Night Game

by Christine Feehan

  "I heard Carl say to be more careful with me than they were with Francine. I think she's dead. She disappeared a couple of years ago. There were four of them." Joy began to sob again, covering her face. "The worst one wasn't here. He'll find me and he'll kill me. He'll beat me to death." The words tumbled out of her, an expression of fear and loathing.

  "We know all about Saunders," Flame assured her. "He had a very good friend of mine killed. I'll be very surprised if he makes it to trial."

  "Trial? Oh God. Everyone will know. They'll show the movies they made. My family will be humiliated."

  "Joy," Flame stroked back her hair. "Look at this place. It's burning to the ground. Carl, James, and Vicq are dead. There won't be anything left to show anyone. Tell me about Saunders. Are you sure he was the boss?"

  Joy nodded several times. "Everyone seemed a little afraid of him. He and Carl are related somehow. They hired Vicq to guard me and . . ." She sobbed again, this time more hysterically. It took her a few minutes to regain control. "Soften me up. Train me. That's what Saunders said. He would strangle me until I couldn't breathe while he raped me. I think that's how Francine died. Carl and Saunders reminded him several times not to kill me."

  Flame rubbed her back, wanting to keep physical contact. She noticed Joy seemed to need the reassurance of her touch. "Nonny, Raoul and Wyatt's grandmother, was the one who pointed us to this area. You took pictures of this clearing."

  "James brought me here on a picnic. Now I know he must have planned to kidnap me then and turn me over to Vicq."

  "Why didn't he?"

  "Some trappers came by I knew. They're friends with my brothers and they stopped to talk to me."

  "Of course," Flame said. "James would be afraid they could identify him as the last man seen with you way out here and alone. He wouldn't want that. Those pictures were a big help, Joy."

  Joy turned and looked at her for the first time. "What am I going to do?"

  "Live. One day at a time. Heal. One day at a time. You have a wonderful family and amazing friends. You're smart enough to know not all men are like Vicq and the others. It won't be easy and you'll need help, but you'll find a way to live a happy life. I know you will."

  Joy shuddered. "I just want to see my mother's face again. I prayed I'd see her face again."

  "You will. Wyatt's here now. We've got to get you down to the airboat so we can take you to the hospital. Someone has to carry you. Raoul or Wyatt?"

  "Wyatt Fontenot is here?" Her voice rose to a small wail. She bit it off, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "He knows what went on here? How can I face him? I don't want him to see me like this."

  "Wyatt hasn't stopped looking for you, not for one moment. Yes, he does know what happened here, but it only makes him want to keep you safe, the same as Raoul. The Fontenot brothers are very protective." Flame glanced up to see Wyatt striding toward them, his face set and hard. "I don't think you're going to get much of a choice unless you say so now. Here comes Wyatt."

  Joy dragged the wet sheet around her, seemingly unaware that it was semitransparent. As he approached, Wyatt peeled off his shirt. "Joy. Remerciez Dieu que vous etes vivantes. Come here, cher."

  His voice was so tender, a knot rose in Flame's throat. She watched him bend down and hold the shirt out. "I have my eyes closed, honey. Get rid of that wet sheet and put on my shirt. I brought an old pair of sweats as well."

  "I didn't even think of that, Wyatt," Flame said. "How thoughtful of you." She took the soft sweatpants from Wyatt's hand since Joy seemed frozen in place.

  Joy looked at Flame helplessly, afraid to move or speak. Flame pulled the wet sheet away from her bruised and battered body and replaced it with the warmth of Wyatt's shirt. "Can you stand long enough to let me help you into these?"

  "Just a moment," Wyatt said. "I'm going to lift you up, Joy. I'm just going to support you so you can step into the sweats."

  Joy was shaking so uncontrollably again Flame was afraid she'd shake apart, but Joy allowed Wyatt to hold her while she pulled up the sweatpants. He gathered her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. "Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. We're doing this all very quietly, Joy. We don' want to tip anyone off."

  Flame followed them, a little shocked at how heavy her legs felt. Raoul fell into step beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned against his strength, grateful he was there. "Remind me to tell Nonny she raised a couple of incredible men. He's so gentle with her." She turned to look at him. "The way you are with me."

  Gator brushed a kiss across her mud-smeared brow. "I knew you were crazy about me. You look tired."

  She flashed a smile. "Now you sound concerned. I'm just tired. I don't think wading through the water agrees with me. All I think about is when the next alligator is going to take a bite out of me."

  "You don' have to worry about that kind of gator takin' a bite, cher. This one is the hungry one."

  She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. "Does your grandmother know you're such a goof?"

  "At least you smiled for me." Raoul tried to ignore the knots gathering in his belly and the alarm bells shrieking at him. She didn't just look tired, she looked beat. And pale. There were dark circles under her eyes. And more bruises. Fear came close to choking him, but he shoved it down where she couldn't see, opting for casual.

  He glanced up at the sky. "The sun is beginning to set and the storm's startin' to kick up a fuss. We've got a good doctor waitin' for Joy, one who knows how to keep his mouth shut. Kadan, Ian, and Tucker are calling Lily and asking for help on this one. We didn't notify the police and now we've got three civilians dead. It's going to be a nightmare and we'll need her political clout and military clearance to save the day."

  She raised her eyebrow. "You never intended to arrest any of them."

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I don' have the authority to arrest anybody. I rescued a friend. It's not my fault they forced us to defend ourselves."

  She took his hand to board the airboat, ignoring the pain throbbing not only in her arm, but her head. "You're such a bad boy, Raoul Fontenot. It's all those curls. There's an old saying about curls and being bad."

  He groaned, bringing her hand to his mouth before settling into the driver's seat. "Grand-mere used to quote that to me. I don't have curls. I have waves. Wavy hair is much manlier."

  "I'll have to agree with that," Wyatt said. He sat on the bench seat, cradling Joy to him. She had her face buried against his chest.

  Flame put a thin blanket over Joy to help protect her from the rain. Her legs felt unsteady as she made her way back to Raoul's side. She leaned against the seat. "This was a good thing. For once, the monsters didn't win."

  "No they didn't." The boat flew over the water as fast as he could safely navigate. Darkness was falling and he needed to get Flame home and in bed. And he needed to think. To plan. Something had to be done soon or he was going to lose her. He didn't intend for that to happen. One way or the other, she was going in for treatment. Just the thought of her reaction made him swallow hard. Flame was a powder keg when either of the Whitneys was involved. And he'd need Lily Whitney to make certain Flame lived.

  He wanted to talk with the other GhostWalkers and get their take on Lily. He couldn't quite make himself believe she was working with her adopted father, but if Peter Whitney was alive, he couldn't deliver Flame into her hands--and God help him, he was considering doing just that.

  "You look upset, Raoul," Flame said, rubbing his jaw with her palm. "We've got Joy back. They probably would have gotten off if the case had gone to trial. People like that always do. They kill off the witnesses and buy off the jury or the prosecutor and tamper with the evidence. This is much better."

  "I had no idea you were such a pessimist."

  "I'm a realist."

  "Did Vicq put his hands on you?" His tone was low. Ugly. His jaw set.

  She leaned closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You're upset because I wen
t into the cabin, aren't you? That silly macho part of you thinks you should have gone with me."

  "I'm upset over a lot of things, cher."

  "I can take care of myself in a fight, Raoul."

  He glanced at her, then back at the water. The rain was coming down harder, making it more difficult to see any dangers on the water's surface. He was forced to slow the airboat. All he could think about was that Flame had been in danger and he had allowed her to walk into it. He didn't care if it was macho of him to think that way or not. And the thought of another man touching her, hurting her, torturing her in the way Joy had been tortured, frankly made him ill. "Damn it, Flame, just answer me. Did he touch you?"

  Her breast still hurt and she knew she'd have bruises. She closed her eyes briefly. Why couldn't she just lie to him? "Yes. And then I killed him."

  He slammed his fist against the box beside the seat, roaring out a string of Cajun curses. "Where?"

  Flame put her hand on his arm but remained silent.

  "Maudit! Just answer me."

  She leaned against him, stroked his wavy hair, allowed her fingers to run down the side of his face in a soothing caress. "My breast. It hurt like hell."

  He turned his head to catch the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Fils de putain."

  Her heart squeezed tight and the lump forming in her throat threatened to choke her. "It got us Joy back so it was a very small price to pay."

  He circled her waist and dragged her against him. "I feel so much pride in you, I don' have words to tell you."

  She laughed, relief sweeping through her. "The swearing was good. That said it all. I knew you were praising me."

  Four hours later Gator was cussing up a blue streak again. He stood staring at Flame, his jaw dropping, mouth hanging open, unable to believe his eyes. "Where the hell do you think you're going dressed like that?" he demanded. His breath squeezed out of his lungs in a burning rush. She wore fishnet stockings and long leather boots with thick high heels. The tops of her garters showed beneath the micro-miniskirt and her top might as well have been nonexistent. She'd slathered on makeup, something she didn't wear, and her hair was slicked back with some kind of shiny gel. "You look . . ." He trailed off, his heart pounding.

  "Hopefully very slutty." She examined her transparent top. Beneath it she wore a black push-up bra barely covering her nipples. "What do you think?" She stuck out her hip and put her hand on it. "Do you notice me, or the broken arm?"

  "I didn't even see the arm. What the hell are you doing?" he repeated.

  "I'm taking down Saunders. I found out where his men pick up women and I'm certain he's going to need solace tonight. He relaxes by beating and torturing his playmate of the night. I've seen them come out of his gatehouse almost nightly."

  "You think he was the one Joy was so afraid of."

  "I know he was. Joy told me. He'd sit in the corner and watch, sometimes direct the others to do things to her. He likes to see a woman in pain. I think my broken arm is going to be an asset in getting chosen for the dubious honor of having that man torture me." She smiled brightly at him.

  Gator sucked in his breath sharply. She was going to do this. He could tell by the determination on her face. He was going to have to endure the terror of losing her all over again. "I wouldn't mind doing a little torturing myself, Flame. What are you thinking, going off by yourself for something that dangerous? Do you want to get killed?" He stepped closer aggressively, his fingers curling around her forearms like a vise. He gave her a little shake. "Is that what this is all about? You have a death wish?"

  "Actually no. I'm still here, aren't I? I was waiting for you."

  They stood eye to eye. Toe to toe. Gator slowly allowed his fingers to relax. "Oh. Good. Well then. At least you're finally showin' good sense. And just where did this outfit come from? You haven't been out of my sight long enough to go on a shopping spree."

  She smirked. "Your grandmother."

  Gator raked a hand through his hair, wanting to tug it out by the roots. "Women were designed to drive good men crazy. Why the hell would my grandmother have a hooker outfit? All this time I've held out hope it was my brother who bought the toys for us. How the hell am I ever going to look her in the eye?"

  Flame burst out laughing. "Men have such double standards. It's perfectly okay for you to have good healthy lust and want wild, uninhibited sex and you like a woman to look a little slutty for you once in a while, but women better not feel the same way."

  "I certainly don' want to picture my grandmother looking slutty." He rubbed his hand over his face, covering his eyes as if that would drown out the picture.

  She wanted to torture him a little more, but he looked so uncomfortable she took pity on him. "These aren't your grandmother's clothes, you goof. I told her what I needed. There wasn't time to go shopping, so she called all her friends. They pooled resources and this is the result."

  Gator began to sweat. "This is getting worse and worse. Are you telling me all of my grandmother's friends have clothes like that?" He covered his face with both hands, shaking his head. "Don' say another word. I don' want to know anything. It's better to be ignorant."

  Flame found herself laughing at his horrified expression. She put her arms around him and leaned her body against his. It was impossible for her to resist Raoul when he turned into a confused male. "It will be all right. You'll get over it."

  "I don' think so cher. This whole conversation just isn't right."

  "We don't have much time so you can seek sympathy while you're driving me to the corner where Saunders sends his men to pick up a woman. I intend to be that woman."

  "I'm asking the others to back us up," he warned her. "I don' like this at all, Flame. Saunders is a straight-up killer. He likes to hurt women and he's bound to be really confused about now. He doesn't have a clue what happened and doesn't know whether there's proof against him or not. He'll be looking to kill somebody."

  "Men like Saunders get away, Raoul. You know that."

  "He isn't Whitney," he reminded gently. "Even if you bring him down, cher, Whitney is still going to be shadowing you. Dead or alive, he'll always be there. You don' have to do this."

  She raised her chin. "Yes I do. I won't be able to live with myself if he walks away unscathed after what he did to both Burrell and Joy. Maybe I do equate him with Whitney, but it doesn't make him less guilty."

  "He's surrounded by civilians and he has a small army," he reminded.

  "You don't have to come with me."

  His dark eyes glittered at her and Flame felt a shiver run down her spine. She turned away from him, refusing to be intimidated, refusing to back down. He caught her chin in his hand. "I think we need to get something straight, cher. I love you. Straight out and I'm not afraid to say it. But you have this idea of me that isn't quite on the mark. I'm not always nice, Flame. I don' get pushed around, not even by the woman I love."

  She wasn't going to react to his declaration. It was a hell of a time for him to make it and she just plain wasn't going there, although she couldn't stop the way her heart and her treacherous body responded. She loved him goofy and she loved him when he went all alpha on her. God, she was pathetic. "I wasn't trying to push you around, Raoul. This is important to me. I have to do this."

  She ducked her head, looked away from him so he couldn't read the real reason in her eyes. She was dying, and she wanted to leave something behind. She couldn't leave children, and if Raoul was telling the truth and he loved her, he was the only one. And he'd be the only person to remember her. She was going to rid the world of one more monster before she allowed the disease eating her up to take her.

  "Let's go then," Gator said. "I'll send the others out to his house to back us up."

  They said little as he drove through the streets to find the Bourbon Street address she gave him. Most of the time he spoke on his cell, issuing instructions to the other GhostWalkers. The street corner was deserted with the storm battering the streets, filling them with
water so fast the pumps couldn't keep up.

  Flame leaned across the seat to give Raoul a kiss, her hand on the door. The slight brush of her mouth against his sent a small jolt of electricity through him. Angry or not, he couldn't resist her. He framed her face with his hands and held her still, kissing her the way he wanted, letting her taste his anger, the bite of his teeth, the dance of his tongue. He was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve and she gave him so little back. He was going to have to watch her walk away, stand on a corner to entice a killer to pick her up.

  "The car's shaking," she said.

  "Fuck the car." He kissed her more. Long, drugging kisses. Hot, sizzling kisses. Dark, angry kisses. Every kind of kiss he could think of to hold her to him.

  "I love you," Flame whispered, her voice so low that even with his acute hearing, he barely heard. "I've never loved anyone, Raoul and I'm not very good at it." It was a confession, the best she could give him and she could only hope he understood what she was trying to tell him.

  He rested his brow against hers. "You're good enough at it," he said. "Don' get yourself shot or I'll be really pissed at you. I didn't throw the paddle away, you know."

  She laughed the way he knew she would, the sparkle returning to her eyes. "I threw it away. And I broke it in two first so you wouldn't get any more bright ideas."

  His hand dropped to her breast, her bruised, painful breast. He stroked her gently, lovingly, through the thin material. "You like my ideas. I think you like the feel of my hands."

  The way he touched her was reverent, not at all playful like his words, so tender and loving she wanted to melt into him. "I love the feel of your hands. Now go away before we get arrested." She kissed him again and opened the door.

  He caught her arm, preventing her from scooting out. "Look me in the eye, Flame and tell me you aren't looking to die here."

  "I'd no more let Saunders kill me than I would Whitney."

  He held her a second longer, swallowed hard, and nodded.

  She sauntered over to the corner, tucking back out of the rain, trying to look as if she were ready for a good time with the rain pouring down and the streets looking tawdry with the neon signs blinking through the gray haze. She didn't have any competition that she could see so, if she guessed right and Saunders needed to work off his frustrations, she'd be the logical choice. Surreptitiously she glanced at her watch. All the days of reconning Saunders had paid off. She had his schedule. Either they would come looking in the next few minutes, or tonight was a bust.