Revenge (33 page)

Cody's gaze flicked to Remy. “He knew we were leaving.”

“I warned him.” Remy took the phone and read the message. “Wonder what the surprise is?”

“The house might be done by the time we get back.”

“Doubt it.” Remy pocketed the phone and looked up at the clatter of metal against gravel. “Here's our ride.”

Cody nearly squealed as two saddled horses led by a man came up the drive. One of the horses had a sidesaddle on its back. Remy went to meet the guy. Trailing him, Cody approached the horses, her throat aching. They gathered to her, sniffing her hands and lipping her fingers, as if recognizing kin.

“Think you can ride with that dress?” Remy asked.

“Hell, yeah. My ancestors could do it, so can I.”

He kissed her. “And that's why I'm gonna enjoy being married to you.”

The shuffle of feet against gravel made them turn. Adrien ambled up, holding out his hands. Cody and Remy joined him, slipping their hands into his callused ones.

“Before you go, I'll give a blessing.” He squeezed their hands, then released them to beckon them to bend over so he could place his hands on their heads.

Cody closed her eyes and let his velvety French wash over her. When Adrien finished, he made the sign of the cross over their foreheads. Slowly, she opened her eyes and met his. Clasping her hand between his, Adrien kissed its back.

“You truly are my son's match,
cher
.”

“That I am, Papa.” Giving him a parting kiss on the cheek, Cody turned to her mount. “Let's ride.”

The horses' owner gave her a leg up onto the sidesaddle. Once she was settled, she gathered the reins, adjusted her seat until she was satisfied with the balance and looked at her husband, who had mounted his horse.

“Lead the way, Cajun.”

Together they left the LeBeau property and rode alongside the road in the flat ditches until they came to a gravel lane that opened into a huge pasture.

“Keep up, Cody,” Remy said and asked his horse to canter.

As if she needed to be told. She was a former top-ranking barrel racer. Urging her mount into a canter, she thrilled at the different feel of the sidesaddle with the movements. She let her head fall back and laughed.

They rode for another mile until the pasture ended into a huge grove of trees. Remy slowed his horse, and Cody did the same. Slowly they entered the tree line and a new world for her.

“Welcome to what used to be my home. The swamps and bayous.”

Here the light had dimmed. Cody stared at the natural beauty. The animal sounds increased in volume.

“Stick close and don't leave the path.”

“Where are we going?”

Remy looked back over his shoulder and grinned. “You'll see.”

For what seemed like forever, they followed the cleared path, until it opened onto a small piece of ground with a stilt house. Drenched in sweat now, Cody fanned her face. “This it?”

“
Oui
.”

After settling the horses in a makeshift stable that had been prepped for them, Remy led Cody by the hand up the steps. At the top, he faced her, drawing her close.

“This was my family home before we moved into the house. Papa kept it up, since it was his parents' home.”

She peered around his shoulder to take in the little place. A heady, earthy scent filled the air. “What is that?”

“Cyprus. It's what they used to build the homes out of.” He pulled her to the door, opening it. “I'd carry you in, but somehow I doubt you'd let me.”

Chuckling, she entered the house and relished the cool breeze buffeting her skin. The door clicked shut behind her. Stepping out of her boots, she tread across the wood floor, exploring the two-room home. The main floor held the kitchen, dining and living areas. The single separating wall blocked off the only bedroom—large though it was—with a bathroom. She noticed the stack of gifts lining the living room wall, and all of their belongings put in their proper places. It made the place feel like a home. For now.

Remy's warm lips on the back of her neck made Cody shiver. He pulled her against his chest and pressed his cheek to hers. “What are you thinking, Madame LeBeau?”

She shivered again. She was his wife now. Turning in the circle of his arms, she wrapped hers around his waist and tilted her chin up. “What I'm thinking, Mr. LeBeau, is that I want a shower and I want my husband to join me.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest as he bent to kiss her mouth. “I think I like that idea.” His next kiss sent ripples of pleasure through her body. His fingers found the zipper and slowly drew it down, stopping at the small of her back.

Cody shimmied the dress from her shoulders and let it slip down her body and pool at her feet. With a low growl, Remy yanked her flush to his body and claimed her mouth. This was what it would be like to be Remy LeBeau's wife. Better than any fifteen-second adrenaline rush into the arena around three barrels.

He ceased kissing her, and looked into her eyes, the pad of his thumb stroking her cheek. “
Je t'aime
, Cody LeBeau.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

Under normal circumstances, after completing a hit, The Assassin took the first flight to nowhere. But part of this contract killing was to stick around and wait for the body to be discovered — however long it took. Two days wasted. Cursing greed, The Assassin shifted under the camouflage canopy.

A fat bead made a slow trek along corded arm muscles. Sprawled on a Dallas rooftop during the middle of the day in ninety-degree heat was borderline suicidal. The last few days of April were not kind to the residents of Dallas. Yet this was nothing compared to the jungles of South America or the African deserts. The Assassin went where the money paid.

This hit had come in with a special request, one without rhyme or reason. The target, a nobody as far as the recon had revealed, was unconventional: A defense lawyer with no known connection to anyone of importance. Lately, the contracts for the nobodies were coming in faster than the somebodies, it was a scenario The Assassin quickly adjusted to.

From the chest, a quickening of the heart. Four buildings away, the equivalent of almost six hundred yards. Through a thick windshield, The Assassin had placed a single bullet to the center of the target's head. A beautiful shot. No one did better.

Bringing the binoculars up, The Assassin leveled the sights on the lone car. Finally, this special condition of the contract could be marked off. The cops were there. Patrol officers, crime techs decked out in paper getups, and two men in suits swarmed the rooftop parking lot.

A familiar face made The Assassin hesitate in lowering the binoculars; adjusting the sites to zero in on the man in the gray suit. Dark brown hair, and the weathered features of … a Frenchman.

Gripping the binoculars tighter, like they were the gray-suited man's neck, The Assassin watched him stride across the roof. He was supposed to be dead; so The Assassin had heard through the network. Killed by Hurricane Katrina. His body swept away in the flood waters.

The Assassin ripped the binoculars down. Yet, there he stood. Remy LeBeau, formally of New Orleans, now of Dallas?

Muscles twitching, The Assassin gave a grunt. This was the reason for sticking it out until they found the corpse? This was worth the one hundred thousand?

With LeBeau here, things got problematic. The Assassin brought the binoculars up again and watched him. If he wore a suit and was visiting a crime scene, could mean he was a detective here. Heat simmered in The Assassin's veins. As a detective, LeBeau would begin to piece together the death of the Dallas lawyer with a similar death in New Orleans he'd seen when he was a patrol officer.

LeBeau and the man next to him — his partner? — spoke with a woman suited up in typical crime scene garb. All three moved to the car. They examined the car and the victim.

“Shit,” The Assassin hissed.

After the brutal murder of his wife, why had LeBeau remained in law enforcement? The Assassin interpreted his gestures as stiff, worried. He rotated until he faced the direction from where the bullet had actually traveled.

Eyes narrowed, The Assassin growled. LeBeau beat a path from the car to the edge of the roof and back. Did he suspect more to this murder?

The Assassin stashed the binoculars in a black, military-style bag, crawled out from under the canopy, broke it down, and placed the folded mesh inside the bag. With a gray-and-black camouflage boonie hat in place, The Assassin shouldered the bag, vacated the position, and entered a stairwell, proceeding down the steps at a fast clip.

There would be no leaving Dallas. Not with this new development. The contractor who paid for this special hit must have known LeBeau was still alive; why else would he make the special conditions of sticking around after the kill?

Spitting another curse, The Assassin resisted the urge to slam a fist into the stairwell wall. This whole thing stank of a setup. One that could expose The Assassin.

Remy LeBeau had almost ruined a powerful man in New Orleans more than six years ago, and his meddling led to the death of his young wife. Older and wiser, LeBeau could be considered a deadly threat. And for all who were involved in the events that occurred in New Orleans all those years ago, it meant facing the firing squad.

The Assassin didn't like problems.

Maybe it was time to take matters into hand and put the crosshairs on Remy LeBeau.

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Relentless
by Winter Austin.

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