Christine Feehan - Night Game

“ Oui, tais toi , Wyatt,” Gator groused. “Although the idea of taking her to bed does make my heart sing.”

Wyatt toed at him good-naturedly. “And other body parts as well. She was damned fine-looking, even when she had the knife to your throat.”

“I’ve seen him in action,” Ian MacGillicuddy announced, shoving at the lid of the ice chest. “I believe her. He’s been frequenting the clubs and I’d be willing to bet he charmed her into his bed.”

Gator threw a beer cap at Ian. “You know I haven’t been here long enough to be makin’ babies, much as the idea of trying with her may be appealin’.”

“I don’ know, bro, they have these tests now that can tell practically overnight. Grand-mere has a royal bee in her bonnet now. She wants a marriage and it ain’t gonna be me.” Wyatt grinned at his brother. “And that woman, she held that knife like she knew how to use it. She’s a wildcat, that one.”

Gator’s teeth flashed. “Yeah, she’s that, all right. Made me sit up and take notice.” He hadn’t stopped thinking about her. When he’d thrown his body over hers, her skin had been the softest thing he’d ever touched. He’d wanted her with every cell in his body. The blood had surged hot and greedy through his veins, pouring into his groin so that he still ached just thinking about her. He liked women, loved women, but he didn’t lust after any particular one-not like this. He forced his smile wider. “Laissez le bon temps rouler!”

“What the hell does that mean exactly?” Ian demanded. “That and your tuto comment to your brother. I had the feeling that wasn’t very nice.”

“He told me to shut up.”

“Let the good times roll,” Gator interpreted for the big Irishman, ignoring Wyatt. “The Huracan Club is owned by Delmar Thibodeaux. And his place is always hoppin’.”

“It’s good to have you home, Gator,” Wyatt said. “You made Grand-mere happy. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a couple of years. Well, until you got that woman pregnant, but I think if you marry her, Grand- mere will forgive all.”

Unfortunately, his grandmother wouldn’t listen to him even when he pointed out he’d only been home four weeks. Technically four weeks was plenty of time for a Fontenot to get a woman pregnant. Nonny wanted her grandsons married and settled down, not wild and running free. She wanted another woman close and little babies to hold in her arms. He turned his head away from his brother and Ian, afraid his expression might give him away. He had a sudden longing for those very things- now that they might be out of his reach. Funny how he’d taken it all for granted. The home. The family. A wife and children.

“ Grand-mere says twins run in the family, Gator. She’s hoping for two from you right away. You best be finding that woman and ropin’ her in fast, bro.”

“Keep talking and I’m going to pin your ears back for you,” Gator said, forcing a soft laugh as he turned back toward his brother. The sound carried in the stillness of the swamp, but the smile didn’t reach his restless eyes. He searched the bayou, noting every canal, the lay of the land, the birds in flight. Even here at home with his friend and family, he made sure nothing got by him.

Wyatt leaned on his pole a moment, studying the harsh planes and angles of his brother’s face. “You haven’t changed much. You still act as easygoing as ever, but there was no one tougher in the bayou.” He grinned at Ian. “The boys want to fight every night, but not Gator. They never wanted to get him stirred up.”

Gator grinned but kept his gaze on the people on the pier and in the boats. It was good to be home in spite of the reason for his homecoming. His last trip had been so fast, a hit-and-run through the bayou with trouble on his tail. This time, he could savor being home. The way his grandmother’s face lit up when she saw him had been worth the trip alone.

Well… until she got it in her head he needed to take responsibility for his actions. Flame had made quite the impression with her poor-innocent-woman-seduced-by- the-charming-playboy act. It didn’t help that he had a certain reputation with the ladies and his grandmother knew it. She’d always been sharp; the boys had been certain when they were growing up she had eyes in the back of her head catching their misdeeds. And now she wanted Flame brought into the family fold. He’d stopped denying he’d slept with her.

And he’d even stopped denying she might be carrying his child. What was the use? His grandmother wanted it to be true and nothing he said was going to change that fact.

“I’m about to die of thirst,” Ian said. He pressed the icy bottle of beer Wyatt snagged for him to his brow. “I’m just replacing what I been sweating out.”

Wyatt laughed at him. “You’re soft, mon ami , can’t take the heat with all that fine living you been doing.”

“Fine living?” A slow grin spread over Ian’s face. He shook back his shock of red wavy hair. “Oh, I like that, Gator. We been living fine up there in Miss Lily’s big house.” He tipped half a bottle of beer down his throat. “You’re a good man, Wyatt, but you don’t know the half of it.”

Gator snorted derisively. “Don’ let the boy fool you, Ian. Wyatt’s been up to no good. He’s been doin’ noth but partying, fighting, and getting into trouble with the ladies. Grand-mere wrote me ‘bout the hell-raising you been up to, Wyatt, and me, I’ve come home to straighten you out.”

Wyatt winked at Ian. “Oh, I don’ think I have much to worry about anymore, big brother. I think Grand-mere has a new bee under her bonnet and it isn’t me in trouble this time! I phoned the boys and let them know you were about to tie the knot with some high-stepping voodoo queen. They were pleased for you.”

“You’re enjoying the hell out of this, aren’t you, Wyatt?” Gator asked.

“Absolutely I am,” He leaned on the pole again, pushing the pirogue closer to the pier. “For once in my life, I’m not the one Grand-mere Nonny is going to slap upside the head and it feels damned good.”

“I’m sure your grandmother will understand when you get around to telling her the truth,” Ian soothed.

Both Wyatt and Gator shook their heads simultaneously. “Once Grand-mere gets a notion, she never lets up,” Wyatt explained. “Gator’s gonna have to find him self a bride, willin’ or not.”

Gator replayed the feel of Flame’s soft body against his. She was so damned soft. And her eyes… Vivid. Green. A man could drown in her eyes. Maybe he might be more willing than he thought he was. He shook his head as if that might dislodge such an idiotic thought.

She’d looked at him almost desperately there at the end, when she was under his body, his fingers squeezing her trachea, the two of them head to head, dangerous and angry with each other. “I don’t know if I can.” He listened to the words replay in his head. There had been fear and honesty mixed together. She’d sounded so damned vulnerable he ached inside. Everything protective in him had risen up and reached out to her. She had been afraid of hurting his family. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d been afraid she might.

Damn Whitney. Damn both Whitneys. He was home looking for a lost friend. Poor little Joy. Her parents weren’t rich and it was easier for the police to believe she’d taken off to the big city rather than to launch a full-scale investigation that might cost the taxpayers money. She was his priority, not Iris “Flame” Johnson. He didn’t give a damn what Lily said. He didn’t have to bring Flame back to a place that must have been hell for her. A place that would only have bad memories and…