“Were the two of you inside?” Remy asked, lifting the trunk of her car and rummaging for her climbing bag. The thought of the suave, wealthy, sophisticated famous sculptor and Bijou together in his backseat was enough to have claws bursting through aching fingers. He breathed away the pain and forced his leopard under control.
“No, we weren’t inside.” Impatience edged Bijou’s voice. Her teeth were chattering.
“We were really worried about you, Bijou,” Gage intervened, shooting a glare at his brother. “You obviously ended up in the bayou. We’d like to know what happened.”
Bijou blinked back tears. “No one can be nice to me right now, Gage,” she cautioned. She hated the quiver in her voice. She would not turn into a baby in front of Remy. She pressed a hand to her mouth. She needed to be alone, just for a few minutes to compose herself. It would help if she’d stop shaking.
Remy mouthed the word see to his brother, frowning in caution. The last thing he wanted was for Bijou to cry in front of everyone and then blame him. He wouldn’t be able to be cool with her tears and that would only embarrass her more. Gage might not like the way he handled things, but he knew Bijou better than she knew herself.
Arnaud touched Bijou’s arm awkwardly. “We’ll get you out of here in time for your performance tonight.”
Bijou hadn’t even thought of singing at the club. How could she have forgotten? She worked so hard to pull the club together, but all she wanted to do right now was crawl in bed and pull the covers over her head—after a long hot shower of course.
“You’ll be awesome tonight, Bijou,” Arnaud assured her as if guessing her thoughts. “You’re the consummate professional. You’ll handle it just fine.”
Now she really had no choice but to buck up and be the professional, which was probably why Arnaud had said it. He knew she was an emotional wreck and was bolstering her up. He was right too. Both had survived when things could have gone very bad at any time. She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I’ve got the rope,” Remy called down to them, studying the webbing around the tree. The original carabiners were in place. The ropes had been cut off past those carabiners. He made short work of tying new knots, grateful for his time in the service and all the special training he’d had.
Arnaud sent Bijou up first and he followed right behind her. Once they were safe, Remy stood absolutely still, almost without breathing, drinking in the sight of Bijou. She did smell like the bayou, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him was that she was alive. He didn’t give a damn what she said or thought. He yanked her into his arms, holding her tightly against his body, his hands moving over her, reassuring himself she was uninjured. She didn’t melt into him, but rather held herself very stiff and aloof. Yeah, he was in trouble.
Bijou pulled away from him almost immediately. “I’m getting you all wet and you’ll have to throw away those clothes.”
“Do you think I give a damn about clothes? You could have died. What were you thinkin’? You should have stayed put and waited for me.”
She shook her head, a slow crimson creeping up her neck at the memory of waking to the ruined room and having to possibly face Saria, not knowing where Remy went or even if he intended to return. “No, Remy, you should have stayed put.”
She turned on her heel and walked away from him. Head up. Shoulders square. She looked regal in spite of the mud and wet clothes. She looked . . . magnificent.
“You got it bad, bro,” Gage whispered as he walked past Remy, a wide grin on his face. “You might want to close your mouth before somethin’ flies into or out of it.”
Bijou went straight to her car and stood, unmoving, looking at the damage. Arnaud came up beside her, setting Remy’s teeth on edge. She didn’t look at Arnaud as if she wanted nothing to do with him.
“What a mess,” Arnaud said. “Why would someone do this?”
Remy watched Bijou carefully. She inhaled sharply and stiffened. She knew. She’d caught the scent. The leopard in her was merging with her, becoming part of her, and with her acute sense of smell, she recognized the scent of the man who been stalking her.
“Who is it, Blue?” Remy asked.
She shook her head.
“You know. He trashed my apartment this morning and left behind the picture of me kissing you. It wasn’t pretty, Bijou. He’s escalating his behavior.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Bob Carson grew up in Bodrie’s house. I’ve known him my entire life. He wouldn’t do this.”
Remy’s eyes met Gage’s. Gage nodded. The moment he’d caught Carson’s scent out on the road, he was certain it was the photographer who was stalking Bijou.
“Don’ kid yourself, honey,” Remy said. “Tell me why he would take an eight-year-old child to a hotel room with a bunch of men and try to pump her full of drugs. He was probably figuring he’d get rid of you and Bodrie would leave everything to him.”
“You did remember him then. You didn’t say a word.”
“I had a very primitive reaction to seeing him—I wanted to pound him into the ground.” Remy paused, his gaze holding hers. “And you didn’t say anything.”
“He has no reason to want to hurt me.”
“Of course he does. His mother lived with Bodrie until your mother came along. He probably fantasized he was Bodrie’s son. If he could prove he was, he would have come forward already, so that means his fantasy became a reality in his head. You took it all away from him, the house, the women, the drugs, the lifestyle. He became a photographer and inserted himself back into Bodrie’s life, and once again he was somebody. But he couldn’t have it all because there you are, standin’ in his way.”
Bijou shook her head.
“On one hand, he probably fantasizes you’re his sister, and on the other, he wants you gone so he can inherit.”
She scowled at Remy. “I’m not stupid, I have a will.”
“Which is probably the only reason you aren’t dead. He hasn’t figured out a way to inherit everythin’ from you.”
“I don’ know if it’s him,” Bijou insisted. “You can’t do anything without proof anyway, so don’ go after him, Remy. Please. I have to think about this.”
“You know it’s him,” Remy said quietly. “Bijou, you don’ have a mean bone in your body. This man is escalatin’ in his behavior and we both know it. That’s why you even considered allowin’ me to see the letters, otherwise you would never have said a word about them. You knew you were in trouble with him.”
“He’s got to be ill,” Bijou said. “To do this, he has to be ill.”
She touched the hood of her car. The tires were slashed and punctured repeatedly, obviously with a knife. The seats had been slashed and punctured, the insides ripped out and thrown all over the ground. On the outside of both sides of the car, a giant eye had been carved into the doors. “I see you” had been keyed in with crude sticklike letters. She’d seen the letters so many times with the same phrase on the walls of her home as well as in Bodrie’s homes.
Bijou shivered. Remy strode over to the sheriff’s car and pulled out a jacket. Arnaud simply stood observing everyone.
Gage cleared his throat. “We’ll have a tow truck bring up your vehicle, but most likely it’s a total loss. You might be able to recover some of your things though.”
Arnaud shrugged. “I didn’t have anything I couldn’t replace with me. Mostly my climbing gear and things I use for my sculptures. Rocks, petrified wood, different mediums I mix together. Those can be replaced. It will just take a little time to find the ones I need again.” He patted the bag at his waist. “At least I didn’t lose these rocks. It’s what I came here for.”
“I’m so sorry about your truck and your things, Arnaud,” Bijou said. “I feel like it’s my fault this happened. I’ll replace . . .”
Arnaud held up his hand. “Don’t be silly, Bijou. I’m just sorry this man is targeting you.” He glanced at his watch. “You don’t have much time to clean up before
your show. Maybe the sheriff wouldn’t mind giving us both a lift into town.”
Remy wrapped the coat around Bijou’s shivering body. “You don’ have to do that show tonight, Blue. We can tell the band to cover for you.”
It was tempting. She was exhausted, confused, afraid, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and lick her wounds. They were all waiting. Arnaud with his expressionless face, just watching her. Remy and Gage clearly wanting her to go back to the Inn and forget about singing in the club, especially with Carson running loose. She knew he’d be there too. He always showed up to her performances.
She lifted her chin. If she didn’t sing tonight, Carson won. His ugly behavior had already taken its toll on her, but she couldn’t allow him to win, especially after what he’d done to Arnaud. She could smell Bob Carson all over her vehicle. She didn’t know why her sense of smell was so acute, but she definitely knew he’d been the one to destroy Arnaud’s SUV and her car.
“I’ll be singin’ tonight at the club, and if I don’ get cleaned up fast, they’ll have to fumigate the place after I leave.”
Gage gestured toward his car. “Your chariot. I’ve got a couple of officers on the way. They’ll take care of the tow truck and photograph your car and all the evidence here, so Arnaud, if you’d like a ride as well, I’ll be happy to take you back to your hotel.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Arnaud said.
“You’ll both have to ride in the back so I can hose off the seats after,” Gage added with a small grin.
“I can’t say as I blame you,” Bijou said. “I’m holdin’ my breath as best I can so I don’ have to smell me.”
“Let’s hope Saria doesn’t make you hose off outside,” Gage teased.
Remy kept glancing back at Bijou huddled in the backseat. She didn’t say another word, but stared out the window, her face set. Sad. Thoughtful. He was certain he was right about Bob Carson—that the night he’d interrupted them in the hotel so many years ago, the man had intended she die there. It made sense. If Carson believed Bijou and her mother had pushed Carson and his mother from Bodrie’s life, he would certainly want her out of the way.
He made a mental note to check on what happened to Carson’s mother and where they’d lived during the years they’d been away from Bodrie’s mansion. He glanced again into the rearview mirror. He should have been gentler with Bijou. She’d been through hell. She looked as if she had smudges under her eyes. and he winced a little when he saw the faint bruising along her neck. The rake marks on her arm could only have been put there by a leopard. He suspected she’d done that to herself without realizing what happened.
Saria was outside waiting when the sheriff’s car pulled up. She rushed to the door, yanking it open. “What happened to you?” Saria demanded, her voice filled with concern.
Bijou blinked back unexpected tears she hadn’t known were so close. Clearly her emotions were far rawer than she’d realized. She attempted a small smile. “Remy pushed me into the bayou.”
Saria glared at her brother. Remy backed up a step and held up both hands in surrender.
“She went swimmin’ on her own. She must have gotten all hot and bothered thinkin’ about me,” Remy said hastily.
Bijou rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that was it. I’m sorry about the room, Saria.”
“My brother can be sorry about the room, not you,” Saria said, shooting another glare at Remy.
“What happened to the room?” Gage asked with a deliberate drawl.
Bijou felt color creeping up her neck and throat. “I have to get ready for my performance tonight, Saria. I’ll scrub the shower when I get back. Do you have a trash bag so I can throw away these clothes?”
“Go away, Gage,” Remy ordered. “And I mean right now.”
“Thanks for taking Arnaud to his hotel,” Bijou said as she turned to enter the Inn.
“No problem, although I think he stank more than you do,” Gage replied with a wink.
“He was underwater a lot longer. He was trapped, and I had to cut him loose,” Bijou admitted. “We were lucky neither of us drowned.”
Remy frowned at her. “What do you mean you nearly drowned? What the hell happened? I thought you bailed when the SUV went over the bank.”
Saria looked horrified. “Bijou, how awful. I’ll make some tea. You take a shower and I’ll have it ready for you.”
“Answer me,” Remy insisted, catching Bijou’s arm before she could step inside.
No one had moved. Bijou took a deep breath. Reliving it only made the entire episode worse. “Our ropes were cut first, leaving us trapped on that very tiny ledge. Then the SUV was pushed over the bank, nearly on top of us. We waited a long time, hours really, before Arnaud insisted he climb out and then get me up. He tried three times, and the bank kept crumblin’. He waited between each climb because I was pretty freaked out, afraid he’d be killed, but night was fallin’ and he felt we had no choice.”
Bijou lifted her gaze to Remy’s face. He was absolutely still. His face could have been one of Arnaud’s sculptures, so utterly without expression, frozen. Her heart did a funny little flip and a million butterflies took flight in her stomach. She looked away.
“He finally used a tree root to tie off just in case he fell again and it would save him from going into the bayou. Unfortunately, what neither of us knew was that the tree above us had been hit by the SUV when it went over and was already unstable. To make a long story short, the tree went, takin’ Arnaud with it. I followed him in just in case and it was a good thing I did.”
“Did it occur to you at any time,” Remy asked, “that an alligator most likely was in that water?”
“Of course. I was scared, if that’s what you want to hear.” She couldn’t help the belligerence creeping into her tone. “Don’ tell me you wouldn’t have gone in after him, because I know you would have.”
“That’s not the same,” Remy snapped.
Deliberately, Saria stepped between them. “What happened, Bijou?”
Grateful for Saria’s presence, Bijou focused on her. “The tree rolled, and he couldn’t get out of the rope and harness so it took him with it. I cut him free but he was still trapped. His hikin’ boot was wedged in the crook of the branch. I had to cut him out of that as well. I didn’t think either of us was goin’ to make it out of there alive.”
“Thank God you were there,” Saria said, casting a warning glance at her brothers when both moved as if to protest. “Arnaud would be dead if you hadn’t gone in after him. I’ll get the tea made, you take a shower and we’ll disinfect those scratches on your arm before you have to go to work.”
“Thanks, Saria,” Bijou said. She hurried into the house before either of the Boudreaux brothers could say another word to her.
Bijou stripped the moment she was safe in her bathroom, tossing her ruined clothes onto a plastic bag she found inside the trash can. It was small, but it worked. The hot water felt wonderful and she let it pour over her head as she worked the long, thick braid loose so she could wash her hair.
“You know you could have been killed.”
She screamed and threw the bottle of shower gel at the intruder, nearly jumping out of her skin. So much for her early warning system. “I locked the door. How did you get in here?”
Remy shrugged. “You didn’t lock your balcony door, and in any case I’m very good at pickin’ locks.”
“Get out of here.”
“We need to talk,” Remy said, resting one hip on the sink.
“We should have talked this morning, you cretin. Not now. Get out of my room right this minute. I’m naked.”
“It’s a little late to suddenly become modest, don’t you think?”
“It really isn’t a good idea for you to be remindin’ me about last night,” Bijou snapped. “Get out of my bathroom right now. I’m hangin’ on by a thread, Remy, and I’ve got a show to do tonight.”
“We’re goin’ to talk.”
“Fine. But not now. Go away, and
don’ be thinkin’ you have the right to come into my personal space anytime you like. I mean it, Remy. Just because we . . . We . . . Whatever you call what happened last night, doesn’t mean it’s goin’ to happen again. Go away.”
“It’s goin’ to happen again.”
She wasn’t going to argue that point. If he kept sitting there, all arrogant and hot-looking it might happen again and she needed him gone. Now. This instant. Her body was already coming alive, that terrible craving starting. He had to go.
“Please go, Remy. Please.”
He sighed and straightened up. “But we’re talkin’ after your show tonight. I know you’re goin’ to be tired, chere, but it’s important.”
She didn’t answer, but turned away from him, mostly out of self-preservation. She was truly in trouble around Remy. Her body seemed to rule her head, not the other way around, and she had to find a way to conquer her need of him.
10
REMY stood in the back of the packed club, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze moving over the crowd restlessly. His leopard had never liked being indoors, let alone in the midst of a throng as big as this one. He was surprised the fire marshal, who was sitting in the crowd, hadn’t complained.
He spotted Arnaud at a table up front, clearly a welcome guest. Just the sight of the man set his teeth on edge and if Bijou smiled at him one more time, he just might have to go drag the sculptor right out of the club and throw him in the bayou again. What the hell was she thinking? Leopards weren’t nice about sharing mates. They were jealous and bad tempered, and his leopard was one of the worst. Remy disliked Arnaud on principle, but his leopard despised him.
Basically, he despised any man who came near Bijou, but especially the ones she smiled at—or sang to. Remy’s gaze went back to Bijou. She always astonished him when she sang. Her voice was such a blend of smoke and sex. There was a husky, sinful quality to her vocals, rich and beautiful, the tone unique. She had some of the gravel her father was famous for, and the wide, wide range, but the soft, sensual quality was all her own.
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