Revenge (14 page)

Shoving the door open, he entered into a thick cloud of steam and conversation. He slipped along the line of lockers to his row.

“Called him a ghost.”

Jared hesitated and strained an ear toward the showers.

“Say what?”

“Yeah, we pulled the scumbag off the freighter, and he bawled about some ghost beating the shit out of him.”

“Good God, they'll come up with anything to get outta being arrested.”

“A ghost, eh? Did this ghost have a name?”

Jared's legs trembled as he inched closer to the showers. Someone snorted. “Couldn't say. Had him pissing his pants. Asswipe couldn't stop blubbering.”

“What I wanna know is what was he doing on the freighter?”

“An old dirty cop trick. Hide the body on a freighter right before it's shipped upriver. Get it outta the city and give you time to clean up your trail. Easier than trying to find the time to dump them in the Pontchartrain.”

“Yet this guy was alive?”

“Guess the
ghost
doesn't have a stomach for killing.” The men laughed.

Jared turned and abruptly exited the locker room. He leaned against the wall, eyes glued to the ceiling. It wasn't Alphonse going after his guys.

LeBeau was the ghost. Had to be. Everyone in the city believed he'd died during Katrina and his body washed away. Even Jared's men didn't know the truth. One by one, LeBeau would pick off his posse until he had Jared cornered.

Son of a bitch. He banged the side of his fist into the wall. Forget the shower. He shouldered his duffel and stalked out of the department. He needed a release. Tonight.

• • •

A cool early evening breeze rolled off the river and passed through the open seating in Café du Monde, relief after a hot, humid day. From the small plaza next to the café, a lone guitar man's soulful song about losing his love drifted over the patron chatter and clinking of dishes. Cody sipped the rich café au lait, trying to not compare her current love-life predicament with the song and let the atmosphere soothe her. Tonight she and Heath would make another search for Remy on Bourbon.

When she placed her cup back on the saucer, it clattered. Clenching her hand into a fist, she hid it under the table.

Kim's peered over the rim of her cup. Setting the cup down, she crossed her arms on the table and bent forward. “You don't have to keep doing this.”

“We've been over this already and I'm not arguing about it again. And I'm still not happy with you telling Heath.”

“He deserved to know. Cody, you fell off the wagon. All that alcohol on Bourbon wasn't a temptation you needed.”

Scanning the groups of people around them, Cody scooted closer to the table. “What is this really about? You get snippy when something is bothering you.”

“I told you what's wrong. I don't like the two of you going out there at night, and I especially don't like
you
being there when you're not strong enough.”

Cody flicked powdered sugar off the last beignet. “Liar.” She drank the cooled café au lait.

“Fine.” Kim tossed her napkin on the table. “I don't see how my opinion is worth a hill of beans with you anymore.” She grabbed her purse and vacated her seat.

Cursing, Cody pushed out of her chair, snatched her bag off the back, and hurried after Kim. She caught up with her at the small amphitheater across from Jackson Square where a group of hip-hop dancers were preparing for their next performance. Snagging Kim's elbow, Cody dragged her to a stop. “What is wrong with you?”

Kim shook free of her grip and crossed her arms. “I made myself pretty clear back there. You're not listening to me.”

“I'm listening.” Yet Cody doubted that was what Kim was really saying. “Are you mad that Heath and I aren't taking you along?”

“No.” The terse word confirmed the suspicion.

“Try saying that again without biting my head off.”

Kim's shoulders sagged, her hands flopped to her sides. “Cody, I'm worried, okay? I don't think Heath understands how this will affect you. Maybe if I'm with you—”

“And have Heath punching every guy who touches you? Out of the question. He needs to be focused on looking for Remy and protecting me in case we run into trouble. Having you there is dangerous for all of us.”

As the words sank in, the darker Kim's expression turned. “Maybe that's not the whole reason you don't want me there.”

“What?”

“Oh, knock off the innocent act. I'm not stupid. There's something going on between the two of you.”

Heat rushed into Cody's face and her chest hurt. “No there's not.”

“Damn it, stop lying to me. Heath gets close to me while you and Remy are having problems, then you break up with Remy. You get this harebrained idea to come here looking for him and bring Heath along,” Kim ticked off each statement with her fingers. “Now the two of you run off at night alone. What the hell do you expect me to believe?”

Cody recovered her wits. “I think you've lost your freaking mind. I love Remy, not Heath.”

“Coulda fooled me. Oh, wait! You did.”

“Kim, you're flying off the handle. There's nothing going on with me and Heath. Never has.”

“Oh, is that why you ran to him for ‘training' when Remy was right there? And why was Heath the one who had to teach you hand-to-hand combat?” Kim slashed the air with her hand. “Forget it. I'm done.” She shoved past Cody and marched for the parking lot where they'd left Heath's truck.

“Kim!”

Her friend kept going. Cody wanted to kick something.

“Girl, tell her I'll solve your man issues right here.”

Recoiling at the blatant innuendo from one of the hip-hop performers, Cody shouldered her bag and hurried away. Kim was wrong. There was nothing going on between her and Heath.

Right?

Cody's face flushed with warmth as she remembered what happened last night while they were dancing. She shook away the thought. It was all an act. Nothing more.

Nightmares startled him awake. Sweat slicked his arms and face, drenching the sheets. Remy's gaze bounced around the room. Safe, protected. No one there with a knife. Tendrils of light from the setting sun filtered through the blinds' wood slates.

His chest heaving, Remy forced his body into an upright position. Once his heart settled back into its regular rhythm, he crawled out of the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. After a quick shower, towel tucked around his waist, he wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at his unshaven face.

Eight days of new facial growth and he was a different man. The corner of his mouth tugged up at the thought of how much he looked like his
père
. Not many people would recognize him now.

Wearing only jeans, he headed downstairs. Silence greeted him as he slipped through the house on bare feet. Not even the cat showed its hissing face. Remy tousled his damp hair to free the last few drops and scratched his cheek. Longer hair and scruff still took some getting used to.

He padded into the kitchen and froze. Warmth and blood left his face and drained south. His heart seized in place.

Her dark auburn hair down in soft waves around her shoulder, Vic stood next to the island counter wearing only black undergarments and a black silk robe. She held a glass of wine to her lips and drank. Remy's gaze lingered on the smooth lines of her neck as she swallowed. The blood in his veins thickened. His eyes traveled south to her bare legs. The lifted hem of the robe exposed a red fleur-de-lis tattoo on her left thigh.

Heat surged back into his face. “
Mon Dieu
, Victoria.” He put his back to her. “What the hell?”

The clinking of the wine glass on the counter made him flinch.

“Good God, Remy. You act like you ain't seen a half-naked woman before.”

“
Aiyee
,
femme
,
t'es folle!
”

The air shifted behind him. Her scent wafted around him, and he resisted the urge to breathe in the pleasure. A nail grazed his skin. Ripples cascaded down his back, and his leg muscles went numb.

“I'm not crazy, Remy. Celibacy make you a prude?” Vic's fingers trailed along his bare shoulder, tracing the scar.

He lost his willpower as her finger traveled down his back. His eyes drifted shut as he relished a woman's touch on his skin. Cupping his side, Vic's hand slid around to his abdomen. His rebellious stomach quivered. Remy swallowed and then drew in her scent.
Mon Dieu
, she smelled good. Her body pressed to his felt good.

Her lips brushed against his ear, her breath feathered his cheek. “I was beginning to think you'd switched sides.”

When her fingers brushed the button of his jeans, Remy's eyes snapped open. He shuddered free of Vic's spell and faced her. “
Qu'est-ce que tu fais
?”

“I'm doing what I've waited a long time to do.” She captured his mouth.

Every muscle in his body stiffened. Gradually, her wine-sweetened lips worked their magic. Damn it to hell. If Cody could run around on him, then what did he have to worry about? She wasn't waiting for him in Fort Worth. Hell, she wasn't even waiting on him at all. She'd found his replacement. And she could have him.

Remy's hands slipped between Vic's parted robe and he encircled her bare waist. She gasped as he thrust her against the kitchen wall. He deepened the kiss, savoring the lingering taste of wine on her tongue. Vic moaned and rubbed herself against him, fueling his desire. His hands trailed down to her thighs, gripping them, he hoisted her off the floor. Her lean legs wrapped around his waist and hooked behind him.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he nibbled a path down her neck to the erratically beating pulse, making her mutter in French. With a growl, he pushed them away from the wall and carried her toward the table. Remy swept the table clear and lay her down. His arms braced on each side of her body, he took her mouth once again. She arched against him and begged him to take her.

Remy drew back and reached for the flimsy strip of material at her hip, then made the mistake of looking at Vic's face. But it wasn't Vic he saw. It was Cody, just as he remembered her the only time they'd ever made love, with her fiery red hair flared out behind her on his pillow.

“Shit!” He untangled himself from Vic's legs and backpedaled. What the hell was he doing?

Vic bolted upright. “Son of bitch, Remy.”

He turned away from her and staggered to the archway. His brain continued rapid-fire snapshots of Cody during their lovemaking. Roaring, he slammed the side of his fist against the wall. He couldn't get her out of his head.

A hand on his scarred shoulder made him spin. He snatched the wrist and twisted it away from him. “Don't touch me.”

“Damn it, LeBeau, let go. You're hurting me.”

Vic's voice penetrated the red haze filling his head. He released her.

Cradling her wrist in her hand, she glared at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here.”

She recoiled from him. “I took the day off.”

The tremble in her chin unwound him. “
Mon Dieu
, Vic, I'm sorry.”

“I hope so. What the hell was that all about?”

“It's . . . ”

“That woman you won't tell me about.”

He sagged on a stool and stared at the countertop. After a moment, Vic sat next to him.

“She's here, Vic. In New Orleans.” Remy rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the stinging. “I saw her with my partner.”

Silence met his admission. Then quietly: “You love her?”

Remy finger-combed his hair then cupped the back of his neck. “She's the reason why I came back here to end this. I didn't want to risk her life like I did Marie's. And now . . . I don't know what to think after seeing her hanging all over the one man I trusted my life with.”

“Maybe you're reading too much into it?”

He shook his head. “I know what I saw last night. She broke up with me when I wouldn't bring her with me. Claimed I was treating her like a ‘weak woman.'”

“Were you?”

“Hell no. I saw her do things I thought only you were capable of doing. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for, but she's hung up on this idea that the men in her life see her as the damsel in distress they need to protect.”

“LeBeau, have you ever told her different?”

He looked at Vic. He mentally flipped back through his time with Cody, and couldn't pinpoint a time when he had. “I don't think I did.”

“Well, there ya go. Perhaps you should track her down and ask her what was really going on last night. If she wanted to come with you to begin with, then maybe she enlisted your partner's help in finding you.”

“I'd rather not. I let her break up with me for a reason. I didn't want her here to be used against me by Savard or Alphonse. Better I leave it as it is.”

“Have it your way.” Vic stood and moved to leave. “Well, don't I feel like a man-stealing slut.”

He caught her hand and stopped her. “Far from it.” He sighed. “Vic, you're beautiful, and I like you. Maybe if it had been another lifetime we could've been more than friends.”

“No, LeBeau, we couldn't. There will always be the Maries and your mystery woman who will come before me. I just hope she's worth you trying to get yourself killed.”

“More than you know.”

• • •

A lone black SUV sat next to one of the factory's older buildings in the dimly lit gravel lot. He exited his own car, removed his jacket, and tossed it onto the passenger seat, scanning the area as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves. This factory had never reopened after Katrina, so he'd bought out the owners.

The place proved useful in many ways—keeping his other ventures outside of New Orleans private, and invoking a sense of fear in anyone who tried to double-cross him.