Eventually Justin seemed jittery, as if having nothing left to do with himself was getting on his nerves. He looked tired, which he should be considering how early he’d risen that morning. She couldn’t help noticing his eyelids were drooping more than usual.
“Are you sure about the bed?” he asked.
No teasing in his voice tonight. She could hear fatigue instead. Good.
“Positive,” she said. “I’m probably going to be up for hours reading.” And plotting, getting the nerve to do what she had to do. “The bed is all yours.”
Still he hesitated, staring at her. She kept her expression neutral, gave him a little smile and hoped her “Good night” would do it.
“Night.” He gave her a penetrating look before entering the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
And Lucy sagged with relief.
If he suspected anything, he wasn’t acting on it. Just how long would it take him to fall asleep? Although she continued to flip through magazines, her eyes glazed over and she wasn’t getting the content. She was too busy thinking about Justin.
Would he stay awake until she fell asleep? He could lie awake in bed listening for movement, for any indication that she wasn’t simply reading. For how long, though? She only hoped she could stay awake for however long it took Justin to relax and go to sleep.
It was she who listened to the small noises Justin made as he moved around the other room. And her imagination became engaged.
Closing her eyes, she could see him undressing, could imagine the long lean muscle of him as he removed garments one at a time. Though she’d never seen him naked in person, she’d seen all of him in dreams, and through them, she knew every inch of his too tempting flesh.
Sucking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes, but the images stayed with her, teasing her, keeping her from concentrating on the magazine in her lap, no matter how hard she tried.
The sound of the bed protesting as he climbed into it left her wanting what she experienced in her mind. The bed creaked with each toss and turn—and there were many of them—and she had to keep adjusting herself on the couch because she couldn’t get comfortable, either.
Was he thinking of her just as she was of him?
Did he want her with the same intensity?
Did he want her at all?
He’d kissed her, yes, but that had been due to circumstance. Almost an accident.
He’d flirted with her all day, but flirtation seemed to be part of his natural charm, like he would do so with any woman on his radar.
Most likely he’d been working on automatic, not because he’d been turned on by her.
But he was certainly having a hard time settling down, she thought, hearing springs bounce yet again. At this rate, he was never going to sleep, never going to give her the chance to escape.
Rain had started up again and was drumming against the roof. Great, another obstacle to getting home. Dana was probably going nuts worrying about why Lucy hadn’t returned. Maybe she’d even alerted the police. All right, maybe not.
Lucy hadn’t told her why she was in bayou country when she’d called from the Guidry place. Dana had jumped to the conclusion that she was there because of a man, and Lucy had let her roomie think what she would. She’d also assured her that she was okay and would be home before dark, but of course that hadn’t happened.
And in her aggravation with Justin, she’d forgotten to call Dana with an update before heading back for the houseboat. When she got her car on the road, she would call from her cell phone, assuming her shoulder bag hadn’t been stolen.
It was raining harder now.
As she listened, her heart seemed to beat in sync. She felt herself start to drift.
“Damn!” she whispered, forcing her eyes wide open.
She wasn’t the one who was supposed to fall asleep….
Suddenly she realized the noises from the other room had stopped. No tossing, no turning, no creaking. She sat up straighter and listened harder, kept her ears tuned for the slightest sound beyond the rain. It was barely drizzling now.
Then she heard it…what was most likely a soft snore. At least she thought that’s what it was. She listened harder. There it was again.
A snore!
Definitely a snore!
Heartened, she waited a few minutes to make certain Justin was sound asleep. Then she gently set down the magazine and got to her feet.
Each step she took was slow—a careful silent slide of a foot with a pause in between. By the time she got to the door, her pulse had quickened so that she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. What she was about to do was crazy and she knew it.
But what choice did she have if she didn’t want to get Justin shot?
She wouldn’t be a party to his getting hurt, maybe killed, not when she could possibly change things. With that thought, she determinedly opened the door just enough to squeeze through…and then she was alone with the night.
Getting through the bayou was the hard part, but she’d watched Justin handle the pirogue, so she at least had a clue what to do, which way to go.
Pausing for a second, she stared at the now-closed door, wishing that things could have been different, that she could have met Justin under more positive circumstances. That they could have treated each other like two people who were attracted to each other.
She’d like to know if he could truly create those fireworks for her.
Saddened that she would never know, Lucy moved to the pirogue, then untied the rope fastening the shallow craft to the houseboat.
Oh, so carefully she climbed in and sat.
Pushing away from the houseboat, she gave it one last longing glance before turning her attention to the bayou and its secrets.
JUSTIN VIBRATED AWAKE.
“What the—”
There it was again, a gentle vibration under his pillow telling him someone was calling him. He checked his watch—close to midnight—and answered the phone that he’d taken with him from the house just in case Stephen or Marcus spotted the thugs looking for Lucy again.
He answered, “What’s wrong?”
“Asleep on the job?”
Because it wasn’t like Stephen to be flippant, Justin sat straight up. “They’re back?”
“Wouldn’t matter if they were. Your little bird has flown the coop.”
“What?”
Justin bounded out of bed, and it was only after he threw open the door to find the main room empty that he remembered he was buck naked. Not that it mattered—there was no Lucy to startle.
“She’s gone.”
“I thought I said that.”
There was engine noise in the background on Stephen’s end. Justin asked, “You saw her?”
“Not in time to stop her. She was driving off. I heard the car and saw her from my room.”
“You have to come get me so I can—”
“Already done. I’m on my way. See you in a few minutes.”
The engine roared louder just before the cell phone went dead.
“Great. Just great.”
Justin wasted no time in getting dressed. Stephen would be as good as his word. Even so, even though Lucy only had a short head start, she would be far ahead of him.
What would she do when he caught up to her? Tell him she didn’t need his help? Probably. Apparently she didn’t want his help.
So why was he bothering?
Unfortunately, he wasn’t raised to ignore a lady in distress—or anyone in distress, for that matter.
Hearing an approaching motor, he stepped outside and waved his brother down. Stephen had barely pulled up to the houseboat before Justin jumped inside. And off they went, though not headed toward home.
“Marcus is pulling your car around to meet us.”
“That’ll save some time.”
“So you’re going to go after her. I thought you weren’t ready to go back to New Orleans.”
“I’m not.”
“Then
why go? Okay, dumb question. Your chance for a do-over.”
“Right.” As if anything could make up for a lost life. “A do-over.”
Not to mention that he didn’t mean to let Lucy Ryan get away from him so easily.
“C’MON, C’MON,” Lucy muttered into the phone.
Having stopped for gas and some much-needed caffeine—the stress must have gotten to her, because her body begged to be shut down—she was anxious to get back on the road again. The only audible response she got when the phone at the other end stopped ringing was Dana’s voice mail.
“Hi, we’re not available to come to the phone at the moment, but we don’t want to miss your call,” Dana said in that breezy way of hers. “So when you hear the beep, leave your name, number and a brief message. Ta.”
Leaving Dana a message wasn’t exactly what Lucy’d had in mind, but it would have to do.
“Hey, Dana, I’m on my way.” Lucy tried to keep her voice equally breezy, as if she were having a great “time-out” from her real life. “I’ll probably beat you home. At least I hope you’re having a good enough time to be out half the night. See you whenever.”
Lucy hung up the phone, took another sip of her coffee and hurried back to the car.
She would have called Dana from her cell, but not only was it missing, so was her shoulder bag.
Luckily she’d had her wallet—and therefore her identification—in her pocket. No doubt the men who’d come after her had taken the bag from the car the night before. She would have loved to see the frustration on their faces when they came up empty.
So where was Dana at this hour? New boyfriend?
Lucy was actually glad her roomie wasn’t home. She was a mess and on seeing that, her best friend would demand answers she wasn’t prepared to give. She didn’t want to involve anyone else in her troubles. Besides Dana would feel obligated to tell Jennifer and her sister would be obliged to tell her parents.
No, better that she tell Dana everything once the bad guys were where they belonged.
So she would go home and shower and wash her hair and put on some clean clothes so she would look presentable before facing the police. Even so, she was worried whether or not they would believe her, especially since she hadn’t gone straight to the nearest police station.
She would cross that hurdle when she got to it. She would keep a positive attitude.
Entering New Orleans, she headed straight for the garage where she parked her car. The streets in the French Quarter were too narrow and busy to provide parking where one lived. Walking the block and a half home, she was uncomfortable. Jumpy. And even though it was no longer raining, she was still reminded of that last dream.
Glancing back over her shoulder at the empty street, Lucy lengthened her stride, telling herself she needed to quell her imagination. She entered her courtyard and started across the flagstone.
“What took you so long, Lucille?” came a voice from the shadows.
Her heart skipped a beat as a determined-looking Justin Guidry came right at her.
6
THOUGH JUSTIN was relieved to see Lucy in one piece, he wasn’t going to show it and let her have the upper hand.
Her stiff “What are you doing here?” didn’t sound at all appreciative of his concern.
“The question is…what are you? I’m sure I remember your promising to wait until morning.”
“I thought better of it. I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you stole away in the night like a thief?”
“I’m no thief!” she insisted, turning on her heel and heading across the courtyard. “I just borrowed your boat and left it at the dock in town.”
Following close behind, he said, “So you stole away in the night like a borrower?” He shook his head at the play on words. “Nope, that doesn’t work for me.”
Lucy glanced back at him. “Sorry if I inconvenienced you. But I don’t understand why you’re here.”
“In some cultures, if you save a person’s life, you’re responsible for it.”
“This isn’t some cultures,” Lucy informed him, stopping in front of a door and sorting through the keys in her hand. “So let me be responsible for myself. I’m okay with that.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Apparently you don’t.” Justin stepped closer, wanting to yell at her rather than remain calm and reasonable, but yelling would get him nowhere. “You’re dealing with a dangerous situation, with dangerous men. You can’t handle that yourself.”
“So I’ll let the police handle it.” She unlocked the door and opened it, but didn’t immediately go inside. “After I clean up, I’m planning on going to the police and telling them everything I know.”
“Which is not necessarily the best idea.”
“Why not? What do you have against the police? You haven’t wanted me to go to them from the first.”
“The police can’t protect you in a situation like this.”
“And you can? But why would you want to? And don’t give me the responsible for my life ploy—”
“I’m a private investigator,” he finally admitted. “This is what I do.”
“You’re a P.I.? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Not wanting to go into it, Justin said, “I was trying to have a time-out.”
Lucy gave him an intense look as if she was trying to get inside his head. “Why do I think there’s more to this story?” she asked.
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Now certainly wasn’t the right time to tell her he’d let a client get killed—which would be a real confidence builder. How could it not be when he’d lost confidence in himself? “Right now, let’s concentrate on your situation.”
She thought about it for a moment. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to make up her mind. There was something in her expression…something that stirred him. And suddenly her answer became even more important to him than he’d realized. Not that he could explain it, not even to himself.
“Come inside,” Lucy finally said, taking the lead.
Her capitulation let him breathe normally again when he hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath. With a sense of relief, Justin followed her inside, entering something of a fantasyland.
While the furniture was mostly plain and upholstered in a pale butter-yellow, the walls were a deep, brilliant blue and decorated with a few colorful Mardi Gras posters and masks—sequined and feathered and papier-mêchéd. The effect was stunning, the room a reflection of the talented woman who’d decorated it.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked.
“A soda would be good.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back a moment later with two cans. “Your choice.”
He picked the orange and she opened the top on the root beer. She tilted back her head to take a drink, and for a moment he was mesmerized by the lovely length of her neck.
A neck he would like to nuzzle and taste….
To dispel the thoughts wandering in the wrong direction, Justin opened his can and took a long slug, as if that would cool him down.
Lucy said, “You know, while I saw the murder, I have no clue as to the identities of the men involved. Or of the victim, for that matter. So if I don’t go to the police, where do you propose we start?”
“With the victim. Murder victims get media coverage.”
“So if we figure out the identity of the woman who was murdered, then what?”
“Then we investigate her.”
She thought about it for a moment before saying, “You think you can do it—find the murderer, I mean?”
“Like I said, that’s what I do.”
“Then what?”
“Then we turn him over to the police. I have a couple of contacts in the department.”
“I thought cops and P.I.s didn’t get along.”
“Not in the movies. Without conflict, you wouldn’t have a sto
ry. This is real life…though every case is different when you’re talking cooperation. How much credibility a P.I. has depends on his reputation.”
“All right, I’ll try it your way first.”
“We can start in the morning.”
“Where do I find you?”
Justin moved in on her, saying, “Actually, that won’t be hard since I’m taking you home with me.”
Her eyes widened and he swore he saw a touch of panic in their depths when she said, “I don’t think so.”
“Hard to protect you long-distance. So if you insist on staying here, I suppose I can bunk on the couch tonight.”
“Why would I need protection here? Those two don’t know where to find me.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
“I had my wallet and therefore all my identification in my pocket.”
“But they could have gotten a look at your license plates,” Justin told her. “You don’t know what kind of contacts these men have. They could already have this address.”
Lucy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, no. Then Dana is in danger, too.”
“Does she look like you?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think it’s a problem. They got a good look at you, remember, and they’re not going to involve yet another person if they don’t have to. Though if you want to be extra-safe, you could suggest Dana stay with relatives or a friend for a few days.”
Justin could see that he’d upset Lucy. Now she was worried for her friend and for herself. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but he didn’t trust himself to make the comforting gesture without letting it turn into something else. Besides, he could only do his best. Nothing in life seemed guaranteed lately.
Though Lucy hadn’t given him an answer about staying at his place, Justin decided to take that for granted. “You said you wanted to get cleaned up.”
“Right. I’ll be quick. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
Lucy hurried up the stairs and Justin fought the temptation to follow her to see that she was safe. He had to give her some credit. If he tried to be too protective, he would suffocate her, and Lucy didn’t seem to be the type of woman who would tolerate smothering.
In Dreams Page 5