Children of Destiny Books 4-6 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 10)

by Ann Major

  He ran down the porch steps after her. She let him almost catch her. Then she slammed her car into reverse, backing toward him so fast that he had to jump out of her way. Then her tires swerved on oyster shell, slinging loose shells and white mud all over his jeans as she gunned the engine and raced away through that dark, wet tunnel of trees.

  Chapter Five

  Even though Garret was bone tired from an eighteen-hour day at Mannie’s, and the hour’s drive home, he couldn’t sleep. He lay propped on his side in his bed staring moodily out his window at the eerie, moss-draped cypress trees. He wasn’t thinking of the mountains of Redfish Joliet Rouge and Crawfish Etouffee—that evening’s specials—dishes he himself had prepared because the cook had come to work so drunk she couldn’t tell a green pepper from a garlic clove. Nor was his mind on his throbbing fingers that were blood raw from peeling what had seemed like a million pounds of boiled, needle-sharp crawfish.

  No, Garret was thinking of a society column that had casually mentioned Noelle and Beaumont as a hot item. Even though Garret had shredded the newspaper and thrown it into the fire after reading it, he couldn’t forget it. It had made him remember the night she’d come out here; it made him remember how soft and sweet she’d felt under him again. And every time Garret even thought of that rich, snotty wimp, Beaumont Vincent, touching Noelle, he felt violent.

  Damn Noelle for grabbing that stolen money in the bank! For coming out here and crawling into his bed! Why didn’t things ever change for him? Why couldn’t he ever learn? If he’d never gone to the French Quarter, or if he’d just walked out when she’d started crying in his bedroom, maybe he wouldn’t be going through this now.

  Garret rolled over, shut his eyes and then opened them again. But all he saw was Noelle, naked in his bed. Groaning aloud, he punched a fist into his pillow. Why couldn’t he forget the intimacies they’d shared in this room? He was determined to hate her, but every night when he’d climbed into bed, for six weeks, he’d tortured himself with the memories of her, tortured himself until his loins were hot and tight with desire for her.

  He’d thrown her out of his house, but he hadn’t been able to erase her from his heart and mind. He remembered how she’d quivered when his mouth had traced exploring kisses all over her body, how she’d whimpered with those little moans of ecstasy when he’d gotten her thoroughly aroused. She’d been hotter for him than any woman ever had been.

  She was rich. She belonged to Beaumont, to her own world of glitter and wealth. Two years ago she’d taught him what her priorities were and that he should forget her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. He’d let his mother take the first real vacation she’d had in years just so he’d have to work day and night at Mannie’s.

  The telephone rang, and Garret bolted out of his bed instantly, completely awake. He grabbed his cell.

  “Cagan here.” Garret lay back against his headboard feeling hot and stiff, on edge.

  It was Thibodeaux, his supervisor. Since Garret’s suspension, he hadn’t heard much from him. Only this morning Thibodeaux had called the restaurant and said the investigation wasn’t going so well for him.

  Thibodeaux’s voice had that charged, uptight sound that meant something was wrong. “Good news, Cagan.”

  “You don’t sound like it.”

  “Well, I know I told you things were stacked against you.”

  “What happened?”

  “Your girlfriend came in and had a long talk with the captain.”

  Garret’s grip tightened on the receiver. “My what?”

  “Miss Martin told the captain that you and she were involved. She made the captain understand why you went crazy when you realized she was up there in danger, why you had to disobey orders.”

  Rage roared through Garret. Didn’t she understand how serious what she’d done was? With the captain, she was way out of her league.

  “What did the captain do to her?” Garret muttered in a low, furious voice.

  “All I know is that your vacation’s over, pal.”

  “Vacation hell! I’ve been running Mannie’s all by myself. For six damn weeks! The cook quit.” Nobody but Garret could appreciate how bad that was.

  “And come Monday you’re going to cry all the way to the bank. I wish I had something besides this job to get by on. You probably don’t care whether you’re a cop or not.”

  “The hell I don’t. On nights like tonight I think I’d rather starve than ever fry another frog leg.”

  “There’s something else that might interest you.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight, less than an hour ago, someone attacked Evangeline Martin outside her house in the Garden District. She was pretty shaken up when she phoned the police. Then before my patrolman could get over there, Noelle Martin called in and canceled the call.”

  Evangeline was Noelle’s younger sister.

  “I’ll go by and check things out.”

  “Noelle Martin said she didn’t want us involved. She mentioned you by name.”

  “Did she now?” Garret hesitated a second or two. “I think I’d better drop in on her anyway.”

  “Stubborn as ever. Watch your step, Cagan. I get the idea the senator’s not too crazy about you.”

  Garret took his gun out of his nightstand drawer and turned it over, not really seeing the way the gray metal flashed in the moonlight. Instead he saw the wild, crushed look of hurt and anger in Noelle’s eyes when he’d told her to get out of his house. He remembered how she’d swallowed and then hidden herself in his bathroom for nearly an hour.

  Suddenly he felt an overwhelming urge to stand between her and anything that might threaten her—even himself. The desire to protect her was a ridiculous, crazy feeling. But he felt it just the same.

  She’d told him the bank robber would be coming back for the money. She hadn’t been afraid of the guy. Once before Garret had underestimated a danger, and Annie was dead because he had. Eva had been assaulted—by someone. Maybe this kid wasn’t the sweet, innocent guy Noelle had thought he was. Maybe he was a lot more dangerous.

  Garret frowned. Maybe she needed him more than she knew.

  *

  Brakes squealed. A muffler roared and then died as an immaculate white truck rolled to a stop in front of the two-storied, white-pillared, uptown mansion on St. Charles Avenue that was decorated with Christmas lights. A police car was parked discreetly across the street.

  Inside her upstairs bedroom, Noelle studied Eva’s bruised face.

  “Mon Dieu…” This was a sigh of utter despair. Noelle was sitting on the edge of her bed, shivering in the green velvet gown she’d worn to Beaumont’s Christmas party. She buried her face in her palms. “I promised him money, but believe me, darling, I never thought he’d pull something this desperate. He seemed so poor and lonely—so alone.”

  “Only you would try to nab a bank robber, become his hostage, and then befriend him.”

  “If he’d hurt you, I’d never forgive myself. What did I do to deserve...”

  “Look, you’re a lot more scared than I am. I’m okay. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Noelle’s throat felt tight and dry, hot with fear at the thought of Eva being hurt.

  Ever since Garret had called, Evangeline had been standing expectantly at the massive window, waiting with her older sister. Evangeline’s steadiness, her calmness had had a soothing effect on Noelle. Not that Noelle felt up to facing Garret.

  Evangeline was pretty, despite the dark bruise on her cheek, but her prettiness lacked the dazzling quality of Noelle’s. Eva had red hair, too, but her eyes were dark brown instead of gold. Tonight she was wearing her thick brown glasses as well. She always said she wore her glasses when she wanted to look smart and competent, and she wore her contacts when she wanted to look more feminine. Most of the time now—ever since Raoul had vanished from her life—she wore her glasses. Model slim, Eva had a penchant for adventure that was more than a match for her older sister.

&n
bsp; “Life is always so exciting when you’re home, chere. Why, imagine, being lucky enough to get entangled with a bank robber.”

  “Lucky?” Noelle gazed at her sister’s bruise. “It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I could make a long list of your—”

  “Eva!”

  Outside the truck door slammed. Evangeline lifted the lace curtains excitedly and saw the tall, broad-shouldered detective in his London Fog raincoat emerge and stride up the sidewalk. He’d called the senator and told him he was coming over with a patrolman. There’d been a quarrel, but they were expecting him. The patrolman got out of his car and joined Cagan. The two men began to talk under a tree that twinkled with Christmas lights.

  “Detective Cagan’s here,” Eva whispered, pushing her overlarge glasses up her nose and leaning closer against the windowpanes.

  “Eva, get back. He’ll see you!”

  “Thank goodness he didn’t drive up in his patrol car with his lights blazing and siren screaming. At least Grand-mère won’t have anything to explain to the neighbors.”

  Grand-mère was the least of Noelle’s worries at the moment. She was blushing and scared all over again at the thought of facing Garret. She’d rather be attacked by ten bank robbers than see him again. “Well, he couldn’t have upset me any more if he had,” she muttered.

  “You’ve got to get a grip on yourself.”

  “I won’t see him. I told Papa I wouldn’t.”

  “For two years you were dying to see him.”

  “That was before...” Noelle’s voice trailed off miserably. She remembered the way he’d made love to her and then humiliated her by throwing her out six weeks ago. If he’d just called afterward...just once...to wish her Merry Christmas, anything to show he’d cared.

  “Before what?”

  Noelle remembered throwing his gumbo down the drain and nearly hitting him with her car. She’d been hurt, but she’d behaved badly, like a child who wanted something and couldn’t have it. It upset her that after his tenderness in the night, he despised her.

  Noelle blushed. “Nothing.”

  “I bet nothing was something mighty interesting.”

  Their eyes met.

  “It always is with you, chere. All your life your desire to help has gotten you in trouble.”

  That was the truth. This morning the captain had said he was tempted to charge her. Noelle still didn’t understand why she’d gone to the station and put her own neck on the chopping block for Garret. It was just that when Beaumont had bragged to her that Garret was going to be fired and forced to leave New Orleans for good, she’d gone a little crazy. She’d dashed over to the police station and blurted out a wild story to save him.

  Noelle just glared at Evangeline. “And I bet you’re the nosiest sister a girl ever had.”

  A telling silence fell between the two sisters.

  “He needs a haircut,” Evangeline mused. “Or at least a comb! He always looks like he just climbed out of some woman’s bed.”

  “Eva!” Noelle blushed.

  “Well, he does. Lucky woman. And that wrinkled raincoat needs to go to the dry cleaners. And that tie... But even from this distance, I can’t see why you’d even accept a coffee date with Beaumont.”

  “I told you I don’t want to talk about Garret Cagan ever again. Besides, I’m probably going to marry Beau. Everybody says he’s perfect for me.”

  “What do they know?”

  “At least he’s not like some wild animal that bites your hand off every time you try to do something nice for him.”

  “You’re like me, chere. We’ve always had a way with wild animals.” Eva’s voice was soft, her eyes shadowed.

  “Well, I seem to have lost my touch.”

  The front doorbell rang, and Pierre went to answer it. The sound of Mama’s and Papa’s voices drifted up the stairs. They were explaining everything in hushed whispers.

  Then came the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The three of them were walking up to Noelle’s bedroom. Mama kept up a steady stream of irrepressible chatter.

  “Detective Cagan’s really too good-looking for a man,” Evangeline persisted. “Black eyes, black hair...”

  Noelle wadded up her bed sheet. “Sounds like a description of the devil to me.”

  “Or an edgy Prince Charming.”

  Noelle felt herself blush again. It was so hard, sitting here, waiting for him to come, knowing that he thought she’d thrown herself at him. No doubt he’d be furious about the captain, too. One thing was for sure: she despised herself for what had happened even more than he despised her. She would not beg him for anything—ever again.

  After an eternity, his knock sounded on the door.

  Evangeline started toward the door.

  “Don’t...”

  When no one answered it, the door was flung open, and Garret’s wide-shouldered male form filled the massive doorway. He leaned negligently against the doorjamb, looking indolent and relaxed, yet Noelle knew his muscles were coiled, ready to spring with the swiftness of a large predatory cat.

  “Don’t what, chere?” he taunted softly. “Were you planning to order me out of your bedroom?”

  Noelle bit back the angry words that would have done just that. She felt her cheeks go hot, and she averted her gaze from his but not without retaining a vivid impression of his rampantly handsome male features. His black hair was too long as Eva had said, but it framed a bronze face so perfect God must have designed it for the single purpose of ensnaring a foolish female heart such as hers. Indeed the mere sight of him made that treacherous organ pound violently against her rib cage.

  Noelle stared at him hungrily—ebony hair, black eyes and jet brows, the long straight nose, the high cheekbones, the lean stubborn jaw. And the mouth—so full and sensually shaped, even twisted as it was now in mockery of her. She remembered how marvelous those hard lips had felt on hers. Dear God. She closed her eyes, not wanting to remember how delicious he’d tasted.

  “Merry Christmas,” he murmured.

  Noelle stumbled over her own tongue. “D-didn’t Papa tell you there was no need for you to come?”

  “He told me.” The hardness in Garret’s dark gaze belied his drawling tone.

  Her eyes coolly met his. “Then...”

  Garret looked past Noelle to Evangeline. At the sight of her bruised face, his expression became grimmer. “Miss Martin, if you wouldn’t mind,” he began gently, “I’d like to speak to your sister for a minute—alone. My patrolman is just outside. He has a few questions. He’ll take your statement. Then I’ll talk to you myself.”

  Garret’s manner toward Evangeline was subtly different from his manner toward Noelle. He was more courteous, not so pushy nor so disrespectful, and Noelle found herself resenting him even more.

  “Of course,” Evangeline answered politely.

  “Eva, don’t you dare leave me with him.”

  Evangeline came to the bed and took her sister’s shaking hands. “You’ll feel better after you get this over with, and I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  When she left them, Noelle found herself alone with the one man she’d sworn she’d stay away from.

  He stepped into the center of her golden satin and lace bedroom. Never before had she realized how frilly and feminine the room was. Mama loved lacy things and spindly antiques.

  “So this is your sanctuary—where you hide from things you’re scared of—like me.” His eyes roamed the room, taking in her doll collection, her doll furniture collection.

  She remembered the Spartan simplicity of his home and furnishings. Her own home was filled with many beautiful but useless items.

  Awkwardly he picked up an antique doll and then put it down. His gaze settled on her. “You were always collecting stuff back then. You had these things when you were a child.”

  “So what if I did.”

  “This is a little girl’s room, not a woman’s.” The last wo
rd was liquid velvet. So were his black eyes. “Why are you so scared to be a woman?” he murmured.

  Noelle froze, staring up at him from the bed. Legs spread apart, he seemed more masculine than ever as he stood on that white carpet in front of her flower drapes and lace sheers.

  “I’m not scared of...of anything. Not of you, either,” she whispered defiantly.

  “No?” He shrugged out of his raincoat and draped it over a gold damask chair, heedless that the water drops might spot the fabric.

  He wore a navy suit and a blue tie that didn’t quite match. She noticed how the white collar of his shirt emphasized the swarthy shade of his throat and face. His suit tapered from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist and lean hips. His potent masculine virility struck out at her with the force of a body blow.

  “But it’s a nice room...even if it should be a child’s,” he said, moving closer. “Nice bed. I always associate you with nice rooms...and nice beds.” He touched the smooth cypress bedposts of the bedstead. “A plantation antique, no?” He said something low, in French. “I remember it from Martin House.”

  She sprang off the bed, suddenly realizing how intimate it was, receiving Garret in her bedroom.

  “It’s a favorite piece of mine,” she said.

  “Mine, too,” he whispered.

  When she ran to the farthest window, he followed. When she whirled, he was so close she could have reached out and touched him.

  “Relax, chere, this will only take a few minutes—if you cooperate. By the way, thanks. I got my job back.”

  She arched her brows. “I’m surprised you’re not even madder at me.”

  “I’m so stubborn, sometimes I don’t know how much I value something—until I come close to losing it.” His eyes were still brilliant and dark. The statement was made in a smooth, low tone rife with sexual innuendo.

  His words and his gaze prodded her to move farther away. “Just go. Send someone else. Anyone but you,” she pleaded, wishing he wasn’t so tall and broad, wishing he didn’t tower over her, wishing she didn’t know how wonderful it would feel to weaken and let her body melt into his.