Revenge (19 page)

“Whoa, back it up. What do you mean Kim thinks something—”

“She accused me of trying to take you from her. That I was cheating on Remy with you and you had just been waiting for me to leave him.”

Heath's rigid stance was the sole indication her statement affected him. His prolonged silence rattled Cody further.

“Heath, say something. Tell me it's all her imagination.”

He continued to stare at her with that infuriating silence.

Had he purposely led her on a wild goose chase to keep her from locating Remy so he could have her all to himself?

She took a step back, then another. “I trusted you, Heath. What were you thinking?”

“Cody, don't . . . ”

“Don't what?”

“This is ridiculous. I'm not having this conversation.” He moved as if to leave. “We're going back to the hotel.”

“Not together we're not.”

“Are you freaking out of your mind?”

“I have no idea what's going on inside of that head of yours and like hell I want to be stuck in a cramped vehicle with you. Alone.”

“You're off your rocker.”

Crossing her arms like the petulant child she felt like, she glared at him. “Has this trip here been about you trying to weasel your way into my sights, or were you really here to find Remy and save him from his stupid plan for revenge? Think hard on this, because your answer or lack of one determines if I go back with you or I find a cab.”

Heath spit a caustic word that blistered her ears. “I'm not a damn woman about to spill my guts out to you, Cody. It's no damn wonder Remy pushed you away.”

She staggered back from his verbal sucker punch. “Now we know how you really feel.”

Regret filtered across his face. “Oh, God, Cody—”

She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “I've heard enough.” She shouldered her bag and headed back toward the street and Jackson Square.

“Cody, where the hell are you going?”

“Away from you,” she shot over her shoulder then took off at a run.

This was a fiasco. She should have never come with Heath. Hell, she should've never come at all. Why hadn't she left Remy to his suicide mission? She wouldn't be fighting with her best friend and getting tangled up in a possible love triangle.

Cody kept to her quick pace, crossing Decatur Street and heading up St. Peter and hoping Heath wasn't following her. Damn it, he should have told her what was going on. He couldn't be that stupid to try to win her over. He knew she loved Remy and Remy alone.

Yeah, that's why she lost her freaking mind and broke up with him. Because she loved him so much she'd get pissed over a dumb thing like him letting him prove that he loved her enough to keep her out of harm's way. She'd seriously taken this Amazon woman thing too far.

Music and hundreds of voices blared through her jumbled thoughts. She reeled to a halt in the center of Bourbon Street. People flowed around her. She turned a slow circle, trying to decide which way to go.

Why go now? She was here on Bourbon Street. Maybe Remy was actually here tonight. The undeniable urge to search it one last time gushed like a broken dam through Cody's soul. One last chance to see if Remy made an appearance.

Moving along, she melded with the larger crowd. Jostled and groped, Cody was beginning to lose a grip on her temper. If one more hand brushed her breast, she'd go postal on the dumbass. Something snagged the heel of her boot, and she stumbled. She caught her balance and straightened. Fear twined with panic. This was a bad idea. Her gaze bounced over the heads of the people around her. She forgot what street she'd been on and where she was headed. She swore and shoved a path to a nearby bar. Get off the street and she could get her bearings.

Hot fingers skittering against her bare arm stilted her movements. A chill iced her veins at the odd sensations. She rotated within the confines of the group clustered about. Eyes darted toward her, then away. People continued on, ignoring her.

Cody released a shuddering breath and bowled through the crowd to an empty doorway. Free of the press of bodies, she dragged in deep breaths, sending up panicked prayers. Something was out there.

Stalking her.

She opened her bag and rammed her hand inside, latching onto the Kimber. Using her body to hide her movements, she freed the gun and plastered it to her leg as she turned. With her weapon hidden from prying eyes, she left the doorway and slipped along the building wall.

Dusk relinquished its brief hold on the sky, and the neon lights of Bourbon flared to life. As one, the volume of the bands and the crowds rose to a deafening tone. Cody winced and hurried along the uneven sidewalk to the closest bar.

The crash of a bottle on to the pavement startled her. She glanced over her shoulder to witness a few guys slapping their buddy's back.

Heat snaked around her chest and Cody's yelp was smothered by a powerful hand. She was lifted off her feet and dragged into an open alley. Her hand squeezed the Kimber's butt as her mind screamed.

An all too familiar prick to her neck stifled her muffled sounds and froze her brain.

“Now the party can really start.”

Her gun arm immobilized, Cody remained stiff. Flashbacks hurtled forward, attempting to suck her into the vortex of pain and fear. She fought it, knowing whoever had her wouldn't be allowed free access to her in any form.

The knife-wielding arm clamped to her chest shifted, painfully smashing her breasts. She grunted against the sting.

A chuckle heated her ear. “LeBeau always gets the good ones.”

Cody's eyes flared. He knew Remy? Could it be . . . ? Slowly, she swallowed, the knife point bobbing with her throat.

“We're going to take a li'l trip.” He lifted her again and eased backward along the alley.

Think, Cody! Think!

Her assailant didn't know, or didn't care, that she carried a gun. It was useless at this point. She had to get free. Her legs were dangling and most of her weight was against his torso. He was strong, incredibly strong, but she had surprise on her side.

She drew in a breath between his fingers, closed her eyes, and braced herself.
One, two, three!
Cody slammed the back of her head into his face.

He staggered, his grip loosening as he cursed. The knife tip stabbed the tender point under her chin. Cody jerked her head away from it, drew up her right leg and struck the boot heel into his shin.

A roar erupted from him, yet he didn't fully release his hold. Her feet hit the pavement, and the knife dangled non-threateningly. Letting her body go limp, she slipped between the circle of his arm until her chin caught on his forearm. Knees bent, she gathered herself and exploded upward. The top of her head crashed into his face again, and this time he lost his grip.

Cody reeled away, ignoring the fiery pain streaking through her head and the bright spots at the corner of her vision.

Her assailant staggered backward, his hand pressed to his face. “Goddamn bitch! I'll rip you to shreds!”

“Try me.” She crouched low, keeping the gun hidden behind her back. “You must be Savard.”

He jolted. “How the hell do you . . . LeBeau.”

Cody squinted against the darkness. A light from the building behind Savard hissed on, and she stuffed back the gasp. He was the evil man who had hit on her last night.

Removing his hand from his face, he swiped the gush of blood on his shirtsleeve. “You broke my nose, bitch.”

“That ain't all I'm gonna break.” Her thigh muscles coiled. As long as she remembered everything Heath had taught her, she'd come out of this alive. She wasn't the helpless woman Brad Daniels cornered and attempted to stab to death.

Cody would kill Jared Savard to save her life.

He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. With the blood streaming out of his nose, he looked like a demon. A wicked smile played on his mouth. “I always liked my prey to fight back.” He lifted his hands, the knife cradled between his fingers, and beckoned her. “Let's see how long this will take before I gut you.”

“Your funeral.”

His mocking laugh gave Cody her opening. She sprang.

Her shoulder rammed into his gut, forcing the air from his lungs. Caught off balance and propelled backward, he lost his footing and slammed on his backside on to the pavement with Cody landing on top of him. His knife clattered away into the shadows.

She rolled off his body, dodging his hand reaching out to snatch her arm, and brutally brought the butt of the Kimber down on his forearm. Hopping to her feet to a chorus of acidic curses, she spun, slamming her boot into his face as he tried to come after her.

Jared flopped back on the ground and writhed. “I'll kill you. Bitch, I'll kill you.”

“That's what they all say.” She kicked him in his side, taking grim satisfaction when she heard something crack.

“Argh!”

Straddling his body, she flipped off the safety and pointed the Kimber's muzzle at Savard's head. He froze. An unsettling calm descended over Cody when her finger curled around the trigger.

Blackness filled Savard's eyes. “Whaddya gonna do? You're not the type to pull the trigger.”

“How do you know?” She bent closer. “I wonder what killing an evil person would feel like.”

A smirk crossed his bloodied face. “Killing is like sex. It feels good for a moment, and leaves you basking. Then,” he chuckled, “you want it more and more.”

“Is that what happened to you? Couldn't get it up for the women, so you decided torturing and murdering them was better?”

A growl rumbled in his chest, and his arms twitched. Cody jabbed the barrel into his broken nose, smiling at the grunt of pain.

“Cody,” Heath's voice caressed her raging mind. “Stand down.”

Savard's gaze darted to Heath, then back to her. “Looks like your boyfriend came to rescue you, bitch.”

Anger bubbled. “I've had enough of your mouth.” Backhandedly, she bashed the Kimber across the side of his head.

Savard's head lolled back and his jaw went slack. His body limp under her, she stepped away, the gun still aimed at him as she stiffened her shoulders, ready for the recoil.

“Don't.”

“Why shouldn't I? The bastard was planning to rape, torture, and slowly kill me.”

“Probably, but if you kill him like this, you're no better than he is.”

Cody lowered her gun and faced Heath. “No better than him? This . . . this . . . piece of shit deserves to die and be left in the street to rot like he did to all his victims.”

Heath reached out, and she shifted from his grasp. “Don't take this path. It's one thing to defend yourself, but it's another to kill a defenseless man. You've proven enough by taking him down. Don't sink to his level.”

Looking at Savard's prone figure, revulsion pulsated through her veins. He didn't deserve to live. To walk out of here and ruin more people's lives. People like Remy. Her finger curled around the trigger again.
End him now and no one else would suffer.

“Cody,” Heath whispered.

What was she thinking? This wasn't her. She winced and turned her face away. Like water to flames, her anger was doused. Cody staggered back from Savard; her gun hand trembled as the adrenaline leached from her pores.

She didn't come to New Orleans to single-handedly destroy those who tried to kill the man she loved. In this moment she'd proven herself capable of taking down a man intent on evil. Able to protect herself if the worst came. She did it without having the guys rescue her.

Heath's warm, damp hand grasped hers and gently removed the Kimber from her fingers. “We'll leave him. If this is Remy's old partner, bringing the cops in here will only get us arrested.”

Air whooshed into Cody's lungs. She gulped back the shock and turned into the safety of Heath's arms. In this moment, she wasn't about to hold it against him that he cut her to the core. Not when her legs could barely hold her up.

“Get me out of here,” she said into his chest.

“Gladly, Cowgirl.”

• • •

Hands pawing at his pockets brought Jared upright. His fingers crushed the vagrant's windpipe.

“Get your Goddamn filthy mitts off me.”

The vagrant choked, his eyes bulging. Jared shoved him away. Falling onto his ass, stunned, the vagrant sat there gasping.

With measured movements, Jared climbed to his feet. That damn bitch carried more power than he expected. He shouldn't have underestimated her. Now he'd pay. He glanced at the vagrant, and gave him a vicious kick to the ribs. The man flew sideways, wailing.

Gingerly swiping his broken nose, Jared staggered out of the alley. He paused and spat a curse. His knife. He returned to the alley and grabbed the vagrant by the collar.

“There was a knife lying around here. Did you take it?”

“Di'n' see one,” the man whimpered.

Cursing, Jared flung the man away and scanned the alley. To hell with it. It was gone for good far as he was concerned. Even if the cops found it, they wouldn't be able to trace it back to him. He left again and merged with Bourbon Street's drunken mosh pit. Once he cleared the street, he trudged to his car.

Shit! He was covered in blood and slime from the alley. The urge to yell lodged in his throat. He would find that bitch and rip her heart out through her mouth.

A woman had overpowered him. He, Jared Savard.

He slid into the car and let the seat cradle his battered body. Grabbing a breath, he started the engine and drove home.

During the whole trip back to the Garden District, he replayed the event. Where had she gotten the strength and the ability to subdue him? He was damn cop. Jared turned the car into the drive and pulled into the garage. Killing the engine, he sat there a moment. Death was too good for that woman. He'd find the most powerful curse possible and bring the spirits down on her head.