“Did you have trouble getting good grades?” She tilted her head to look at him. “I imagine you would have been very good in school.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t always go. I was the oldest and someone had to do the fishing and trapping. I worked on a couple of shrimp boats two or three times a week. I lied to Grand-mere because she said an education was more important, but of course she knew when she found the money in her drawer every week.”
She looked at him over the cup of chocolate. “Some times the things you say melt my heart.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing, Flame. I loved workin’ on the boats. It was simply our way of life. I preferred being out in the bayou to school any day of the week.” He leaned forward and licked a small dollop of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before he could stop himself.
She made a face at him and leaned in to him for a kiss. He tasted of whipped cream and chocolate. Raoul took the drink from her hand and set it on the small table beside the bed. “Go to sleep, cher. You’re very tired, aren’t you?”
She stretched out and then curled on her side, cautious with her broken arm. “I am tired. It’s been a long day, but Joy’s reunion with her parents was worth it all.”
“You were good with her.”
“Wyatt was good with her. I feel so bad for him. If the expression on his face was anything to go by, he’s a little in love with her. It will be a long time before she ever is able to trust a man enough to have a relationship with him.”
A lump formed in his throat and he ducked his head. Gator lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms and curling his body protectively around hers. He stroked back wisps of hair from her face.
She tangled her fingers with his. “Tonight was the most beautiful night of my life, Raoul. Thank you.”
Her voice was drowsy, sensual, playing over his body like fingers. His heart shifted in his chest and he felt a vise begin to grip, take hold, and squeeze until his chest felt as if it might explode. He pressed his free hand to his chest while he held her other one and watched the drug take her.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall as time passed. He sat watching the candlelight flicker over her face, the dancing shadows play over her body, and he bent down to brush a kiss across her eyes. She didn’t move.
Gator dressed quickly. The syringe was in his drawer and this time he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t take a chance that she might wake up. He gave her a shot in her thigh, injecting the full dose into her.
It’s done.
We’ll bring in the copter. We have a plane standing by to fly us out of here and Rye has the compound ready.
It was difficult to put a robe on her, but he managed. He didn’t want her naked when they came for her. He snatched up her duffel bag and shoved her new clothes inside. His own bag was already packed and ready to go.
He sat listening to the sounds of the helicopter as it flew overhead and swung toward the clearing just south of his cabin. It wasn’t long before he heard the men as they approached the house, bringing the stretcher with them. One by one he blew out the candles until the room was dark.
CHAPTER 19
She fought the urge to yank the foreign object out of her body.
Someone sat nearby in a chair. There was movement to her left, She feigned sleep, struggling to keep her heart under control when it insisted on accelerating, when adrenaline flooded her body, triggering every alarm in her system. Betrayal was a bitter taste in her mouth. She ached with it. Screamed silently with it. Tears burned but she refused to give them license.
Raoul Fontenot had delivered her back into Whitney’s hands.
Flame awoke to the scent of lavender. She was lying in a bed, but it wasn’t the same bed she’d gone to sleep in with Raoul’s body wrapped closely around hers. Her heart slammed hard as she realized that there was a port directly into the vein under her collarbone. The last time she’d had something like that stuck in her body had been when Whitney gave her the cocktail of medicine needed to get rid of the cancer he had manufactured.
Oh God. Please God. Don’t let this be happening to me. Anything but this. Anything at all. I can’t do this. She sent the silent prayer over and over while she slid her hand up to feel the port, hoping she was having a nightmare. She felt the edges of the dressing and knew the port was stitched in place and the catheter was under her skin.
The person to her left moved to the edge of the bed and bent over her. She smelled him. Knew his touch. She reached for rage, needed it to survive, but there was only pain. She gasped aloud, shocked at the intensity of her anguish. She’d never felt so raw, so ripped open and vulnerable.
“I know you’re awake. I can hear your heart, your breathing. Open your eyes, Flame. It isn’t what you think.” Raoul’s voice was low, almost pleading.
“No?” She lifted her lashes, couldn’t stop the tears from swimming where he could see them, but she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. “You didn’t seduce me? You didn’t drug me and take me to the one place you knew I swore I’d never go back to? You warned me. I can’t say that you didn’t. You said you were supposed to bring me back, but I let you seduce me into forgetting.”
“Flame, you know better. Look at me. You know it wasn’t like that.”
She was going to be sick. Her stomach churned and she could hear the silent screams in her head growing louder. There was so much pain. She hadn’t expected it to be so bad, the utter humiliation of knowing he had slept with her to do his job.
Surprisingly she wasn’t restrained. She struggled into a sitting position, batting away his hands when he tried to help her. “Don’t touch me. I never want you to touch me again.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to be sick.” It was already too late. He shoved a small tray into her hands and she was further humiliated by throwing up over and over again in front of him.
He left her side for a brief moment to return with a cool washcloth and towel. She took it without looking at him. She knew if she looked, if she saw his face and his lying eyes, the terrible storm inside of her would crash over her and she would break apart, shatter so completely that she wouldn’t be Flame anymore.
Raoul took the small tray from her, dumped it and rinsed it out, returning it to the bed within reach of her hand. The sight of the tray triggered childhood memories. Ugly. Torturous. She felt dizzy and for a moment couldn’t catch her breath.
Control. Discipline. Patience. She repeated the mantra silently. She knew what she had to do. She was prepared; she’d been prepared ever since the first moment of her escape. Death wasn’t nearly as bad as living as a lab rat.
She let her breath out slowly. “I guess you didn’t believe me when I told you I’d destroy everything before I’d be put in a cage again. I’m willing to die here, Raoul, are you? Because you have about two minutes to get the hell out and take everyone else with you.”
“Why warn me, Flame? Why not just do it?”
“Get out, Raoul.” She was tired. Desperately tired and drained. The screams in her head had subsided, but now, somewhere deep inside she was silently weeping. Great terrible sobs that she couldn’t control were shredding her heart. Her body shook with sobs, her chest ached and her throat was nearly closed with the tears clogging it, but no sound escaped. She refused to give that to him.
“I’m not leaving your side.”
“Look, you did your job. You can go tell all your buddies how great you are. You royally fucked me.”
“Maudit! That’s not the way it was.”