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Authors: Debby Grahl

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BOOK: Rue Toulouse
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She pushed him away. “I thought you were hungry.”

“I am.” He again pulled her close. “Food will keep.”

“But I won’t. I’m starving.”

He kissed her long and hard. “Okay, I’ll feed you. But then . . .” He nibbled her lip. “We’ll have dessert.”

After giving her one of his T-shirts to wear, they sat in the dimly lit kitchen eating their sandwiches, Remi drinking a beer and Caterine a glass of wine. As she chewed, Caterine looked thoughtful.

“Why so serious, Princess?”

She swallowed and blotted her mouth with a napkin. “I was just thinking. We really don’t know that much about each other. Well, you probably know more about me than I do about you.”

Remi took a sip of beer. “Ask me anything.”

“Paul said you were an excellent cop. Why did you quit?”

He chewed more of his po-boy before answering. “Let’s just say Katrina opened my eyes about a number of things and leave it at that.”

“Okay, then where did you grow up?”

“That would be on Bayou Petit Caillou.” He smiled. “And before you ask, my papa and uncle were both cops. I have two sisters and a brother, all younger, and my
maman,
who keeps all of them in line, including me.” He grinned. “And I have aunts, uncles, and cousins spread from one end of Louisiana to the other.”

“It sounds as if you’re all very close.”

“We are.”

“It must be nice having a big family who all like each other.”

He laughed. “I didn’t say I liked them all.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s still a nicer family than mine.” She tried to hold back the tears that burned the back of her eyes.

Remi stood to refill her wineglass. “Princess, we’ll find out if it was one of your relatives behind your attack, and we’ll put the bastard in jail.”

She stared into her glass of wine. In a soft voice she said, “It’s still hard for me to believe someone in my family, someone I grew up with and sit with at the dinner table practically every night, hates me enough to hire someone to do that.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “There’re people who care about you,
cher
.”

“I suppose.”

He stood and pulled her into his arms. Holding her close, he whispered, “I care.”

He lowered his head and kissed her with such tenderness that tears once again sprang to her eyes.

“No, don’t do that.” He held her even closer and deepened the kiss.

Caterine wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
Whatever this is between us has to be right. He makes me feel happy and safe and . . .

“Oh,” she gasped as he pressed his erection against her.

“It’s time for dessert.”

Chapter Fifteen

The morning sun shone through the curtains, laying streaks of pale light across the bed. As memories of steamy sex from the night before floated lazily through Remi’s mind, he felt Caterine stirring beside him. He turned to find her lying on her stomach. He brushed her long hair off her neck and began to kiss her awake, while his hand caressed her backside.

“Remi?”

“What,
cher
?”

“What time is it?”
 

“Morning. I had an idea on how we could begin the day.” As he slid his hand between her legs, his cell phone rang.


Putain de merde.
” He cursed every cuss word in French he knew as he turned from her and reached for his phone.

“What?” he barked.

“Remi, it’s Paul. Did I wake you?”

“No, man, you didn’t wake me.”

Paul paused. “Oh, sorry. Bad timing?”

Remi sighed. “It’s all right. What’s up?”

“I got a call from Vince that I thought you should know about. They just found a girl critically injured in the Quarter, not far from Ma Chérie.”

Now totally alert, Remi swung his legs off the bed. “And?”

“And she was about Caterine’s age and resembled her.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right. She was shot. Now we know shootings in the Quarter aren’t unusual, but she wasn’t robbed or sexually assaulted.”

Remi ran his hand through his hair. “It seems whoever hired the shooter didn’t know his target was gone.”

“I agree.”

“Remi, who are you talking to, and what’s going on?” Caterine asked.


In a minute
,” he mouthed.

“I don’t know exactly what Miss Dauphine told her family about Caterine’s whereabouts,” Paul was saying, “but I intend on finding out. I’m not sure if I should tell her about the shooting. What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t. It would only add to her worry. Now let me tell you about our little encounter last night.”

“No shit,” Paul said when Remi had finished. “So it could have been our guy?”

“Who knows, but he sure as hell was agitated about something. The car that picked him up didn’t waste any time getting out of there.”

“Perhaps he was a little upset because he’d realized he’d shot the wrong girl.”

“Could be. Problem is neither of us can give a clear ID.”
 

“Give me what you’ve got. I’ll run it past Vince.”

After Remi gave Paul the information, he ended the call and looked into Caterine’s scared face.

“Remi, what’s going on?”

He hesitated. “Let’s make some coffee first.”

“I don’t want coffee. I want you to tell me what’s happened.” Her face paled and her voice quavered. “Is it Grandmère?”

“No, your grandmère is fine.” He took a deep breath and explained.

“Oh my God, it’s all my fault that poor girl was shot.”

“No, Caterine, it isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of whoever hired the shooter.”

“But if it weren’t for me, there wouldn’t be a shooter.”

“Caterine, listen to me. That girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You had nothing to do with her being attacked.”

“How can you be so unfeeling?”

Because when you’re a cop, you have to learn how to stop feeling,
he thought. Aloud he said, “Look, I’m sorry she was injured, but getting yourself all upset isn’t going to help. We need to focus on finding out who’s behind these attacks.”

She wiped at her tears. “And how are we supposed to do that?”

“For starters, I need you to tell me everything about your family you can, but first I need coffee.” He got to his feet, slipped into his jeans, and headed for the kitchen.

As he spooned French roast into the coffeemaker, Caterine said, “Remi, I have to get some clothes.” When he turned to her and grinned, she frowned. “I’m not kidding. I’m calling Elaine and telling her to bring me some of her things.”

“How about for now I go get you what you need?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you telling me you’re used to buying women’s clothing?”

“No, but it can’t be hard. There’re hundreds of T-shirt shops around. They’re bound to have something.” Seeing the disbelief in her face, he sighed. “Caterine, you can call Elaine, but for now humor me. I want to hear about your family, and if Elaine is here we won’t get anything done.”

“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll make a list, but I can’t imagine what you’ll buy.”

An hour later, showered and wearing her new jazz festival T-shirt and sweats, Caterine poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat next to Remi on the sofa.

“Okay, Princess, tell me about your family.”

“Do I have to? Why spoil a perfectly nice day?”

“Come on, Caterine,” he coaxed.

She sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Paul filled me in on some of your background the night I met your grandmother. I need you to go into more detail.”

“I suppose I should start with my two uncles, Jules and Markus. They’re Grandmère’s eldest sons.”

“I met Jules the night Paul and I went to tell your grandmother what had happened.”

“He’s always been kind to me, regardless of his wife’s open animosity.”

“And she would be?”

Caterine scrunched up her nose. “Aunt Frances, the barracuda.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She is if you like greedy, domineering women.”

“Oh, yes, please. That’s just my type.”

Caterine smiled. “If you like the sound of Frances, you must meet her daughter, Charlotte.”

“I can’t wait. Tell me.”

“First you have to understand Charlotte loves Charlotte. She thinks she’s perfect in every way. But something must be wrong with her perfection; she’s on her second divorce. The good news is that she’s chosen men who can keep her in the style she’s accustomed to. In other words, Charlotte loves to spend money. She flies back and forth to Europe pretending she’s somebody famous. Aunt Frances also thinks Charlotte’s perfect, so when she got dumped by two husbands, naturally it was their fault, not Charlotte’s.”

Caterine paused. “You know, Remi, years ago my cousin Bobby told me he’d heard that Aunt Frances was in love with my father, not Jules, and that’s why she always hated me and my mother. But I can’t see my father ever being attracted to someone like her.”

“How old were you when your parents died?”

“Six.”

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “And how did they die?”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “A hit-and-run driver who was never found. I was in the backseat asleep with my seatbelt on and didn’t get a scratch.”

He held her tighter. “When did it happen?”

“Late one night during Carnival. We were on our way back from a party, and the rain had turned into an icy mix. I don’t remember much except my mother’s scream and screeching tires. I was told the police thought someone must have been passing us and cut back in too quickly. They said the left front of the car was smashed and my father must have lost control and hit a tree.”

“I’m sorry, Princess.” He tilted up her chin and gently kissed her.

Caterine looked into his eyes and smiled, then suddenly frowned. “Remi, your eyes are blue.”

He laughed. “You’ve just noticed that?”

“No, of course not, but I hadn’t thought about it until now. So tell me, how does a dark handsome Cajun end up with blue eyes?”

“My eyes are courtesy of my grandmother, Annabelle Michaud. She’s a real southern belle with blond hair and blue eyes.”

“Annabelle Michaud.”

“Yes, that’s her name.”

“Remi, I know who your grandmother is.”

“I know. Miss Dauphine told me.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“I had other things on my mind.” He bent his head and kissed her.

She smiled. “I suppose you did. So how about your mother? Do I know her as well?”

“I doubt it. My
maman
is about as Cajun as you can get.”

She cocked her head. “Do you have a sister, Yvette?”

He nodded.

“This is incredible. Ma Chérie offers scholarships to high achieving young ladies who need a little financial aid. Your sister received one for her grades and her fashion talent. I really enjoyed meeting her.”

“No kidding. I knew Yvette was going to France, but I didn’t pay any attention to how or why. That’s really nice of you.”

“I wanted to help those who weren’t as lucky as I was. Although I’d have given anything to have grown up in a family like yours. I hope to meet them all someday.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. I’ll take you to a Michaud crawfish boil. Now, tell me more about your family.”

Caterine sat back against the sofa. “Besides Charlotte, my Aunt Frances and Uncle Jules have twin sons, Raymond and Randal. Ray is an attorney working for Doucette Shipping. Randal is the CFO. He’s also part owner of the High Roller, a casino riverboat. Randal has never done anything against me, but I like Ray better.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Remi, the night Grandmère told my family about signing Ma Chérie over to me, Ray warned me to watch my back.”

He set down his coffee cup. “Tell me exactly what was said that night. It could be important.”

After explaining in detail her family’s reactions to her grandmother’s announcement, she concluded with Ray’s warning. “I don’t believe Ray had anything to do with my attack. In fact, during a particularly nasty confrontation that night Ray actually winked at me. I took it to mean he was on my side.”

“He might not have been behind the attack, but his warning might indicate he knows something. Is he close with the rest of your relatives?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them arguing, but since I’ve become an adult, I haven’t spent a lot of time with them. Other than Grandmère and my cousin Bobby, I’m not close with the rest of my family.”

Remi frowned. “That’s their loss,
cher
.”

“Why did I have to be born into such a mess? People think if you have money, everything is perfect. Well, it isn’t. I’d rather be poor and come from a normal loving family than be stuck with the bunch of rich piranhas I’ve got. The thought of one of them trying to have me killed to get their hands on Ma Chérie makes me mad as hell. Do they actually think that if I’m dead, Grandmère will sign over Ma Chérie to one of them?”

BOOK: Rue Toulouse
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