by Lori Leger
Green Eyed Temptation
Halos & Horns: Book One
By
LORI LEGER
Copyright © 2012 Cajunflair Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-940305-31-8
Cajunflair Publishing Assigned
(Smashwords Edition License Notes)
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgment
Glossary of Cajun Terminology
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Other Work by Lori Leger
Series Poster 1
Series Poster 2
About the Author
DEDICATION
To my wonderful husband, Michael…
you will always be my hero.
And to our grandchildren, from seventeen to under a year, you are all adored!
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Special thanks to Kim Killion of The Killion Group
for the fabulous cover design, yet again.
www.hotdamndesigns.com
Also to the two tiny book stores with big hearts who carried my books long before anyone else did:
Sean and James Gayle of Patti’s Book Nook in My old home town of Gueydan, La.
www.pattisbooknook.com and
Christy Lepretre of Java Joltz in Jennings, La.
www.facebook.com/Java Joltz
Glossary of Cajun Terminology
Bon Dieu – Good God
Mon ami – My friend
Bonjour – Good day
Sit tois – Sit!
Ici - Here
Comment to ye? – How’ve you been?
Ca cest bon – It is good
Monsieur – Mr.
Merde – shit
Mon coeur – my heart
Tete dure – hard headed, stubborn
Pere et Mere – Father and Mother
vieille femme – old lady
Vieux verrat! – Old boar
Bouche ta gueule – shut your mouth
Bien bon—very good
Merci beaucoup—thank you very much
Inutile – useless
Arret ca – Stop that
Mais non – But no
Chere – dear
Fais pas ca – Don’t do that
Mange – eat
En francaise – in French
Sil vous plait – if you please
Mardi Gras – Fat Tuesday
Laissez les bon temps rouler! – Let the good times roll!
PROLOGUE
Austin, Texas
Black Stetson in hand, his jeans worn and faded, Liam Nash knelt in front of the granite headstone. He reached out with his opposite hand and traced the first inscription.
My Wife and Child, My Loves, My Life …
He’d read the words hundreds of times over the last year, but today’s visit lacked the overwhelming feeling of loss he usually felt by now.
Resting his hand on the head stone, he lifted his face to absorb the warmth of the sun’s rays and allowed a particular memory to wash over him. The image of his beautiful Kimberly the last time he’d seen her alive filled him with a feeling of joy, both sweet and melancholy. It had taken a year of hard work and learning to forgive himself for her death. He could finally smile at the tender memory of Kim, seated in a rocker in the just finished nursery, her hands gently caressing her protruding belly.
He moved his hand to the smaller inscription, as fingertips traced the name and birthday of his infant son. Because Kim had been eight months pregnant when she died, he’d asked the coroner to deliver the baby so his mother could be buried holding her child. She’d waited so long, and it was the last thing he’d been able to do for her.
He remembered well the first time he’d set eyes on Nicholas, nestled in the arms of his mother. His son had his mother’s nose and the stubborn set of his father’s chin, as well as his mouth and ears. The pain of seeing them together, arranged so perfectly had nearly done him in.
Somehow, he’d managed to survive the wake and funeral. Somehow, he’d managed to be there to comfort Kim’s parents, devastated over losing their youngest child and grandchild. He’d even comforted her siblings—his two brothers in law who would never again tease the kid sister they’d nicknamed Kaybee before she even walked. He knew they would be haunted by the tiny, but perfect face on the last 3D ultrasound she’d emailed her big brothers of their newest nephew. Her death created a huge void in the lives of everyone who knew and loved her.
He’d been strong for everyone until the funeral was over. Then he’d tended to himself the only way he knew. He had run as far and as fast as he could, away from everything that reminded him of the wife and child he’d lost.
He’d tried to move on, but learned the hard way that you couldn’t build a future while running from a past. Everywhere he’d turned there had been a roadblock, and he’d hurt people. One person, in particular, had been heartbroken. His biggest failure had been to hurt the one person who’d been nothing but good and loving to him.
That sin had prompted him to return here to face his demons. Here, in the place he’d spent the happiest days of his life, as well as the most miserable, he’d found the peace he’d been so desperately seeking. He’d begged forgiveness from his wife and son for not being able to keep them from harm. He’d visited Kaybee’s parents, and cried with her brothers. It hadn’t come easily…had taken a full year to feel the forgiveness he’d searched for and finally found. It was as though Kim had laid a hand over his heart, freeing him from the pain and guilt that had plagued him.
It had taken five long years of running and facing up to it, but he’d finally accepted it as God’s will, and truly believed there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.
He stood up, and dusted off the knees of his jeans before bending at the waist to place a gentle kiss on the headstone. “I love you both,” he murmured. “Goodbye Babe.”
After passing one hand through his hair, he placed his Stetson back on his head and took two steps back. Finally prepared to get back to his life, he turned and walked away from his past—and into his future.
The very same day, Lafayette, Louisiana
“Get in there, you bitch!”
Sarah Richard winced as her estranged husband, shoved her into the bedroom of the grungy apartment he
’d set himself up in. She barely managed to keep herself from slamming against the opposite wall. She turned, trying to focus on Troy through the eye nearly swollen shut. Her “husband” hadn’t wasted any time giving her a slap the second he’d driven her away from the hospital. Her first phase of the lesson he’d no doubt be inflicting upon her in his own time. She was used to it. Used to running from it. Used to him eventually catching up with her. This time she’d managed to escape him for two months, only to have some well-meaning police officer in the Lafayette, Louisiana Police Department inform him of her whereabouts. After being knocked unconscious during an untimely car accident, they’d found Troy’s name listed on the registration papers of her car as the owner. By the time she’d been lucid enough to ask about her babies, he’d removed them from the hospital already. He’d wasted no time in bartering their babies for her silence and submission.
“The twins, Troy. Please. Where are my babies?”
He pointed to a closed door on the west wall of the bedroom. “They’re in the bathroom. It’s good you’re here, because I sure as hell ain’t changing anymore shitty diapers.”
“You—you left them here—alone?” She flew to the door, her heart thudding wildly as she prayed her babies were safe. She pushed it opened, released her breath in a rush as two heads of golden curls turned her direction. Their immediate cries at the sight of her sent her milk running from her breasts. “Oh, God.” Ignoring her own pain, she fell to the floor before them, checking for bruises. “Did you hurt them?”
“Do they look hurt?” His hateful snarl made the hair at the back of her neck prickle with fear.
She turned her gaze on him. “You took them from the hospital twenty-four hours ago. Please tell me you’ve fed them.”
“Sugar water.”
“Not even canned formula?”
“Sugar water shuts them up—for a while.”
She clenched her jaw, ignoring the pain. “I need to nurse them.” She reached for the buttons on her shirt, knowing better than to ask for privacy.
“Yeah. You do that.”
He turned, left the room while she nursed her famished twins, feeding them in two sessions each to keep their hunger induced cries to a minimum. Troy couldn’t abide screaming infants; he’d made that message abundantly clear on numerous occasions. She still bore the scars to prove it—would gladly collect more if it kept this animal from touching her daughters. With one baby sated enough to fall asleep, the whir of a power drill reached her, making her stomach flip in uneasiness. The tell-tale sound of screws chewing through solid wood told her his plans. She’d seen and heard him install enough locks on her doors and windows to know she wouldn’t be leaving this prison anytime soon. Finally, with both girls well fed and sound asleep on the full size bed, she made her way to the bathroom. Thankfully, she found a large bottle of generic aspirin. She popped three with a cup of water and re-entered the bedroom hoping to rest beside the twins.
He stood there at the door, waiting for her, his icy glare dark with fury.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?”
“Then why go through the trouble of keeping me around?”
“Because you’re mine, Sarah. And the day I’ll let you go will be the day one of us dies.”
She forced herself not to cower as he took two steps toward her.
“And I’m just the right amount of pissed off to make that a reality for one of us.” He grabbed her hair, jerked her from the bedroom into the tiny living/kitchen combo area.
“I’ve got to go to work in an hour, but that’s plenty enough time to remind you why you should never—” He accentuated the word with a slap to her head. “Ever—” A slap came from the opposite hand. “Try to run from me, Sarah. You want to scream after I leave?” He sent her an evil leer. “You go right ahead. This ain’t the Ritz, babe. This apartment is flanked by a sexual pervert who got off on a technicality. He likes ‘em young.” He glanced at the bedroom door for emphasis. “Real young. The guy’s a real pig.” He pointed toward the opposite wall. “The big guy on this side gets his jollies by cutting on women after he rapes them. Seems he’s got a judge in his pocket. So, scream. Knock yourself out.”
He wrapped one hand around her neck, gave his brow a curious lift. “How about it, Sarah? Want to make some noise?”
Filled with equal parts terror and dread, she could only shake her head.
He smiled and went to work on her then, making good on his promise to refresh her memory. She prayed for deliverance from his angry fists, but only until she blacked out.
CHAPTER 1
Late February
Angelique Baptiste carved a quick path through the crowded dance floor toward the bar area. She kept a close eye on the tall, well-dressed guy, the same one who’d been ogling her for the last hour. He circled the perimeter of the dancers to reach the bar a few seconds before she did.
She brushed her hair back from her face before walking up to a vacant bar stool. Just as she placed her hand on it, the guy in question covered her hand with his own. His hand, large, but well-manicured and soft, looked as though it had never lifted anything heavier than a fork or a pen in its life. He reeked of money.
Her gaze locked onto a pair of brilliant blue eyes, owned by one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. Angie took a moment to appreciate the physical appearance of the man standing before her. Blond, blue eyed, buff, and looking as though he’d just stepped off of the beach, even though it was the end of winter. She narrowed her eyes, curious as to the source of the tan. Although he was as handsome as any male model she’d ever seen, and built enough to peak her interest, he had the look of someone who spent more time in front of a mirror than she did.
Bummer.
“Excuse me, is this your chair?” she asked.
“It is, but I’m always ready to make a sacrifice for a woman as beautiful as you.”
She smiled at the line she was sure had been used on a multitude of occasions. Smooth as a baby’s bottom. Just like that, she had him pegged. This guy was obviously a player. A smooth talkin’, momma’s boy of a player, used to using daddy’s money to get his own way.
She smiled sweetly, and pulled her hand back from under his. “Keep your chair. I’m not interested.”
She watched him shake his head, as though he was shocked at getting turned down, and waited for his next doomed attempt to pick her up.
“Look, is it a sin to want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?”
Angelique stepped back for a head to toe perusal before giving her head a quick shake. “You don’t want to dance. You want what I can’t give you. I don’t play those games.” Anymore, she added silently.
The man cocked his head. “And you got all that from two sentences?”
“Absolutely. And more.”
“I’m intrigued. Mind if I hear the rest?”
Angelique chuckled. “Trust me, Golden Boy. You don’t want to hear what I have to say about you.”
His eyes narrowed perceptibly at the nickname she gave him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Definitely not.” She turned toward the bartender. “Hey, Bryn, could I have a Grey Goose martini, extra olives? Make it dirty, please.” She turned as she heard the man clear his throat.
He swiveled the bar stool so that she could seat herself. “I really would like to hear all about your perception of me, however warped I believe it may be.”
Angelique straightened to her full height and lifted her chin to meet his blue eyed gaze. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He gave her a gallant bow. “I wouldn’t dare.”
She cleared her throat. “Okay then. You’re a player, and you have been for years. You’re the type of guy who doesn’t give a damn if you leave a date, or a girlfriend, or a wife waiting at home and wondering where you are, while you’re out playing touchy feely with another woman. And you wouldn’t even care if it’s a friend’s woman. You’re obviously sp
oiled. You’ve been raised with a silver spoon in your mouth and are far too used to getting your way. You are selfish, self-centered, and conceited, and that tan—Is that spray-on, or from a tanning bed?”
She waved off the beginnings of his indignant reply. “Doesn’t matter—whatever it is, it tells me that you spend far too much time in front of a mirror. I cannot abide a man who primps more than I do. It’s not natural, and frankly, it’s a huge turn off.”
She took one of his hands in hers and examined it. “Soft,” she said. “Too damn soft. I bet you’ve never gotten dirt under those nails, or God forbid, blisters on those palms from anything other than maybe a tennis racquet from that exclusive club you belong to. And maybe patting your own self on the back. You definitely don’t know what it’s like to do any kind of physical labor.”
Angelique flipped her hair off her shoulder and placed both hands on her hips. “Had enough?”
His eyes widened curiously. “Is there more?”
“Not without having a real conversation, and I doubt you’d be interested after all that. As a matter of fact,” she said, checking her watch, “I figure you’ll be heading off to find a more receptive audience any second now.”
The man crossed his arms and stood there, looking as though he’d settled in for the night. “Mind if I say something?”
She nodded. “By all means, defend away.”
“Although I do play tennis occasionally, my sport of choice is baseball and I got plenty of blisters from that, playing from the age of five all the way through college,” he said. “Oh, and the tan is natural. I just got back from my time share in the Hawaiian Islands.”