Bayou Heat (12 page)

A motion caught her eyes, and for a second her mind was awash in the vivid images
of her first night in this apartment. Was he here after all?

She walked to the bathroom door and froze. Dark splotches covered the walls. Even
the mirror was splattered. Her gaze swung to the tub, but it was empty. The French
doors however, were wide open. Frowning, she closed them, then turned her back and
rested against the glass.

Then she looked up, saw what had been left in her sink, and screamed.

Teague took the steps three at a time. It usually took over thirty minutes to drive
there from the bar. Erin had called the Eight Ball approximately eighteen minutes
before.

Which in his book was still about seventeen minutes too long. Her voice had been so
hollow and flat, devoid of all the
vigueur
that was so unique to her. He’d hated hearing her like that. Hated even more the
ball of dread that had settled in his stomach.

Actually, the dread he could handle. It was the large mass of fear that went along
with it that had thrown him for a major loop.

He rapped once on the door, but didn’t wait for her to answer. “Erin?” he called out
as he strode into the apartment.

“In here.” Her voice echoed from the bathroom.

Calm. To another man, she would sound perfectly normal. All systems under control.
But Teague knew better.

He took one step into the bathroom and stopped despite himself. Erin had been rational
enough on the
phone, but she’d declined to describe exactly what had been left for her.

Teague didn’t have to get closer to know exactly what it was.

And exactly what it meant.

“Go on into the other room,” he said without looking at her. “I’ll take care of this.”

“No.”

He turned then to find her leaning against the French doors.

“Erin, we can talk about this later, but—”

“But nothing,” she said in that maddeningly flat voice. “I didn’t call you to come
rescue me from the big bad voodoo threat.”

“Well excuse me,
chèr
, but that’s how I heard it.” He didn’t say that the fact she had called him for anything
had sent a rush through his system that was far too powerful to be good for him.

“I’ve studied voodoo and seen enough bush tribes to understand the nature of the threat.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“Because I don’t know enough about this particular following to read it completely.”
She looked at the
petro gris-gris
desecrating her sink. “I figured you were the one person who could explain this to
me.”

Suspicion settled like a cold fist around his heart. “And why is that, Erin?”

“You may have been gone for a long time, Teague, but I doubt Belisaire’s followers
have changed their rituals.” She shifted her weight to her other leg, looking for
all the world like the weary cynic she should be, but
he knew damn well she wasn’t. He wanted to yell and argue with her, drag what she
was thinking out of her, and refute it for all he was worth.

But even stronger was the urge to close the distance between them and pull her into
his arms. To protect her. Which made no sense since she’d made it perfectly clear
from day one that she was quite capable of taking care of herself.

He hadn’t felt so at a loss since the day Belisaire told him his mother was dead.

“You
can
tell me what this means, can’t you?”

“Yes, I can.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The urge to pull her from
the room was almost too strong to ignore.

He’d seen the results of ritual sacrifice before. The ground bones and feathers, the
spirit offering of alcohol to the
loa
, or voodoo god being called upon, apparently red wine in this case, the cleansing
of blood from the chicken that had been decapitated during the ritual.… None of this
was new to him. But what bothered him was that it was Erin’s walls that had been splattered
with fresh sacrificial blood, her privacy that had been violated by practitioners
of the darker, violent side of the voudoun religion. This was no idle threat.

His jaw tight, his hands in fists, he said, “Erin, let me take care of this. It has
to be done in a … certain way. You can question me to your heart’s content when I’m
finished.”

He saw the surprise in her eyes and answered her question before she could ask.

“I’m not an initiate,
ange
. Not like the others. But
I’ve spent too much time with Belisaire and her people, seen too many things I can’t
explain or rationalize away to ignore this.” He stepped toward her, his control slipping.
“Just trust me.” He traced a fingertip over her cheekbone. She shivered, triggering
a similar reaction deep in his belly. How had he gone a single day without touching
her, much less ten?

“Please?” he said quietly.

She let out a shaky sigh. And before his eyes, she seemed to crumble, all her defenses
falling in on her. With a low groan he pulled her against his chest.

“Aw,
chèr
.” He pressed his lips against her hair, and felt the fine tremors racing through
her. “It’s okay. Let me take care of this.” He tilted her chin up. “I want to.”

“I know enough to understand this is more than a mild warning. Someone wants me to
butt out. But of what? Belisaire’s people? The bayou? My research? I mean, I’m studying
plants for God’s sake. How is that threatening anyone?”

“You’re studying plants and how they are used in voodoun rituals. This is a notoriously
closed society,
chèr
. They may not appreciate someone trying to demystify their beliefs.”

“But that’s not what I’m doing. I don’t want to educate them or teach them or change
them. I don’t even expect them to read my results. I just need their cooperation to
do my job. My findings are scientific, hopefully beneficial to the medical community,
but it has nothing to do with wanting them to alter their beliefs. Belisaire understands
that, or she’d never have agreed to help me.” Erin’s eyes widened. “You don’t think
because of
the note and me talking to Bodette, that Belisaire would—”

Teague shook his head sharply. “No. This is black magic. This isn’t the work of Belisaire
or her people.”

“Well then, who is warning me? And why? If she approves of me being there, would any
of her people do something like this on their own? Or do you think this is related
to the note somehow?”

Teague was way ahead of her on that train of thought. He was certain the two were
related. He’d spent a large part of the last ten days trying to track down the source
of that note. With no luck. But there was no way he could share his suspicions.

“I don’t know, Erin. But this wasn’t put together by an amateur.” He slid his hands
down her arms and stepped back. “Until I get this figured out, I think you should
pack up and change locations for a while.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Until
you
figure this out? Since when did this become your problem?”

“Since you picked up that phone and called me,
ange
.” She moved away from him altogether, and he had to steel himself against the instinct
to pull her back into his arms. But her uncustomary vulnerability was gone. The Erin
McClure he knew was back. He couldn’t escape the wistful thought that he liked both
sides of her.

He sighed softly. “I’m the one with the contacts, Erin. I’m your best bet to get to
the bottom of this.”

The skeptical look she shot him dug in worse than he’d have expected it to.

“I could ask Belisaire myself. I agree, I don’t think
she’s behind this. If she wanted to warn me, she’d have done it directly.”

“Belisaire rarely does the expected, but her way is always direct. I disagree about
confronting her with this though. She has other interests to look out for besides
her own, or yours.” He clearly wasn’t convincing her. And the last thing he needed
was her poking around the bayou. “Give me a few days to see what I can find out. Then
you can do whatever you think is best. Okay?”

“Why do I get the feeling that no matter how I handled this, we’d have ended up at
this same point.” Before he could comment, she went on. “Three days. Then I talk to
Belisaire.”

Teague didn’t bother to tell her that he was almost 100 percent certain Belisaire
knew all about this by now. Of course, Teague was also certain that unless it benefited
Belisaire, she wouldn’t be budged. But he didn’t intend to ask her anything.

“Fine,” he said. “Now you go pack while I take care of this.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I thought we had this settled.”

“No,
you
thought we had this settled.” She raised her hand to forestall his response. “I agreed
to let you take this … thing, out of here. And to let you look into who and why it
was put here. But I’m not leaving.”

“If this is some stupid female pride thing—”

She laughed. “No, it’s a stupid money thing. I have an arrangement here I’m not willing
to give up. Mr. Danjour was very generous with the lease. And if things go well and
I get additional funding based on my preliminary
findings, he’s already agreed to extend it at the same rate. I can’t leave, Teague.
I won’t leave.”

“You don’t have to give up the apartment altogether, just vacate until I give you
the all clear.”
Until I make sure you aren’t in deeper trouble than you can ever imagine
.

“Teague, I can’t pay on this place and another one. I’m talking a really skinny shoestring
here. Even a few days would eat too much into my budget.”

“We’ll figure something out.” He’d already decided exactly where she was going—to
the one place he knew she would be safe—but now was not the time to spring it on her.
He could barely come to terms with his decision himself.

“You’re not paying a hotel bill for me.”

That made him smile. “Now tell me this isn’t a pride thing.”

“Would you let me if the situation was reversed?”

“It’s not, so there’s no point in arguing.” He had a bad feeling about all of this.
He couldn’t pinpoint why, but his sixth sense told him it was time to get gone. “Pack,
Erin.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

“You want me to do it?”

She shifted around him and walked out of the bathroom, careful not even to glance
in the direction of the sink. She was more scared than she’d let on.

Fifteen minutes later, he doused the last of the flames in the sink and carefully
disposed of the remaining ashes. He flipped off the light and stepped into the main
room, more than a little relieved to find Erin sitting
on the bed, tucking the last of her notebooks into her satchel.

“Let’s go.”

She stood and lifted her gear. “Do we go out the front, or should I toss these over
the balcony railing?”

“Very funny.” He slid the duffel off her shoulder and walked to the front door. Erin
might be spooked, but she didn’t let anything slow her down for long. He respected
the hell out of that.

She strolled by him and scooped up a backpack she’d left on the chair by the door.
“Since you’re playing the strong hero here, you can carry this too.”

She dumped the backpack in his arms and headed into the hall. Teague stared after
her. He was worried about his operation, about Belisaire, and now, about Erin. So
why was he standing there grinning like an idiot?

Erin knew she was gawking. “You weren’t kidding, were you.”

Teague barely glanced at the palatial southern estate as he pulled his truck around
the circular drive and parked right in front of the massive white pillared home.

She turned to him as he shut off the ignition. “You grew up here?”

“Almost impossible to believe, I know. Welcome to Beaumarchais, the Sullivans’ humble
abode.”

She was tired, more disturbed than she wanted to admit even to herself, and very confused
about her feelings
for the man seated next to her, but she found herself smiling at him anyway. “Well,
most pool hall owners I know live in slightly more modest digs.”

“You know a lot of them do you,
chèr?
”

His quiet teasing went a long way toward soothing her nerves. “Where is Marshall?
Did he say he’d meet us here?” Teague had stopped for gas and made a few phone calls
after they left Erin’s some thirty minutes before.

“Something like that.”

Erin’s gaze narrowed as the light dawned. “Marshall still lives here. I don’t know
why, but I always assumed he lived on campus or nearby.” She laughed shortly. “Which
is ridiculous, I guess.”

“You can’t imagine anyone giving this up willingly?”

“Not without a good reason.” She paused, not sure what to say.

“It’s okay, Erin. I’m well aware you probably know my whole sordid story.”

“Actually, I know very little. Just enough to know that if anyone had a good reason
to make some major life changes, it was you.”

Teague held her gaze, and she felt a tremor shoot through her.

“I’m sure you did what was right for you,” she said. “And that’s the most important
thing.”

He was silent for several moments. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Acceptance.”

There was a wealth of emotion in that one word.

“Well, I know a little something about that, I guess.”

“Yeah, I suppose you do,
ange
.”

And she knew that he truly did understand.

“You’re not exactly the conventional type yourself,” he added.

“Not so you’d notice.”

Teague smiled and Erin felt the heat clear across the cab. “Oh, I notice everything.”
He covered her hand with his. “And I do like you, Erin McClure. All of what is you.”
He laughed. “Even the parts that drive me crazy.” His gaze shifted to their hands
and the way she’d unconsciously woven her fingers with his. He looked back up. “I
think it’s those parts I like best.”

Erin’s eyes stung with tears. Ridiculous, since she never cried. But then she’d never
been the recipient of such heartfelt words before.