Night Game (46 page)

The walls around him tightened, clamped down with ferocious intensity. Flame screamed and bucked wildly, sending him crashing over the edge right along with her.

There was a roaring in his ears, little hammers tripping in his head and the rush started in his toes and consumed him completely. He emptied himself into her, caught somewhere between heaven and hell. It was the most explosive orgasm he’d ever experienced, the best sex, lust and love tightly intertwined.

He lay over the top of her, shifting enough to stay away from her injured arm, but burying his face in her neck. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her, the way her body held so tightly to his. Her hot channel had clamped down so hard on him, she’d ripped the climax out of him before he could stop, before he could make it last longer. And,
Dieu,
he wanted longer—he wanted forever.

“Marry me.” It came out of nowhere. He hadn’t planned asking. Hadn’t thought about asking. But there it was. Two words that might save them.

She went still, her breath catching in her throat with a little audible hitch. Her breasts heaved against his chest, nipples hard and tight against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Raoul. Don’t. You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Why not? I’m never going to love another woman the way I love you. I want this, what we have right now for always. Don’ you?” He propped himself up on one elbow to stare down into her eyes. He wanted to beg her to save them, but he could only do his best to convince her. “Don’ you want me,
cher
?”

She cupped the side of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth over his jaw in a small caress. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lips. “Marriage ceremonies leave paper trails. You know that as well as I do. I believe Peter Whitney is alive. If I were to marry you he’d come after both of us.”

“Lily married Rye and no one’s bothered them.”

“Now that’s a real shocker. You’re just adding to my belief that Lily knows exactly what Whitney is up to.”

“So maybe that wasn’t the best example. What about Nico and Dahlia? You can’t think they’re involved with Whitney.”

She shook her head. “I can think a lot of things you don’t, Raoul. You know Nico, I don’t. For all I know he married Dahlia, and Whitney stays away because she’s right where he wants her to be.”

He kissed her. He tasted his own desperation, his fading hope. He tasted bitterness. “Just let’s do this, Flame. We can go to a friend of mine, here in the bayou.
Grand-mere
and Wyatt can go with us. I won’t even tell my friends if you’d rather I didn’t. We’ll be low-key.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you until you have to go back.”

Gator turned over onto his back, his fingertips pressed against his eyes. “And then, what? It’s over? You just walk away like nothing happened?”

“I have cancer, Raoul.” She was grateful for the candlelight. It made it so much easier to say the simple truth. She wouldn’t be around all that long once it took hold.

“Whitney put it in remission twice. We’ll go to a doctor.”

“And I’ll be in the computer system for Whitney to find.” She sighed and reached for his hand. “Whitney manufactured his own variety of cancer that last time. He told me he did. If just any oncologist could put it in remission, why would I ever go back to him?”

“Did you ever have it checked out to see if it was the truth?”

“I hacked into his records. At that time, he probably let me, so who knows how accurate they were?”

“Then let’s give it a shot.”

She rolled onto her side. “Raoul, I love you. I know that I do, but I’m not signing your death warrant. I believe Peter Whitney is out there and that he’s looking for me. I will never, under any circumstances, go back there alive.”

“Then we’ll go to Lily.”

“They’re one and the same to me. It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right, damn it.” Raoul closed his eyes briefly and made himself breathe. There was no reason to argue; she’d made up her mind and he knew he couldn’t change it.

“Let’s just take this one day at a time. Who knows what will happen?” Flame suggested.

“Yeah. You’re right.” His voice was husky, tears clogging his throat. She was giving him no choice.

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat if things were different.”

He forced a smile and sat up. “I want you to sleep tonight, so I’m going to make you some hot chocolate.” He stood up quickly before she could stop him. He took care to mask the emotion in his voice.

“You don’t have to do that. I doubt if I’ll have any trouble sleeping.”

“
Grand-mere
makes this special blend and she gave me the recipe. I made it up for you already. It won’t take any time.” He hurried into the small kitchen area and hastily poured the chocolate from the thermos he’d brought. It was still hot and steam rose from the mug. From the kitchen cupboard he pulled a small vial of clear liquid and stood for a moment staring at it.

“Are you having some too?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly and then dumped the liquid quickly into the chocolate, stirred, and added a bit of whipped cream before filling a second mug with chocolate.

“Here you go,
cher
. There’s nothing like it before bed.”

Flame sat up and took the mug from him. The sheet slipped down exposing her breasts and he kept his eyes fixed on the bruises while she drank.

“This is good. An old family recipe?”

He nodded as he settled hack on the bed beside her. “She made it for us on special occasions.”

“What kind of special occasions?” She loved his childhood stories. She could so easily picture him as a little boy with tousled curls.

“If we managed to get a decent grade in school. Or if we didn’t have a fistfight for an entire week with any of our friends—or enemies.”

“Did you have trouble getting good grades?” She tilted her head to look at him. “I imagine you would have been very good in school.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t always go. I was the oldest and someone had to do the fishing and trapping. I worked on a couple of shrimp boats two or three times a week. I lied to
Grand-mere
because she said an education was more important, but of course she knew when she found the money in her drawer every week.”

She looked at him over the cup of chocolate. “Some times the things you say melt my heart.”

“It wasn’t a bad thing, Flame. I loved workin’ on the boats. It was simply our way of life. I preferred being out in the bayou to school any day of the week.” He leaned forward and licked a small dollop of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before he could stop himself.

She made a face at him and leaned in to him for a kiss. He tasted of whipped cream and chocolate. Raoul took the drink from her hand and set it on the small table beside the bed. “Go to sleep,
cher
. You’re very tired, aren’t you?”

She stretched out and then curled on her side, cautious with her broken arm. “I am tired. It’s been a long day, but Joy’s reunion with her parents was worth it all.”

“You were good with her.”

“Wyatt was good with her. I feel so bad for him. If the expression on his face was anything to go by, he’s a little in love with her. It will be a long time before she ever is able to trust a man enough to have a relationship with him.”

A lump formed in his throat and he ducked his head. Gator lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms and curling his body protectively around hers. He stroked back wisps of hair from her face.

She tangled her fingers with his. “Tonight was the most beautiful night of my life, Raoul. Thank you.”

Her voice was drowsy, sensual, playing over his body like fingers. His heart shifted in his chest and he felt a vise begin to grip, take hold, and squeeze until his chest felt as if it might explode. He pressed his free hand to his chest while he held her other one and watched the drug take her.

The clock ticked loudly on the wall as time passed. He sat watching the candlelight flicker over her face, the dancing shadows play over her body, and he bent down to brush a kiss across her eyes. She didn’t move.

Gator dressed quickly. The syringe was in his drawer and this time he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t take a chance that she might wake up. He gave her a shot in her thigh, injecting the full dose into her.

It’s done.

We’ll bring in the copter. We have a plane standing by to fly us out of here and Rye has the compound ready.

It was difficult to put a robe on her, but he managed. He didn’t want her naked when they came for her. He snatched up her duffel bag and shoved her new clothes inside. His own bag was already packed and ready to go.

He sat listening to the sounds of the helicopter as it flew overhead and swung toward the clearing just south of his cabin. It wasn’t long before he heard the men as they approached the house, bringing the stretcher with them. One by one he blew out the candles until the room was dark.

CHAPTER 19

She fought the urge to yank the foreign object out of her body.

Someone sat nearby in a chair. There was movement to her left, She feigned sleep, struggling to keep her heart under control when it insisted on accelerating, when adrenaline flooded her body, triggering every alarm in her system. Betrayal was a bitter taste in her mouth. She ached with it. Screamed silently with it. Tears burned but she refused to give them license.

Raoul Fontenot had delivered her back into Whitney’s hands.

Flame awoke to the scent of lavender. She was lying in a bed, but it wasn’t the same bed she’d gone to sleep in with Raoul’s body wrapped closely around hers. Her heart slammed hard as she realized that there was a port directly into the vein under her collarbone. The last time she’d had something like that stuck in her body had been when Whitney gave her the cocktail of medicine needed to get rid of the cancer he had manufactured.

Oh God. Please God. Don’t let this be happening to me. Anything but this. Anything at all. I can’t do this.
She sent the silent prayer over and over while she slid her hand up to feel the port, hoping she was having a nightmare. She felt the edges of the dressing and knew the port was stitched in place and the catheter was under her skin.

The person to her left moved to the edge of the bed and bent over her. She smelled him. Knew his touch. She reached for rage, needed it to survive, but there was only pain. She gasped aloud, shocked at the intensity of her anguish. She’d never felt so raw, so ripped open and vulnerable.

“I know you’re awake. I can hear your heart, your breathing. Open your eyes, Flame. It isn’t what you think.” Raoul’s voice was low, almost pleading.

“No?” She lifted her lashes, couldn’t stop the tears from swimming where he could see them, but she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. “You didn’t seduce me? You didn’t drug me and take me to the one place you knew I swore I’d never go back to? You warned me. I can’t say that you didn’t. You said you were supposed to bring me back, but I let you seduce me into forgetting.”