by Sandra Brown
the gun in his hand.
Burke was so relieved to see her unharmed, he was on the verge of
grabbing her and clutching her to him when he spotted a knife in one
hand and the lantern in the other.
He hadn't used the boat motor for the last mile or so, knowing how far
sound carries over water. He hadn't wanted to lead the people looking
for him into this hidden slough. Struggling like hell to get back, it
hadn't occurred to him that Remy herself might pose a threat But the
knife clattered to the floor and she set the lantern and a book of
matches on the table. He engaged the safety on the pistol and set it
beside the lantern. Then they faced each other. He spoke first."Are you
all right?" She nodded vigorously."Frightened."
"Of what?"
"I didn't know who you were at first."
"I was afraid you might not be here."
"Where would I go? Why were you sneaking up "
"To avoid being captured."
"Captured?"
"There's a manhunt on for me."
"Why?"
"It's a long story."
"You're sweating."
"I've been rowing."
"Oh." Again they just stood there looking at each other across the
darkness. Then she said, "You were away so long."
"I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't get back."
"It's okay, I just "
"It couldn't be helped. If "
"What happened?"
"Did anyone come here?"
"No."
"Have you seen anyone?"
"Not all day. I've been frantic."
"With fear?" Worry."
"Worry?"
"That something had happened to you." The space separating them
narrowed. Later, he didn't recall con Her lips moving against his skin,
she said, "I was afraid you wouldn't come back for me."
"Nothing could have stopped me from coming back."
"I didn't know."
"You knew, Remy."
"How was I to know?"
"Because I promised you I would."
With that, his lips searched blindly for hers. He kissed her hard,
crushing her mouth first at one angle, then another, and yet another.
He was awkward, clumsy even. But ravenous men eat gracelessly.
He kissed her hungrily, not with finesse. Tasting her for the first
time, a low moan rose out of his chest, partially from gratification,
partially from heightened want.
Eventually, he pulled back, pushed his fingers through her hair, tilted
her head back and looked down into her face to see if he had mistaken
her response. But in her expression he read the same wonder and
confusion he was feeling.
Shyly, she reached up and touched his mouth with her fingertips.
Burke closed his eyes and swayed toward her. He dipped his knees
slightly, fitting himself into the notch of her thighs.
His hands moved to her hips and held her firmly against him. Her hand,
now resting lightly on his hair, guided his head down to her and they
kissed again with more passion and less restraint than before.
He stumbled backward toward the bed, dragging her with him, until the
backs of his legs touched the mattress. He sat down, spread his knees,
and pulled her between them. Impatiently he peeled the sweatshirt over
her head. The sweatpants were pushed to the floor for her to step out
of. First his eyes, then his hands moved over her shoulders, breasts,
waist, hips, thighs touching as much of her as he could as quickly as he
could.
Then he rested his hot cheek against her belly, and her arms enfolded
his head.
He caressed the backs of her calves and thighs. He squeezed her ass.
He kissed her V through her panties, then nuzzled her with chin and nose
and brow in a rubbing motion that felt like loving.
He placed her on the bed, stretched out beside her, and slipped his
arm around her unconsciously reaching for her. He didn't remember placing his
hand inside the front of her underpants. Springy hair curled around around
her. It happened without forethought. One second he washis fingers.
He parted the swollen lips. The center of her sex was longing to hold
her, and the next he was. very wet. He sent his fingers deep, then
withdrew them and used the He clutched her tightly. She felt incredibly
small and soft against the ball of his middle finger to lightly massage that
most sensitive spot.
him. He buried his face in her neck beneath her hair. His hand cupped j
Her soft gasping of his name he took as permission. Within sec her head
and pressed her face against his throat. onds, his jeans were open, and
he was positioned above her. When ... .
he entered her, he almost sobbed from the pleasure of it. He didn't
want it to be rushed, but the sensations were so intense, so long
anticipated and frequently fantasized, that they overtook him, and he
could no longer hold back.
The climax passed too quickly. He raised his head, an apology on his
lips. But her features were soft and slack. Beads of sweat dotted her
upper lip, her eyes were closed. Beneath him, her chest rose and fell.
Her nipples were tight. He feathered them with his thumb. He felt her
belly quicken against his an instant before she caught her lower lip
between her teeth.
He rocked forward slightly and stayed inside her to share each rippling,
pulsing pressure. When it subsided, he rolled to his side and drew her
close to him, pressing her head to his chest and stroking her back. They
lay like that for a long time, and he could have stayed that way
forever. But he felt compelled to say something.
"I know how religious you are. You probably regard adultery as a mortal
sin. So, you can say I forced you if you want to. Just ...
just don't feel bad about it, okay, Remy? I don't want you to feel bad
about this.
About me."
She worked her head free so that she could look into his face. She laid
her palm against his cheek and searched his eyes."You don't have to
worry about that. I'm not really married."
From the window of his office, Pinkie watched the revelers on the street
below. The Orpheus parade was over, but the crowds were still out in
full force, sinning with a vengeance before the start of Lent, almost
twenty-four hours away.
Hearing the door open and close behind him, he turned. Bardo slunk in,
looking uncharacteristically subdued."My men won't go near the place.
Said it's still crawling with heat in all its forms. Cops, sheriff's
deputies, state police, coroner. You name it."
"It's been confirmed that Mccuen is dead?"
"As a doornail. Story is, Pat whacked him to protect Basile."
"What about Basile?" Pinkie asked.
"You aren't gonna believe it. Pat had him in custody, but he got away."
Duvall swore viciously.
"Basile overpowered the old codger who runs the bait shop."
"Overpowered my ass," Duvall roared."Did Pat buy that?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't that Gregory character tell us that Basile and Dredd
what's-his-name are thick as thieves? The way you describe the heat
around the place, even Saint Basile couldn't have esc
aped that compound
unassisted. And what the hell happened to Gregory and the men I sent
with him? Any news?"
Bardo shook his head."Nothing."
"I don't think they ever made it to Dredd's Mercantile. Obviously they
double-crossed us."
"They're two of my most dependable guys," Bardo argued."I tell them
what to do, and they do it, no questions asked."
"Gregory James's family has a lot of money. He bribed them to let him o.
By now they're probably in Vegas banging whores two at a time."
"They couldn't be bribed," Bardo said stubbornly.
"Then explain to me where they are."
Bardo shrugged, and Pinkie cursed.
He didn't remember ever feeling this confounded or incompetent.
He'd had two excellent chances to trap Basile, and both had failed.
Mccuen had apparently planned to bypass Del Ray Jones and act
independently.
Duvall didn't have a problem with that. In fact he admired Mccuen's
initiative. Except that it had backfired and Mccuen had got himself
killed. Thank you, Doug Pat, Pinkie thought. He must be dealt with
later.
In the meantime, Gregory James had vanished and taken two expert hit men
with him. How the hell had that sniveling queer coward managed that?
Wherever Basile was, he was probably laughing his ass off at these
bungled attempts on his life. Just thinking of that caused Pinkie's
blood pressure to skyrocket.
Bardo interrupted his thoughts."Don't get steamed at me for say Pinkie
turned, but Bardo went on, undaunted by the lawyer's glare.
"Basile could have popped Mrs. Duvall and dumped her body in the swamp
same day he took her. She could be dead already. Or ..."
"Well? Or what?"
"Or, hell, Pinkie, think about it. If she's been shacking up with Basile
for almost a week, maybe she's ... you know ... She could be making it
so interesting for him, he doesn't care about revenge anymore.
Either that or he's getting his revenge in another way."
Pinkie's eyes went dangerously cold and blank."So your theory is that
either my wife is dead, or she's fucking her brains out with Basile?"
Bardo spread his arms eloquently."You know broads. They're kinda like
dogs. Long as you feed them, and pet them once in a while, they love
you. Why do you think they're called bitches?"
"I've never thought about it."
Bardo didn't seem to notice that his boss was holding his temper under
rigid control. Unwisely, he continued."I've got a real bad feeling about
this. It's been bad business from the beginning. Everything has worked
against us."
"You're beating around the bush. What's on your mind?"
Bardo slipped his hand into his pocket, jingled change. Rolled his
shoulders arrogantly."I'm out, Pinkie."
"Like hell you are."
"Look, I'm not getting myself killed, especially over a piece of ass I
never even got to have."
Pinkie, seeing red, lunged forward and grabbed Bardo by his
two-thousand-dollar lapels. Remy probably deserved the insult, but he
sure as hell didn't. No one resigned from his service simply because he
wanted to. Where did Wayne Bardo get the unmitigated gall to think he
could?
"You'll do what I tell you to, or I'll put a bug in Littrell's ear about
the life and times of Wayne Bardo."
"You're my lawyer. You can't tell the D.A. shit without having yourself
disbarred."
"True," Pinkie conceded in the soft voice he used in the courtroom to
ask a question he knew was going to discredit a witness. One local
journalist, an admirer, had dubbed it the velvet hammer.
"I can't betray privileged information, but I can get someone else to do
it for me. Any number of someones would grant me that favor in a
heartbeat. Before you could blink. And if that happens, you'll go down,
Wayne. No pussy where they'd stick you. They'll strip you of your
jewelry, your nice car, and all your pretty clothes. They'll lock you
away so deep, you'll be doing good to get a shit, a shave, and a shower
once a month."
Without giving Bardo time to make a rebuttal, he stepped closer,
thrusting his nose inches from Bardo's."This bad business, as you call
it, won't be finished until Basile is dead. Are we clear on that?"
He decided to keep his plans for Remy to himself. Bardo certainly wasn't
squeamish when it came to killing women, but Pinkie didn't want to whet
his appetite too soon.
"In the meantime, I've got another chore for you." Pinkie released him,
smoothed down the lapels, then slapped Bardo's cheek affectionately.
"But you're going to relish this one."
"Pinkie refused to marry me in the Church. If the Church doesn't
recognize our marriage, neither can I." In a whisper, Remy added, "Which
I suppose makes me the whore you accused me of being."
Basile stroked her cheek."You're not a whore."
They held each other tightly, a tinge of desperation in their passion.
He had released her only long enough to get up and remove his clothes.
She rubbed her cheek against his hairy bare chest."What's going to
happen to us, Basile?"
His name came naturally to her lips, and that made him smile. But her
question was sobering. He sighed, "I don't know."
"You must let me go. I have to go back."
He shook his head.
"But " Angling his head back, he looked down at her."No." Then he kissed
her possessively.
When they finally broke apart, she asked him about his marriage to
Barbara."What caused it to break up?"
"I couldn't make her happy."
"Did she make you happy?"
"No, she didn't," he said, realizing for the first time that their
unhappiness hadn't been entirely a failure on his part. Barbara hadn't
gone out of her way to fulfill him, either."We settled for a workable
relationship. I guess most people do."
"But they shouldn't have to."
"No, they shouldn't have to." He studied her closely for a moment,
touching the individual features of her face."If you could do or be
anything, what would it be?"
"You mean if Pinkie's charity hadn't had any strings attached?" He
nodded."I'd work in an art gallery," she said without hesitation.
"I've studied the masters and I know a lot about contemporary artists.
I'd be very good."
"I'm sure you would," he said, meaning it.
She stacked her hands beneath her cheek on the pillow, her expression
and voice wistful."What would have happened if we'd met in another time
and place, under ordinary circumstances? Let's pretend I was working in
one of the upscale galleries on Royal Street, and you wandered in and
saw me."
"In the first place, I couldn't afford to even darken the door of any of
the galleries on Royal Street."
"This is make-believe, Basile. Anything can happen."
"Okay. I walk in and see you, right?" She nodded."Well, after tripping
over my tongue, I probably would try and work up enough courage to speak
to you."
She laughed."You would engage me in conversation. That's good.
Then what?"
<
br /> "Then nothing. You'd see right off that I was a hopeless ignoramus."
"Why?"
"I could probably point out the Mona Lisa in a line-up, but that's about
the extent of my knowledge of art. You'd run me out of the joint."
"I doubt that." She smiled shyly, confessing softly, "Father Kevin
certainly left a lasting impression on me."
"That dour priest?" he scoffed.
"He was rather intense, yes, but I thought about him a lot."
"What did you think when you thought about him?"
"Wicked things."
"Naw."
"Um-huh. I thought that he would be a temptation to every woman in his
parish."
"Come on."
