“Yes,” she said simply.
“Is he taking you to the ritual ceremony tomorrow night?”
Honestly surprised, she said, “How did you know about that?”
“Word travels. Will he guide you?”
The awareness that strangers knew her agenda reminded her of the threats she’d received earlier in the week. Since she’d all but sequestered herself in the lab, nothing else had happened. And even though they hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source of the threats, the excitement of her research findings had provided a welcome distraction.
Turning her attention back to Marshall, she answered automatically, “No, he has some other obligation that night. He’ll take me in to Belisaire’s earlier in the day and I’ll just stay there.”
“Other obligation?”
Erin focused her attention on Marshall. “I don’t know what it is.”
Marshall looked away, fiddling with several petri dishes lining the table next to him.
“What?”
He turned back to her, opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Marshall, what is it?”
He hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Are you worried about him? About what’s going on down there?”
“What’s going on down there?” he repeated. “What do you know about that?”
Her mind raced, but she was unable to put the puzzle pieces together. “Nothing really. Just that when I asked Teague why he came back to Bruneaux, he said it was because he was worried about Belisaire. About something she might be involved in or some danger she might be in.”
Marshall’s attention drifted and she knew he was deep in thought. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to pry or ask questions about his and Teague’s past no matter the temptation their blooming friendship provided.
But the question begged too hard to be asked. “Marshall, do you know what Teague did when he left here?”
“What did he tell you?” he countered.
“That he played pool. Was something of a shark, I gather. I really didn’t question him that closely.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t questioned him at all. He’d distracted her. Her skin warmed at the recollection.
A private smile threatened to curve her lips. He always distracted her everytime she got close. No, that wasn’t true. He’d chosen to tell her things she knew he didn’t discuss with anyone else. He’d purposely given her very private pieces of himself.
Still … She went over the times they’d spent together. When talk turned to what he was doing in the bayou, or the possibility that something might be happening down there that wasn’t kosher, he’d answered her vaguely, then diverted her attention.
She rubbed her arms as a sudden chill made the hair on her arms rise. No, there was more between them than that. She did trust him. He’d told her the truth about his past, had been open with her in a way she suspected he’d never been before.
But had that been the whole truth, Erin? a little voice argued.
She turned to Marshall. “Do you know anything about what he did all those years he was gone?”
“Not much.” He paused, then heaved a sigh. “Once, about three years ago, I decided to track him down. I guess it bothered me more than I admitted that I had a brother out there somewhere and no contact with him.”
“What did you find out?”
“He wasn’t easy to trace. He moved around a lot. Mostly the southeastern part of the country.” He raked his hand through his hair again. “I finally tracked him to Miami. I know he spent several years there.”
“Did you go see him? Contact him?”
He shook his head. “He was working at a pool hall, managing it.”
“Didn’t you think he’d want to hear from you?”
“That wasn’t it. I didn’t contact him because he was working there under another name. Had been for some time. I had no idea what he’d gotten himself mixed up in, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t welcome me walking in and lousing up whatever he had going on.”
“Going on? You mean you think he was involved in something …” she paused, looking for the right word.
“Illegal?” Marshall supplied. “Erin, he was working under an assumed name in one of the most dangerous parts of Miami. What was I supposed to think?”
“Did you tell anyone? Belisaire?”
He shook his head. “No. I’d done what I set out to do. I found him. I let that be enough.”
“What about now? Do you think he’s in danger? Do you think he’s involved in something here?”
An even longer pause this time. “I don’t know anything for certain, Erin. But something is going on down in Bayou Bruneaux. I’ve tried to piece as much together as possible, but it all keeps pointing to one thing.”
“What?” she asked, though she knew—and dreaded—what he was about to say. She realized now why she had refused to look too closely at their relationship.
God help her, she suspected the same thing.
“As much as it hurts me even to think it, I suspect Teague, and probably Belisaire, are involved in whatever is going on down there. Right up to their voodoo dolls.”
TWELVE
“Marshall—” Erin’s mind was swimming. Could the man who had lowered his walls and let her see the most private side of him really be involved in a threat against her?
Marshall slid off his stool, crossed to her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re involved with him, Erin. I’m worried about you. That’s why I told you this. And to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” she asked, still badly distracted.
“For setting you up with him in the first place. I had my suspicions then.” He dropped his hand and moved away, raking his hair again. “Maybe that’s partly why I did it. It was the perfect opportunity for us to connect. I guess I was hoping that I’d learn more about him this way. Prove my doubts were unfounded maybe.” He turned to face her. “But now you’re being threatened.”
“The threats,” Erin whispered under her breath.
Could Teague really have done that to her? Or had it done? And why?
“When he moved you to Beaumarchais I thought maybe, just maybe …” Marshall trailed off. “But now, I’m not so sure.”
“What reason would he have to scare me?” she asked, more to herself than to Marshall.
“Maybe you were getting too close.”
“We were,” she whispered, her heart squeezing painfully.
“I meant maybe you were getting too involved. If he thought you’d get in the way or ruin whatever it is he has going, then it makes sense to get you out of there.”
Erin thought she might be sick. This was making too much sense. And yet her heart persisted in finding another reason. “He said something about coming back here to protect Belisaire. That there was some risk she wasn’t taking seriously. He came back to help.”
“I don’t know how she fits in, Erin. Maybe she tracked him down, asked him for help if she found herself in a bind, and now he’s involved too. Maybe they’ve been in contact all along. I don’t know.
“I made it clear you’d go into the bayou with or without a guide. That Teague agreed to help me so easily doesn’t add up very well.”
“He told me all about his past, Marshall. And yours. I know he carries a lot of scars. You must too. He took me to his mother’s house. Or what was left of it.”
Marshall’s head came up fast, his face intent. “He took you to Marie’s?”
“Yes. I think he’s come to terms with a lot of what happened back then. Maybe he’s trying to rebuild a relationship with you too,” she offered, but her voice lacked conviction.
“And maybe guiding you would make it easier to keep track of your whereabouts. To him you are an unknown quantity. And Teague is nothing if not careful.” He walked over to her. “I just think you’d be better off back at Beaumarchais. And maybe you’d better stay away from the bayou for a while.”<
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She shook her head. “I’m confused, Marshall. I won’t argue that. But I’m not walking away from my work.” She fanned a hand to encompass the ongoing research and tests she was running. “I’m finally breaking new ground. Whatever the truth is here, I’m not going to be run off from this.”
“Then stay here. Work. But stay away from Belisaire and Teague for a while.”
“Why? What are you planning to do?”
Marshall looked away.
Suspicion and dread crept along her skin, making the hair rise. “Marshall? Tell me what you’re going to do.”
He turned back. His face cold, almost void of emotion. She didn’t think someone as seemingly sensitive as Marshall could look so … hard.
“I think something is going to happen Sunday night. That things will come to a head that night. I plan to be there too.”
“Are you going to confront him? Marshall, if you’re right about this—” She broke off as her stomach pitched. Just thinking it made her ill. She swallowed hard. “It could be dangerous.”
“Well, what choice do I have, Erin? I can’t just sit back and let him do it, let him rip apart this family again.” He stepped closer. “And I don’t want him to hurt you. Or worse.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
Erin couldn’t think straight. Too many impressions were racing through her mind. She covered Marshall’s hand with her own. “I appreciate your concern, Marshall. Really, I do. I’m not used to having people care.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “And because of that I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. I’ll deal with this.”
Marshall crouched down in front of her, his expression open and beseeching. “Help me, Erin. Help me stop him before he does something we’ll all regret.”
“What? How?”
“You said he was bringing you dinner. Find out where he’ll be Sunday night. Maybe I can intercept him. Talk to him.” He pulled her hands between his. “I’ll be in the building, right down the hall. Just talk to him, Erin. For all our sakes.”
“Marsh, I don’t know about this.”
You have faced the darkness before, Erin McClure. You will face it again. Here.
Belisaire’s words from that first morning rang so clearly in her ears she swore the woman was standing right there.
He stood, still holding her hands. “It’s your choice, Erin.”
The darkness … resides in you and one other. Make no mistake, Erin McClure. The choice will be yours. May you both find the light.
Erin shivered.
“You hungry, ange?”
Erin jerked her head toward the door. Teague leaned against the frame, a large paper bag in one hand. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear him. She looked around her. When had Marshall left? How long had she sat there lost in thought?
“You okay?” He stepped into the room.
It was all she could do not to back away from him, and he was still a good twenty feet away. Get a grip, Erin, she told herself almost desperately. She needed time. Lots of it.
The overhead lights cast his shadow across her as he closed the distance between them. She couldn’t look away from that dark aura creeping over her, covering her body.
He took her chin in one hand and lifted her face to his. He lowered his mouth to hers and took it. As if it were his.
And in the most brutally honest, unavoidable way, he proved to her it was. Now. A minute from now. A year from now. Forever.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. His were black. They glittered in a way that made her shiver again. Only this time there was fear entwined with the dark seductive thrill.
And she knew then she was all out of time.
“What’s wrong, Erin?” When she stared at him mutely, he said, “You were a million miles away when I came in, chèr.” He looked around. “Aren’t things going well today? Did you hit a roadblock or something?”
She shamelessly grasped the straw he offered. “It’s been a tough one.” She pulled as easily from his arms as she could. It only confused her further when doing so left her more empty and alone than she could ever remember feeling.
He stepped behind her and ran a finger along her nape. She loved it when he did that. The shiver was automatic, the pleasure instant and real. God, what was she going to do?
“Are you sure that’s all it is? I’ve never seen you this distracted.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her neck. “At least by work anyway.”
She almost leapt away from him. His touch, his scent, the sound of his voice, the heat of him, all of it effectively destroying whatever mental capacity she had left.
“Hungry, I guess.” She took as many slow deep breaths as she could without being obvious and moved across the room to the bag he’d left on the table by the door. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She couldn’t eat a bite if her life was at stake; her stomach was a tight ball. But it was something to do. To keep them busy. To keep his hands off her.
She turned with the bag and caught him watching her. And realized that his touch wasn’t restricted to his hands.
Could she really feel like this about him and not know him?
Ask him. The voice in her head was sudden and very persistent. Just ask him.
She broke eye contact and busied herself emptying the contents of the bag.
Like what, she asked herself. Oh, by the way, you’re not a drug dealer or gunrunner, are you?
He pulled a stool over to where she stood, and sat down. She tried hard to keep her hands from trembling. “Want me to fix you some?”
“We’ve got to talk, Erin,” he said seriously.
She bit down on her lip to keep the hysterical urge to laugh from escaping. If you only knew.
“About tomorrow night.”
She stiffened. Oh, God, she wasn’t ready for this. She never would be, she realized quickly. Very carefully spooning out portions of crawfish étouffé and gumbo, she fought her warring thoughts. Ask him. Deceive him.
Betray him.
Her chest ached. Her head was pounding. The steam from the food was making her sick.
No. The idea of betraying him made her sick.
“I know you have your heart set on going to the ritual.”
She grabbed on to the one thing she could respond to with complete honesty. “Yes, I do. The headway I’m making on my research is phenomenal, and this opportunity will put me so far ahead of schedule I can get the grant, no questions asked. I don’t know when Belisaire will invite me again. I don’t want to risk the wait.” She didn’t even want to consider that there might never be another time. Not for any of them.
“Erin,” he began, then paused. He took a deep breath and started again. “I really think you should stay at Beaumarchais tomorrow night.”
Erin gave up any pretense of preparing their meal and turned to face him squarely. “Why?”
“Just certain things I’ve heard. I’d feel better if you weren’t down there tomorrow night.”
“I’ll ask again, Teague. Why?” Her voice was remarkably steady considering how badly her legs were shaking. “What’s happening down there? Does it have something to do with the note and the gris-gris? With the conversation I overheard?”
“Erin—”
“Does it have something to do with you?” There. She’d said it.
He stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime. She folded her arms across her abdomen, trying to brace the shakes rattling her entire body. But she held his gaze.
A dozen questions were in his eyes. His expression was fierce, but open. “Yes,” he finally said.
She blew out a hard breath, sure she’d be sick. She pressed a fist against her stomach. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how strongly she still believed in him.
“What’s going on down there, Teague?”
“I can’t tell you, Erin.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Anger was beginning to kick in. It felt good. Too good. She didn’t care.
“Can’t. Do
n’t you think I would if I could? Erin, there are so many things—” He muttered several curses in Cajun French.
When he turned to her again, his eyes were cold, guarded. That hurt more than anything else. He might as well have slapped her.
“It will all be done tomorrow night. After that—”
“What will be done? What?” She worked to lower her voice. “And what if I don’t want to listen after that?” What if I can’t forgive you for whatever it is you’ve done? she asked silently.
Or, God help me, what if I do anyway?
It was that possibility that frightened her most. Because even now she couldn’t look at him without wanting him. All of him. Body, heart, and soul.
“You aren’t going to stay away, are you.” It wasn’t a question. He sighed, then shook his head. “It’s your choice, Erin.” He shoved off the stool and headed to the door.
“Just as it’s your choice not to tell me the truth,” she called after him.
He slammed one hand on the doorframe, then spun on his heel and stalked back across the room.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
When there wasn’t but an inch of air between them, he said, “I’m asking for your trust.”
“That goes both ways, Teague.”
He bit off an oath. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Well, you’re asking for a lot too.”
The tension and frustration drained out of him in one long breath. It was the first time she’d ever seen him look … defeated.
“Mais yeah, ange.” There was no mistaking the hurt in his voice, or his eyes. “I guess I was asking for it all.”
Teague slipped from the bateau, tying it to an exposed cypress root before making his way silently up the small trail. The pulsing sound of maman drums filled the air. He dipped his chin and spoke softly.
“I’m in, Skeet. Out in ten.”
“Roger,” came the quiet voice in his ear. “Two boats at Marie’s. Haitians. I’ve got Murdock there moving them to the alternate meet site like you requested.” There was a pause. “I sure hope they don’t get spooked.”
“They won’t. Too much is at stake. I want to meet Arnaud and his boss alone first.”
Bayou Heat Page 14
