Christine Feehan - Night Game

He took the opportunity to run the boat down the narrow channel and out into more open water. Neither spoke as he put the airboat through its paces, deliberately making a ninety-degree turn, giving Flame time to relax with him. She was a natural on the boat, the same way he was certain she was with the motorcycle. “You like toys.”

For some reason, the way he lowered his voice, the note of sensuality, made her blush and lower her gaze. He was immediately aware of the tension stretching between them. His body still ached and it was a miracle he could walk. It was no wonder Vicq Comeaux had tried to approach her. He was surprised there hadn’t been a riot.

“What was that all about?”

“I beg your pardon?” She tilted her head, slightly haughty, princess to peasant.

“At the club tonight. What was that all about?” He tried not to be angry. Or jealous. What the hell did he have to be jealous about? But she damn well had better not have been looking to take a man home.

“Is it any of your business?”

“I’m making it my business so pretend it is and answer me. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if those men had gotten out of hand? There could have been a riot and quite frankly, cher , I wouldn’t blame them.” He rubbed his hand down the front of his jeans in a casual display. “I’m still feelin’ the effects and I knew your song, your voice , was a weapon.”

Her color deepened. “It’s never been that strong before. That was your fault. You were amplifying my power.”

“I was not. Don’ you go blamin’ me for that little exhibition. You were deliberately drawing men to you and you were very effective.”

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t all me. I can keep everyone…” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “Enthralled. I can soothe people and I can draw them to me, but it’s never been like that before. You were amplifying me.”

“I’m not an amplifier,” he denied.

“How would you know? Are there others like us? With the same talents? You stopped the guard dogs from barking. You’re just as capable of manipulating sound as I am. You let Whitney make a freak out of you when you had a family. A home. People who love you.” She stepped close to him, itching to slap his face, fury building so that the water churned around the airboat. “You threw it all away. What did he promise you? Money? Power? What did he give in return for your family, Raoul?”

Gator guided the boat into the middle of the canal and cut the engine. There were only the sounds of the bayou, the hum of insects, and the splash of water. “Tell me what you were doing in the club tonight and I’ll tell you why I volunteered to be a genuine psychic guinea pig.”

“Why does it matter so much to you what I was doing?” Flame regarded him uneasily.

“It just does. You were deliberately stirring the men up. You wanted them obsessed with you. Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to trust me. We’re out here all alone. Search me if you think I’m recording this. If I wanted you dead, you’d be buried in the swamp.” He swung away from her, an abrupt, angry movement, unlike his usual grace.

“Why are you so angry with me?” It shouldn’t have bothered her. She didn’t care if he was upset with her- he was nothing to her-but it did. She could tell his inclination was to shake her. The sexual web between them was strong. She’d never experienced such a thing before and their antagonism toward each other only seemed to add fuel to the fire.

“What the hell were you doing in the club tonight?”

Flame waited until he turned back toward her, until his dark, angry, turbulent gaze met hers. He was smoldering with temper, his fist opening and closing, his easy charm obviously wearing thin.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you in there? Do you want men to be so obsessed they can’t control themselves?” He took an aggressive step to ward her.

She stood her ground, one hand steadying herself on the seat of the boat, refusing to be intimidated. She was never intimidated. She could easily protect herself whether he had her knife or not. His eyes glittered at her with a kind of fury she found intriguing rather than terrifying. Raoul Fontenot was a man who liked to portray himself as easygoing but beneath the veneer was a man of intense passions, of dark secrets, a man he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

“I absolutely did not expect that to happen. Obviously you were affected and it’s upset you. Did you think you’d be exempt from the effects? Have you checked out the weapons they have now or are in the process of developing? They actually have everything now, from acoustic beams and blast waves to my personal favorite, the acoustic bullet, high-powered, very low-frequency waves emitted from one to two meter antenna dishes that result in blunt-force trauma, affecting anything from discomfort to death. Surprise, Raoul, even the shooters can be affected if they aren’t behind the device used to produce the sound. You and I, we’re basically human acoustic bullets. We can get into and out of places fast and without being seen and we don’t need an antenna.” Her eyes widened. “You were created after me, weren’t you? And you amplify my talent, don’t you?”

“Don’t you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you suspect me of some conspiracy.” He swore in Cajun, a blast of words so fast she was hard put to keep with him.

Flame remained silent, intrigued by the way he looked when his ancestry came out. He was a good-looking man, rough around the edges with his blue-shadowed jaw, but the thick black wavy hair and ready smile provided the killer charm. “It simply occurred to me that Whitney wanted to see what would happen if we were together.”

“Whitney is dead.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Tell me what you were doing at the club tonight.”

Flame sighed. “You’re like a bear with a sore tooth. I was trying to lure a particular person to me. A girl disappeared a few weeks ago. She was a singer, had a beautiful sultry voice. The cops think she picked up and left the area because it’s convenient for them to think that. But her family and everyone who knew her think something happened to her. And I do too.” Her voice was pitched low, not in the least remorseful or defiant.

There was a long silence. Too long. It stretched out between them until she could feel the full weight of his disapproval. “You’re telling me, you set yourself up as bait for what could be a killer because a girl you don’t even know disappeared? Have you lost your mind or do you just have a death wish?”

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you.”

“You don’t have backup. I don’t go on a mission with out backup. That’s just plain stupidity.” He stepped closer, his fingers settling around her upper arms.

Flame felt the tremor running through him. “Let go of me before I push your butt into the bayou. Talk about stupidity! You had everything and you threw it away. At least I have a good reason for the things I choose to do.”

“Like stealing from Saunders, who, by the way, I had investigated and he’s about as mean as they come. He’s suspected of having ties to the underworld-”

She jerked away from him. “Like I didn’t know that already? I do my homework.” Red hair went in all directions as she shook her head. “I’m not exactly a team player. I make decisions based on percentages and the percentages were in my favor this time. The girl…”

“Joy Chiasson,” he supplied, his gaze on her throat. When she’d turned her head, the scarf she wore slipped. He moved even closer, crowding her, his body brushing hers. “Our two families have known one another for years. I came here to find out what happened to her.” He broke off, his attention diverted. His fingertip brushed the dark marks on her throat. His fingerprints. “Did I do this?”