by Emery, Lynn
LaShaun burst into tears and molded her body against him in relief. The tender voice, gaze and touch belonged to Chase alone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Shh…” Chase rocked her in his arms, no trace of the stranger left. “I didn’t mean to worry you so much, cher.”
He kissed the top of her thick hair. When she looked into his eyes, Chase kissed her forehead, and then captured her lips completely. LaShaun felt all the fear drain from her body as his hands caressed her. He stepped back, took her hand and they went to her bedroom. There they slowly undressed each other in between kisses. When all the clothes had been stripped away, they stood holding each other and savored the sensation of flesh on flesh. Finally, Chase backed LaShaun up until they reached the bed. Without bothering to take off the covering, he eased LaShaun onto her back. For a few moments, he gazed at her as his hands traveled the length of her body. With an assured touch, he stroked her breast. Long fingers trailed down her stomach and teased LaShaun until she gasped. Unwilling to wait, LaShaun pulled him to her. She guided him inside her and moaned at the pleasure of how he filled her up so completely. As they moved in a steady rhythm of passion, LaShaun let go of any thought, their bodies becoming one. His hardness pushed her close to the edge, but then he’d gently decrease the pace. With unhurried motions, Chase pleasured her into oblivion. As her hunger for him increased, he lovingly intensified his movements as she pleaded for him to go faster and deeper. Their union absolute, they cried out together as both crashed into an explosion of ecstasy. LaShaun dug her fingers into his back, clawing for every bit of his body and soul he offered up. Their cries echoed in the room. After what seemed like a blissfully long time, they lay still.
Chase pressed his face against hers. “Will you marry me, cher?”
LaShaun gave a throaty chuckle. “Haven’t you asked me that twice already?”
“I want to make sure you still want me,” Chase whispered.
“Of course I…” LaShaun realized that what she thought was sweat were really tears on his cheeks. She held him tightly, her own tears coming. “Darlin’? Oh baby, what’s the matter?”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me, LaShaun. I couldn’t admit to you for a long time, but M.J. is right. Maybe it’s this rash of crimes and long hours. I’m thinking of ways to hurt people when they cross me. I never thought wanting to be Sheriff would make me that kind of man. Sometimes I… maybe I need to withdraw from the race.” Chase’s words tumbled out in a trail of misery.
Unsure what to say, LaShaun cradled him in her arms for a few moments. She hummed a Cajun song about finding happiness in the simple things of life. Eyes closed, LaShaun planted kisses on his face every few moments. Deep inside she knew that to speak too soon would be a mistake. She wanted his words to sink into them both, and truthfully give her time to regroup. The dramatic shifts in his mood and behavior had left her just as confused as well. Chase should know, shouldn’t he? She owed the man she loved the truth about the danger he faced.
“Honey, I need to tell you something,” LaShaun started. Her voice less shaky, she searched for a way to say the unspeakable.
A soft tapping made her open her eyes and look at one of the bedroom windows. Through the sheer curtains a large white moth fluttered against the glass. A soft silvery glow like moonlight seemed to surround its delicate wings.
“He is not equipped for this battle. You must use faith, love, and resolve to fight for his soul,” the words floated around her like wind brushing through dry winter leaves. LaShaun watched the moth as it floated in circles, the movement hypnotic in a way that stilled her tongue.
“Um-hum,” Chase mumbled.
“I didn’t say anything. Are you okay?”
She pulled away to gaze at him. Chase rolled onto his side and nestled against her, his face dry and his expression peaceful in sleep. LaShaun eased out of his embrace. With soft murmurs she encouraged him to get beneath the covers. She slipped between the flannel sheets and spooned him. Without waking, Chase pulled her back against his body. His breathing was steady.
“Thank you again,” LaShaun said. She sighed and drifted off to sleep.
***
The next morning, LaShaun jerked awake by the ringing landline phone on the nightstand. She mumbled for Chase to answer it, then turned over and realized he wasn’t there. A note on the table lamp said he’d gotten a call to report for duty early. The soft blue numbers of her digital clock read just before six o’clock. LaShaun said a prayer that more bad things weren’t happening. She stumbled out of bed, shivering at the chill against her bare skin. In one motion, she snatched the cordless handset, hit the button, and then rummaged in a dresser drawer. She pulled a sports bra over her head.
“Hello,” she blurted out and went to her closet. She grabbed her favorite old red plaid flannel shirt. With the phone in one hand, she put an arm in one shirt sleeve.
“Hey, I have to talk to you,” Azalei said. “All kinds of shit is about to hit the fan. So…”
“Azalei, I’m in no mood to hear gossip,” LaShaun said, her mind still on Chase. “I’ve got things to do, important things. So if you’ll excuse me, now is not a good time for a chat.”
“What I got to say you need to hear in person. Besides, I don’t trust these phones,” Azalei said with melodramatic flair as she dropped her voice low. As usual, her cousin only thought of what she wanted.
“This isn’t a good time for a visit either.” LaShaun pushed her other arm into the shirt. With the phone tucked in the crook of her neck she worked on getting into a pair of corduroy jeans. “Where the heck is my belt,” she muttered.
“Say again?”
LaShaun huffed in frustration a few seconds longer until she found the belt on the shelf. She tucked in her shirt and slid the belt through the loops of her jeans. “I’m going to get some things done. I’m not waiting almost an hour for you to drive over here and rant about Quentin Trosclair.”
“What I have to say won’t take long, LaShaun. Trust me, you need to know what a certain person is up to,” Azalei replied.
“Did you hear me? I’m not waiting for you to drive all the way from…” LaShaun paused. She couldn’t remember where Azalei lived. “Wherever you are now.”
“You won’t have to wait. I’m in your driveway,” Azalei said dryly. “Now open the door and put on some coffee.”
“What the?”
LaShaun stuck her feet into fuzzy slippers and went down the hall to the kitchen. She jerked back the curtains of one window. Sure enough, Azalei sat outside in her yellow mustang. When she opened the driver’s side door, LaShaun let go of the curtain and muttered a curse word. Before she completed the turn toward the back door, the doorbell was ringing. LaShaun stomped to it, clicked back the locks and jerked it open.
“Don’t press your luck.” LaShaun opened the latch on the screened storm door.
“Well good morning to you, too. Excuse me for dragging out here almost before the crack of dawn to help you out,” Azalei said. She followed LaShaun down the short hallway and into the wide kitchen. “Hmm, you’ve updated the place. Granite counter tops, big den opening up from the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances. Guess you’re making good use of Monmon Odette’s money.”
“Say what you came to tell me, Azalei,” LaShaun said. She clenched her teeth to keep from spitting out a more colorful comment. She measured fragrant coffee grounds into a filter. Many in the unruly Rousselle clan still felt raw about her inheriting the bulk of Monmon Odette’s estate. She had no intention of rehashing that drama.
“Monmon knew you would take care of her legacy in more ways than one. I probably would have ended up broke. But I would’ve had a damn good time doing it,” Azalei wisecracked.
LaShaun glanced at her over one shoulder briefly, and then finished pouring water into the coffee maker. “Okay, just remember I wasn’t the one who said it.”
“You could have. I wouldn’t argue.” Azalei dropped her purse on the counte
r and sat on one of the bar stools. “You know the judge ordered me to get therapy?”
“No, I didn’t.” LaShaun faced Azalei. She could only pity the poor therapist that had to deal with her hostile, sarcastic cousin.
“After a bumpy start, I got into it. I’ve learned a lot actually,” Azalei said and nodded. “You got something to eat?”
“Yeah.” LaShaun found a bag of croissants and buttered two. She took bacon from the fridge. In seconds she had it sizzling in her one of her grandmother’s small case iron skillets. Soon the rich smell of coffee and bacon filled the kitchen. “So what have you learned?”
“Hmm. Now this reminds me of being over here when Monmon was cooking. Remember those days? We’d all be in here with her telling stories, singing while she whipped up the best food in Vermilion Parish.” Azalei seemed lost in memories for a few moments. She shook her head slightly as though coming back to the present. “I should have picked up more of my daddy’s habits than mama’s.”
“He tries to do right by folks,” LaShaun replied. She could have added that it was a mystery what her uncle-in-law ever saw in Azalei’s razor-tongued mother. Maybe it was true that opposites attract. Shy and polite Uncle Henry hung in the background while Aunt Leah demanded to be the center attraction.
“Daddy is quiet, but he’s always liked Mama’s fiery side. I guess it gets hard to take after so many years,” Azalei said, leaving unspoken that her mother’s temper flared against her quiet husband. “Well, I can’t help it. I’m like mama. Look how it worked out for me. I’m on probation and earning minimum wage.”
“At least you’re alive,” LaShaun said.
Azalei winced, and seconds later tears pooled in her hazel eyes. “If I’d ever thought they were going to kill Rita… I swear I didn’t know.”
LaShaun wanted to blast into her, but her own past was a reminder not to cast stones. Azalei’s tears seemed genuine. LaShaun put food on two plates and sat next to Azalei on a stool at the long counter.
“I made a few mistakes back in the day.”
Azalei went from remorseful and back to her usual obnoxious self in a hot second. “Did you! Folks still talk about you and Quentin Trosclair. Did you really help him hide his granddaddy’s body like they say? C’mon, give me the real story.”
All sympathy dried up as LaShaun scowled at her. She briefly considered snatching back the plate of hospitality and dumping it in the garbage. “Get to the point of your visit.”
“I got up with the chickens and drove all the way out here ‘cause I’m trying to help you. I have to go into work once I leave here, and I can’t be late again. That bitch of a supervisor is looking for a reason to get me fired. She’d love to see my probation revoked.” Azalei gave an angry hiss.
“I told you not to take a job working for Quentin, Azalei. You’re just asking for trouble,” LaShaun shot back.
“I didn’t have many options. Don’t lecture me about how I should have stayed in school. I’ve heard enough of that already. Anyway, I don’t work for Quentin. I work at one of his companies. They have an office in Lafayette.” Azalei stuffed bacon into her mouth and spoke between chews. “I hear you went to his Mardi Gras party, so why you hanging with him?”
“I went with Chase so he could make connections for his campaign. If it’s any of your business,” LaShaun snapped. She pushed her plate aside, appetite blunted by her cousin’s bad company. “So how is getting on my damn nerves this early going to help me?”
Azalei patted her mouth with a napkin. “He came in for a meeting last Thursday in that big fancy conference room on the seventh floor of the building. I managed to sneak up there. I think he’s making a move on some of Monmon Odette’s assets. You better be careful. Back when y’all were… close, Monmon Odette got prime property. Remember?”
“Yeah,” LaShaun said.
She definitely remembered how she used her red hot affair with Quentin to her advantage. With his help, Monmon Odette had acquired land and stock in Trosclair family corporations. Several of the companies had been sold, making Monmon Odette a healthy profit. Once again, she cooled her judgment of Azalei. What kind of role model had she been for her younger cousins?
“Geological studies have been done on land right next to it. Seems there could be natural gas or something they can mine.” Azalei’s eyes glowed with greed.
“They drill for gas, Azalei,” LaShaun replied, absentmindedly correcting her as she considered her cousin’s revelations.
“Drill, dig, whatever. It means big money, but only if we head off Quentin from buying up that land,” Azalei said eagerly.
“I’m not selling any property, so his plan won’t work.” LaShaun gazed at her cousin. “You could have sent me this in an e-mail. Finish up and go to that job you love so much.”
“If you weren’t family…” Azalei grabbed a croissant. “Quentin still thinks I want to stab you in the back any chance I get.”
“Is he far off on that one?” LaShaun retorted.
“He is as a matter of fact. Now I want to stab his lying dog ass in the back,” Azalei said with a nasty smile.
“But you’re still pissed off that I have Monmon Odette’s money. Giving me this info could mean that I’ll make more money. Don’t tell me you only want me to get richer. Please.”
“I deserve a commission or something since I helped you. Well, it should,” Azalei protested when LaShaun gave a snort. “Okay, fine. Be that way. Screwing up Quentin’s little plan will be reward enough.” The stiff expression on Azalei’s face told a different story. She wanted the money, too.
LaShaun took a sip of coffee and put down the mug. “Monmon put me in charge of a trust that increases from certain holdings. Royalties could be shared with family members.”
Azalei grinned at the prospect. She picked up the last slice of bacon. “That’s what I’m talking about. Maybe I can stick it to Quentin and make enough money to quit that job. But we have to stop him first.”
“I told you, Azalei. I’m not selling any asset to Quentin. He should have the brains to know that. So once again, you drove out here for no reason.” LaShaun picked up both plates.
“I sweet talked him into to telling me one crucial detail, cousin. Monmon Odette put land in a company name, not hers. So if he gets control of the company…”
Her meaning slammed home for LaShaun. She remembered the phone conference with her accountant and Savannah. “So that’s what he’s up to.”
“I didn’t trust talking on the phone. You know how the government monitors phone conversations. The Trosclairs have connections, too.” Azalei stuffed one last bit of croissant into her mouth. She stood and slung her purse over one shoulder. “Same for e-mail. The local internet company is one of their businesses you know.”
“You’ve got some wild imagination going, Azalei,” LaShaun quipped. “Look, thanks for giving me the tip. I’m sure between my lawyer and accountant, Quentin won’t be able to damage Rousselle family assets.”
“Quentin wants to get back at you, LaShaun,” Azalei said. She nodded slowly, her expression grave. “His lawyer pals are helping him, the same one trying to get that psycho out of prison. Quentin wants you broke. Not to mention he hates seeing you with Chase.”
“He needs to get over it and live his life.” LaShaun tried to brush off her words, but something in what Azalei said rang true.
“Quentin wants to hurt you in more ways than just money. What’s that about?”
LaShaun thought about Miss Rose’s warning. “You don’t want to know the details. Trust me.”
“If it has anything to do with voodoo, ghosts, and scary crap like that you’re right. I do not want to know. Just tell me when to come get my check,” Azalei wisecracked. She dug in her purse until she found a lipstick tube and compact mirror. Gazing at her reflection, she swiped her mouth until the cherry red color covered her lips again.
LaShaun walked toward her with a stony expression on her face. “Don’t kid yourself that you ca
n escape. The Rousselle-LeGrange legacy is more than just money. We’re all touched by spirits. A visit to the historic family cemetery just a short walk out my back door will prove it to you.”
Azalei froze. She looked around as though expecting their ancestors to appear. After a few beats, she stuffed the lipstick and compact into her purse. “I-I gotta go to work. I’ll call you for news next time.”
“Sure. Better yet, come to dinner one evening. Chase works late a lot, and I get lonesome way out here at night,” LaShaun said.
“Yeah, uh, I’ll let you know about that. See ya.”
Azalei scurried for the nearest exit. Seconds later the door slapped shut. By the time LaShaun walked onto the back porch, her cousin was in her car. Azalei turned the mustang around. Gravel kicked up from the tires when she gunned the engine to escape. LaShaun laughed hard at the fun of scaring her shady cousin. Then she grew serious again at the thought of Quentin and Neal Montgomery.
LaShaun looked at the woods surrounding her home. “More wheels within wheels.”
Chapter 14
Azalei left at seven o’clock, so LaShaun did research as she waited for normal business hours. LaShaun had read through her business files. Her cousin possessed the skills of a private detective, except her motive was revenge. Yet the facts backed up her paranoia about Quentin. LaShaun owned a small realty company managed by an outfit based in Shreveport. The land in question was owned by her company. Pelican Reality, Inc. had rental houses and two condo complexes. But included was undeveloped land. LaShaun remembered having a meeting with the chief of operations to discuss plans for additional development. Though she was sure Pelican not only owned the land but the mineral rights, LaShaun checked anyway. Her company owned the rights as she expected. No doubt Quentin knew it as well.
By eight o’clock LaShaun decided not to wait. She left messages on Savannah’s and her accountant’s office voice mail. By the time they returned her calls, LaShaun had a game plan mapped out. She instructed them to buy the land from Pelican for her immediately. That done, LaShaun spent the rest of the day on mundane tasks. By late afternoon LaShaun came back from errands in town. A trip to the grocery store and hardware store resulted in a load of bags in her SUV. Still restless, even after a day of activity, she decided to do something she hadn’t done for a while. As it was close to three o’clock, late afternoon sun slanted across the pasture she crossed. A brisk quarter of a mile walk along a path of flattened grass brought her to an outbuilding. Her neighbor, Xavier Marchand, stood outside his bright red barn next to a small tractor. His wife sat in an off road buggy talking to him.