. Now I will be picturing her in one of those wonderfully scandalous undergarments.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. If we were somewhere more private, I would hit you.”

“If we were somewhere more private, we would be doing something, but it would not involve violence,” he countered. Then, “Why would you want to hit me?”

“For planting those horrible dreams in my head.”

Just then, the latest dream came to him. In truth, he’d been dreaming the same fantasy about her for the past five days.

“So you remember now,” she accused him.

He glanced down at her lap, then looked at her frowning face, then back at her lap. After which he flashed her a wicked, lazy smile. “Cluck, cluck!”

“Oh, that was despicable!” She tried to stand and move away from him, but he grabbed her hand and made her stay put. “It’s not funny.”

“Well, yes, that dream was cause for mirth. And, really, there is no reason for you to be embarrassed. Women today deliberately wax themselves there, or so I’ve been told.” A thought occurred to him. “Do you wax there?”

Her flushed face flushed even more. In fact, the flush reached down to her collarbone. “No, I do not.”

“That’s good. I prefer a little cushion for my balls.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she seemed stunned into speechlessness.

“Oops! I did not mean to say that aloud.”

“Stop planting those horrible dreams in my head.”

“What makes you think I have anything to do with them?”

“Because you star in them, you idiot.”

“Well, it’s the most sex I’ve had in a long, long time. If I had anything to do with them, they would go on forever . . . and be the real thing.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Is that a good thing?”

She rolled her eyes. He noticed that she did that a lot around him.

“René tells me that his band is playing at that tavern near Bayou Black on Saturday. Would you like to go with me?”

The invitation surprised her. It surprised him, too. He hadn’t known he was going to ask her. He hadn’t known he had any inclination to go listen to Cajun music in a rowdy bar.

“You’re asking me to go on a date? After I just berated you for those lousy dreams?”

He didn’t like her describing those sex dreams as lousy, but decided to save his opinion until later. “Our second date, actually, if you count our dinner last week.”

“After which you never called or attempted to see me again.”

Aha! That is why she is being so schrewish.
“Everyone inside the prison was barred from any outside contact.”

“Bullshit! You and I both know you could have overridden that order.”

He felt his face heat at the accuracy of her statement. “I was . . . I am confused by the overwhelming feelings I have toward you. It has never happened to me before.”

“Paint us both confused, then,” she said. Leastways, her anger seemed to have dissipated.

“Is it a date then?”

She hesitated, but then she nodded.

“I want to touch your knee so bad my fingers ache.”

“Aaarrgh!”

“And your lips . . . I am dying to know if they taste like peaches.”

“Aaarrgh!” she said again.

“Forget I mentioned those things. It was probably inappropriate to speak of such intimate things in a public place.”

“Like you’re suddenly concerned about propriety! Like a girl could forget something like that!”

“If you think that’s not so bad, dare I mention that I’m having a thickening just smelling your woman scent. My fangs are about to orgasm in my gums.”

“Aaarrgh!” she said again.

He was starting to like the sound, choosing to believe it was a groan of arousal.

Just then, Tante Lulu walked up and told Gabrielle, “We’s havin’ a LeDeux party on Saturday down at Swampy’s . . . thass the Swamp Tavern . . . ta raise money fer one of my charities.”

Why am I not surprised that Tante Lulu has charities?
Before Ivak asked her to elaborate, Tante Lulu turned to him. “Didja ask her yet?”

“I did,” he said, grinning at the old lady’s obvious matchmaking efforts. He’d love to see this woman encounter Mike some time. He was pretty sure she would be able to hold her own, even with the mighty archangel.

“Are you comin’?” Tante Lulu asked Gabrielle.

“I’m coming,” Gabrielle said, then murmured so low that only Ivak could hear, “in more ways than one.”

The real Thor had nothing on this guy . . .

Gabrielle was sitting on the porch that evening with Tante Lulu, one of those days out of time where everything seemed peaceful. She could almost believe that the hoped-for better times with Leroy were actually possible.

Faith . . . that’s what it boiled down to. She was still worried about Leroy being confined to a prison overrun with some evil influence, more evil than the usual maniacal inmates. The news media accepted, with a dash of skepticism, the warden’s explanation that there had been paper errors on the dead inmates, and routine “Take this job and shove it!” type quittings by some staffers who were long gone to parts unknown, despite that being a whole lot of coincidences to swallow. Gabrielle, on the other hand, was going for the “Michael did it!” explanation.

After a huge meal of crawfish etouffée, a side salad, warm biscuits, and banana pudding that Tante Lulu seemed to whip up in no time after they’d returned from Angola, the old lady shooed her out of the kitchen, saying she could clean up herself. Which was a blessing. It gave Gabrielle time to do some paperwork for her caseload at Second Chances. She had appointments with clients all day tomorrow.

Then they’d both retired to the back porch with the requisite sweet tea in hand to watch dusk come over the bayou. The only sounds were of crickets and an occasional growl from Useless, plus the creaking of their rocking chairs. It was such a peaceful place, and yet dangerous at the same time.

Suddenly, Tante Lulu said, “Holy crawfish! Who’s that?”

“Huh?” Gabrielle turned to see a tall man in a dark suit with a white shirt and light blue tie making his way around the side of the house.

“Lordy, Lordy, he’s almost as good-lookin’ as Tee-John.”

On closer examination, Gabrielle noticed his short blond hair, light blue eyes, and Nordic features. Another vangel? Yep, that was a white angel wing design against the sky-blue background on his tie.

“Mebbe he’s one of yer bodyguards.”

“What bodyguards?”

“Ain’t you noticed the two men who watch the cottage and follow ever’where you go? Ivak tol’ me they’s yer guards.”

“Why didn’t you mention it before?”
Why didn’t Ivak mention it?

“I thought you knew. Blessed Mary! I’m eighty years old and I see ’em jist fine. Mebbe you need eyeglasses.”

If she’s eighty, I’m ten, and this nightmare I’m living never happened.
But guards? That was another bone she had to pick with Ivak. Would the man never stop interfering in her life?

Turns out the answer was no.

“Are you Gabrielle Sonnier?” Mr. Suit said, walking up the back steps.

She nodded dumbly. Tante Lulu was right. This guy was sinfully handsome. Well, if he was in fact a vangel,
sinfully
would not be an appropriate description. Heavenly handsome, then.

“I am,” she said, standing. She had to look up at him when she spoke. The guy had to be six foot five, or more.

The man stretched out a hand, the one not holding a briefcase, to Gabrielle. She noticed there was a gold ring on his right middle finger, similar to one Ivak wore with a winged emblem on it. Next he shook hands with Tante Lulu, who had stopped rocking and was staring up at him like he was Richard Simmons . . . or St. Jude. After that, he handed Gabrielle a business card and said, “I’m Thor Robertsson from the law firm of Robertsson, Johnsson, and Olafsson in Baton Rouge.”

“And you’re here because . . . ?”

“I’ve come to help you prepare for your brother’s legal proceedings,” he said. “Didn’t you know I was coming?”

She frowned with confusion.

“Jarl Ivak Sigurdsson sent me.”

“Whass a jarl?” Tante Lulu asked.

“Something like an earl,” he explained, then turned back to Gabrielle. “Did Ivak forget to tell you?”

“Yep. It must have slipped his mind.” Yeah, right. He knew what her reaction would be to his interfering once again without informing her first. Not that she wouldn’t welcome all the help she could get. She’d just like to be consulted first.

No sooner did Thor arrive than another hottie lawyer came on the scene. This time it was Lucien LeDeux. Didn’t matter that he was in his late forties and had silver threads in his black hair, this Cajun attorney was ten kinds of sexy. He wore a suit, too, but his tie was undone, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned. The end of his workday, Gabrielle presumed. Whether he was there at Ivak’s or Tante Lulu’s invitation was unclear, and at this point didn’t matter.

He shook hands with Thor, leaned down to kiss Tante Lulu, and winked at Gabrielle when his aunt introduced him as her “rascal nephew,” as if he were a little boy.

They went inside to the kitchen, where Thor spread out a bunch of papers, and Gabrielle spread out some of her own, on top of which Tante Lulu had prepared a plate for the Viking and Luc, insisting they had to eat. The men, who at first said they weren’t hungry, ate two platefuls, and they even finished their banana puddings, which was more than Gabrielle had been able to do.

“First off, I think we should plan on a new trial, instead of a parole board hearing or a plea for clemency,” Thor said.

“Why?” Gabrielle asked.

“You’ve already tried the parole board route,
chère
, and I haven’t seen any welcome home parades yet,” Luc said, not unkindly. “Getting a parole, or clemency, in Loo-zee-anna is iffy. Too many people to bribe, or threaten.”

He grinned at that last statement. Gabrielle would have thought Thor would object, but he grinned, too.

“We likes ta call it lagniappe here in the South,” Tante Lulu added as she poured more sweet tea for them all. “Nothin’ illegal. Jist a little somethin’ extra ta sweeten the pot.”

“Definitely nothing illegal,” Luc said, and waggled his eyebrows at his aunt.

She smacked him on the arm with a St. Jude dish towel.

“If Hebert recants his testimony, it’s the most logical route, anyhow,” Thor went on. “You want your brother exonerated, Gabrielle. Not just pardoned or paroled, right?”

“Well, yes, but Hebert hasn’t stepped to the plate yet. If he is able to step up, that is. Last word was, he’s bedridden at the Angola hospital.”

“He will,” Thor said with more assurance than she felt. Maybe it was a vangel kind of insight thing. She hoped so.

After two hours of working with Thor and Luc, Gabrielle had to admit she was impressed. They brought up precedents that she hadn’t considered, and Luc mentioned a way of them getting a judge who would be more favorable to Leroy.

“A vangel?” she asked.

“No, but there’s a rotation in that particular court. If we time our request for retrial just right, we might get the one we want.” After taking a sip of his tea, Luc added, “What’s a vangel?”

“Never mind,” she and Thor said as one, but Tante Lulu piped in with “Ivak Sigurdsson, that preacher over at the prison, he’s an angel.”

“Okaaaay,” Luc said, obviously not surprised that his aunt would come out with such an outlandish statement. After all, she’d been talking to St. Jude for decades. Gabrielle and Thor felt no need to enlighten Luc on the distinction between angel and vangel.