Night Game

CHAPTER 17

Gator used the debris along the bottom to pull his body through the shallow water yet keep him submerged at the same time. He heard Vicq and James shouting at each other. Water churned around him as James lost his footing and fell, his butt landing inches from Gator’s hand. Gator swept his knife free of his belt as the man scrambled to his feet, rushing out of the shallows up the slope toward the cabin.

Gator found the roots of the cypress trees growing through the deck and came up for air, keeping his gaze focused on the two men. James struggled up the slope, his hands curled into tight fists, his face flaming red, but he stopped just out of Vicq’s reach.

“Go play with yourself,” Vicq said. “If you come back inside I’m going to play with you. We’ll see how you like being my bitch.” He turned his back on Parsons, clearly unafraid of him.

Gator immediately bounced a sound wave through the cabin walls to warn Flame the man was returning. There was no call for help from inside so he kept his focus on James. The man was muttering to himself angrily as he stomped across the plank to the deck. Gator heard him dragging something. Before he could move into place to grab the man, he heard the sound of a boat coming toward them fast. He sank back into the water to assess the new threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” The shout came from the motorboat as Carl Raines swept into view.

James ignored the question, lodging a heavy piece of timber against the cabin door and picking up one of the cans of gasoline. He doused the walls of the cabin as quickly as possible, soaking the dry timber with gas.

“Are you crazy?” Carl tied up the boat and leapt into the shallow water to race up the slope.

James didn’t even turn around, picking up the second can and methodically covering the side wall, walking around the building until he was out of sight.

Carl stumbled, sliding in the mud a bit, turning slightly in his effort to recover and found himself staring eye-to-eye with the man lying half in and half out of the water. Gator’s face was streaked with mud and he blended into the shadows of the deck and roots, but Carl was nearly on top of him. As Raines pulled his gun, Gator shot him twice. The first bullet went between the eyes; the second went through his crotch. All around the hunting cabin, birds rose into the air, flapping wings and shrieking loudly.

Gator came up out of the water, his rifle to his shoulder as he emerged. James couldn’t have failed to hear the shots or the alarm of the birds and neither would Vicq, if he were still alive. Gator kept his mind firmly from dwelling on that possibility. His job was to clear the outside of any threat. Flame would do her job, which was to protect Joy. He ran up the slope to circle the cabin.

The smell of the gasoline combined with the whoosh of the fire as it ignited was overpowering. Anyone have a bead on that bastard? I have to get Flame and Joy out of the cabin. He sent the call immediately even as he raced around the side of the building to get to the front.

You’re covered. The sound of a rifle shot reverberated through the swamp and set the birds off a second time. Gator removed the large plank propped against the door just as the fire raced over the cabin, quickly engulfing it, the intense heat driving him back. He tossed the plank and then his rifle and ammunition aside. His clothing and hair were already soaked from lying in the water so he didn’t waste time, kicking hard at the front door with his boot, so that it sagged on the rusty hinges. A second kick took it all the way out, but flames licked along the floor from the wood splintering. Black smoke rolled into the cabin in waves.

Gator leapt through the ring of fire to Flame’s side. She’d already rolled Joy in a wet sheet and awkwardly hefted the woman onto her back in a fireman’s carry-difficult to do with one arm, even enhanced. The other woman appeared to be too weak, or too drugged, to stand on her own. She sobbed uncontrollably but clung tightly to Flame, even when Gator tried to remove her.

“Joy! You know me. Let me take you so we can get out of here.” His eyes met Flame’s as he hoisted Joy to his own shoulders. She looked frightened, but calm. Both looked at the doorway. The flames were hot and greedy, pieces of wood falling off. “You ready?”

She nodded.

“You stay right behind me.” Without hesitation, Gator rushed the ring of fire, leaping over the flames on the floor and through to the outside. The wind generated by his body made the flames flare as he leapt over them.

Flame followed him through. She jumped, drawing her knees up to her chest, uncaring of the landing so much as not getting burned. She landed in a crouch and somersaulted down the slope nearly into the water, landing facedown in the mud. She lay there, listening to the crackle of the fire, the lapping of the water, and her own heartbeat. Mostly, she felt the pain crashing through her broken arm, sending shock waves through her body.

Gator’s hands were gentle as he helped her up. He wiped mud from her face. “You’re always such a mess.”

“I don’t like you very much.” She pushed his hand away and sat on the slope waiting for her strength to return.

“You’re crazy about me.”

She scrubbed her hand over her face. “I’m just crazy.”

“I know, but that’s what I find so attractive.” He leaned in close and brushed his mouth gently against hers. “Joy’s in bad shape. Wyatt’s bringing the airboat, but she’s in shock. She won’t talk or look at me and she can’t stop shaking. I know you’re hurt.” He touched her arm gently and brushed his fingers against hers.

“It’s not that bad. I’ll stay with her while you all do whatever it is you do to secure the place.” She allowed Raoul to help her up, mostly because she was suddenly so exhausted she wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep for hours. She even leaned on him as he walked her to a small clearing away from the burning cabin. She recognized it from the photographs that Joy had taken.

She sat down beside the woman and put a steadying hand on her shoulder, mouthing to Gator to go away. “They can’t hurt you anymore, Joy,” she said. “Every one’s been looking for you. No one gave up hope.”

There was a small silence while the wind fanned the flames. Overhead the gray clouds began to drizzle rain on them again. “I did,” Joy said. “I gave up hope.”

“Wyatt Fontenot sent for his brother to come find you. Raoul took a personal leave from the military and has spent weeks tracking you down.”

“What am I going to do?” Joy shuddered visibly. “How can I ever rebuild my life? I’ll never be the same.”

“No, but you’ll be stronger. You’re a survivor. You think you gave up, but you were right there, trying to fight Vicq Comeaux right along with me.” Deliberately she used his name. “I saw you try to grab his ankle when he came at me. That’s a fighter, Joy. They had to keep you drugged because they couldn’t break you. Whatever you did in that room with those men, you did to survive. That’s all. You came out of it alive.”

“I heard Carl say to be more careful with me than they were with Francine. I think she’s dead. She disappeared a couple of years ago. There were four of them.” Joy began to sob again, covering her face. “The worst one wasn’t here. He’ll find me and he’ll kill me. He’ll beat me to death.” The words tumbled out of her, an expression of fear and loathing.

“We know all about Saunders,” Flame assured her. ‘He had a very good friend of mine killed. I’ll be very surprised if he makes it to trial.”

“Trial? Oh God. Everyone will know. They’ll show the movies they made. My family will be humiliated.”

“Joy,” Flame stroked back her hair. “Look at this place. It’s burning to the ground. Carl, James, and Vicq are dead. There won’t be anything left to show anyone. Tell me about Saunders. Are you sure he was the boss?”

Joy nodded several times. “Everyone seemed a little afraid of him. He and Carl are related somehow. They hired Vicq to guard me and…” She sobbed again, this rime more hysterically. It took her a few minutes to re gain control. “Soften me up. Train me. That’s what Saunders said. He would strangle me until I couldn’t breathe while he raped me. I think that’s how Francine died. Carl and Saunders reminded him several times not to kill me.” Flame rubbed her back, wanting to keep physical con tact. She noticed Joy seemed to need the reassurance of her touch. “Nonny, Raoul and Wyatt’s grandmother, was the one who pointed us to this area. You took pictures of this clearing.”

“James brought me here on a picnic. Now I know he must have planned to kidnap me then and turn me over to Vicq.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“Some trappers came by I knew. They’re friends with my brothers and they stopped to talk to me.”

“Of course,” Flame said. “James would be afraid they could identify him as the last man seen with you way out here and alone. He wouldn’t want that. Those pictures were a big help, Joy.”

Joy turned and looked at her for the first time. “What am I going to do?”

“Live. One day at a time. Heal. One day at a time. You have a wonderful family and amazing friends. You’re smart enough to know not all men are like Vicq and the others. It won’t be easy and you’ll need help, but you’ll find a way to live a happy life. I know you will.”

Joy shuddered. “I just want to see my mother’s face again. I prayed I’d see her face again.”

“You will. Wyatt’s here now. We’ve got to get you down to the airboat so we can take you to the hospital. Someone has to carry you. Raoul or Wyatt?”

“Wyatt Fontenot is here?” Her voice rose to a small wail. She bit it off, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “He knows what went on here? How can I face him? I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Wyatt hasn’t stopped looking for you, not for one moment. Yes, he does know what happened here, but it only makes him want to keep you safe, the same as Raoul. The Fontenot brothers are very protective.” Flame glanced up to see Wyatt striding toward them, his face set and hard. “I don’t think you’re going to get much of a choice unless you say so now. Here comes Wyatt.”

Joy dragged the wet sheet around her, seemingly aware that it was semitransparent. As he approached, Wyatt peeled off his shirt. “Joy. Remerciez Dieu que vous etes vivantes. Come here, cher.”

His voice was so tender, a knot rose in Flame’s throat. She watched him bend down and hold the shirt out. “I have my eyes closed, honey. Get rid of that wet sheet and put on my shirt. I brought an old pair of sweats as well.”

“I didn’t even think of that, Wyatt,” Flame said. “How thoughtful of you.” She took the soft sweatpants from Wyatt’s hand since Joy seemed frozen in place.

Joy looked at Flame helplessly, afraid to move or speak. Flame pulled the wet sheet away from her bruised and battered body and replaced it with the warmth of Wyatt’s shirt. “Can you stand long enough to let me help you into these?”

“Just a moment,” Wyatt said. “I’m going to lift you up, Joy. I’m just going to support you so you can step into the sweats.”

Joy was shaking so uncontrollably again Flame was afraid she’d shake apart, but Joy allowed Wyatt to hold her while she pulled up the sweatpants. He gathered her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. “Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. We’re doing this all very quietly, Joy. We don’ want to tip anyone off.”

Flame followed them, a little shocked at how heavy her legs felt. Raoul fell into step beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned against his strength, grateful he was there. “Remind me to tell Nonny she raised a couple of incredible men. He’s so gentle with her.” She turned to look at him. “The way you are with me.”

Gator brushed a kiss across her mud-smeared brow. “I knew you were crazy about me. You look tired.”

She flashed a smile. “Now you sound concerned. I’m just tired. I don’t think wading through the water agrees with me. All I think about is when the next alligator is going to take a bite out of me.”

“You don’ have to worry about that kind of gator takin’ a bite, cher. This one is the hungry one.”

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. “Does your grandmother know you’re such a goof?”

“At least you smiled for me.” Raoul tried to ignore the knots gathering in his belly and the alarm bells shrieking at him. She didn’t just look tired, she looked beat. And pale. There were dark circles under her eyes. And more bruises. Fear came close to choking him, but he shoved it down where she couldn’t see, opting for casual.

He glanced up at the sky. “The sun is beginning to set and the storm’s startin’ to kick up a fuss. We’ve got a good doctor waitin’ for Joy, one who knows how to keep his mouth shut. Kadan, Ian, and Tucker are calling Lily and asking for help on this one. We didn’t notify the police and now we’ve got three civilians dead. It’s going to be a nightmare and we’ll need her political clout and military clearance to save the day.”

She raised her eyebrow. “You never intended to arrest any of them.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’ have the authority to arrest anybody. I rescued a friend. It’s not my fault they forced us to defend ourselves.”

She took his hand to board the airboat, ignoring the pain throbbing not only in her arm, but her head. “You’re such a bad boy, Raoul Fontenot. It’s all those curls. There’s an old saying about curls and being bad.”

He groaned, bringing her hand to his mouth before settling into the driver’s seat. “Grand-mere used to quote that to me. I don’t have curls. I have waves. Wavy hair is much manlier.”

“I’ll have to agree with that,” Wyatt said. He sat on the bench seat, cradling Joy to him. She had her face buried against his chest.

Flame put a thin blanket over Joy to help protect her from the rain. Her legs felt unsteady as she made her way back to Raoul’s side. She leaned against the seat. “This was a good thing. For once, the monsters didn’t win.”

“No they didn’t.” The boat flew over the water as fast as he could safely navigate. Darkness was falling and he needed to get Flame home and in bed. And he needed to think. To plan. Something had to be done soon or he was going to lose her. He didn’t intend for that to happen. One way or the other, she was going in for treatment. Just the thought of her reaction made him swallow hard. Flame was a powder keg when either of the Whitneys was involved. And he’d need Lily Whitney to make certain Flame lived.

He wanted to talk with the other GhostWalkers and get their take on Lily. He couldn’t quite make himself believe she was working with her adopted father, but if Peter Whitney was alive, he couldn’t deliver Flame into her hands-and God help him, he was considering doing just that.

“You look upset, Raoul,” Flame said, rubbing his jaw with her palm. “We’ve got Joy back. They probably would have gotten off if the case had gone to trial. People like that always do. They kill off the witnesses and buy off the jury or the prosecutor and tamper with the evidence. This is much better.”

“I had no idea you were such a pessimist.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Did Vicq put his hands on you?” His tone was low. Ugly. His jaw set.

She leaned closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re upset because I went into the cabin, aren’t you? That silly macho part of you thinks you should have gone with me.”

“I’m upset over a lot of things, cher.”

“I can take care of myself in a fight, Raoul.”

He glanced at her, then back at the water. The rain was coming down harder, making it more difficult to see any dangers on the water’s surface. He was forced to slow the airboat. All he could think about was that Flame had been in danger and he had allowed her to walk into it. He didn’t care if it was macho of him to think that way or not. And the thought of another man touching her, hurting her, torturing her in the way Joy had been tortured, frankly made him ill. “Damn it, Flame, just answer me. Did he touch you?”

Her breast still hurt and she knew she’d have bruises. She closed her eyes briefly. Why couldn’t she just lie to him? “Yes. And then I killed him.”

He slammed his fist against the box beside the seat, roaring out a string of Cajun curses. “Where?”

Flame put her hand on his arm but remained silent.

“Maudit! Just answer me.”

She leaned against him, stroked his wavy hair, allowed her fingers to run down the side of his face in a soothing caress. “My breast. It hurt like hell.”

He turned his head to catch the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Fils de putain.”

Her heart squeezed tight and the lump forming in her throat threatened to choke her. “It got us Joy back so it was a very small price to pay.”

He circled her waist and dragged her against him. “I feel so much pride in you, I don’ have words to tell you.”

She laughed, relief sweeping through her. “The swearing was good. That said it all. I knew you were praising me.”

Four hours later Gator was cussing up a blue streak again. He stood staring at Flame, his jaw dropping, mouth hanging open, unable to believe his eyes. “Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that?” he demanded. His breath squeezed out of his lungs in a burning rush. She wore fishnet stockings and long leather boots with thick high heels. The tops of her garters showed beneath the micro-miniskirt and her top might as well have been nonexistent. She’d slathered on makeup, something she didn’t wear, and her hair was slicked back with some kind of shiny gel. “You look…” He trailed off, his heart pounding.

“Hopefully very slutty.” She examined her transparent top. Beneath it she wore a black push-up bra barely covering her nipples. “What do you think?” She stuck out her hip and put her hand on it. “Do you notice me, or the broken arm?”

“I didn’t even see the arm. What the hell are you doing?” he repeated.

“I’m taking down Saunders. I found out where his men pick up women and I’m certain he’s going to need solace tonight. He relaxes by beating and torturing his playmate of the night. I’ve seen them come out of his gatehouse almost nightly.”

“You think he was the one Joy was so afraid of.”

“I know he was. Joy told me. He’d sit in the corner and watch, sometimes direct the others to do things to her. He likes to see a woman in pain. I think my broken arm is going to be an asset in getting chosen for the dubious honor of having that man torture me.” She smiled brightly at him.

Gator sucked in his breath sharply. She was going to do this. He could tell by the determination on her face. He was going to have to endure the terror of losing her all over again. “I wouldn’t mind doing a little torturing myself, Flame. What are you thinking, going off by yourself for something that dangerous? Do you want to get killed?” He stepped closer aggressively, his fingers curling around her forearms like a vise. He gave her a little shake. Is that what this is all about? You have a death wish?”

“Actually no. I’m still here, aren’t I? I was waiting for you.”

They stood eye to eye. Toe to toe. Gator slowly al lowed his fingers to relax. “Oh. Good. Well then. At least you’re finally showin’ good sense. And just where did this outfit come from? You haven’t been out of my sight long enough to go on a shopping spree.”

She smirked. “Your grandmother.”

Gator raked a hand through his hair, wanting to tug it out by the roots. “Women were designed to drive good men crazy. Why the hell would my grandmother have a hooker outfit? All this time I’ve held out hope it was my brother who bought the toys for us. How the hell am I ever going to look her in the eye?”

Flame burst out laughing. “Men have such double standards. It’s perfectly okay for you to have good healthy lust and want wild, uninhibited sex and you like a woman to look a little slutty for you once in a while, but women better not feel the same way.”

“I certainly don’ want to picture my grandmother looking slutty.” He rubbed his hand over his face, covering his eyes as if that would drown out the picture.

She wanted to torture him a little more, but he looked so uncomfortable she took pity on him. “These aren’t your grandmother’s clothes, you goof. I told her what I needed. There wasn’t time to go shopping, so she called all her friends. They pooled resources and this is the result.”

Gator began to sweat. “This is getting worse and worse. Are you telling me all of my grandmother’s friends have clothes like that?” He covered his face with both hands, shaking his head. “Don’ say another word. I don’ want to know anything. It’s better to be ignorant.”

Flame found herself laughing at his horrified expression. She put her arms around him and leaned her body against his. It was impossible for her to resist Raoul when he turned into a confused male. “It will be all right. You’ll get over it.”

“I don’ think so, cher. This whole conversation just isn’t right.”

“We don’t have much time so you can seek sympathy while you’re driving me to the corner where Saunders sends his men to pick up a woman. I intend to be that woman.”

“I’m asking the others to back us up,” he warned her. “I don’ like this at all, Flame. Saunders is a straight-up killer. He likes to hurt women and he’s bound to be really confused about now. He doesn’t have a clue what happened and doesn’t know whether there’s proof against him or not. He’ll be looking to kill somebody.”

“Men like Saunders get away, Raoul. You know that.”

“He isn’t Whitney,” he reminded gently. “Even if you bring him down, cher, Whitney is still going to be shadowing you. Dead or alive, he’ll always be there. You don’ have to do this.”

She raised her chin. “Yes I do. I won’t be able to live with myself if he walks away unscathed after what he did to both Burrell and Joy. Maybe I do equate him with Whitney, but it doesn’t make him less guilty.”

“He’s surrounded by civilians and he has a small army,” he reminded.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

His dark eyes glittered at her and Flame felt a shiver run down her spine. She turned away from him, refusing to be intimidated, refusing to back down. He caught her chin in his hand. “I think we need to get something straight, cher. I love you. Straight out and I’m not afraid to say it. But you have this idea of me that isn’t quite on the mark. I’m not always nice, Flame. I don’ get pushed around, not even by the woman I love.”

She wasn’t going to react to his declaration. It was a hell of a time for him to make it and she just plain wasn’t going there, although she couldn’t stop the way her heart and her treacherous body responded. She loved him goofy and she loved him when he went all alpha on her. God, she was pathetic. “I wasn’t trying to push you around, Raoul. This is important to me. I have to do this.”

She ducked her head, looked away from him so he couldn’t read the real reason in her eyes. She was dying, and she wanted to leave something behind. She couldn’t leave children, and if Raoul was telling the truth and he loved her, he was the only one. And he’d be the only person to remember her. She was going to rid the world of one more monster before she allowed the disease eating her up to take her.

“Let’s go then,” Gator said. “I’ll send the others out to his house to back us up.”

They said little as he drove through the streets to find the Bourbon Street address she gave him. Most of the time he spoke on his cell, issuing instructions to the other GhostWalkers. The street corner was deserted with the storm battering the streets, filling them with water so fast the pumps couldn’t keep up.

Flame leaned across the seat to give Raoul a kiss, her hand on the door. The slight brush of her mouth against his sent a small jolt of electricity through him. Angry or not, he couldn’t resist her. He framed her face with his hands and held her still, kissing her the way he wanted, letting her taste his anger, the bite of his teeth, the dance of his tongue. He was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve and she gave him so little back. He was going to have to watch her walk away, stand on a corner to entice a killer to pick her up.

“The car’s shaking,” she said.

“Fuck the car.” He kissed her more. Long, drugging kisses. Hot, sizzling kisses. Dark, angry kisses. Every kind of kiss he could think of to hold her to him.

“I love you,” Flame whispered, her voice so low that even with his acute hearing, he barely heard. “I’ve never loved anyone, Raoul and I’m not very good at it.” It was a confession, the best she could give him and she could only hope he understood what she was trying to tell him.

He rested his brow against hers. “You’re good enough at it,” he said. “Don’ get yourself shot or I’ll be really pissed at you. I didn’t throw the paddle away, you know.”

She laughed the way he knew she would, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “I threw it away. And I broke it in two first so you wouldn’t get any more bright ideas.”

His hand dropped to her breast, her bruised, painful breast. He stroked her gently, lovingly, through the thin material. “You like my ideas. I think you like the feel of my hands.”

The way he touched her was reverent, not at all playful like his words, so tender and loving she wanted to melt into him. “I love the feel of your hands. Now go away be fore we get arrested.” She kissed him again and opened the door.

He caught her arm, preventing her from scooting out. “Look me in the eye, Flame and tell me you aren’t looking to die here.”

“I’d no more let Saunders kill me than I would Whitney.”

He held her a second longer, swallowed hard, and nodded.

She sauntered over to the corner, tucking back out of the rain, trying to look as if she were ready for a good time with the rain pouring down and the streets looking tawdry with the neon signs blinking through the gray haze. She didn’t have any competition that she could see so, if she guessed right and Saunders needed to work off is frustrations, she’d be the logical choice. Surreptitiously she glanced at her watch. All the days of reconning Saunders had paid off. She had his schedule. Either they would come looking in the next few minutes, or to night was a bust.

Headlights nearly blinded her as a car swept around the corner. She recognized the security vehicles Saunders used. He bit all right. Let’s see f I can reel him in.

Don’go getting too confident, Flame.

She snuck a peek to see if she could spot him, but there was no seeing Raoul when he was in hunting mode.

The window rolled down and a hand beckoned her to the car. The man handed her three hundred dollar bills without saying a word. Flame got in when the back door was opened. No one spoke as they drove her into the city to the Saunders’s estate. They looked and smirked and she could tell they wanted to intimidate her. The one on the passenger side had a crooked nose and rubbed his crotch and grinned at her.

She looked right through him and thought about Raoul. She felt him close, knew if she whispered he would hear her. When Raoul looked at her she felt sexy. When these men looked at her she just felt dirty-and angry. As they swept through the back entrance straight to the gatehouse, the front passenger window shattered. safety glass exploding inward. The men reacted, drawing weapons and crouching low. Flame kept her smirk to herself. They were all nervous and the window shattering with no clear explanation added to the strain.

The gatehouse was neat and appealing on the outside, blending in with the beauty of the landscaping, but once inside, it was easy to see exactly what the place was used for. Saunders sat by the fake fireplace, drinking a glass of whiskey. He barely looked up when the men shoved her inside. The door closed with a solid thud.

Flame looked around her. Mirrors decorated the ceiling and three of the four walls. There was a rack holding all kinds of what looked like very painful instruments. “So this is your little torture chamber. Very chic. I’ve heard about it.”

Saunders lifted his glass. “My reputation precedes mc?”

She smiled at him and wandered around the room touching the various whips. They were all real, obviously made to produce as much pain as possible. “It certainly does. I thought I’d come check it out for myself.” She leaned against the rack letting him get a good look at her figure. All the while she rubbed her hand back and forth on the spikes. “You like to hurt women, don’t you, Mr. Saunders?”

Her fingers mesmerized him. He watched the way she caressed the cold steel, almost as if it were a phallus symbol. Her voice was unbelievable, a sexy, sultry purr that made him as hard as a rock. Ordinarily he didn’t allow the sluts to speak to him, but the sound of her voice vibrated through his body and played on his nerve endings like those stroking fingers.

“It turns you on and makes you feel big and powerful, doesn’t it?”

He wanted to move toward her, but the room seemed to shift out from under him. He lurched unsteadily, wondering if there were earthquakes in Louisiana. He’d certainly never experienced one before.

The door burst open and Emanuel Parsons stumbled in. “You son of a bitch. You killed my boy, didn’t you?” He had his back to Flame, so intent on confronting Kurt Saunders that he hadn’t checked the room for other occupants. “The cabin is gone, burnt to the ground and they’re all dead. Everyone is dead.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Saunders set his glass carefully on the table, his hand remaining casually over the top of it.

“He was a good boy until you got him into your depraved way of life. You didn’t want witnesses.” Emanuel tapped his cane on the floor. “You didn’t have to have him killed, Kurt.”

“I had nothing to do with the cabin burning. I have no idea what happened out there. I figure Vicq got pissed and went crazy. He’s always had a screw loose. As for your boy, he loved taking a woman and using her the way she was meant to be used. You always wanted to, but never had the guts. Get the hell out of here, Parsons. You make me sick. And don’t think you can try to take me down. I’ve got enough on you and your son to bury you.”

“I won’t have to take you down. The military was all over the area. Helicopters, forensic people, some pretty powerful people are shuffling through the debris and not anyone I knew. That tells me something, Kurt. They didn’t trust the police. Why wouldn’t they trust the police to investigate? Because I was under suspicion. And that means they know about you. I wouldn’t have to do a damned thing to take you down, but you killed my boy.” Emanuel Parsons slowly brought his cane up. “Burn in hell.”

The shot rang out, loud in the small room. Glass shattered behind Parsons and he stood swaying for a moment, staring at Saunders and the small gun in his hand. Saunders had swept the gun up from the small table where his glass still sat filled with whiskey. The cane dropped first, and then Parsons fell to his knees.

Saunders walked up to Parsons and pressed the muzzle of the gun between his eyes. “You lose,” he said and pulled the trigger.

Flame stayed very still as Saunders turned the gun on her.

He shrugged. “Sorry, honey. And I really wanted to play, but I’m afraid I don’t have time.” He raised the gun, ringer tightening on the trigger.

Simultaneously, a hole blossomed in the middle of his forehead, one in his heart, one in his throat and one through his mouth. Flame could barely separate the four shots they were so close together. She rubbed the metal spike with the napkin sitting on the table beside Saunders’s drink before using it to open the door.

“No, this time, you lose,” she said and shut the door.

There wasn’t a single guard in sight. She caught the glimpse of a body lying prone on the lawn and another in the flower garden. She walked to the edge of the high fence and jumped, landing in a crouch, waiting there in the shadows.

The car pulled up, passenger door open and she slid in and leaned across the seat to kiss Raoul full on the mouth.

“Great timing. Thank you.”

“I’ve got my uses.”