Leopard's Prey (41 page)

“I didn’t consider that,” Bijou said, leaning back into him. “You’re right. And you know, Remy, every single time you talk about this killer, you say
he
or
him
. It’s never
them
.”

The sheet slipped just enough to show the tops of her breasts and her nipples barely peeking at him. As always and in spite of everything, his body reacted with an urgent jolt.

“I guess I do,” Remy mused. “That doesn’t mean I’m not wrong. The Rousseau brothers are definitely sociopaths and they’ve killed three women, which already makes them serial killers. They’re certainly capable of the type of brutal crime, but if they have a ritual like harvestin’ bones from their victims, why did they beat the strippers to death? Why didn’t they just use their chosen ritual? Serial killers rarely deviate from a ritual. And the harvester’s victims have always been men.”

Bijou rubbed the back of her head against his chest, much like a cat. “Maybe they don’ kill women for the bones because they aren’t as dense or something. Maybe the significance is in the bones and not the victims. If the Rousseau brothers wanted the women dead, but they didn’t need their bones, would they kill them in a different way?”

Remy kissed the top of her head. She had intelligent feedback and he was grateful for it. He’d considered many different reasons why the harvester only went after men. Age or race didn’t seem to matter. He hadn’t found a tie between any of the victims until Bijou had pointed out the murders had all occurred in places she’d held a concert. Even then, the victims hadn’t necessarily attended her concerts. But maybe she was right and it was specific bones the killer wanted.

“He always takes a different set of bones from each of his four victims before he stops,” Remy said, hoping she would continue to talk to him. She had a good head for puzzles and patterns. “He repeats the same pattern in every city he hits, always in the same order.”

“Meaning he takes the exact bones from each victim in a certain order?” Bijou asked, sitting up.

“Yes, and he’s fairly quick about it. The murders happen in a two-week span. Four dead bodies is a lot in that time period. Twice he took longer, in New York and Chicago. Less time in Paris, just over a week. Otherwise, he’s on some sort of schedule only he knows. And why so long between the murders? He doesn’t bother to hide them. If there were others, why haven’t we heard about them?”

Bijou came up onto her knees behind him, her hands going to his shoulders, kneading the tension from his tight muscles. “You’ll find him – or them, Remy.” Confidence rang in her voice. “I know you will. You’re gettin’ closer all the time.”

“I’ve done everything I can to protect as many people as I could think of that the Rousseau brothers might try to go after, but I can’t protect random strangers.”

He felt the tips of her breasts brush against his back. She was a miracle in the middle of the violent world he lived in. He had asked her if she would be bored when their lives settled down. He should have asked her how long she could stay when he lived with murder every day. Few women could do it for very long, not when he was so obsessed and driven. He had always focused on his work, and he knew that wouldn’t change.

“You’ll catch them,” she assured him again.

She was like the calm in the middle of a storm. Her hair fell over his shoulder and he wrapped his fist in it. Love had grown when he was least expecting it. Love was strong and alive, driving out the shadows in his mind. She seemed to be able to light up his world even in his darkest hour.

Bijou kissed the top of his head, shuffled to the side of the bed and rose gracefully. Remy’s breath caught in his throat. She was truly a beautiful woman. He found it astonishing that she was here, with him, discussing murder when she looked as if she belonged in a fairy-tale castle. Her hair was tousled, long, hanging to the sweet curve of her butt. He enjoyed his hands in her hair, and every time she had it up, or in braids, he found he couldn’t wait to let it fall so he could indulge himself. He’d made love to her – how many times last night – yet he wanted her again. Right then. For comfort maybe – hell – he didn’t know. Maybe to make him feel like there was something worth fighting for.

He caught her hand. “Blue.” He just said her name. That was all.

She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. He didn’t know if he expected rejection or a protest because of the subject matter they’d been discussing. He only knew his breath stayed caught in his lungs, and he waited silently. She had to be tired and sore. He’d ridden her hard and long over and over again, he reminded himself.

She ran one hand through his thick hair, stepping so close to him he could smell their combined scents on her. His marks were all over her body. More leopard than man at times when they made love, he could be rough. He leaned forward and kissed a dark smudge just on the inside of her thigh. She trembled. He stroked his tongue over the bruise. His hand moved higher and encountered heat.

That wild urgency settled inside of him. “You’re wet for me.”

“I’m always wet for you. I get wet just lookin’ at you,” she admitted. “It’s hell on my panties.”

“Don’ wear the damn things,” he suggested, and leaned forward to press his mouth into her center. He loved the taste of her, all that wild lavender honey. He caught her hips with both hands and dragged her to him, his tongue stabbing deep, seeking more honey, drawing it out and devouring her for his early morning pleasure.

She steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, her soft little cries of pleasure escaping in spite of her desire to stay quiet. Along with all the other things he loved about her, those soft sounds were music to him. She threw her head back as he indulged himself. His tongue teased and danced and he suckled at her little clit, until her legs trembled and her soft cries grew more demanding. She actually fisted his hair to pull his head back.

He grinned at her. “Is there somethin’ you wanted,
chere
?”

“You, Remy Boudreaux,” she answered back, panting a little. Placing one hand on his chest, she pushed him back until he allowed himself to sprawl across the bed. “Right now. Right here.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re insatiable?”

“You started this,” she pointed out, straddling his hips. “I just intend to finish it.”

She settled over his heavy erection slowly, using a sliding corkscrew motion that forced the air to rush from his lungs and every nerve ending in his body to come alive. Little electric sparks leapt through his blood stream and rushed to a single point in his groin.

Bijou looked exotic and beautiful with her cat’s eyes, the wealth of dark hair falling like a silken cape to caress her satin skin. Every move she made drew his attention to her full breasts, rising and falling, swaying with the rhythm as she rode him. She made those little sounds, that sexy music he couldn’t wait to hear, as her muscles gripped and squeezed every time she made the descent over his rigid cock.

He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing at the hard little peaks. As her body rose over his and fell, and the little small circles she made with her hips drove him mad while her muscles gripped with the strength of a fist, he used his fingers to tug and pull, to do some rolling of his own. Her gaze jumped to his, and then she threw back her head, grinding down harder, but still keeping that excruciating, slow pace. A flood of lavender honey bathed him in slick heat.

He transferred his hands to her hips. That slow, easy glide was designed to drive him insane and it was working.

“What’s wrong, leopard boy?” she taunted. “Too much for you? Can’t take it?”

“You’re goin’ to get yourself into trouble,” he cautioned, his fingers digging deeper into her hips. If she did one more slow spiral, those tight muscles dragging over him with such hot friction, he might just lose his mind for real.

“I think I’ve proven I can take whatever you dish out,” she replied, rising over him and starting another slow spin down.

“I want you to remember that the next time we have a lot of time and a location where no one can hear you when I make you beg,” he warned, gritting his teeth as the muscles moved as if alive, a velvet fist so hot and tight strangling him in a fierce grip.

She rose again, a small, teasing smile on her face. He waited until she began that slow spiral down and he moved his finger into her, finding her sweet spot and making those same slow teasing circles before tugging and teasing.

Bijou cried out softly and rewarded him with a fresh flood of her hot honey, coating both his cock and fingers. He licked that lavender cream from his fingers and then when she started down again, he thrust upward hard while he dragged her down over him. Her cry was louder as he swelled more, forcing her body to accept him.

He rolled fast with her and came up on his knees, pushing her legs up and back over her shoulders so he could thrust as deep as possible. Sometimes he wanted to crawl inside of her, and share her skin and bones. He needed those soft little cries building to a crescendo. He needed her body gripping his in a stranglehold. He had to know she needed him the same way.

Bijou gave him everything he demanded of her, generously, unafraid, and made few demands of her own. She might have started out inexperienced, but she made up for it with her determination to please him – to give herself to him in any way he needed or demanded. He closed his eyes and let the rush just take him, hurtling through him like rockets going off.

Her body shuddered and rippled around his as he took her with him. She lay quiet beneath him, her breath ragged, her eyes a little glazed and her hair a wild mass of silk across the bed. Remy collapsed over her, blanketing her completely, pressing his body into hers, as if that could stamp him onto her skin.

Her arms went around his neck, hands sliding over his shoulders to his back. She held him tightly to her. He felt every heartbeat as his own, every rise and fall of her breasts as she took in air and let it out. He felt her in his mind, bathing every dark memory with light.

Remy kissed her several times before pulling back, afraid of his weight hurting her. Reluctantly, he slipped out of her. Still, he kept her pinned, one thigh over hers, looking down into her eyes. He framed her face with both hands. “Do you have any idea how I feel about you?”

“Maybe. A little. You don’ talk much about it,” Bijou pointed out.

“I’ve never told a woman I love her. Never. Not once. But you, Blue.” He shook his head.

“You don’ have to…”

He laid a finger across her lip, that amazing, fantasy lower lip he couldn’t resist. “Let me say this to you. I need to. Even if it’s just this once. You deserve to know.”

Bijou nodded, her tongue curling around his finger and drawing it into the warmth of her mouth. His cock jerked in response.

“Everything you do is so fuckin’ sensual, Blue. Everything. I tried to make this about our leopards. And then about sex. But I ran out of places to hide. I had no idea what love was. I’d never felt it before you came along. I needed time to sort it all out. I didn’t honestly think it would happen for me. You came along, and you were just too damn good to be true. I had no idea the emotion would be like this. All encompassing. So intense. I feel a little like a deer caught in the headlights.”

He used his finger to tease her mouth before bending his head to hers and kissing her. “What I’m tryin’ to say in my own clumsy way is, I’m very much in love with you.”

Bijou’s long, feathery lashes swept down and up several times. For a moment he thought tears swam in her eyes, but after she’d blinked a few times, her eyes were clear, sparkling and looking at him with everything he could have wanted.

“Say it. Tell me,” he urged.

“I don’ have near the confidence in myself you think I do. When I’m singing, Remy, that’s someone else. When I’m me, I have no real idea of even how to be in a relationship, let alone how to love someone properly. You’re taking a big risk.”

He smoothed back her hair. “I told you right from the start to trust me. I’ll get you through it. We’ll find our own way, Blue. But you’d better tell me before I do something rash.”

She laughed softly. “You’re so crazy.” She traced the smile on his face. “Of
course
I love you. I came back to New Orleans just for you. It’s always been you.”

Satisfaction went deep. He kissed her again. “Come on, honey, I can smell coffee and breakfast.” He slipped off the bed and pulled her up beside him.

They took a long slow shower, Bijou washing him carefully and thoroughly, which required another, much quicker assault on her body. Remy felt relaxed and ready for work by the time they went down to breakfast. He wasn’t in the least surprised to see Gage waiting for him, looking as grim and upset as Remy had been before Bijou had worked her miracle on him.

“You need a woman, Gage,” he greeted and poured himself a cup of Saria’s excellent coffee. “You spend too much time with murder these days.” He was only half teasing. Gage did look older. He’d always been a bit of a prankster, but there was little left of the boy. He didn’t care to see his brother take the same path he had, but clearly, it was too late.

“We all need the right woman,” Gage said. He smiled at Bijou. “Good mornin’. How long do I have to wait to have you as my sister? It will boost my status with the voters as well as my men.”

Bijou laughed. “Glad I can be of some help to you.” She took the coffee he offered and sank into a chair, clearly savoring the aroma of the fresh-baked beignets. “I know this morning must be awful for you, Gage. I’m so sorry.”

“Have you heard anything more?” Remy asked. “Have the Rousseau brothers been located?”

“Not so far, but Judge Thomasson was found this morning with a self-inflicted bullet hole in his head.”

Remy’s head came up sharply. “Are you certain it was suicide?”

Gage nodded. “He left a note, said he couldn’t stop the voices whisperin’ in his head, telling him to kill himself. He knew he was possessed. He had to free the Rousseau brothers, because he knew if he didn’t they would send their demons to him to rob him of his soul. They wanted the charges dropped, which he couldn’t do, so they sent their demons anyway.”