by Jana DeLeon
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and pushed in a number.
Whoever was on the other end of the call must have been sitting with the phone already at hand because Luc spoke as soon as he finished dialing. “Did you get anything?” he asked.
Maryse stared at him for a moment. She’d assumed he was calling the police, but that question didn’t sound like anything you’d start with when calling 911.
Luc was quiet for a couple of seconds, then clenched his jaw. “I see,” he said, and flipped the phone shut.
“Who was that?” Maryse asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
Luc picked his gun up off the desk and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans, then strode to the front office window and peered between the blinds. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, ignoring her question.
“Why? Who did you call? What did they say? What’s going on, Luc?”
“Later,” Luc said, and opened the storage closet. On the top shelf sat computer and a monitor, flashing alternating pictures of each side of the outside of the office. Luc pulled a flash drive from the CPU and slid it into his jeans pocket.
Maryse stared at him in disbelief. “You had that recording? And couldn’t someone just steal the flash drive?”
“Wouldn’t do any good. There’s a satellite on the roof. It’s sending a feed to my buddy in New Orleans. That’s who I called. The flash drive only covers part of the building.”
Satellite feed? Monitored footage by remote in New Orleans? Maryse’s head started to spin. Something was very, very wrong here. That was an awful lot of energy and time, not to mention the cost, to spend on a woman Luc hadn’t even known the week before. “Luc, has someone broken in here before?”
Luc barely glanced at her and nodded, then looked out the window again. “The back door was unlocked the day after your truck wreck. I thought maybe you’d just forgotten to lock it, but then I clearly remembered checking it the night before. After your cabin blew up, I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence.”
Maryse blinked, trying to absorb everything, but it was like trying to take in The Godfather trilogy in a single sitting. “So what exactly did your buddy in New Orleans see when the alarm went off?”
Luc turned to face her, his expression grim, his jaw set in a hard line. “The suspect was behind the office. He was wearing a backpack and holding what looked like a spool of wire.”
“And he probably wasn’t hiking.” Maryse studied Luc’s face, certain there was more he wasn’t telling her—like maybe why a zoologist was using words like “suspect.”
Luc shook his head. “Not likely. He was probably about to rig another device like the one used on your cabin. Regardless, we need to get out of here and stay out until the week is over. This place is too remote. Not nearly enough escape routes.”
Maryse narrowed her gaze and stared Luc straight in the eyes. “And exactly how many escape options does a zoologist need?”
Luc’s expression went completely blank, and he looked away. “There’s something we need to talk about,” he finally said, “but it needs to wait. It wouldn’t take much to launch a fire bomb in here.”
Fire bomb? Launch? Hell, her stapler wasn’t going to cover that one at all. “Fine. We’re leaving now, but as soon as we’re out of the parking lot, you’re going to start talking.”
Luc nodded and pulled the 9mm from his waistband. “Wait here a minute.” He opened the front door and peered out with the gun clutched up near his shoulders, ready to take aim and fire. Then he edged out the door. A couple of seconds passed before he stuck his head back in and motioned her beside him.
Given that Maryse was certain she wasn’t going to like whatever Luc was about to tell her in the car, the last place she wanted to be was close to him, but it was a better than running with her stapler. Barely. She slipped outside and waited while he locked the door, then crept behind him, practically glued to his hip. Luc was on high alert, scanning all directions for a sign of movement.
Or bomb setters.
Maryse tried to maintain her cool, but with every step she grew more and more anxious to get away from this isolated stretch of bayou. This was all Helena’s fault—her and her damned money. If this is what you got for mingling with “society,” when it was all over, Maryse was burying herself deep, deep in the bayou where only the mosquitoes could find her.
They were almost to the car when a nutria scurried out of the underbrush directly in front of them. Before her mind could even register the small, beaverlike creature, Maryse dropped the stapler and hauled ass to the car, beating Luc’s strides by a mile. She grabbed the door handle and yanked, thankful she didn’t have long nails to break, jumped inside, and scrunched down as far as possible on the floorboard. Luc jumped in a second later, started the car, and tore out of the parking lot like they were on fire.
Which lately could be a real possibility.
When the rattle from the floorboard went away, Maryse knew they’d reached the highway. She inched up from her fetal position and onto the seat, albeit somewhat slouched, but at least in a semi-sitting position.
“You all right?” Luc asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“Oh, just peachy. I’m getting so used to people trying to bump me off that tomorrow I probably won’t even run. In fact, I was just thinking I ought to wear my best dress every day to save the undertaker the time later on.”
Luc gave her a small smile. “You’re doing great, Maryse. Most people wouldn’t have made it this long without having a nervous breakdown.”
Maryse glared. “And what makes you think I haven’t? Do I seem remotely normal to you?”
“You’re completely out of your element. You’ve had a ton of physical and mental stress put on you in a very short time—not withstanding your new paranormal abilities.”
A gross understatement. “Yeah, out of my element. Sorta like a zoologist toting a nine like a character from Law & Order?”
A light flush crept up Luc’s face, and Maryse knew she was in for some very bad information. Luc stared out the windshield a few seconds before speaking. “I got involved with you because it was my job.”
“And that job is…and let’s just stop pretending the answer is zoology.”
“I’m a special agent for the DEQ.”
Maryse straightened up in her seat. This was definitely not the answer she’d expected. “You’re kidding me.”
Luc pulled his ID out of his pocket and passed it to Maryse. Son of a bitch. Special Agent Luc LeJeune. Maryse’s hands dropped into her lap seemingly of their own volition, like the badge was too heavy. “What in the world would the DEQ want with me? I’m the most boring person on Earth—or used to be anyway. What could I possibly be doing so wrong that it would bring a state investigation down on me?”
Luc shook his head. “It’s not you. At least it didn’t start out being you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maryse felt beads of sweat begin to form on her brow, frustration and confusion overwhelming her.
“The agency got a tip that a chemical company was dumping waste into the bayou. The informant claimed to be a resident of Mudbug, and on the surface, the information seemed to check out. Then the intel stopped—no more letters, no phone calls, and all attempts to locate this person failed. I was sent down here to find the informant and verify his claims. We’re under a bit of pressure from the EPA.”
“Oh my God! Is it toxic? Where is it?”
“We don’t even know for sure that the dumping is going on, much less what the waste is or where it is. There’s no reason to get excited just yet. If the dumping is going on, the site could be anywhere in the surrounding area, not necessarily in Mudbug.”
Maryse took a minute to process this information. “So you think someone is dumping toxic waste into the bayou somewhere, and you’re undercover to find the guy who tipped you off. Then why are you hooked up with me?”
Luc stared out the window a
gain. “At first it was business. Then it got personal. I thought you’d figured that out.”
Personal? As in he liked her so he was trying to protect her? And business—what business? She wasn’t in any danger when Luc first arrived. “So you came down here to locate a mole and instead, you end up seeing ghosts and playing protector for me. Does that cover it?”
Luc nodded. “I guess so. I care about you, Maryse, and you don’t have the training or ability to deal with something like this. I was afraid something bad would happen if I didn’t help—am still afraid.”
He cared about her? He was spending an awful lot of time putting himself in danger. But the fact remained that he didn’t care enough to tell her the truth. Not until he was left with no other choice. “And what does your agency think of your extra-curricular activities?”
Luc frowned. “They’re not happy. They think I’ve drawn too much attention to myself and they’re afraid it will blow my cover.”
Maryse narrowed her eyes, certain that something in his story didn’t ring true—not exactly. How was Luc supposed to discover the informant when he’d been shut up in an office with her? “But you’re still here.”
“I couldn’t leave you this way.”
Bullshit. “Why not? You could lie to me this way.” Then a thought came to mind—a memory of Luc trying to read her notebook that day in her lab. “You thought I was the informant.”
“That was one possibility, yes.”
“And the other possibility?”
Luc looked out the window down the highway, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Maryse stared at him for a moment, then it hit her. “Oh, my God. You thought I was covering for the chemical company. Somehow hiding the evidence of the pollution.”
Luc jerked his head around to look at her. “No, I never thought that, even when the agency suggested it. I looked into your research because I thought you’d come across the source. I didn’t know what you were working on until Helena let the cat out of the bag.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Maryse. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth. Don’t you understand that?”
Maryse looked directly in his eyes. “All I understand is that every man I’ve been with has used me in one form or fashion, and you’ve turned out to be no different.”
He put one hand on her arm, but she brushed it off. “Don’t even bother. In fact, you can drop me off at the hotel and return to your high security office in the bayou. I won’t be needing your services any longer, Agent LeJeune.”
Maryse didn’t say a word as Luc drove the rest of the way back to the hotel, and Luc was obviously smart enough to know he wasn’t going to talk his way out of this one. But the longer she sat in silence, the angrier she became. What the hell had she been thinking? Not only had she allowed herself to be used by another lying asshole, she’d actually welcomed him with open arms—and legs. What was it about her that she couldn’t find an honest man to save her life?
Which was sort of an ironic question since apparently a dishonest man had done just that.
She stared out the window and held in the tears that threatened to fall. Damn it. Why did she always have to cry when she was mad? Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t get more screwed up than it already was, she had to go add insult to injury by sleeping with Luc.
And even worse—she’d enjoyed it.
No more men, she vowed, as Luc swung the car onto Main Street. Society might as well give her a wimple and start calling her “sister.”
They pulled into the hotel parking lot, and before Luc brought the car to a complete stop, Maryse jumped out, slamming the door behind her, and stalked into the hotel. She could hear the car idling behind her but forced herself to look straight ahead and never hesitate in her stride. When she reached the door to the hotel, she heard the engine rev as the car screeched out of the parking lot. She glanced down the street as she stepped into the hotel and saw the car round the corner to the highway.
Probably going to see his “buddy” in New Orleans. Another DEQ agent, she had to assume at this point. Maybe they were going to review the tapes and see if Luc recognized the man outside the office. And then a terrible, horrible thought hit her. Her eyes blurred, and she walked headfirst into the corner of the door.
Video tape! Satellite feed!
And she’d been having sex with Luc right there on the desk in the middle of the office.
Sex on her desk wasn’t exactly the way she’d always pictured herself on film. No, for her first foray onto camera, she’d had something a bit more dignified in mind, and something requiring a lot more clothes. Something like accepting the Nobel Prize for Medicine.
Her one foolish dream.
“Something wrong with you?” Mildred asked as she entered the hotel office, completely cutting into her thoughts of a royal romp.
Maryse frowned. A shorter list would probably be what wasn’t wrong. “Nothing more than the usual.” And a videotaped orgasm with a lying DEQ agent.
Mildred stared, not looking in the least bit convinced. Time for a distraction.
“Any luck locating Harold?” Maryse asked.
“Yep. Sara Belle down at the salon says she’s almost positive she saw Harold unloading a suitcase at that fleabag motel on the outskirts of town.”
Maryse groaned and slapped her forehead. “Helena left him that motel. Why didn’t I think of that?” And even more, why didn’t Helena think of that? Did she have to do all the work here?
Mildred narrowed her eyes at Maryse. “You’re not thinking of tailing Harold, are you? ’Cause I don’t have enough savings to post bail for murder. I don’t want you anywhere near Hank Henry unless the police are involved. With guns. And Mace. Lots of Mace. And maybe one of those electric rods that makes you stupid senseless when it touches you.”
“A stun gun,” Maryse provided, although it was pointless information. Hank was already stupid senseless. Being jolted with fifty thousand or so volts of electricity might even make for an improvement. And if not, it would certainly make for a good show. “I’m not going to tail Harold,” Maryse assured her. “I’ll have someone else do it. Someone less conspicuous than me.”
Mildred nodded. “Good. Probably needs to be Luc then. You know I love Sabine, but she’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the box. You don’t have to know where you came from to decide where you’re going. If only she’d get her head out of the damned clouds and down her on Earth, that girl could probably make a lot of herself.”
“Sabine’s fine, and lately, she’s backed off a lot on the whole parental search thing.” Maryse waved a hand in dismissal. “I know you think the whole paranormal thing is complete bunk, but at least she’s making money. There are probably worse things.”
Mildred stared at her for a moment. “I think the whole paranormal thing is bunk? Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly jumping on that bandwagon either. Did you hit your head too hard in one of those mishaps of yours?”
Oops. Momentary lapse of consciousness. And definitely all Luc’s fault. She gave Mildred a sheepish smile. “Of course, I don’t buy into that stuff. I’ve just given up trying to convince Sabine otherwise. As long as her business is successful, I guess I just decided who cares.”
Mildred narrowed her eyes, and Maryse knew the hotel owner suspected something was up. Something Maryse wasn’t telling her. In ten billion years she’d never come up with the ghost of Helena Henry, so Maryse figured she was in the clear as long as she didn’t spout off something stupid again.
“Well, why don’t you try to rest,” Mildred said finally. “I’ll be right here if you need me.” She pointed to the front of the hotel. “And no standing in front of the plate-glass window.”
Maryse nodded and left the office. There was no way possible she could rest. Between ghosts, attempted murder, and videotaped sex, she was about to have that nervous breakdown she’d been putting off. And avoiding Mildred until she had control of her racing emotions probably wasn’t a bad idea.
If she stayed in the office with Mildred’s hawk eye on her, she knew she’d end up confessing her sins of the flesh. And she wasn’t ready to discuss her romp with Luc the Liar, especially given her track record with questionable men.
She snuck in a call to Sabine but got her voice mail. She left her a brief message with instructions to come directly to the hotel when she got back from visiting Raissa, then closed her phone, shoved it in her pocket, and sighed. Finally deciding she couldn’t stand around in the hallway until Sabine showed up, she grabbed a bottle of Pledge and a rag from the storage closet and began to polish the spindles on the stairwell. She finished that chore in about thirty minutes, and then Sabine walked in, saving her from doing something really strange, like vacuuming the lobby. Sabine stared at her for a moment, then sniffed the air. Since the entire stairwell smelled lemony fresh, there was really no hiding what she’d been up to.
