Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Nitro shrugged. “The M1911’s for my up-close and personal work. Now, if you’d given me the contract, I’d have brought my Barrett MRAD. With that baby, I could probably shoot you in your living room… from here.” The skin pulled back from his teeth in a macabre grin.

  Revulsion shuddered up the back of Chaz’s neck. He’d thought Pete was a sick fuck? The man was an infant next to this Viper headcase.

  “Another bullet hole here.” Pete stood a few meters back, closer to the shack, examining the bark of a tree. He dug out the round and shot Nitro a shit-eating grin. “This one’s mine. It’s two-to-one, man.”

  “As much as I’m enjoying this stroll through the woods with you girls, the big boys are waiting for me.”

  Chaz stiffened at the reminder. If The Carver didn’t approve the alternatives to meth lacing Chaz had gone over with Nitro, the man probably would be putting a bullet through his head with that Barrett.

  Head down, he followed the messy trail left by fast moving feet. As children, Rémi had been the most light-footed of their trio, but not today. Their tracks might as well have been illuminated with running lights like an airplane aisle. Minutes later, he smelled it: the metallic odor of blood. Slowing his steps, he searched the ground until he spotted a blood smear at the base of a tree. Crouching down, he touched it and rubbed his fingers, then brought them closer to his face. “Fresh.”

  Pushing to his feet, he eyed the surrounding trees. The bark on each had been shredded, sprayed with bullets. Pete’s handiwork. His gaze cut to the man and he sneered. “I swear, Pete. If you fucked this up for me, I’m going to kill you. And it won’t be with a bullet, ‘cause that’s too fast. I’ll cure you like those fucking cannabis plants. Hang you upside down, slit your throat, and leave you there until you’re all dried up.” He moved closer to Pete, getting up in the man’s grill. “I’ll crumple your skin, roll you into a gigantic motherfucking joint, and smoke you.”

  Pete’s fists curled at his side, but he held back whatever venom he wanted to spew.

  When Chaz reached the riverbank, he quickly identified a flattened spot where a blanket had been laid out. Something red lay on the ground, partially concealed by a bush. Leaning down, he pulled it out and swung it between his fingers. A red bikini top.

  “Looks like your cousin got himself a little tail,” Nitro said. Something in his tone sounded off. Chaz turned to see the man’s face twist into a grimace. So the thought of an Indian with a white woman disgusted him? At least they had that in common.

  “Yeah, before Pete shot the bitch.” Chaz balled the bikini top and threw it into the trees before glaring at Pete. “You know how self-righteous Rémi is. He’s going to come after us with all the zeal of a missionary.”

  “What the fuck’s your problem? You asked that asswipe to scare her off, and it obviously didn’t work because she’s still here. Maybe now she’ll leave. And if she’s dead, I’ll handle it.”

  “You better.” Chaz spun around, trampling over the bushes and leaves on his way back to his Silverado. No need to be careful. If the bitch had died in Rémi’s arms, a trail to the pot would be the least of his problems.

  CHAPTER 12

  Rémi wiped the last of the blood off Alyssa’s forehead and dropped the washcloth into the bowl. Reddened water splashed onto the pale pine nightstand. He kept seeing her fall, kept seeing the blood in her hair. He’d thought she’d been shot in the head. Thought he’d lost her.

  Alyssa moaned in her sleep. He brushed his knuckles across her pale cheeks. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured.

  When her eyelids fluttered open, he took note of her pupils. Same size, no dilation. He blew out a breath. One symptom eliminated.

  “Rémi?” she said, focusing on his face.

  “Right here, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Any trouble seeing?”

  She shook her head, then winced. “Where am I?”

  “In my room.”

  Frowning, she struggled to sit up. He slipped a supportive arm around her shoulders and plumped the pillows behind her. “Easy there. You’ve got a nasty bump on your head.” And he had to rule out a concussion. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “Someone was shooting at us. I tripped and hit my head. I also remember you rowing like a crazy person.” She grinned.

  Fucking A. He’d never rowed so fast in his life. As a first responder, he dealt with injuries almost daily, but everything was different with her.

  “I thought you were going to bleed out in the canoe.” The bleeding had stopped by the time they’d reached the boat launch. Yeah, he probably should have headed straight for the hospital, and he would have, except that she’d awakened when he’d been putting her into the car. There’d been no hint of slurred speech, and she’d been alert. Still, a few days of rest would be in order.

  She tilted her head to the side, searching his face. “You thought I’d been shot.”

  He kept his eyes on her shoulder, avoiding her face. “Bullets were flying and you went down. By the time I got to you, you were covered in blood.” He shuddered at the memory.

  Alyssa put her hand on his thigh. “You were worried.”

  Worried? Hardly. He’d been fucking terrified. To a degree he hadn’t experienced in years. Not since he’d been a kid. Adulthood had brought with it a different kind of horror. The events of a person’s life were like a domino layout, where every decision, every mistake was connected to the one after it. All it took was one miscalculation to destroy everything.

  Under false pretenses, he’d taken her into secluded areas. He’d purposely sought out potential sites for marijuana growing. But he hadn’t kept the gun with him. Worse still, he hadn’t even told her his suspicions so she could be on her guard. Instead, he’d gotten caught up in the romantic atmosphere and indulged himself. Leaving them wide open to an attack. He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I’m so sorry, Alyssa.”

  “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known someone would mistake us for deer.” She laughed, but it sounded nothing like her usual melodic notes.

  “You know that’s not what happened.”

  Her eyes glistened, and she dug her fingers into the blanket covering her legs. “Looks like the pig-killer is acting on his threat.”

  The trembling of her bottom lip made him feel like a bastard. “Not necessarily.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He paused and swallowed. “We surprised someone.”

  Understanding lit up her face. “Someone who’s hiding something he’d kill to keep secret.”

  His finger toyed with the leather thong still wrapped around her wrist. She’d been so playful, so sexy. So alive. He rolled the thong off her wrist and, scraping his hair off his face, secured it at the base of his neck. Yeah, enough stalling. “What if the drugs are originating from the rez?”

  She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Are you thinking that shack could be something like the underground grow operation the SQ busted last year?”

  “Exactly.”

  She tugged on her lips with her fingers as she considered the possibility. “Those woods are certainly isolated enough. And with the air sovereignty, no one would know about any activity going on there unless they were purposely searching for it.”

  “Especially if it’s below ground.”

  Brushing off strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead, her fingers grazed the wound. She winced. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, guilt squeezing his heart. He should have protected her better.

  “That shack was pretty suspicious. Even before someone started shooting at us,” she said.

  “I think the first few rounds were probably aimed at the doe, but the following ones were definitely targeting us. This wasn’t a warning. We’re just lucky the bastard had lousy aim.” He released her hand, laying it gently on the blanket. “You should be pissed at me.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “I didn’t tell you about this befor
e we went in.”

  “But you didn’t actually know anything. And you still don’t. Until we investigate further, these are suppositions. That place might really be a simple hunter’s shack.” She folded her hands on her lap and played with the edge of the blanket.

  “Even so, we should share all our suspicions, all our secrets. That’s what partners do.”

  “Partners? Is that what we are?”

  She smiled, but the way she avoided his gaze made him wonder—was Alyssa keeping secrets? “Things are getting complicated. You have no jurisdiction on the rez and I have none anywhere else. You have resources with the SQ that I can only dream of, but I have connections on the rez that you can never have. We need to work together. Or we will fail.”

  Features tightening, she gripped the blanket and pulled it higher around her body. “Look, Rémi. I get what you’re saying, but I was undercover a long time, and even before that, I pretty much always worked alone. There’s not much room for a partner when you’re dressed like a prostitute working a street corner. It might take me a while to get used to this idea of”—she gestured between them—“exchanging ideas.”

  Ideas weren’t the only thing he wanted to exchange with her. Rip-roaring orgasms were high on his list. He grinned. “I’ll cut you some slack if you return the favor.”

  “Something’s going on in that head of yours. Now might be a good time to start exchanging.”

  He leaned forward and kissed the bridge of her nose. “You aren’t well enough for the type of exchange I have in mind.”

  Her arms slid around his neck and she smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to make sure I stay awake? A session of sharing and exchanging ideas might be the way to go.”

  Arousal added a sexy lilt to her tone that set him on fire. His cock lengthened and hardened. Shifting on the bed, he pressed his lips to the base of her throat. Her pulse beat a mad rhythm against his tongue as he licked her delicate skin. He’d let her set the pace. “You first,” he whispered and blew on the moistened spot.

  She shivered and tilted her head, giving him better access. “How are you with your hands?”

  “I can keep you coming for hours.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “You really do have a huge ego.”

  “How many guys do you know have a technique named after them?”

  “What technique?” she asked, her breath coming in little pants that turned him on.

  “It’s the best massage you’ll ever have. Inside and out.” Alyssa stared at him, adorably open-mouthed. He winked. “Prepare to be amazed, sweetheart.”

  What was going through her mind? Telepathy would be handy right now. Would Alyssa be shocked by what he was thinking—the two of them testing out every sexual position and technique he’d ever heard of, seen, or imagined? He wanted her every way humanly possible. And several ways that weren’t. But in deference to her injury, he’d force himself to keep things simple, safe, and pleasurable for her.

  The gymnastics would come later.

  Alyssa continued to stare in the direction of the adjoining bathroom for several long moments after Rémi had disappeared inside. Through the open door, she heard water splashing into the tub, cabinet doors being opened and closed. The lights went out, but a dim glow remained. Candles? She’d find out soon enough. Goosebumps pebbled her skin.

  While Rémi was busy getting things ready for her surprise, she surveyed her surroundings. His bedroom. On the nightstand, a lamp with a matching beaded fringe cast a soft glow across the bed. Her cell phone was also there. Rémi must have retrieved it from the riverbank along with the rest of their things while at the same time trying to escape from armed maniacs with her unconscious body. The man deserved a freaking medal. Beside the lamp, a picture frame showcased a photo of an older white couple. His grandparents?

  Turning her face into the pillow, she squinted at the photo. Rémi’s scent, pure and masculine, wafted up from the downy material. She pressed her face deeper and inhaled. A shiver rippled to her core.

  “Ready to be treated to a slice of awe and wonder?” Rémi asked, entering the room. Standing before her barefoot and bare-chested, a small towel—damn!—wrapped around his waist, he reminded her of a beautiful golden statue. The Greeks had nothing on him.

  Alyssa picked up the picture frame, cradling it in her hands. “In light of our recent agreement to share, do you want to start the ball rolling by telling me about these people?”

  Rémi climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside her to look at the photo. “Grandda and Nana, my father’s parents.”

  He’d never mentioned his father or his grandparents before. “Did you know them?”

  His expression turned soft, then bittersweet. He swept the room with his hand. “This is their house. They lived in Toronto but when they found out about me, they bought this place so they could be closer.”

  “What do you mean found out about you?”

  He took the frame from her and traced a finger over the faces of his grandparents, his eyes slightly dazed. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear this now?”

  More than anything. By the seriousness of his expression, it was obvious his parents’ history still had a huge impact on the man he was today. “Unless you’d rather not.”

  After placing the frame on the nightstand, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers. “I can count on one hand the people who know the details of what I’m about to tell you.” He inhaled deeply and let the air out in one long stream before continuing. “My mother left when she was seventeen to study nursing. The next spring, she met my father at a party. He was in the city with his friends on a weekend furlough. One thing led to another. The next day, he left and she never heard from him again.”

  Not so unusual for soldiers. She squeezed his hand. “And you were the reminder he left behind?”

  He snorted and tugged her closer against his side. “After my mother died, Grandfather went through her belongings and was able to pull some pieces together. When she found out she was pregnant, she sent letter after letter to the general address for the Canadian Armed Forces.” A sad smile crossed his lips. “All she knew about my father was his first name. Her letters addressed to ‘Shane’ never went anywhere.”

  Alyssa had lost count of the number of naïve young women she’d encountered on the streets of Montréal. Most of them too proud to admit they’d made a mistake. Alyssa pressed her free hand against Rémi’s chest. “Poor girl. Pregnant and alone at seventeen. Why didn’t she contact your grandfather? Surely he would have helped her?”

  Rémi stroked her hair, absently watching the strands slide through his fingers. “Grandfather was a little more radical back then. More like Chaz than Tommy, in fact. My mother disagreed with his philosophies, her view of the world being more simplistic than his. She told my grandfather she didn’t want to be locked away on a reserve like some wild animal, forced to follow archaic clan rules. She believed that the only way for her to survive in this society was to integrate.”

  To most aboriginals, integration was just another word for assimilation. “I can see how that position might not have gone over too well with your family.”

  He smiled. “Mom was a rebel, all right. I read her letters to my father. She was thrilled to be pregnant with a white man’s baby because she thought a half-white child would have an easier time being accepted into white society. And since she knew the family would be disappointed in her for not choosing a traditional Iroquois man, she stayed away.”

  His mother had shown an admirable strength of conviction. But that strength had also blinded her to the consequences for those around her, blinded her to the consequences for her child. “Did she ever manage to contact your father?”

  Rémi shook his head. “Without a family name or even a rank, the army could do nothing to help her. She stayed with some friends until I was born and then she went on welfare. Things just got worse from there. And that eventually led her to the very things she’d been tr
ying to avoid by leaving the rez.”

  “She turned to drugs and alcohol.” What a heart-breaking story. This explained so much about who Rémi was, why he always tried so hard to help people.

  “It started with pot but according to the people who knew her then, she quickly started doing heroin.”

  “I’m surprised the government didn’t swoop in and take you away from her.”

  “Maybe they didn’t care about one more aboriginal kid.” He shrugged. “Whatever the reason, I was with her until she died of an overdose. Then they called Grandfather and he brought me back to the rez.”

  “The way you described him with your mother sounds so different from how he is today.”

  “Grandfather changed after she died. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t done more to find her. She’d felt so ostracized, she hadn’t tried to approach him. Not once in seven years.”

  He’d survived his whole childhood with only a heroin-addicted mother to care for him? Wow. “How did he handle you being half white?”

  “Like I said, his attitude toward white people has changed considerably. He defended me fiercely whenever anyone criticized me or my mother. But for the most part, I think he ignored it.”

  “So how did your grandparents find out about you?”

  “When Grandfather went through her things and found the letters written to my father that had been returned, he also found a photo someone had taken of the two of them at the party. He hired a private investigator to find the man she called “Shane.” Turns out, even if she’d known my father’s full name, he would never have received any of her letters. A week after they met, he died in an overseas operation. When Grandfather contacted my grandparents and told them about me, they were overjoyed. The next day, they travelled to town and I met them in the park down by the boat launch. Nana cried the whole time. Said I looked just like my dad.”

  Dad. Alyssa smiled, hearing the word. At least Rémi didn’t resent his father. There was even a touch of pride in his tone. “Did they have pictures of him?”