Night Moves: Dream Man/After the Night (18 page)

“You’re too protective,” Alex finally said. “Noelle and Monica won’t collapse if Faith Devlin lives in Prescott. They won’t like it, but they’ll learn to live with it.”

Gray shrugged. Maybe—hell, probably—he was too protective, but Alex wasn’t the one who had watched Monica nearly bleed to death, or seen how total Noelle’s emotional collapse had been. By the time Alex had become involved in cajoling Noelle out of her room, at least she’d been talking again, and feeding herself.

“I give up,” Alex said, shaking his head. “You’ll do whatever you want, anyway. But think about it, and maybe cut the girl some slack.”

Later that night, sitting alone in the study with his feet still propped on the desk in his usual position, while he read a financial report on some stocks he’d bought, Gray found it difficult to concentrate. It wasn’t the Scotch; he had poured himself a drink when he had begun doing paperwork, over two hours before, and most of the liquor was still in the glass. The fact was, he couldn’t get the problem of Faith Devlin out of his mind. Noelle’s silent tears had reached him in a way nothing she could have said would have. If Faith didn’t deserve to be hurt again, neither did his mother or sister. They had been innocent victims too, and Monica had almost died. He couldn’t forget that, and he couldn’t see them upset without trying to do something about it.

And it was a fact that if Faith Hardy stayed in Prescott, Noelle and Monica would be even more hurt and upset than they were now.

Gray stared broodingly at the level of Scotch in the glass. Maybe if he drank it, he could forget how warm and vital Faith had felt under his hands, how that sweet, spicy scent of hers had gone straight to his head and made him dizzy with lust. Maybe if he drank the whole goddamn bottle, he could forget about the urge to plunge his hands into the fire of her hair to see if it burned him, or the hunger to taste the wide, full bloom of her lips. He thought of her skin, so fine-grained and translucent that he marked her with the lightest touch; her breasts, high and round, the peaks of her nipples discernible even beneath her bra. She had
it,
the same indefinable quality Renee had possessed, an effortless sensuality
that drew men to her like a lodestone. Faith wasn’t as blatant about it as Renee had been; she had toned it down with better clothes, but the quality had merely been refined, not diluted. What Faith Hardy looked like was a classy lady who loved a long, hard ride in bed, and damn if he didn’t want to give it to her.

If she didn’t leave, it was likely that the residents of Prescott were going to be shocked out of their small-town minds, and Noelle ten times more upset than she was now, by the spectacle of another Rouillard man having a hot and heavy affair with a Devlin woman.

Eight

E
d Morgan made a point of meeting Faith at the door as she entered the grocery store. “Sorry,” he said, not looking the least bit regretful. “I don’t have anything you need.”

Faith stopped, and gave him a cool look. “You don’t know what I need,” she pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter.” He folded his arms and smirked at her. “Guess you’ll have to shop somewhere else.”

Faith controlled her temper. She detected the fine hand of Gray Rouillard in this, and getting into an argument with Mr. Morgan wouldn’t accomplish anything except possibly getting her arrested for causing a public disturbance, which would suit Gray just fine.

He had kept his word about making it difficult for her to live in the parish. Not ten minutes earlier, the attendant at the service station where she stopped had gleefully told her that they were out of gas, and she’d have to go elsewhere. At the time, the man at the next pump had been filling his car.

If Gray thought this would send her packing, he had seriously underestimated his opponent. She could sue these people for refusing service, but that wouldn’t make her very popular in town. She intended to live here, so she discarded that option. Besides, the real battle was between her and Gray; everyone else was secondary.

She shrugged as she turned to leave. “Fine. If you can do without my money, I can do without your groceries.”

“All the other stores in town are in the same predicament,” he called after her, gloating. “Fresh out of whatever it is you want.”

Faith contemplated giving him the finger, but resisted the urge; he might take it as an invitation. She walked calmly back to her car. Obviously she’d have to do her shopping and buy her gasoline somewhere else, but it was only an inconvenience, not an insurmountable problem.

Inconvenient in the short term, that is; long term, she would have to do something about it. And in the
very
short term, she was mad as hell.

There was a pay phone on the corner. Faith stalked past her car and down to the open kiosk. This one had a phone book in it, swinging from a stiff metal cord. It would be just like the Rouillards to have an unlisted number, she silently fumed as she opened the thin little book and flipped through the pages until she reached the
Rs.
But no, there it was. She dug a quarter out of her purse and fed it into the slot, then punched in the number.

A woman’s voice answered on the second ring. “Rouillard residence.”

“Gray Rouillard, please,” Faith said in her most businesslike tone.

“May I say who is calling?”

“Mrs. Hardy,” she replied.

“Just a moment.”

No more than ten seconds later, the line clicked and Gray’s velvety dark voice purred, “Is this
the
Mrs. Hardy?”

She could hear the mocking amusement in his voice, and her hand clenched around the receiver so hard, it was a wonder the plastic didn’t crack. “It is.”

“Well, well. I’ll bet you didn’t think you’d be asking for favors so soon, did you, sweetheart? What can I do for you today?” He didn’t even try to disguise the satisfaction in his tone.

“Not a damn thing,” she said coldly. “I just wanted you to know your childish little tricks won’t work. I’ll have my
groceries shipped in from Dallas before I’ll give you the satisfaction of seeing me leave!” She slammed down the receiver before he could reply, and marched to her car. She hadn’t really accomplished anything, other than blowing off some steam and letting him know that she realized who was behind this latest development, and that it wasn’t going to work. It was satisfying anyway.

•  •  •

At Rouillard House, Gray chuckled as he sat back in his chair. He’d been right about her redheaded temper. He’d have liked to see her just now, with those green eyes snapping fire. Maybe his maneuver had made her dig in her heels rather than prompting her to go to a friendlier locale, but one thing for certain, it had gotten a reaction! Then his eyes sharpened. Dallas, huh? Maybe he should do some checking there.

•  •  •

Faith allowed herself to stew for a minute, then put her anger aside as a waste of energy. She refused to let this town, and Gray Rouillard, get the best of her. She would change their opinions of her if it took twenty years! The key to changing their minds, she realized, was proving that Guy Rouillard hadn’t run off with her mother. For whatever reason he had left, it couldn’t be blamed on her family. Taking that into consideration, she had far more reason to hold a grudge than did the Rouillards or anyone else in the parish.

Knowing that Guy hadn’t been with Renee and proving it, however, were two different things. Perhaps if she could get Renee to talk to Gray, he would at least be curious enough to start searching for his father. Maybe he already had, and Mrs. DuBois at the library simply didn’t know the result of the search. If Guy was alive, though, there would be a traceable paper record somewhere.

She drove to New Roads, where she filled up the car and bought the few groceries she had needed. So much for Gray’s effort to starve her out, she thought with satisfaction when she returned home and carried in the bag. She hadn’t even had to go that much farther afield.

After she had put up the groceries, she went into her office and called her grandmother Armstead in Jackson. As before, Renee answered the phone.

“Mama, this is Faith.”

“Faith! Hi, honey,” Renee said in her lazy, sultry voice. “How’re you doin’, baby? I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.”

“I’m fine, Mama. I’ve moved back to Prescott.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. “Why’d you do that? From what Jodie told me, them folks didn’t treat you right.”

“It was home,” Faith said simply, knowing Renee wouldn’t understand. “But that isn’t why I called. Mama, everyone here still thinks you ran off with Guy Rouillard.”

“Well, I told you that isn’t so, didn’t I? It’s no skin off my nose what they think.”

“It’s causing me a little bit of trouble, though. Mama, if I can get Gray Rouillard to call you, would you talk to him and tell him that you didn’t run away with his father?”

Renee gave an uneasy laugh. “Gray wouldn’t believe a word I said. Guy was easy to get along with, but Gray . . . No, I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Please, Mama. If he doesn’t believe you, that’s up to him, but—”

“I said no,” Renee interrupted sharply. “I’m not going to talk to him, and you’re just wastin’ your breath. I don’t give a shit what those bastards in Prescott think.” She slammed down the receiver, and Faith winced at the crash in her ear.

She hung up the phone, frowning in thought. For whatever reason, Renee was nervous about talking to Gray, and that meant Faith didn’t have much chance of changing her mind. Renee had never been one to go out of her way for anyone, even in a matter as simple as a telephone call.

Well, if Renee wouldn’t talk to Gray, then Faith had to find some other way to convince him, and the best way to do that was find out what had really happened to Guy.

How did you go about finding out if someone who had disappeared twelve years ago was alive or dead? Faith wondered. She wasn’t a detective, didn’t know the procedures to follow to gain access to the records that would
normally be examined if you were looking for someone. The thing to do, she supposed, was to hire a real private detective, one who would know those things. It would be expensive, though, and she didn’t have much extra money after spending her ready cash on the house.

Where to find a detective? There wasn’t any such animal in Prescott, but she supposed they could be found in any moderate-sized town; Baton Rouge was a city of almost a quarter million people, but it was also a little too close to Gray’s sphere of influence. New Orleans would probably be safer. Maybe she was being paranoid about Gray’s power, but she would rather be paranoid than caught unawares. A man who would try to stop a woman from buying groceries was diabolical! Her mouth quirked at the thought, and she allowed herself a tiny smile. On a more serious note, she had a healthy respect for the lengths to which he would go to follow through on his promises, and his warnings.

She would find a good detective and hire him to search credit card and bank records, things like that. If Guy was alive, surely he would have used some of his vast financial assets to support himself; she couldn’t see him washing dishes at minimum wage. Perhaps it would be possible to find out if he had filed an income tax return. Surely any decent detective would be able to do that in a short amount of time, maybe a week, so the cost should be manageable.

What if the detective did find a paper trail? If Guy had used a credit card, Gray would have known about it, seen the charge on the monthly statement. Had Gray known where his father was all these years, and not said anything? The possibility was intriguing . . . and infuriating. If Gray
had
found Guy, wouldn’t he have contacted him? And if he had done that, then he would know that Guy hadn’t left with Renee. It followed, then, that for whatever reason, Gray had never tried to find his father, otherwise he would know there was no reason for this vendetta against her.

She couldn’t forget what she considered the most likely scenario: Guy was dead. She could see him leaving, though divorce would have been a more logical step, but she couldn’t see him never contacting his kids again, or walking away from the Rouillard money. That just wasn’t human
nature. She had to give the private detective a chance to find Guy, but she didn’t think he’d succeed. After that, she would start asking questions around town; she didn’t know what she could discover, but the answer to the puzzle was there, if she could just figure out how to put the pieces together. Someone had to know what had happened that night. The truth was there, waiting for someone to find it.