A Cold Day in Hell

by Stella Cameron

  “Keep ’em away from that kook Chuzah,” Matt said. “As far as I know, he’s a stranger to everyone in town, but that doesn’t stop a lot of folks from being scared of him. Some of the older ones have a lot of tales to tell, but for all their talk, they go into the swamp whispering and come out with little bags of stuff in their pockets. Folks say he’s high up on the food chain.” He paused and raised his brows. “You know what food chain I mean? They also say folks have disappeared in that swamp and nothing was ever found of them later. Not as much as a bone. Boys are going to push things like that, but impress on them they shouldn’t go near the man again.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Angel said. He wondered how Matt would take it if he told him he thought Chuzah might have healed a bullet wound in Aaron.

  Matt turned to Eileen. “You don’t think Chuck could have had anything to do with what happened at Angel’s—”

  “It wasn’t Chuck,” Eileen said abruptly. The pink had gone from her face, replaced by an unnatural pallor. “He did come to Angel’s house right after that other man was on the roof, but he didn’t try to do anything bad to us. He thinks he wants to get to know Aaron again.”

  Matt hooked his elbows over the back of his chair. “I wondered what Moggeridge’s angle is for being here. I guess I still do. Nothing was ever simple with Chuck. Be careful around him, Eileen, and don’t hesitate to pick up the phone if you need my help. Anytime, day or night, mind.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She sounded breathless.

  Eileen would not be needing Matt’s help, Angel thought.

  Matt’s eyes sharpened and Angel could almost hear his mind moving. “Someone did get on the roof, though,” he said.

  Angel tried to send warning glances at Eileen but she was deliberately not looking at him.

  “Chuck doesn’t like heights,” Eileen said. “He’s afraid when he’s on the rigs. Only money makes him go.”

  Shoot, Angel hated to hear her make excuses for the bastard.

  “Whoever did it wanted to frighten us,” Eileen said.

  Us. There it was again and Matt was no dummy, not that it mattered if he knew Angel and Eileen were lovers, or it wouldn’t if Eileen wasn’t likely to be mortified to have the tub event spread around.

  “How many bullets do you think were fired?” Matt said, in the most gentle of voices.

  “Two,” Eileen said promptly. “One hit the edge of the tub and bounced away. It shattered one of the wall mirrors. “If Angel hadn’t moved so fast, I think the second shot would have got both of us.”

  “Interesting,” Matt said. “How do you think that would have happened?”

  “It would probably have gone through Angel’s back and into me, only Angel got us out of the tub too fast for the guy to get the next shot off properly. I expect the skylight was steamed up…too.”

  She paused with her lips pushed forward and her eyes very wide open. No one responded.

  Eileen cleared her throat. “Angel’s got great reflexes. We hid in the shower so the…the angle was too hard for the man on the roof to get us.”

  Angel closed his eyes for an instant. As the saying went, more or less, it was hard to stop a speeding train once its brakes gave out.

  “But he did intend to hit us with that second bullet,” Eileen said. “He shot a hole in the bottom of the tub. Water went everywhere.”

  15

  Rusty Barnes’s house stood a short distance from Bayou Nezpique about twelve miles south of town. He owned the house and kept it in pretty good shape. Neighboring houses were visible but not close.

  This was Gracie’s afternoon off and she arrived home planning a long soak in the tub later, a nail job and maybe a nap—unless something on TV interested her. But first she’d attend to some business. Gracie always attended to business.

  She parked at the side of the house, got out and walked to the back. It worked well, living with Rusty. Mostly their hours separated them. They had their habits and kept to them. He used the front door, she climbed the steps to the gallery overlooking the bayou and went in that way.

  At the edge of a sloping, waterlogged lawn, willows dipped their branches into the slowly moving bayou. She saw a pirogue, its single inhabitant standing in the narrow wooden boat to navigate his way upstream. He wore oilskins and looked like a man from any place but Louisiana where heat was what they knew best.

  Gracie opened the screen door and let herself into the house. Rusty had added her rental apartment on to one side of the structure. The rest of the house was his domain although she was at ease wandering around there when she felt like it. He had a main floor and a loft. The loft was her favorite place and Rusty had told her to use it as long as he wasn’t there.

  No loafing around in the loft this afternoon. This evening she was working at the Boardroom and she had her reasons for wanting to look her best.

  In the apartment, she made a rapid pass-through, picking up in the living room, the kitchen and eating nook, and the bedroom. Most of her time in the apartment was spent in the bedroom, which she’d made into the hideaway she’d always wanted. She had picked every item carefully: a blond wood four-poster bed with frilly white organza drapes and a matching spread, heaps of soft, embroidered pillows and a white carpet she’d talked Rusty into since she was the first tenant and signed—almost in blood—that she’d be responsible for any damages.

  She kicked off her shoes and sighed at the softness beneath her feet. Worth signing in anything Rusty wanted to ask for.

  Shedding clothes as she went, Gracie grabbed her fluffy, white terry robe and hurried into the bathroom to take a rapid shower. The bath would come later. For now she enjoyed drying and mussing her short curly hair, smoothing jasmine-scented lotion over her skin and wrapping herself in the robe.

  Back in the bedroom she could see fog forming over the bayou and the shapes of the willows turning smudgy beyond rain-splashed windows. Being in her own little place on a day like this was heaven. After all the rotten things life had sent her way, she was finally her own woman. Standing on her own feet, making her own decisions, she had learned how to get what she wanted. Men didn’t push her around anymore.

  She got a glass of chilled white wine from the kitchen, pulled her wicker chair in front of the windows and settled into the plump, floral cushions.

  From here on, Gracie Loder would call all the shots.

  It was payback time.

  Just faintly, she heard a car engine. It gradually grew louder, then stopped near the house.

  Gracie smiled and sipped her wine. Sure her tummy flipped around a bit, but tension excited her.

  Soon footsteps jogged up the wooden steps to the back gallery and her intercom rang. She took her time getting up. When she opened the channel, she said, “It’s not locked, I’m through the door behind the staircase to the loft,” and cut off at once so she had time to return to her chair.

  Looking down at herself, she crossed her legs, let the robe fall open all the way past her hip. A little loosening of the belt and her cleavage, which didn’t need any help, was impossible to miss.

  He came into the apartment and closed the door. The carpets dulled his footsteps. “Gracie?”

  “Straight ahead,” she called. “In the bedroom.”

  Very quickly and lightly, she smoothed a hand under a lapel and over one breast. The nipple stood erect and she shuddered. So she liked sex—nothing wrong with that.

  He came in, closing the door again, and walked immediately up behind her.

  Without a word, he kissed her neck and whispered, “Hi, Gracie,” in her ear. She offered him her glass.

  “You’ve been in town more than a week,” she said. “What took you so long to come and see me, Chuck?”

  “I’ve got to play things smart this time.”

  She sniffed. “We played things smart before. You played it so smart I didn’t know you’d left town till someone told me. You wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t run into me at the Boardroom.”


  “Yeah, and you were a good girl that night. You kept your mouth shut—and you’ll keep it shut. I’m a nice guy so I let you know I was coming back to town. I didn’t make any promises.”

  She was going to close him down before he got started pushing her around. “If you want anything from me, you’ll treat me the way I want to be treated.”

  “You asked me to come here today…no, you told me.” Chuck bit a fingernail, never taking his hard eyes from her face. “We can have a nice chat about old times and be friendly, or I can walk out. Either way, I’m not listening to your bitching. When we were together before I never offered you anything. I didn’t have anything to offer. You knew the score.”

  His tone surprised her. “Not when we met, I didn’t.” She had hated him for that.

  “History,” he said shortly.

  “I hear you’ve taken a job with Duhon’s,” Gracie said. “You’ll be working for that Angel DeAngelo. Why do that when you can see he hates your guts?”

  “The money’s good.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Money.” With Chuck it had always been all about money.

  He rested his fingers on either side of her neck and gradually slid them along her shoulders, knocking the robe down until it showed off a lot of flesh. She didn’t try to change a thing. “Let’s go at this another way,” she said. “Why would Angel hire you?”

  Chuck laughed. “To keep me under his nose and thumb probably. I don’t give a shit why. He won’t stop me from getting what I want.”

  Her heart beat faster. “What’s that?”

  Again, he laughed. “Everything I’ve got coming. Don’t worry your head about it.”

  He took the wine back, drained the glass and threw it on the floor. It bounced against the wall and broke.

  “Gaddammit,” Gracie said, enraged. “Why d’you do that?”

  “Because I could. Nice bank shot, huh? I want you to remember, every day of your life, that there’s nothing about you that I can’t break if I want to.”

  Sudden changes in his mood were all too familiar. She started to get up but he grabbed her arm and swung her to her feet in front of him. His smile didn’t disguise the mean gleam in his eyes.

  “If I were you,” she said, keeping her voice down, “I’d be real careful how you treat me. If you want to make a good impression in this town, you won’t give me any ammunition. And don’t doubt I’d use it.”

  He laughed, pulled her painfully close and kissed her full on the mouth, pushing his tongue into her throat.

  Why, even after all her promises to herself, was he still able to excite her? Already she was slick and throbbing. She would have to keep a tight hold on herself because her intention was to make him regret what he couldn’t have anymore, not to give it to him.

  Chuck raised his face and stared at her. “If you could have sunk me, you’d have done it years ago.”

  She curled her lip. “If I could have done it without hurting myself in the process, you mean? You are so right.” She spat in his face—didn’t mean to, but couldn’t control the urge.

  He wiped the back of a hand across his cheek. “That was stupid. But you are stupid. Now it’s time to get everything straight.” With one forefinger he unhooked her belt and pulled it from the loops. The robe, already precariously balanced, fell to the floor. She loved the hunger in his eyes.

  “Remember what we used to like so much?” he asked, advancing, passing his tongue over his lips. “I bet you’re still a little acrobat with flying feet.”

  “You wrote all that off when you walked out on me,” Gracie said. “There’s just one thing I want from you—respect. When you see me around this town, you’ll treat me like a lady, understand?”

  He shook his head and the look on his face was incredulous. “Lady? Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Laugh away. If you’ve got some idea of wheedling your way back into Eileen’s good graces, you’d better make sure there’s no reason for anyone to think we’ve got a past.”

  He passed a forefinger from one of her collarbones to the other. “You don’t have to worry about me. All you have to do is remember that I can’t afford wagging tongues. And neither can you.”

  “Keep your mouth shut and listen.” She swallowed past a dry throat. He’d always been one to turn nasty, but she could control him. “I get along with everyone in Pointe Judah and I want to keep it that way.”

  He slapped her, suddenly and hard across the top of one arm. She fell back, rubbing the skin.

  “Are you getting my message?” he said. The expression disappeared from his face, just the way it used to when he started into his games.

  She shouldn’t be naked with him. She shouldn’t have deliberately made sure he got turned on. Keeping her eyes on him, she ducked to pick up her robe.

  Chuck yanked it from her hands and threw it on the bed. And his hand connected with her bottom, so viscously that tears sprang into her eyes. She held her ground, stood tall and felt grateful her heavy breasts showed no sign of drooping.

  He walked around her, briefly touching the place where his hand had connected. “Feel good?” he said. “Does the sting still sex you up?” Another blow landed on her other buttock and she tightened the aching flesh between her legs. She looked at him over her shoulder, glaring, baring her teeth. How easy it was to slip back into the old behavior.

  “Stop it,” she told him. “I’m respectable. I’ve got friends. You’ll get run out of town if anyone finds out about this.”

  “This?” He smiled, dipped his head and bit her left nipple until she beat at his head.

  He released her and said, “If you see me—anywhere—you’ll nod, got it? Just like we’re acquaintances. And there was never anything stronger with us than a meal together now and then.” Chuck stripped off his shirt.

  “Get out,” she told him. She’d fantasized about having him here in this room, doing the things they used to do together. The way he was today, she still wanted the sex but he made her nervous. She had so much to lose this time—but she wanted him. However, she intended to be the one who called all the shots when Chuck came running.

  He kicked off his shoes and his pants followed his shirt. Black bikini briefs stayed where they were—even if they did have a life of their own.

  Gracie trembled. A pure thrill heated her. She put her hands on her hips.

  Chuck grinned and started a slow hand clap, alternately slapping her breasts lightly between each beat. “You always did know how to make the best of everything you’ve got,” he said. “I didn’t know how much I’d missed you till I walked in here.”

  “I want you to get out of here,” she told him. “And I mean it, Chuck. If you give me any trouble, I’ll mess things up for you.”

  “Oh, sure, you’ll mess things up for me. And it’ll go both ways. People will find out what you did behind Eileen’s back and you’ll be on the outside, just like you used to be, and just that fast.”

  Her eyes stung, but anger made her strong. “When we met you let me think you were single.”

  “I didn’t see you go running when you found out I was married.”

  Working on the rigs had made sure he stayed hard-bodied. Today he was hard all over and the purpose in his stance didn’t mean he would walk away quietly without getting what he needed.

  “Are you really here just to be around Aaron?” She had a good idea what Chuck wanted but she wanted to hear him spell it out.

  “No,” he said. “I’ve got much bigger plans.”

  She just bet he did.

  “Eileen’s made a real success of things,” she said. “You didn’t expect that to happen, did you?”

  His face darkened. “Sure I did. She’s a smart girl. I should have given her more credit.”

  “Is that what you think you’re going to do now, give Eileen credit? Do you think you can wheedle your way back in and get your hands on what she’s built up?”

  A blow to her midsection, just under her diaphragm, stu
nned her. She fell to her knees, winded, gagging, curled over.

  She fought through the pain and expected him to hit her again. When nothing happened, she looked up through eyes swimming in tears.

  “It’s a hell of a thing,” Chuck said evenly. “You just look better and better from every angle.”

  “Pig,” Gracie said through her teeth. She dragged herself to her feet and crossed her arms, keeping her face down. “I want to forget about all of it.”

  “But you can’t forget what you like, can you?” Chuck said. He closed in, spun her around and slid his hands beneath her arms. Holding a breast in each large hand, he walked her to stand beside the bed. He turned her to face him. “And you can’t forget who can give you what you like and do it the best anybody can do it.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Hit me,” he said.

  Gracie’s skin turned cold. Then she heated up inside.

  Chuck took her by the throat and hauled her against him, dragged her breasts back and forth across the hair on his chest. “I told you to hit me.” He let her go and took a step backward.

  A beat set up in Gracie’s temples, she felt it in her throat, heard it in her ears. She rubbed her hands together, then pushed him.

  His body didn’t shift. “This isn’t the woman I knew,” he said, sneering at her. “The woman I knew could hit hard enough to make me mad. She made me mad enough I had to take her apart. And we both enjoyed that.”

  “I like to make you happy.” She crooked a strong leg and jackknifed her heel into his ribs. He flinched, let out a sharp breath, but didn’t try to touch her. A gradual smile took over his expression.

  All the saliva in her mouth had drained away. She sweated. And she slapped him with her right hand, then with her left, the fingers spread, the impact shooting through her wrists. Both blows landed just above the waist, at his sides. There would be marks. Gracie looked into his face—that’s where they never made marks. Any bruises must be where clothes covered them.

  She toppled over, knocked off balance by a single, unexpected shove. On her knees, Grace lunged at his legs with her fists.

  Chuck grabbed both of her wrists and stood with a foot clamped on either side of her knees. “You know what to do,” he told her. “Do it.”