"It doesn't matter, Neely," he called back.
"But I don't have any really nice dresses. Come help me pick something out."
He laughed and walked into Neely's bedroom. He turned around in the doorway and stammered, "Please, put something on—bathrobe—anything."
"Why?"
"Because you're too big a temptation without it. Please do this for me."
"All right," Neely said. She knitted her brow in confusion but slipped on her bathrobe. "I'm covered."
Raif turned around. "Thank you. Now, let's see." He looked at the three skirts Neely had on her bed and the half dozen blouses. "This skirt," he said, choosing a modest, long, black skirt with slits up each side. "And this blouse." He chose a silver, satin, spaghetti-strap top. "And"—He went to Neely's closet—"these shoes." He picked out plain black patent leather pumps. "Go simple. Your beauty speaks volumes by itself. Leave your hair down. I like it falling over your shoulders and down your back." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll wait in the living room."
When she came out, Neely looked regal even in her unpretentious outfit. Raif offered her his arm and escorted her to Amile's.
"Amile's?" she asked, laughing.
"I hear they make the best crawfish étouffée in New Orleans."
"They do."
Amile seated his friend and her date at the table he had prepared for them. A bottle of Chablis already waited.
They dined and talked during the meal Raif had arranged. Over a final glass of wine, he took Neely's hand. "This has been a very pleasant evening. I have something for you. I hope you like it." He reached into his inner pocket and handed her a black velvet box. "Open it."
Neely gasped as she opened the box. "Raif, it's beautiful, but it's too much."
"No, it's not. It's just the beginning."
"Will you fasten it on me?"
"Of course." He stood, walked around the table, and clasped the necklace around her neck. He kissed her nape. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.
"Yes."
Raif left the cost of the meal with a generous gratuity on the table. He realized these neighbors were the closest thing to family Neely had, and they loved her.
He escorted her home. In her living room, Raif ran his fingers through Neely's long silky hair. I promised myself and my brother I won't sleep with this woman. The promise doesn't mean I can't kiss her, which he did deeply and passionately.
Neely took his hand and started to her bedroom. Raif pulled her back to him. "No," he whispered.
She looked at him with questions in her eyes. He entangled his fingers in her hair and said, "Neely, I think we could be each other's reason to live again, but until I can look you in the eye and say, 'I love you,' without reservation, I won't come to your bed. I have too much admiration and respect for you to make you feel badly about yourself for giving something so special."
"Can you hold me?"
"Only if we fall asleep on the sofa."
"The sofa it is."
Neely called Esther after Raif left the next day. "Neely, talk," demanded Esther when she answered the phone.
"I'm living Esther. He came back. He brought roses and took me to dinner and gave me an emerald four-leaf clover necklace." She fingered the pendant at her throat.
"Whoa! This sounds serious."
"Oh, I hope. He said he won't sleep with me until he can say he loves me. He spent the night on my couch."
"Good. That means you mean more to him than sex, honey. Hang on to him. He's the real thing."
"Yeah. He's my reason to live again."
11
Sniper
Fridays on Neely's sofa became commonplace. One September Monday after Raif began his weekly trips to New Orleans in June, he popped into Ray's office bearing an intricate cityscape painted by Neely. As had become an almost daily ritual, Lawrence Dantzler and Parker Reynolds were in the office reviewing information.
"Yes, you're actually interrupting this time, but come on in," joked Ray.
"I won't stay long, but this is good. This way I can get three opinions." Raif held up the painting. "What do you think?"
"Very nice," Parker said.
"Talented artist," agreed Dantzler.
"I like it," confirmed Ray.
"Would you buy it?" asked Raif.
Ray said, "Yeah, I would."
"How much would you pay, max?" Raif continued.
"It's very nice. Who did it?" commented Ray.
"That doesn't matter. How much would you pay?" Raif pressed.
"Hmm. I'm not an art critic, but as much as eight hundred, maybe a thousand. It's really good." Ray took a swig of water from the bottle on his desk.
"Neely did it." Raif grinned. "It's one of about fifty she has in that shop. And this isn't the best. I think she needs exposure. She needs an art show. I think I'll talk to Pierre. He owes me. I designed him a very nice gallery."
"Uncle Raif," said Parker, "when do we get to meet this woman?"
Raif danced his eyebrows. "I have been hogging her, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have." Ray nodded.
"Okay, I'll twist her arm into coming for a weekend, although weekends are her busiest time."
"She hasn't really been busy lately, has she?" asked Ray.
Raif dipped the corner of his mouth in a half frown. "No, business has been slow. She's struggling. That's why this show is what she needs."
Ray shook his head. "I don't think that's what she needs, but it's a good idea."
"What does she need?" asked Raif, leaning the painting against the wall.
"Never mind," said Ray with a wave of his hand.
Parker said, "She needs this family."
"Really?" asked Raif, blue eyes stretching wide.
"Yes, Uncle Raif. You know damned well this family is the most unlikely collection of misfits ever. And we work because we love one another. Do you love Neely, Uncle Raif?"
Ray kicked Parker under the table.
"Ouch!" said Parker.
Dantzler roared with laughter. "Yep. Gotta love this family. Too bad neither of you has a sister for me."
Raif snorted a little laugh. "Don't even think about my Neely. You tried that with Chris—crash and burn."
"That stings." Dantzler stretched his long legs out in front of him.
While Raif and Dantzler bantered, their conversation turning to memories of Chris, Ray gave Parker his "shut up" stare, so Parker said, "I think Neely needs a show, too, if she's this talented."
"Good," Raif said, getting back to his errand. "I'll talk to Pierre. What did I interrupt? Anything new? Please tell me there's a lead?"
"Yeah," said Parker. "Dantzler and I are about to fly to the Czech Republic. Latrice's mother was deported. We've found her, and we're leaving day after tomorrow. We're gonna find out who Lloyd is."
"I hope so. I want Chris's murderer caught."
"Of course, you do," Ray said.
"For God sake! It's been over a damned year." Raif ground his teeth. The happy smile he'd entered with turned into a deep scowl.
"Raif," Dantzler said, "Parker and I have been working almost around the clock. Maybe it's finally paid off."
Punching the air at his side, Raif said, "I just get so frustrated because there is nothing I can do to help." He nodded. "I know you're trying. I'll let you get back to work." He put his hand on the painting. "Thanks for your input."
"You didn't really interrupt anything," Ray said. "I was teasing you. We were just firming up travel plans and booking a flight. Now, we're heading out for a beer so we can help Parker decide how to break the news to Sheena. She's eight months' pregnant and won't be too happy about her husband leaving."
"God! Trista is right behind her." Raif rubbed his head. "Sheena will be fine. She has this crazy family, and you won't be gone long. Townes might not get back before Trista delivers. He's in the middle of the Pacific on an aircraft carrier, but she'll be okay, too. I'm the one who needs a beer."
"So, join us, Un
cle Raif," invited Parker.
"You sure?"
"Yes," assured Ray.
"All right, then. I'd love to." He lifted his hand from the canvas and pointed to the painting. "I'll leave that there for tonight."
The four men walked out the door to go to the bar a couple of blocks over. Ray pulled his jacket a little tighter. "It's nippy."
"It wasn't cold when I came in," Raif said.
Parker glanced in all directions, gooseflesh creeping up his neck. Not good.
Ray joked good-naturedly, "A woman can complicate a man's life, Lawrence. You're still a bachelor. When do you plan to bite the bullet?"
Dantzler chuckled. "That's for me to know and for you…"
A spray of blood erupted from Dantzler's head just before the report of the high-velocity bullet ripped through the air. Dantzler crumpled to the ground.
"Sniper!" Ray shouted and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him to cover behind a parked car.
Parker followed, taking out his Glock and searching the rooftops. "I think it's the library, Daddy!" he shouted. "We have to get it sealed off. Get me some backup." In a crouch he went from car to car until he had crossed the street and entered the library.
Ray made calls from his cell while Raif crawled to Dantzler and lifted his head onto his own lap. "Jesus, not another one," Raif said in a strangled voice. "I'm sorry. I never hated you. I just loved Chris."
The tall blond gave a low groan. "I did love her. I see Chris. Maybe I wasn't such a devil after all." Dantlzer's body went limp against Raif's legs.
"No," Raif groaned.
Ray clutched his twin's shoulder. "Stay with him." Weapon drawn, in a half-back run, he raced across the road to help Parker.
Within minutes, the Eau Boueuse Public Library was surrounded. Terrified patrons huddled against the wall. A uniformed state trooper approached Chief Raiford Reynolds and asked, "What's happening? Can I help?"
Ray explained, "An FBI agent has just been shot, apparently from the roof of the library. Help us round up everybody for questioning."
"Yes, sir," replied the officer.
Ray shivered as chills ran down his spine when the officer walked past. He looked over his shoulder, but the man was already gone.
An ambulance screamed as it uselessly transported Agent Lawrence Dantzler to Catholic Charity Hospital. A heartless, cold-blooded murderer notched one more fallen angel on his belt.
Raif sat motionless on the concrete, head in his hands. I can't do this anymore. Please, God. Let Lawrence be the last one.
On the rooftop, Detective Parker Reynolds found one new small piece of evidence. The sniper had not had time to retrieve the expelled cartridge. Parker slipped it into an evidence bag.
The next week as Lawrence Dantzler was laid to rest in his native Wisconsin, guns again offered salute and bagpipes gave tribute to a man whose spirit would not rest until the culprit of heinous crimes was brought to justice. Chris's voice floated on the air, but only Raif heard it. "He's with me now. In time, you'll know what you have to do."
12
An Artist
Raif postponed his visit to an old friend who ran an art gallery until he returned from Wisconsin and another funeral. Every blue-gray hair perfectly in place, Pierre Charmant pranced across the parquet floor of his elegant art gallery and greeted his visitor. "Raiford Gautier! How nice to see you, darling." His greeting included a kiss to both of Raif's cheeks.
"Pierre, you look great," Raif returned the greeting and looked around, taking in the bustle. "Business seems really good, but you still need a better way to showcase the larger pieces. The mezzanine just isn't big enough."
"It is good. Yes, the gallery is overflowing." He tilted his head to the side. "You look beautiful as always. I was so sorry about your devastating loss. The service was touching. How are you really doing though?"
"I'm living again, Pierre. Chris would want me to live."
"Yes, she would. She was a charming woman."
"That, she was. I'll always love her, but I've met someone. She's why I'm here."
"What does this have to do with moi?" Pierre touched his chest with both hands.
"Neely Rivers is an artist. I've brought several of her pieces to show you. I'd like for you to arrange a show for her."
"Hmm. Calling in a favor, are you?" He chuckled. "I never thought you'd take me up on it."
"I probably wouldn't if it weren't for Neely. Are you reneging?"
"The thought never crossed my mind. Show me the pieces."
Raif brought in five of Neely's paintings: the cityscape he had shown Ray, Parker, and Dantzler; a fantasy piece centered around a unicorn; a detailed portrait of Colleen DuPin; a visual effects piece in black and white; and a dark, sinister red-and-black, two-headed serpent with pale blue eyes, Neely's attempt at giving her fear a face.
"Oh, my!" Pierre declared. "Where have you been hiding this woman? She is truly an artist."
"She owns Timeless Tattoos."
"No, no, no!" Pierre screeched. "That will never do! She must have exposure. Her work must be seen. How many pieces can you get me?"
"Around fifty."
"Are you serious?" He hooded bitter-chocolate eyes.
"Yes."
"I'll have the invitations printed by noon tomorrow." Pierre held the unicorn piece at arms' length. Flamboyance taking a momentary back seat, he became all business. "We can do this next Saturday night. The paintings will remain on display for one month. You know I ask nothing less than a thousand. From what I see, her pieces will bring more. My commission is fifty percent. I have to pay my people. If she hits as big as I think she will, we can renegotiate the contract. I'll have it by noon tomorrow too. You say her name is Neely Rivers?"
"Yes, but she signs everything simply, 'Neely.'"
"Art by Neely or Simply Neely—that's better. It has a ring to it. Yes, yes. Simply Neely. So? What's your cut? You're a shrewd businessman, Raif." He lowered the painting.
"Her."
"Oh," Pierre said with a knowing wink. "You're in love again."
"I didn't say that," protested Raif.
"'Dee Nile' is not just a river in Egypt, Raif," Pierre said as he gamboled away. "I'll have the invitations tomorrow. How many do you want?"
"A dozen, no, a baker's dozen."
"See you then, darling. Bring the pieces and the artist."
Neely was not used to being spoiled. She had worked hard for everything she had, which was not extravagant. On the other hand, Raif doted on the women in his life. Neely was no exception. He spoiled her rotten. Every time he visited, he brought her something along with some kind of flowers.
However, on this visit he held only a single surprise lily he had plucked from the roadside. Neely did not care. The only gift she wanted was Raiford Gautier. She sailed into his arms the minute he walked through the door. Raif picked her up and spun her around.
"It's not Friday. What are you doing here tonight? What are we doing?" she asked, clapping her hands like an excited child.
"Going shopping."
"What?"
"You're dressed just fine, but grab a pair of heels."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Humor me."
Neely shrugged and retrieved a pair of heels. Raif kissed her hand as he took it. "This time," he informed her, "my car is outside. Lock up."
Raif's Lexus was fully loaded. He opened the door for this captivating woman and drove to an exclusive dress shop, Avril à Paris. The proprietress said in total surprise, "Raif, is that you, or is it Ray?"
He answered, "It's Raif, and you know it, Avril." The two exchanged a fond embrace.
The woman looked sharply at the woman with Raif. To quickly preclude an embarrassing question, such as Avril asking if the woman were Lindsay, he said, "Avril DuLac, may I introduce Neely Rivers? She's in need of an elegant evening dress." Avril had not seen Lindsay in years, but Trista had come here with him to get her wedding dress.
"I am?" questioned Nee
ly.
"You are," Raif said with an emphatic nod.
Avril assured, "Well, I'm sure I can find something to make her even more beautiful than she already is. Come this way, dear. Raif, would you like her to model for you?"
"I would love for her to model for me."
Neely blushed and Avril took note. She gave her frequent patron a little smirk. Raif rolled his eyes at her.
Raif sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair as Avril took Neely behind a curtained area. After a dozen dresses, Raif chose a lavender, sequined, fitted dress with only a right sleeve to show off Neely's magnificent rose tattoo. The dress also had a slit to mid-thigh on the left side. Then he said, "We'll also take the white one, the green one, and the royal blue one."
"Why?" asked Neely, knowing each dress cost around a thousand dollars, maybe more.
"I anticipate your need of them." Raif turned to Avril with a slip of paper. "Have them sent to this address. And," he whispered to Avril, "choose some appropriate jewelry and shoes, size seven, for each one."
"In love again, are you?" asked Avril.
"I didn't say that," protested Raif sharply.
With a kiss to Raif's cheek, Avril said, "Actions speak louder than words."
The next morning as Neely made grits, bacon, eggs, and toast, Raif slipped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "Good morning," he said, kissing her on the neck.
She laid her head back on his chest and momentarily closed her eyes to ponder how good it would feel to do this every morning. "Good morning," she replied.
Raif said as Neely served breakfast, "Take today off. Don't open."
"I have to make a living, Raif."
"Trust me on this. Take today off."
"What do you want to do? You usually go home after breakfast."
"Not today. We're going to Pierre's Picks."
"The art gallery?"
"Yes." He savored a bit of bacon.
"You know"—She placed her hand on her hip—"I'm not totally uncultured. I've been there. I do have a degree in art, and I do appreciate it."
Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Page 8