[Bayou Gavotte 03.0] Heart of Constantine

by Barbara Monajem

  Constantine’s voice was calm, his aura as aroused as ever. “A vehicle that I think was the same van stopped at the mounds briefly an hour or so after the concert the other night. I was meditating on Mama Mound, but I heard it pass on the road, idle for a while, and then pass the other way a while later.”

  If he could do cool and indifferent, so could she. “You think that’s when I was brought there?”

  “You or the paraphernalia, or both. If it wasn’t Eaton, then someone borrowed his van—probably the same someone as tonight.” He stood close below her, too close. “I might have been playing you a little, babe, but mostly I wanted to verify what Janie said. Those pics on the Internet didn’t include a close-up of the mask. Can you picture her zooming in and studying the mask so carefully that she would recognize beads that were something like some other beads she’d seen a month ago?”

  “Not likely,” Marguerite whispered, thinking furiously. Had someone described the beads to Janie? “She was hanging out with a crowd around Nathan in the Merkin earlier tonight. I suppose he might have shown people pictures of the mask, and she might have remembered Glennis’s necklace, but it seems far-fetched.” She paused. “And I can’t see her accusing Eaton to a reporter or to the cops. She can be malicious at times, but she’s not that bad.”

  “My beads?” Eaton Wilson made for the back door and flung it open. Constantine took Marguerite by the waist and lowered her slowly, trapping her between a Leyland cypress and the fence. The heady aromas of tree and aroused hunk circled her like a lasso. Or a thirteen-foot penis. She wrapped her arms around herself, put her eyes to a crack in the fence, and tried to pay attention to what was happening in the yard.

  Eaton stormed across the back porch and down the steps. The dog, which had been panting quietly until then, bounded up to him, almost tripping Glennis in the process. Eaton strode across the lawn to a shed. He flung open the door and flicked on a light. “This is where I do my pottery. They were right here, in this tin. Twenty, twenty-one or so, and they’re all gone!” He whirled in the doorway and bumped into the dithering Glennis. “You said Marguerite has the mask? Thank God some of my beads are in good hands. I don’t care about the cup, but I worked hard on those beads, and I want them back.”

  “What about the mask? Isn’t it yours?”

  “No! What use would it be to prance around wearing a mask? Rituals can be cathartic, but spirituality is an internal phenomenon.” He set the tin down inside the shed, switched off the light, and closed the door. “I’ll call Marguerite tomorrow.”

  “Unless Constantine has it now,” Glennis said. “I don’t like that man one bit.”

  “He’s written some beautiful songs,” Eaton said, whistling for the dog, but instead of following him, it decided to bark.

  “He kills people!” Glennis retorted. Her aura wobbled in tune with her voice.

  Eaton put an arm around her. “Hey there, Glennis. Don’t cry.” He whistled again and called the dog. “I’ll contact the police in the morning. The beads, maybe the van… I wonder if anything else has been taken.”

  “But what if they come and arrest you?” Glennis said. “They might say you’re the one who chased Marguerite. Do you have an alibi?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t get home till well after midnight, and after that I was in bed asleep.”

  “I wish I could give you an alibi,” Glennis said, “but too many people know I wasn’t here.” Her aura flushed, and Marguerite stifled a giggle.

  Eaton said, “I wouldn’t want you to lie to protect me.” He moved Glennis gently toward the house, his hand at the small of her back. “Not that I’d have any problem with you spending the night.”

  Glennis’s aura blossomed, a bouquet of bright, fresh colors, shimmering with delight. How lovely for her, thought Marguerite wistfully. She had a feeling her own lovelife would never be that simple and sweet.

  The dog barked at Marguerite through the fence. She’d been doing pretty well at ignoring the rock star pressed close beside her, but now she whispered, “Can’t you stop it?” The dog barked louder.

  “I don’t want to,” Constantine murmured. “It thinks it’s protecting Eaton.” The dog barked some more.

  “What is it, Nellie girl? A possum?” Eaton said. “Don’t you worry about me, Glennis. Dufray doesn’t harm innocent people.” If his attitude didn’t prove he wasn’t guilty or even afraid, nothing would—unless Eaton was unbelievably devious and also spectacularly good at concealing his aura, which he wasn’t.

  “He and the vigilantes have done a lot of good for Bayou Gavotte,” Eaton said. “The clubs are safer, and the tourist trade is flourishing. Apparently, he wants to talk to me. He said so on the mound this morning, right in front of Roy Lutsky.” He ushered her up the steps to the deck.

  “Poor Roy. But you’re not going to go talk to Constantine, are you?” Glennis bleated.

  No time like the present, Constantine telepathed. He took Marguerite’s hand and moved quietly toward the front of the house.

  “What if it’s just a ruse to get ahold of you?” Glennis cried. “Oh my God, what if Constantine followed me over here?”

  Her voice faded as they reached the front yard. Constantine went up to the porch and rang the doorbell. Marguerite let Lawless out of the car and followed. Maybe a doggie playdate would make their errand seem a little less hostile to Glennis.

  “So that’s why Nellie was barking,” Eaton said, when he opened the door. “Come on in.”

  It took a good while, but cookies and coffee later, they had a few more pertinent facts: first, that Eaton not only didn’t intend any ritual involving knives, but (when prompted to look) he was missing a carving knife with his initials on the handle. His aura showed him to be appropriately distressed. “Why would anyone try to implicate me in something so terrible?” he said. He swore he hadn’t been near the mound the previous night, and if his van had been stolen, it had also been returned before he woke the next morning. When Constantine went to the car to bring in the mask so Eaton could have a close look (and be reassured as to the condition and safety of his beads), he asked, “Are you all right, Marguerite? I’m relieved to see you in such good hands.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, thinking about Constantine’s good hands and wishing she really were in them, then wishing she didn’t wish that at all. What was it about him that moved her so strongly? It couldn’t be just sex. Sex was inadequate and disappointing, considering all the hype. Even a spectacular orgasm left a gaping void behind.

  She’d thought about it enough to realize the void was due to a lack of true intimacy. Not that she hadn’t wanted emotional closeness—and not that she hadn’t tried—but guys didn’t like girls who could read their every emotion. If Constantine figured her out, he would back off like all the others. So why did she so idiotically want to have sex with him?

  “Aren’t you scared of him?” Glennis whispered.

  “No,” Marguerite said. “Under all those frightening vibes, he’s mush. Just a sweet, cuddly teddy bear.”

  The door opened, an owl hooted twice, and a vision of a slavering grizzly bear prowled through her head. She stifled a giggle, and the owl hooted again. Constantine came back in with the mask, his aura carefully neutral. Longing poured over her. His longing or hers? He was trying to conceal his feelings, so she couldn’t quite tell. Both?

  Then why not just do it? At least that would get it over with and the disappointment started, so she could move on.

  Eaton examined and identified his beads. “I use them for jewelry,” he said, “but they look very good on here.” He examined the mask front and back and sighed.

  He knows more, doesn’t he? Constantine telepathed.

  Marguerite hesitated, then nodded ever so slightly. The rocker’s aura shivered, but his voice was free of guile when he asked, “Any idea who might have made it?”

  Eaton ran his fingers over the copper sheeting, stopping at a half-inch nick along the otherwise perfect edge, then
moving on. “No idea.”

  Constantine stood and thanked Eaton. He took the mask, and they collected Lawless, who’d been cavorting with his playdate in the yard. When Constantine held out a hand for the car keys, Marguerite gave them to him without objecting. She let Lawless into the back and got into the passenger seat. “He was lying. That’s not like Eaton at all. And yes, I just knew, but you could tell, too. His body language is so blatant.”

  “Wise of you not to try to deny it,” he said coolly.

  “I’m not trying to prevent you from figuring out who did this,” she said, weary now. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  He started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Who do you suppose he’s protecting?”

  “The same person as Zeb, I guess. When you consider how upset he was about the beads going missing, it’s strange he didn’t let on that he knew where the mask came from. But by then, he wasn’t angry anymore, just bewildered and a little sad…” Damn. She wished she could openly explain how she knew. She was so tired of hiding what she was.

  Halfway to her place, he said, “Believe me, I understand. There’s plenty of stuff I don’t want to explain about myself either.”

  No, duh. She sat in silence while he drove her home, thinking hard, worrying about Zeb. As he pulled into her driveway, her practical brain started working again. “Shouldn’t I be dropping you someplace?”

  “I’m not leaving you alone, babe.” He got out and opened the back door for Lawless.

  She opened hers. “That’s kind of you, but—”

  “No buts,” Constantine said, and in spite of herself Marguerite let out a long breath of relief. Lawless growled low in his throat and took off toward the house, nose to the ground. Constantine stood, head cocked. A nightjar called close by. “Let’s go inside.”

  She took the keys and unlocked the front door. Lawless squirmed past her. Inside, it was entirely dark, but it shouldn’t have been. “When you let Lawless out, did you turn off the back porch light? Because I didn’t. It was on when I left on my bike.”

  “Maybe it burned out,” Constantine said doubtfully, but it hadn’t. They switched on all the lights and went from room to room. Nothing seemed to be missing; nothing had been disturbed.

  She shivered. “This is really creeping me out.”

  He pulled her close, took out his cell to send a text message, and then another. “I let Gideon know. Jabez will come in a while to keep watch.”

  “Poor Jabez. When does he get to sleep?”

  “He doesn’t sleep much, but he’ll have all day if he wants it.” Pause. “Off to bed, babe. I’ll get the guitar I left down by the bayou and be right back.”

  “I’m not staying here alone for even two minutes,” she said.

  Pleasure suffused his aura, so beautiful it twisted her heart. He wanted to protect her. Then anxiety tore into the pleasure. Why? What was he afraid of?

  “Come with me, then,” he said. They made their way through the dark, warm garden. The intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine teased her as she followed him through the back gate. Frogs chorused cheerfully. Lawless scampered down the trail to the bayou.

  His aura glowed with arousal. The darkness was pitchy hot. No, maybe they were both hot. Or maybe she just wanted someone to cling to. She wondered if maybe he wanted that, too, regardless of his fears.

  The guitar in its case was cached near a vast water oak. Marguerite stroked the rough bark, trying to focus on the practical. “If Eaton recognized the mask, someone else will sooner or later.”

  Out of the darkness came his voice, cool and faintly amused. “So why did Zeb remove the evidence that implicated Eaton but not what implicated someone else?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “It was a lot easier to conceal the knife, I guess.”

  “But he could have taken both. Or maybe he doesn’t share Eaton’s opinion about whoever stole the beads and made the mask.”

  “What I want to know is, who was the setup meant to harm? Eaton and maybe someone else? Or you, Constantine?” That was the crux of it…

  His aura loomed and swayed in the charged darkness. She couldn’t see her own aura, but felt his mingle and tangle with her space. How could they not touch each other? Why should they not join in every possible way? All her questions hung suspended in the dense night air.

  After a while, he asked, “Do I have to choose?”

  And just like that, everything clicked. “The scenario was aimed at more than one person!” She let that sit for a moment. “It seems awfully far-fetched.”

  “It’s the most attractive option. I’m not delusional, and Zeb truly believes it’s aimed at whoever he’s protecting. My Enemy—evidently a malicious sort of dude—is simply killing two or more birds with one stone.”

  “And we are no longer in opposition.” She leaned against the oak and spread her arms wide. “If only for that, I love this idea.”

  Delight and desire thrust up together, flames and sweetness, and suddenly he was hard against her, ravenous and strong. Oh, God, she got off on kissing this man. The merciless pleasure took up where it had left off at Eaton’s. Their tongues licked and fenced in heavy, eloquent silence. Heat unbounded crashed along every limb, curling her toes, twining her fingers into his hair, sending a desperate throbbing to her core. His erection pressed against her with delicious promise. His aura clung to hers.

  Then subtly, something changed. He withdrew a hair’s breadth. She moaned and pulled him closer, nipping at his lips, seeking his tongue again. She grabbed his buttocks and ground herself against him. She wanted this. Wanted him.

  He growled. A hot hand covered her breast. She arched into his hand, groaning with anticipation and longing. She pulsed and ached with desire. Abruptly, he buried his face in her neck. An orgasm tore through her, sending her high, high over the moon.

  He pulled away. Their auras ripped apart. She cried out and fell to her knees, curling into a ball.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Oh, fuck. What had he done? He dropped to the ground beside her, fighting down his own pain, while Lawless whined in distress. “Did I hurt you?” He rested his hand gingerly on her arm. “Marguerite?”

  She slapped him away, uncurling as she did, and scrambled to her feet. “Don’t you ever do that again.” She stormed away, Lawless close behind.

  Bewilderment rolled over him on waves of unendurable chagrin. He knew he had problems controlling his emotions—particularly his anger and frustration—during sex. He’d learned that with Jonetta, causing her unbearable pain, and every time he’d considered having sex since then, all those negative emotions had roiled up, stopping him in his tracks.

  Then the anger had spilled over into his concerts… but he’d conquered that, or at least come close. Logically, sex should be the next step, as the bird kept insisting.

  Except that at the last moment, he’d… Might as well admit it. He’d chickened out and given her a one-touch.

  Which hadn’t worked. He’d hurt her. Hurt himself, too, but he was used to that.

  If he couldn’t even give a woman an orgasm anymore, he might as well throw himself into the bayou and drown. Too bloody bad he could swim. Anyway, with his luck, the nutria would band together and shove him up onto the bank. He grabbed the guitar and took up the rear.

  “What was that supposed to be?” she ranted. “One of your famous one-touch orgasms?”

  “Uh… yeah. Something must have gone wrong.” Ahead, more lights were on in Marguerite’s house. Much as he valued Jabez’s friendship, he didn’t want to look like a complete ass in front of him, or at least not more than he already did. “Jabez is here.” Silently, he asked Lawless to accept the bodyguard as a friend.

  “Just when I was beginning to think sex might be interesting,” she said, and her voice broke on a sob. “That it might be worth the risk, on the off chance it would be enjoyable and—and worthwhile, and you ruin everything.” She marched furiously up the path.

  C
ould we discuss this later? Great—now he was telepathing to her without even meaning to, and it was too late anyway for Jabez not to have heard what she’d said.

  “Swept the house,” said a deep voice. He was under the golden rain tree at the edge of Marguerite’s yard. Lawless had already gone ahead. “No bugs. Hey.” He smiled approvingly at Marguerite. Every goddamn guy in his band and entourage wanted him to get laid.

  Never going to happen.

  It has to happen, lamented the nightjar his guide was possessing at the moment. There’s no other way.

  Constantine shut it out of his head, turning his attention to real life.

  If it doesn’t happen, nothing will fall into place, the bird said.

  Shut up. Constantine gritted his teeth and waded through the unfriendly darkness toward the house.

  The bird wasn’t about to let go. It pursued him in the form of a barn owl, flapping past on urgent, desperate wings. Until it’s too late! Too late! Too late!

  It was already too goddamn late, and he should have kept his distance right from the start. Even if he wasn’t a total catastrophe as a lover, Marguerite didn’t want a celebrity boyfriend. She would never put up with the horrors of fame.

  When had his thoughts started traveling that road? He couldn’t afford to want her as a real girlfriend. She wasn’t even going to be a one-night stand.

  Oh, God, he wanted her.

  In the light from the living room window, her expression was aghast. “You had to check for bugs?”

  “Seeing as we don’t know why someone broke in again…” Constantine shrugged. “Any trouble from Nathan and the rest?”

  Jabez chuckled. “We sent out warnings. So far the neighborhood’s clear. One dude tried approaching by way of the bayou, so I stuck a snake in his boat. Nathan posted pics of your lady here dancing with Tony.” He paused as if he wanted to say more but changed his mind. It must be bad. “I put someone on to watch him. If you want me to run him out of town, just say the word.”